The screen went totally black and it became completely silent in there.
Just ten minutes left of the mystifying movie Midnight Special and the projector shut down.
As if sitting in a crashing fighter jet, I ejected myself out of the seat and headed to the lobby to alert the officials while everyone else in the theater just sat that there like helpless lambs.
The movie was back on in minutes. The ending was remarkable. Super sick flick. See it.
That was me being my dad. Jumping up like that. Making sure everything was okay. Ready to fix, fight or flee without hesitation.
If there was a fire or an armed maniac, I would have been in my car, completely safe, before anything went down.
My dad and I used to say that the nazis never would have gotten us.
Get on these trains?
Not. Very. Fucking. Likely.
Maybe this feels like I’m reaching. Like escaping a movie compared to a death camp is a stretch.
Well, it’s not.
It’s just a difference of a degree.
When I was young, feuding with my dad over everything and nothing, I prayed that I’d just disappear. That I could just be an orphan.
But now, after all of these years and after all of these experiences, I literally couldn’t be more grateful that I’m Harold Berman’s son.
So, what does this mean for you, the reader?
I just knew I needed to share. And now we’ll see what unfolds next.
And, I just looked out the window and saw a little brown bird picking twigs up with it’s beak. Presumably to make a nest. For its kids.
There’s no better way to end this than with that.
thank you, so much, for taking the time to be with me in this moment,
P.S I snapped this photo right before the movie restarted. Normally I would have texted it to my dad. And he would have said, “You’re a real pisser.”
read my new book, LOVE LOOKS LIKE THIS, here: http://www.amazon.com/Love-Looks-Like-This-Berman/dp/0692665382/ref=sr_1_6?ie=UTF8&qid=1458762345&sr=8-6&keywords=Love+looks+like