Movies In The Park
When I was growing up, my New Jersey town would show movies in the park one night a week all summer. They weren't kiddie movies and the crowd was often older, but I don't remember anything shown being explicit. "The Music Man" and some Vincent Price thrillers particularly stand out.
My sister and I went with the other kids from our block. We'd bring blankets and snacks and, at nine or ten years old, we thought we were the coolest things in the world. I can't imagine sending my kids off this way at night, but I guess it was a different time.
The movies never started until it grew quite dark. I remember grownups in lawn chairs telling us to be quiet and quit fooling around, but with none of our parents there to enforce anything, I'm not entirely sure we complied.
The biggest thrill was the night we were convinced we'd been offered drugs by the small group of teenagers that hung out at the park's entrance. We were on our way home and it was really dark. This being the early 70's, the "hippie" drug culture was in full swing, and we'd all been warned by our parents about the evils of both hippies and drugs. These long-haired, fringe-flaunting kids smoking cigarettes clearly fit the bill, at least in our drama charged minds.
"They're popping pills," I remember my neighborhood buddy Joey whispering. "I saw him take some."
They must have heard us and decided to teach us a lesson. Because, whether the pills Joey thought he saw were acid or Tylenol, I am pretty darned sure they were not trying to push them on us.
But they did, at that point, offer them. To scare us, no doubt. And it worked. We screamed, "Drugs!" and ran like the wind, certain they were on our heels in hot pursuit.
We didn't slow down till we reached the safety of our street, several blocks away. Of course, when we told our parents what had happened, they wouldn't let us go back for any more movies in the park. For years after that we passed by there with exaggerated caution, convinced some pill-pushing derelict was going to emerge from the bushes and grab us.
Ironically, this same park, years later, became a major hang out for me and a certain male friend of mine when we were teenagers ourselves. And no, we didn't go there to pop pills. But maybe that story is best left for another time.
For more of this week's memory Spins, head over to Sprite's Keeper.
My sister and I went with the other kids from our block. We'd bring blankets and snacks and, at nine or ten years old, we thought we were the coolest things in the world. I can't imagine sending my kids off this way at night, but I guess it was a different time.
The movies never started until it grew quite dark. I remember grownups in lawn chairs telling us to be quiet and quit fooling around, but with none of our parents there to enforce anything, I'm not entirely sure we complied.
The biggest thrill was the night we were convinced we'd been offered drugs by the small group of teenagers that hung out at the park's entrance. We were on our way home and it was really dark. This being the early 70's, the "hippie" drug culture was in full swing, and we'd all been warned by our parents about the evils of both hippies and drugs. These long-haired, fringe-flaunting kids smoking cigarettes clearly fit the bill, at least in our drama charged minds.
"They're popping pills," I remember my neighborhood buddy Joey whispering. "I saw him take some."
They must have heard us and decided to teach us a lesson. Because, whether the pills Joey thought he saw were acid or Tylenol, I am pretty darned sure they were not trying to push them on us.
But they did, at that point, offer them. To scare us, no doubt. And it worked. We screamed, "Drugs!" and ran like the wind, certain they were on our heels in hot pursuit.
We didn't slow down till we reached the safety of our street, several blocks away. Of course, when we told our parents what had happened, they wouldn't let us go back for any more movies in the park. For years after that we passed by there with exaggerated caution, convinced some pill-pushing derelict was going to emerge from the bushes and grab us.
Ironically, this same park, years later, became a major hang out for me and a certain male friend of mine when we were teenagers ourselves. And no, we didn't go there to pop pills. But maybe that story is best left for another time.
For more of this week's memory Spins, head over to Sprite's Keeper.
Great story! Thanks for sharing!
Posted by: Nothing Fancy | June 17, 2009 at 10:19 AM
I can completely see that! My friend was over for a sleepover one year and she and I and our twelve year old wisdom were completely convinced that a man was looking in my window and shouted for my mom and dad who then called the police. I don't know if it was true or not since I can't remember someone actually looking in the window!
Posted by: Sprite's Keeper | June 17, 2009 at 12:58 PM
Interesting how we often scare ourselves.
I was walking alone late in the night and had go under a bridge. I was convinced someone was following. It made me move much quicker than normal.
Posted by: lisleman | June 17, 2009 at 02:41 PM
We had a drive in movie theatre where I grew up. It's gone now, but I loved it so much in the summer time.
Posted by: Amanda of Shamelessly Sassy | June 17, 2009 at 03:24 PM
We, too, frequented the drive-in movies when I was growing up. Once, when I was about 9 or so, my mother and step-father loaded us up in the car and took us to see some "kid" movie - most likely the latest Disney nature epic. After awhile, my mother noted the lack of noise from the back seat - the usual pushing and shoving and demands to "stop touching me!!" There we were, all on our knees peering out the back window at what was showing on the other screen.
My mother took one look at it and screeched. "OUT! We must get OUT! We have to LEAVE!" I'm sure she knew she'd never be able to keep us from watching the other feature film, so she hectored my step-father until he finally gave in and left.
I don't know what she was so upset about - "Fritz the Cat" was the most interesting cartoon we'd ever seen.
Posted by: Jan | June 17, 2009 at 06:12 PM
I've always wanted to go to the drive in! The closest one to me is about 45 minutes away though... not cool.
Great Spin!
I played too!
Posted by: GiGi @ Incrementum | June 17, 2009 at 06:34 PM
I was ten walking home with my friend Subash (he was Indian). We'd just learned the sign that supposedly meant "Do you want to do it?" We weren't totally sure what "it" was. Two girls came toward us. They were about twelve. Subash looked at me and gave the I dare you look. We both made the sign. The girls stared at us in disbelief, then they said: "Okay, where?" We never ran so fast in our lives.
Posted by: Harmon E. | June 18, 2009 at 09:29 AM