I’d have to stay alone, keep out of trouble and make myself very small in the world.

The night, a living presence, was in constant motion, shifting itself, sighing, breathing. She wondered if perhaps it, too, was trying to get warm.

― Laird Koenig, The Little Girl Who Lives Down the Lane

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A young Martin Sheen as a pervert.

I avoided The Little Girl Who Lives Down The Lane for almost thirty years. Now that we no longer have cable we only view what is available on Netflix. The kid and I are selective to what we can view together, the film having a 13-year-old girl, Jody Foster, as the heroine Rynn Jacobs inspired us to take a chance. Maybe this film might be a scary film as well as a youth film. It came out 1977 and is classified a horror film. It was more than this in a good way and we both enjoyed it.

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Marlo tells Frank to leave.

I am pleasantly inspired by the expansive qualities in this film because it has those seventies feelings with a bit of elegance thrown in. Rynn is 13-years-old and is very mature for her age. Her character has depth, loyalty, and integrity. Her favorite poet is Emily Dickinson, I was instantly impressed. All the characters in the film have depth as well as developed personalities.

There is the town pervert, the nagging and nosey property owner, the boyfriend turned lover and lastly the helpful sheriff.

Oh yes, we also have the father. The whole film pivots around the mysterious father who is a poet. Where can he be? Is he in his study translating Russian poetry?

Rynn: [about her father] Through most all September he looked fine, if the pain was terrible he never said anything. Then one Sunday evening, we were sitting in this room and he whispered to me in a very soft voice that I wasn’t like anybody else in the world; and people wouldn’t understand me, they’d order me around, tell me what to do and try to turn me into the person they wanted me to be. Since I was only a kid, I couldn’t say anything, I’d have to stay alone, keep out of trouble and make myself very small in the world.

Mario: All alone?

Rynn: We worked out every detail, we knew it wouldn’t be easy. Here’s a letter from my father: Don’t give in and play their game, fight them any way you have to, survive. That’s what he said. Then he kissed me and walked off into the trees and down the lane.

The beautiful environment places this film near the ocean. The presence of this film sucks you in with suspenseful moments. It is not an action film. One can sit back breathing and wonder and participate with the film.

The 70s motif is placed in this film very carefully as well, for in an impossible situation two youths find love if only for a while and are transformed!!

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This is not about the blue footed boobies… or is it a midnight summer dream ?

Do you like boobs a lot?

Boobs a lot boobs a lot.

Do you like boobs a lot?

Boobs a lot boobs a lot.

Of course, I did not affirm the quotes loudly. I wrote them in my journal instead. My big, beautiful boobs need the love of universal nurturing. They have passed the stage of Playboy Cover girl Photoshop.

Is it the Scotch-Irish in me or the French that has given me these glorious numbers? I remember a scene in the film American Beauty when our young heroine laughs when after all the dread and depression of her early teens of not having any boobs; then knowing that all she had to do is just wait a few years, because now she had a big pair. That was the humor of the scene.

My 8-year-old niece once told me she thought that,

“God is a giant boob in the sky dripping milk to everyone.”

We both laughed about her vision.

They are big and round.

They are all around

They are big and round.

They are all around

Going to Kaiser Permanente to have a mammogram is a real treat. Sister Sallie and I think it would be nice if the Breasts Center at Kaiser might have murals or pictures of breasts everywhere. All the various kinds. Not all breasts are big and round like mine…but most are round. I know it would be easier going through the mammogram ’wonderful glowing experience’ if I had a wide selection of ‘Boobs a lot’ to view on the walls at Kaiser. It would be humorous and human at the same time.

Anyhow, after writing the boob affirmation down in my journal I had a cosmic event happen of weird proportions. I went out to the local pub and a guy I have known, short, but a cool dude asked me,

“Having fun hanging with all the guys tonight?” As I was holding a nice fresh pint I said, “Just drinking My beer.”

Do you like boobs a lot?

Boobs a lot boobs a lot.

“Well sometimes that is all it takes, you are beautiful. I like your chest… I am a boobies’ man.” I gave him a look of inward knowing… that the affirmation worked…but he did not know this. I said with a toast,

“Cheers to the Scotch-Irish.”

Then he walked away. I felt all glowing and happy. A few years earlier I would have kicked his ass for saying what he did to me!! Funny how aging turns my anger into accepting humor? I was laughing at him. I do that a lot. Guys think they are so above the game. I have big boobs and an even bigger brain… wicked smart I am.

They are big and round.

They are all around

Do you like boobs a lot?

Boobs a lot boobs a lot.

It is a ‘new moon’ tonight and this is a loony short, embellished story about boobs a lot…

Nose humor and gangsters… a serendipity tale..

ose picking is not a popular topic but we all do it, some more gracefully than others. My music teacher, who was also my voice teacher, did it on stage with a tissue. When she sang opera on stage she could transform from being a 40-year-old woman to a youthful angelic being, and just as lovely while waiting for the class to get ready, with her finger up her nose. I watched her put that tissue with a finger way up there and then she pulled it out and acutely looked at it. She was not embarrassed or self-conscious about it either and I thought to myself,

“How does she do that…to pick ones nose and not care? Doesn’t she think about all of us watching her?”

My dad told me a story once. He was on Hollywood Blvd. and a big limousine pulled up alongside his car. They were both waiting at the stop sign when he saw a woman picking her nose in the back of the limousine. I guess in the 1940s not all big limousines had tinted windows. She looked over at Dad and seemed to blush and then she gave him a big smile. It was a youthful Elisabeth Taylor.

Hollywood and Santa Monica was the “cat’s meow” back then for movie stars, gangsters and the common folk. They mingled nicely back then. Things were spread out and people were intimate. Dad said that at some of the night clubs that he went to there were a number of actors and gangsters present. One night he said hello in passing to Bugsy Siegel while in a Santa Monica restaurant. He said his eyes were piercing blue and as cold as ice. I think this was a few days before he was actually found murdered. Maybe he wasn’t killed by the mob for money laundering or for his wheeling and dealing in Vegas; maybe they caught him picking his nose.