Monday, October 31, 2011

PROUD Like There's No Tomorrow

After climbing three flights of stairs, the last being much tighter and steeper than the previous, I arrived at the open balcony of the Wheeler Opera House. As you would imagine, the spring loaded seats are velvet covered, the balcony railing is serpentine shaped rich wood, most likely a mahogany. I couldn't help but reflect upon the history of the space I was occupying, as my eyes were drawn to the beautiful chandelier hanging overhead. The walls are intricately painted with stencil detailing, the mahogany runs in lovely organic curves through out the entire theater. There's no denying it's a very special place.

I wasn't in the Opera House for a live theatrical performance, I was there to catch the latest release of Warren Miller's annual feature length ski movie, this year aptly titled ... Like There's No Tomorrow. The ellipsis is a part of the title, allowing one to fill in the blank with how they would like to seize the moment. For some reason my first thoughts always rise to, LOVE Like There's No Tomorrow. As I settled into my seat, my girls next to me with J on the end, our friends sitting behind us, my heart started racing when the movie opened. The lights go down, but the glow of the movie illuminates the theater, the music is always the hook setting us up to get ready for the 90 minute adventure we are about to embark on.

While I could find a way to muster the appropriate lingo to describe the skiing action in ... Like There's No Tomorrow, I seem to always have a much different take away from the movie every year. Don't get me wrong, the skiers and snowboarders are amazing at what they do, but I'm moved in such a different way. I found myself fighting back tears in the Squaw Valley segment thinking, wow I'm actually crying at a ski movie. Holy sap. I can't quite place why it felt so emotional to me, the music always plays a roll, Ain't No Sunshine When She's Gone to Fascination Street. Maybe it was the highlights of one of the Directors of Photography, Tom Day's intense passion for what he does and how much he loves where he lives. Or maybe it was how my oldest daughter was nestled into my husband's shoulder with the glow from all the beautiful pristine snow on the screen highlighting their matching blue eyes.

More than likely the tears welled in my eyes more than once during the movie because of the music, the setting, the stunning visuals, and the taking in of my husband's hard work. I've openly admitted many times, I've never quite felt what the passionate skiers in the movie feel with skies strapped to my feet. Although, this year I've come the closest to understanding, for some reason the slow motion shots to me were so deeply moving it transcended the experience into a feeling for me.

I tend to be a hard nose about J's job always highlighting how often it takes him away from us, there is no denying that what he does is incredible. Giddy school girl emotions run through my body when I know I'll be seeing a segment he was an integral part of creating. There's nothing quite like watching my two girls so intently focused on a film playing on the big screen, that their father produced. It's magic. While I am surrounded by people hooting and hollering at the incredible ski action they are watching, I join in for my husband, confirming to him I'll always be his biggest cheerleader.

3 comments:

  1. I think it's so cool that you are so emotional about your husband's art!

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  2. So beautifully written Denise! And I'm sure he is extremely thankful to have all his girls by his side to share his accomplishment.

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  3. Definitely ranks as one of the coolest jobs ever.

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