The older I get, the more things I remember fondly about my dad. He was complicated. But now I remember him for the kind of stuff only dads can do, like teach their daughters to love Westerns. I don’t know when it happened, or how, but somewhere after countless hours watching movies like She Wore a Yellow Ribbon in a nearly catatonic state of boredom, I suddenly started loving them. I still remember going to see Unforgiven with my dad the weekend it opened (I was 13), and I remember after all those years of training in the language of Westerns I walked away thinking it was the most perfect love song of a Western you could possibly make. I thought it was the best movie I had ever seen. I still think that, to this day.
Archive: September 29, 2010