Dear Mickey Rooney, When I first heard that Skye was writing a letter to you, I got completely freaked out! Self, I thought, who could possibly hate Mr. Mickey Rooney, midget maestro of the silver screen? She must not have seen National Velvet!
Now, I know you weren't actually in those particular movies. They were just an example. You were in, like, five hundred films in the 40s and 50s. You can't expect me to remember them all. But I do have fond memories of you in "Boys Town", and, of course, in "Men of Boys Town", and most especially in "National Velvet". How I loved you! I think it was because you were about my height. You were like one of those adults who crouch down when talking to kids, only you didn't actually have to crouch down, which was great. Plus, "National Velvet" had ponies, and ponies are like catnip to small girls. The best experience of my young life was seeing "Francis in the Haunted House": it combined my two great loves! Mickey Rooney *and* a talking mule (which is pretty much a pony, if you don't look too closely). I could barely stand the excitement, and my parents had to sage-smudge my room twice before I calmed down enough to sleep (although I still dreamed restless dreams of running away to a Yorkshire moor with you and Francis.) Imagine my joy when I worked a party you and your lovely young wife attended this past year. Your blue velveteen leisure suit was dreamily soft and flattering. You came up to my waist. You walked like a sailor! You asked where the bathroom was, and your wife had to steer you in the right direction by putting a hand on the back of your head and gently pushing. And, God help me, I actually got kind of excited. I called my mom afterward!You're something special, Mr. R. Today's Hollywood just can't match a class act like yourself. If we remade "Girl Crazy", who would play your part? Vin Diesel? It just wouldn't be the same. Now that you more fully understand my love for you, it'll make more sense that Skye's incipient letter to my idol make me think evil thoughts. But then I realized that she was writing a letter to *Andy* Rooney. And it all made sense. (I hope he's not related to you! Is he?) Anyway, I think you're the greatest. Stay cool, Mick. I know you're old and everything, but you rock that leisure suit like nobody's business, and "National Velvet" still rules as the #1 Pony Movie of All Time. Love, |
When
I was little, my hippie parents didn't believe in television. (That
is, we were all clear on its existence. They're not actually insane,
you understand.) So for entertainment they'd take me to the Roseland
Family Theater, where you could watch old black and white movies and
win fruit baskets. I think I'm the only person my age to have seen every
single "Francis, the Talking Mule" movie. Talk about a franchise!
From the innocent romance of the original "Francis" to the
wacky patriotic fun of "Francis Goes to West Point", the series
helped shape many of the values I still carry with me today. For instance,
if I think an animal might be talking to me, I roll with it instantly,
saving everyone a clichéd and predictable first act of semi-humorous
denial. posted by Elana