“Children are often spoiled because no one will spank Grandma.” -Unknown
I took my kids to see Annie today, the new Annie, after months of trailers and anticipation. To be honest, the first time I saw the preview, I was pissed! I’m a bi-centennial child who grew up in the 80’s with Punky Brewster, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Goonies, Thundercats, and Transformers, half of which have been remade and remixed until I feel like screaming, “Get your own goddamn childhood!” I love Johnny Depp as much as the next girl but Gene Wilder will always be Willy Wonka. Even Jem and Skeletor are doing truly outrageous Honda commercials these days. It feels like there is no imagination left so all the Hollywood producers and writers are cracking open my childhood vault and stealing everything sacred about my youth.
When I was little, I spent the weekends at my Grandma’s place with my cousin. We were both only children and the closest thing either of us had as a sister. We’d arrive Friday night and stay until Sunday so our parents could get a break. Those weekends held some of my favorite memories. My grandma was a terrible cook. Her house always smelled liked cabbage or something burnt to a crisp but she’d always take us shopping The grocery store was a free for all. She’d buy anything we threw into the cart-every flavor of Hubba Bubba bubble gum including Dr. Pepper, anything goes. If I wanted fifteen pieces of bacon and a can of frozen orange juice concentrate with a spoon for dinner? No problem.
On Saturday mornings, we’d hop the bus to the nearest mall to spend our allowances on a new charm for our necklaces or the latest Debbie Gibson song at Super Star Recordings. There were no etiquette lessons at her house. She knew her job as a Grandma was just to love us and spoil us rotten. Once we tied our bed sheets together and climbed out the second floor window. She was mad but we survived without a scratch or a spanking. Her house was a sanctuary, the perfect escape from the pressure of being an only child with a single Mom in a school full of 2.5 children perfect families.
The best thing about my Grandma’s place was her movie collection. All the best VHS tapes from Mary Poppins, Annie, Sound of Music, to this amazing four hour musical miniseries of Alice In Wonderland and Through The Looking Glass. We watched those tapes so many times, we knew every lyric by heart, so I consider myself an expert.
I wouldn’t say the new version of Annie was bad. They cut out Sandy’s song “Dumb Dog” and kind of butchered Miss Hannigan’s “Little Girls.” Daddy Warbucks was Mr. Stacks and there was no Punjab but I still found myself tearing up hearing the familiar bars of “Maybe” and “It’s a Hard Knock Life.” Watching the movie was like ripping the Band-aid off and peeling back a scab. My grandma died when my daughter was just a baby. It felt like losing her all over again, watching this distorted version of Annie, knowing she hasn’t watched my girl grow into this awesome frustrating pre-teen, knowing she’ll never meet my son and how completely she would have loved him and all of his Jameson-style mischief.
I decided the best way to honor her and my childhood, regardless of all the remakes, is to introduce my children to everything that made them both special. By watching Goonies and all the Gremlin movies with them, holding my son during the scary parts. By taking them to Infinity Park each summer to watch Princess Bride shouting “As you wish” with the crowd. By taking them to Film on the Rocks to watch Labyrinth and cheer with the audience every time David Bowie appears in his fabulous purple tights. “You remind me of the babe…” I guess my childhood will always be mine, this only child finally needs to learn how to share.
