Today’s “Movie Memory” comes from the slightly twisted and utterly delightful mind of Jill Blake, headmistress of the essential classic film blog Sittin’ on a Backyard Fence. In her hilarious essay, Jill looks back at her childhood and reflects on the movies–both great and not-so-great–that she shared at home with her parents while growing up.…
by Jack Schamel I was nine years old when I saw my first movie. It was 1939, and it was a Buck Rogers serial. I remember seeing the Lone Ranger serials, too, and a movie with The Three Musketeers that came out around that time. That was pretty popular. And I saw my first Western not…
Today’s submission comes courtesy of the ever-lovely Carley, headmistress of the venerable Kitty Packard Pictorial! In her post, Carley has taken the concept of “movie memories” to new heights, painting a touching portrait of the ways in which she and her mother communicate through classic films–in particular the seminal classic Gone With the Wind. In…
We’re kicking off a month of movie memories today with a post by our good friend Michael Nazarewycz, the scintillating scribe behind the appropriately-named ScribeHard on Film. With loving detail and a cheeky humor that is truly entertaining, Michael looks back at three thrilling “event movies” that defined certain points of time in his life,…
During my senior year of college at Mississippi University for Women, I took an independent study course under the supervision of my mentor, Dr. Bridget Smith Pieschel. The subject was Women’s Autobiography, and my job was to transcribe and notate the diary of a former student of the school, Martha Smith (Dr. Pieschel’s aunt–one of…
by Jimmie Meese Moomaw I have absolutely no recollection of the first movie I ever saw. To my knowledge, Mama and Daddy never went to the movies–never, not once. All the movie memories I have are of me going alone or with or to meet friends at the theater. The very earliest memories are of the double-feature cowboy movies…
by Heather Dunn Schmitt My earliest memory of going to the movies is a foggy one, but it’s there. I was five years old, I think, and my dad piled all of us–my older sister, my younger brother, and me–into his 1966 Ford Mustang. We drove for what seemed to my young mind to be…
by Lara Fowler I can trace my love for classic film back to one person. Inhabiting a small house in a quiet neighborhood just north of the Santa Clara Valley, my grandparents, Julian and Frances Polon, were both Los Angeles transplants. My grandmother, born Canadian, had moved to Los Angeles for nursing school and stayed…
True Classics 