A trip down memory lane

I don't watch a lot of movies, but when Stephan is away, I tend to go to the Movie Gallery and bring a few home that I've been meaning to watch.I've been meaning to watch Junebug (movie reviews here) forever, especially since I learned it was set in my hometown of Winston-Salem, North Carolina, and directed by a guy I was in shows and took acting classes with. Then last summer at Odyssey, Jeanne Cavelos mentioned the movie as an example of a character's actions showing how they really feel about someone, even though they don't appear to care. So I thought, oh yeah, I still need to watch that. I did watch it two days ago.I can't claim to have known director Phil Morrison well, because he was a couple years older than me, and when you're 12-17 or so that makes a difference. We both participated in the Mt. Tabor Summer Enrichment Program, which drew kids from high schools throughout the county by some arcane system I never understood. Anyway, it was practically free, and I went every year from second grade until I got into the North Carolina Governor's School drama program after junior year. Once you had completed sixth grade, you could be in the musical. There were a lot of talented kids in the program, and I'm not surprised that Phil went on to directing.I enjoyed the movie, also written by a guy from Winston-Salem though he wasn't anyone I knew personally. The whole thing was a trip down memory lane for me, with characters just like people I knew or grew up with, sensitively portrayed. It wasn't just the shot of Pilot Mountain or the familiar landscapes or character types. The next door neighbor was my old acting teacher, who also taught Phil. One of the characters makes a reference to "Barker's Fruit Baskets," and I know exactly what he is talking about. I remember Mr. Barker's store. His daughter Cindy was friends with my sister, and came over to our house.To an extent, I could identify with one of the main characters, "golden boy" George who comes home from Chicago with his new wife to a family he doesn't see that often or have much in common with any more. He is asked to get up and sing a hymn at a church supper. The only time I ever visit the church I grew up in is on Christmas Eve, and I always sing the same duet with another singer.It tugged at some old heartstrings and made me a little bit homesick. Fortunately, I'm going to North Carolina in a little over a week for my sister's wedding. I'll get to see the crape myrtles in bloom.