Old films

I am working on turning old family films into an edited video. The first few days, when I was sorting the information on the computer into different files, I cried more than once. It hurt. Do you remember the play Our Town by Thorton Wilder? In the third act, one of the lead characters dies in childbirth and you see her sitting among the dead onstage. There is a point at which she realizes that she can go back into the living at anytime she wants, but she is warned by those around her that it really isn't a good idea. She still wants to go, so they suggest that if she must, she should go back on an unimportant day, one that won't hurt too much. She chooses her 12th birthday.

During the next scene, she goes back. She sees her and her family moving through time in everyday actions--her mother in her apron, for example. As an observer, she is appalled about how they each are taking the moments for granted; they don't really look at each other and marvel at how beautiful they are. She returns to the cemetery and the audience knows she will not return to the living again. That is how I felt looking at the films. I saw us all moving through time, lovely, moments spinning by, ordinary moments that are extraordinary.