The other night I recorded a movie made in 1944, "The Canterville Ghost." It starred Charles Laughton, Robert Young, and Margaret O'Brien. The movie brought back a lot of memories. I remember going to see it with my sister and two of my brothers. We walked from our home on Cecil Street in Knoxville, down to Washington Avenue where the State Theater was located. It was not a long walk, but we left in plenty of time to get there well before the main feature began.
We stopped in front of the window and asked for two children's price and two adult price tickets. I am sure the half price was ten cents and the full price was a quarter. All four of us were able to see the movie for 70 cents total. Children's price was based on the fact that they were twelve years old or younger. Adult prices began at age thirteen.
We went on inside and probably bought a couple of boxes of Raisinets to share ( five cents each) and a couple of bags of popcorn (ten cents each) to share. Four kids saw a movie and had refreshments for total of one dollar. I am sure there were times when my niece went with us. Norma was just six years younger than I. I was eleven years old in 1944.
You sure can't go to the movies these days for that. I will watch the movie I recorded one of these afternoons or evenings when I am in the mood to do so. It is a comedy-drama and I know I will enjoy it.
All this reminiscing reminds me of rainy days on the farm. I was lying in bed this morning watching the news and weather, which doesn't seem to be changing much these days, thinking about how nice it would be to have some rain. They are predicting possible showers somewhere next week. In the summertime on the farm, I always looked forward to rain for several reasons. One, I welcomed a respite from working out in the cornfield or tobacco patch. A good steady rainy day afforded that break. Our roof was made of tin, and when it rained, it made a pleasant, cozy and comfortable sound. I could lie on the cot in the side room and read to my heart's content. Our house was an old farm house that had been built probably eighty years earlier and looked more like a shack than a house. It had only three and a half rooms and a path. No indoor plumbing...we had to get our water from a cistern on the back porch. Thinking about that rain on the tin roof makes me wish I had a square of tin to nail on my roof so I could hear the rain hitting it (IF we ever get any rain, that is. ha)
Well, that is about it for today. Much love to each of you, my friends and family. This is Blabbin' Grammy signing off for today. Bye for now. More later.