From Where I Stand, the Sun’s Shining All Over the Place

“This is a story of boy meets girl. The boy, Tom Hansen of Margate, New Jersey, grew up believing that he’d never truly be happy until the day he met the one. This belief stemmed from early exposure to sad British pop music and a total mis-reading of the movie ‘The Graduate’. The girl, Summer Finn of Shinnecock, Michigan, did not share this belief. Since the disintegration of her parent’s marriage she’d only love two things. The first was her long dark hair. The second was how easily she could cut it off and not feel a thing. Tom meets Summer on January 8th. He knows almost immediately she is who he has been searching for. This is a story of boy meets girl, but you should know upfront, this is not a love story.”

These are the very opening statements the narrator makes in 500 Days of Summer, a movie that I really enjoyed by the way. I’ve actually referenced this very quote in a post quite some time ago, coincidentally, probably because I stole Macy’s copy of the soundtrack and this is the first track on the soundtrack, so I’ve heard it many times and can recite it as if it were one of the songs. Today, I’ve spent my entire afternoon (restfully) watching some of my all time favorite movies, protesting my sickness. I blissfully watched An American in Paris (for the fifth time this month), Easter Parade (which I watch every Easter but haven’t gotten a chance to until today), Take Me Out To the Ball Game, and am currently watching Singin’ in the Rain. Every time I watch Gene Kelly, Frank Sinatra, and Judy Garland, I immediately turn into this hopeless romantic. I swoon over sweet, smiling young men and wish Frank Sinatra’s greatest hits constantly played as the soundtrack to my life. It’s silly of me, I know. It doesn’t take much. These movies appear seemingly unrelated, but every time I watch any of these movies, I think of Tom Hansen, a hopeless romantic in disguise. His early exposure to sad British pop music and my exposure to Gene Kelly’s fabulous voice and tap dancing have made me a very silly girl. I don’t, however, believe I’ll never be happy until I meet that significant other. I do dream of meeting a painter in Paris who will dance with me under the moonlight, as unrealistic as that may be. Sure, I know it’s very unlikely I’ll find someone who would say things like “Goodnight and sweet dreams, Babydoll.” And I may never find a tap-dancing fellow to sing me “It’s very clear, our love is here to stay. Not for a year but ever and a day.” Maybe never, but I’m alright with that. I’ll find someone who can appreciate my excellent taste in music, who’s willing to take dancing lessons with me, and who thinks of me as their very own “Lucky Star.”


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