Friday, July 3, 2015

All for One

In the summer of '75 I saw my first PG-rated movie. The film was Jaws: "You're going to jump the first time you see the shark," my cousin warned us, and I was hooked. I couldn't wait to be terrified of the ocean.

I almost didn't see it at all, though. That year, I turned thirteen, my brother was eleven, and my sister, just nine. In our family, seniority didn't count for anything (probably because my parents were both younger children). For example, the three of us had the same bed time, no matter what, until I left for boarding school. Any adjustment for me, as I got older, applied to the two of them as well. And when we were left home alone? Their mantra was clear: "You are not the boss of us!"

But that summer, I had to put my foot down. How was it possibly fair that we should all be able to go to see a movie that wasn't rated G when I was so much older than they were? When my argument fell on my mother's deaf ears I tried a tearful tantrum, but in response she gave me a choice. Either we all went, or none of us did.

So...

the three of us all jumped the first time we saw that shark.

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