Until I was 7 my dad and I had a ritual of going to the movies every Thursday. I enjoyed all kind of movies, but The Westerns held a special spot in my heart. See, like many great fathers, my dad involved us (my brother Aus and I) into his hobbies and memories. And his always started with The Westerns. I never forget how his face shines and how his voice gets involved with an amazing body language every time he talks to us about The Westerns and the Cowboys. John Wayne, Gary Cooper, Glenn Ford, Red Sun, High Noon, Rawhide, Charles Bronson, Franco Nero and of course Spaghetti Westerns.
We enjoyed the aftermath as much as we enjoyed watching the western movie itself. The aftermath was a ritual that started with dad getting us into a discussion about our experience that night. Character analysis, the good guy, the bad guys, the music, certain phrases that caught his attention, and the lessons we learned from that movie. The next day we would do the same while having breakfast, and I could not wait for him to get back home from work for the last stage, my favorite, where he would prepare us paper-made characters that resemble the ones we witnessed last night, and form a western atmosphere of hideouts and hills on a quilt and we "play" the movie together.
I grew up and got distracted by new atmospheres and pleasures. But I never forgot my passion towards the westerns. The love that was implanted in the core of my being by my dad.
How could I forget? The whistling wind, the shooting bullets that sound like cannons, the cracking whips, the beautiful women, the hero who always stands tall, the bad guys, and Ennio Morricone. The Magic. Each time I watch one of these old friends I feel a shield of love forms around my heart. And if you ask me about the best memory I have, ever, it would be sitting with dad on that quilt playing cowboys.
Because I have only a 7 years old daughter (Kaylee), I could not get her involved into that special world of Men. But one way or the other, the smart girl she is, she feels my passion towards it, and she reflects it on me from now and then surprising me with a jolt of joy. The last time was at the park a few weeks ago. I was getting our picnic stuff from the car when I saw her standing with a water gun in her hand, a sharp Clint Eastwood look on her face, ready to shoot at any second while humming "The Good, the Bad and the Ugly". She soaked me wet!
The Westerns. Love.
So this is to Sergio Leone, the good guys, the bad guys, the beautiful women, the beautiful Kaylee, the dusty western hills, and the greatest man of all, dad.
