not that kind of movie

Today, I went to see "Kingsman: The Secret Service" for the second time. I had mentioned to Barbara at Tuesday's trivia how much I had liked it and that it definitely warranted a second viewing, so she had suggested this afternoon. She was able to play hookie from school - I forget just why that was - and could take in an early afternoon show.
And so we did!
Again, "Unbreakable" came to mind when Harry Hart and Richmond Valentine are together. They are about to dine on Happy Meals, so to speak, and are talking about the glorious spy films of old. The lisping multi-billionaire Valentine, wearing mismatched styles, says how much he had always wanted to grow up to be the gentleman spy. The ever-impeccably clad Harry replies that he had thought being a colorful megalomaniac was the better option for him.
It's implied, in the subtext of their eyes and their vocal tones, that they each recognize what roles they now play in the game of life. They recognize that they, the villain and the hero, have now met.
That is what reminded me of the horrifying speech between the incredible fragile Elijah Price and the indestructible David Dunn.
I do have to wonder if having Samuel L. Jackson as the villain in both films is what tipped the scales? Would I have seen the similarity if a different actor had been cast as Valentine?
I have no idea. Maybe I should pose that as a topic for discussion at Philo Cafe some time. It would be good to have others' takes on the subject of villains and heroes and the actors who play them.
Just like it would have been good to talk to Barbara about my visit with the ex last night.
I hadn't even known he was in town until I got out of lab and saw that he had texted me.
Strike that.
I hadn't consciously known he was in town.
Perhaps my remembrance on Tuesday about that inside joke between him and my youngest brother didn't just pop out of nowhere. Perhaps there remains a psychic link between us, after sixteen years together, that allowed me to sense his arrival in town that day.
Hey, stranger things happen, right?
His elder daughter had given birth and he texted me a picture of the boy, obviously in a medical setting. He was in town, less than a mile away, at Memorial Hospital. His younger daughter, a troubled teen twice this past year, was there, too, as he had fetched her so she could visit her half-sister and meet her nephew.
At first, I had misunderstood. I thought he had been in town since the birth of his grandson on February 23rd. (That would have been my stepdad's 93rd birthday.)
No.
Only since Tuesday. And he left this morning at 8 AM, transporting the younger one back to her mom before continuing his trip to his home in Saginaw, MI. She barely made it back to the hotel in time for the trip.
You see, she had hooked up with a facebook pal and jetted from the hospital about ten PM last night. She said he was taking her to dinner. After Jeff insisted on meeting the guy, Dani later texted Kaity that they were at the guy's house.
Beauty queen turned drama queen.
Anyway... her running off left Jeff free to come visit me. So, after he walked his other daughter over to the Ronald McDonald House, he came by here to talk.
He talked about his new little grandson, born with the umbilical cord strangling his chest. The doctors said the child would be in NICU for three weeks while they tried to determine if he had suffered any brain damage. I do hope the child makes a full recovery. I told Jeff I was so sorry his daughter was having this burden, and I truly am. Having a baby is stressful enough without medical complications.
He talked about the results of his colonoscopy last month. When I had asked him a week ago, he did not yet have the word back from the doctor. Now, he did. The word was "pre-cancerous", sadly, and not the hoped-for "benign". As I told him, the good news was they didn't feel the need for any surgery at this time. He will have to return to the gastroenterologist in three years to check for more polyps.
He talked about the continuing lack of a job and the "situation wanted" ad he had posted. ("Do your local radio ads suck? Of course they do! All local radio ads suck! Let me make it not suck for you!") I hope that gets him some prospects, especially someone who will appreciate his sense of humor.
I remembered that I had several articles I had meant to mail out. The page-and-a-half on the Polish group in town that was offering free language classes. The article, just last week, about a group that offers grants to cover early-in-the-year medical costs. (That may even help Kaity out.) The cartoon about barbequeing in the snow. (He thought that was funny! He said he would do that, but his grill is iced over.)
There were a couple more cartoons, but I don't recall the details of them right now.
I'm glad I was able to give all of that to him in person. I always feel like I'm following in his mom's footsteps when I mail him stuff from the newspaper. Mother Pat did that often, enclosing little notes with the folded, and carefully clipped, articles.
I guess I try to distinguish my mailings by the ragged, obviously torn-out, borders of any newspaper-derived items of interest. I may even be consciously leaving those edges ragged.
He left before midnight, knowing he had an early - and long - drive ahead of him.
I really would have liked to talk to Barbara about his visit.
Just to air it, you know? Some words need to be spoken aloud for them to find a restful home.
Or maybe that's just me.