It's a Wonderful Life

Every time I watch Frank Capra's It's a Wonderful Life--which is quite often as I rate it the best film ever made--a different scene really grabs me. One time it'll be the scene where Jimmy Stewart's George Bailey loses it completely on Christmas Eve, wrecking his house and shouting at his children as he pulls up just short of the end of his tether, emerging from his rage to a see a fear in the faces of his children which reflects a darkness in him. Another time it will be the scene where George and Mary first kiss, George trying as hard as he can not to give in, but being washed away on a tide of his feelings.

This time, watching it with my Grandmother on Christmas Day, the scene that got me (and brought a tear to my eye, I don't mind admitting), was this: Having given up his dreams of travelling and college to help his family and the people in Bedford Falls, George is on his way from his wedding to his honeymoon. He stops, though, when he sees what looks like a run on the bank; his duty tugs at him and he makes his way to the Building and Loan he has kept alive as the last bastion of hope for families wanting to own their own home rather than live under the thrall of the local scrooge and slum baron, Mr. Potter.

He finds a panicked throng of customers and a scared witless business partner. The bank has called their loan, and all of their cash has gone to pay it, leaving nothing to pay the worried customers, who all want to make withdrawals. Potter, meanwhile, sees his chance and puts it about that he'll pay fifty cents on the dollar for shares--peanuts to him and a long awaited chance to tighten his grip on the town. George pleads with the depression-hit customers, telling them they'll all get through this if they stick together, that he can't pay out now, but can pay out next week. This doesn't satisfy some, who would rather go with Potter, so as a last resort, George and his wife Mary offer to pay out of their honeymoon fund.

Unfortunately, the two thousand dollars they have will only go round if people restrict their withdrawals to what they really need. A first guy just doesn't get it, and insists on his entire balance of two hundred and forty two dollars, but a second guy accepts twenty dollars to tide him over. Then George comes to the lady who is third in the queue. When asked how much she can get by on, she looks uncertain for a second, and then says quietly, "$17.50?" George is taken aback for a second at the consideration shown, and then launches himself into a flurry of gratitude for the example she has set. After this, of course, they manage to keep everyone happy with two dollars to spare.

There's something about the way that scene plays out, about her mental scrimping and saving when she could so easily have just followed suit and said twenty dollars, that just resonates. If there were more people like that, who took just what they needed, and less people like Mr $242, the world would be a better place, for sure. What really resonated was watching it with my Grandmother, though. Amazingly, at 83, she had never heard of the film. She loved it, as I knew she would, but that scene above all else made me think of her.

She's sharp, but physically she's finding it tougher every year, but she still raises thousands of pounds for charity every year, still volunteers a day a week at the hospital, wheeling round people younger than her and walking round to sell raffle tickets instead of standing in one place, because it ups the percentages. Of anyone I know, she has the heart which could best be described as good. She always wants to help, never puts herself first. She is definitely a $17.50 kind of person. She is an example I will try to follow. For sure, life is a more wonderful thing for having her in it.

Liars' League

We were sat around in the crowded upstairs room of an old fashioned pub with wooden panelling and stained glass windows, listening to tale after tale being spun. It seemed like something from a long-lost era; all we needed was a hearth to gather round and the smell of horse muck to waft in from the street outside.

This was the Liars' League. As their slogan goes, 'writers write, actors read, audience listens - everyone wins'. It was strange to sit and listen to my story read out loud in front of an audience. Our story, I should say, as the successful entry was co-written with Deborah Rosenblum, who I met via Scrawl and SMYL. She's a real talent, and we worked well together.

We entered the theme 'Ice and Fire', and our story was a tale of both. I was nervous as it was being read out, but the actress was well-practiced, and she brought it to life well. The reaction was good, and the warmth I felt as it was applauded made up for the lack of a hearth.

The Second Law of Thermodynamics

Keeping in Touch

Some friends who are pretty desperate for me to get on Facebook made up an account and invited all my friends to it. I've just been and deleted it; there are a number of very good reasons I'm not on Facebook, and it being forced on me is definitely not likely to make me any more amenable to it. But it did make me think about whether I'm making as much effort as I should to stay in touch with people and to stay involved in the lives of people that matter to me.

So I'm resolving to do just that, and I'm going to start by using this blog more regularly. Which means it will have a slightly wider focus than just my writing, but as I'll be writing about whatever I choose to focus on, it'll still be a writing blog.

Make sense? Keep reading.