I came across this shout-out to my brother, Tim (above), and it brought back some great memories from a couple summers ago when he and I were on the founding committee of a local film festival. We worked day and night along with a small handful of people to get the thing up and running in a breathtaking nine weeks, an endeavor that included the Herculean renovation, sans cash, of a downtown theater that had been shuttered for a few years and virtually abandoned for nearly a decade.
My brother (an indie filmmaker) and I were the first to walk back into that darkened place, and it was an incredible moment -- seeing it in all its musty despair, quieted, but with us knowing that it was no longer going to be quite so dark; it would be returning to life soon, welcoming back the community that loved it so much. Our gathering places, the places where we connect with others and share time and events, can hold such a powerful place in our lives. They belong to us, collectively, serving as sort of a bookmark in time, much as movies and music do. They're among the pantheon of sets where we live out our lives. We share them. And to bring such a place back to life, honoring its integrity, respecting its place in the landscape of a community, well, what a gift.
That morning, while Tim surveyed the damage, I went down to the basement and found the red plastic marquee letters and began dusting them off, then carted them to the lobby. My brother flipped on the yellow marquee lights and we walked outside on that warm summer morning, and for a moment, we watched silently as people passed by in cars, sometimes honking, sometimes waving, mostly just smiling happily to themselves, like they'd found something they'd lost. It was an electric moment of togetherness and redemption, and it was an honor to be part of it. A town was about to reclaim one of its sacred spaces.
A little later, I hoisted up a red letter "W" for "WELCOME."And then, with the lights flickering Hollywood style, people began stopping by, asking if they could help too.
Tim, here's a shout-out from me too. This whole shebang couldn't have happened without you. (And your whole crew of Jedis deserve colossal props too.) Those of us who were there remember all those nights you stayed up till 4 a.m., heroically painting sky-high theater walls, pouring your heart into something you believed in utterly: The power of story; the magic of movies.
Bravo, brother.
Us, arriving opening night.
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