Time Passages

My wife and I went to see the new movie “Creed” the other night. Which for most people would be no big deal. But to us, it was something of an event. And not because we almost never go to the movies anymore (which we don’t). But rather, because of our strange relationship with Rocky Balboa.

Rocky, it seems, has woven his way into our relationship over the years. In fact, you could say that the character has been intertwined in our relationship since the beginning. Because the very first date we ever went on was to a Rocky movie - Rocky II to be specific.

I remember it so vividly - the date was June 28, 1979. The Plainview Theater. And how do I remember this? Because, in my pack rat ways, I never throw out anything - including the actual ticket stubs from that day (what are today’s kids going to keep as mementoes - printed pages from some website??).

And, amazingly, there we were - she and I  - in another theater in another state some 36 years later, watching the same character on the screen. And I’ll bet I was the only one who had tears in his eyes at the end - and it had nothing to do with the actual movie.

Which, by the way, is very good. Go see it. And if you do, I think you’ll see why Sylvester Stallone is getting some buzz for a Golden Globe and, dare I say it, an Oscar. Because he’s actually that good. And the reason he’s so good is because he plays his character for what he is now - an older man who can no longer fight the fight. At least in the ring. Essentially, Rocky has become Mickey (for those who know every movie as I do).

Which leads me to the tears. Because, you see, pretty much every day I don’t see myself as what I am. I wake up next to the same girl I went to high school with. I drive a ridiculously old car every day to work. I still enjoy the same music and food and drink I’ve always enjoyed. I still play hockey with the guys every week. Essentially, when I think of myself, I think of myself as 25.

So seeing Rocky on the screen as what he is now - an older man - led me to look in the mirror and realize what I have been trying to, in essence, deny lately. That I’m not a 25 year old kid anymore. I’ve gotten older and, just maybe, a bit wiser. But the reality is that I’m well into the throes of middle age, having passed 50 a couple of years ago.

And it got to me. Right there, in a theater full of younger movie goers who were there more for Michael B. Jordan than for an aging Sylvester Stallone. A room full of teen and twenty-somethings, and me and my girl - just like we were in 1979, when WE were the teens amidst the “older folk.”

And, as I looked around, I realized that the passage of time is inevitable. You can’t fight it, so like Rocky (finally, in this film), you embrace it. You look back with fondness and wonder, and you look forward to all that is still to come.

And then you take the hand of the girl that has been there all the time. And you move forward, together. Into the great unknown. And suddenly, it’s 1979 all over again.