This is the next entry in a Theatre… a Movie… and a Time, a series that was begun here. Since I am in the backstretch of my Versus AFI: 10 Top 10 arc, this month looking at the Sports genre, it was only fitting I’d chronicle another film in this theatre-memory series.
“The only thing we had in common was that she was from Iowa, and I had once heard of Iowa.”
April, 1989: the following has some bearing to what comes next…
- newlywed |ˈn(y)o͞olēˌwed|
- - noun (usu. newlyweds)
- 1. a recently married person.
My wife, without question, puts up with a lot by the simple fact that she’s married to me. I’m sure, when we went to see Field of Dreams together, just two months into our marriage, that aspect was only too well coming to light. Still, life was so simple back then — before we had children and came to that sudden realization. Kids and parenthood were a long ways off, so we thought.
Heading back to the exact same theater, the National Theatre in Westwood Village, where we had our first date was strangely comforting. Everything was still in the midst of settling into a routine that was being “a married couple.” Plus, having the woman I walked-down-the-aisle with, in an ever enjoyable movie date, then as well as now, never got old.
I wouldn’t read W.P. Kinsella’s novel Shoeless Joe, the source book for the film, till decades later. So, the film’s story ended up quite surprising and moving, especially for me. Whatever I felt during the screening hit home like few films I’d seen over that long line of movies, which traced back all the way back to my childhood.
For some inexplicable reason, I performed a lot of blinking by film’s end. To her credit, and only further earning my undying affection to her, my new wife never pressed about why that was. She’d learn of it in her own good time.