I’m not from what you would call a rich family. Then again, I’m not from what you would call a poor family either. I guess, I’m just average. There was always food on the table, a bed to call my own, and parents to tuck me in at night (legit – my parents tucked me in until I was like 10)…so, I guess I had more than most.
My mother babysat children at our house, and my father pulled 12 hour days as a carpenter in the city. I remember that we always had burgers on Saturday – when my parents got a George Foreman it was like the best thing ever. We would eat hamburgers and french fries while watching Siskel and Ebert. Then, after we were done sweeping the floor and wiping down the table, my parents would drive us to Blockbuster and we would pick out a movie.
God, we would spend at least an hour there on a Saturday night. Going up those aisles three or four times at least, trying to get the perfect movie. For some reason, I always begged my parents to get popcorn even though we had it at the house.
When we finally made our choice, we’d get in line, come home, and get into our pj’s before going to the den and watching a movie as a family. Sometimes my dad would break out the blender and make malteds with Haagen Daaz.
Well, I don’t remember the details exactly, but during the blizzard of ’96, we had rented a movie before the storm hit. And if there was one thing my parents weren’t keen on…it was late fees.