Friday, June 14, 2013

And one brief Game of Thrones note ...

... which I know you hate.  But I don't care.  Most of you don't even watch Game Of Thrones.  Which makes the fact that you are missing Peter Dinklage's towering performance as the Imp,  Tyrion Lannister, your problem not mine.

Me?  I was sitting with some friends in what I call the Chuck, more formally known as the Charles Lucas Confectionary and Wine Bar (maybe), drinking the heart out of a beautiful Trojan night.  It was perhaps eight pee em.  And a man walked out the door followed by his ten year old daughter.  Nothing odd about that.  Except that the daughter had what appeared to be a wooden version of a medieval broad sword tucked down the back of her shirt so only the hilt was visible.

This, friends, you don't see very often.  At least not in this century.  Or even on this continent, ever.  More of a European thing.  I turned to a friend of mine to see if I had somehow imagined it, and she confirmed the broadsword sighting.

I said to her, "No way is that kid going to bed before Game of Thrones."

At which point we all started laughing.  But speaking as the father of two daughters, I'm a firm believer in letting the kids go where their imagination takes them.  It was, honestly, the sweetest thing I've seen in a long time.

I'm reminded of the time I went to see Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon -- if that was the name of the thing -- in NYC years ago.  The theater was relatively empty, but in front of me, two rows away, perhaps five seats to the right were a father and son.  They had apparently not expected the film to have subtitles and the kid was having trouble.  So the father, in a low voice, read every subtitle to the kid.  Every one.  I only noticed it during the quiet moments, but it was such a perfect act of fatherly generosity that it sticks with me to this day.

I asked the two of them on the way out how they liked the movie.  The kid said it was fabulous.  When he said that, the father looked pleased.


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