My! People come and go so quickly here!

I received the very last of my Christmas presents the night before last ... shipping delays and all that, of course. T bought me the new spruced up, restored DVD edition of The Wizard of Oz. I've always loved the movie ... myriad reasons, most of them the same as everyone else's. The most exciting part of this particular DVD, however (besides the absolutely resplendent restoration), was the plethora of new bonus material included. The old Angela Lansbury-hosted 50th anniversary retrospective was included, but I've seen that 9412 times. Three new features were included, all of them co-produced by Turner Classic Movies. One focused on the tribulations of bringing the classic novel to the big screen, another focused on the detailed work that was brought to the production (art direction, costuming, color-checking for the then-relatively new Technicolor process), and the last one focused on people's individual memories of the film. Some surviving munchkins talked about what it was like for them and what it's meant for them. Liza Minnelli and Lorna Luft talked about the often exaggerated tales their mother would tell regarding the munchkins and the general atmosphere of the set. But the part of this feature that spoke to me the most was the section devoted to average, everyday people telling their stories about Oz, what it means to them, and what it was like seeing it for the very first time.

The first time I saw the movie, I was 6 years old. It was during "tornado season," because I remember my Dad saying he thought it was appropriate the network was airing the movie at that time of year. Both my parents had talked about it for months, apparently deciding I was old enough to sit still and watch the entire telecast. I was already a TV junkie, so that wasn't going to be a problem. That was an eventful spring/summer for me, because it was later, while visiting my sister and her family in California, that I saw Star Wars ... my first big-screen experience, and one that very positively shaped a lot of my childhood. But that's another story. We're talking Oz here.

Mom explained that it was one of the best, most successful, and beloved films of all time -- and I think CBS might not have shown it for a year or so, because I seem to remember her saying it was nice to see it airing again, or something like that. Dad was obsessed with the film's switch to color after Dorothy lands in Oz. He talked about it and talked about it, telling me how mesmerized he was as a kid, and how excited he was for me to see it for the first time. So we settled into the family room, in front of the huge Zenith floor model TV recently purchased (and that my parents still have, in fine working order, to this day), popcorn in bowls and lights dimmed. And, of course, I loved every second of the movie. Like me, Dorothy had a less-than satisfactory home life. Like me, she longed to be somewhere else, where it was brighter, nicer, and more exciting. And like me, she sang fabulous show tunes in her backyard. Of course I loved it.

It became a tradition to watch the movie together, each year. We did it for quite a few years, too. I never really outgrew wanting to watch it with my folks, but I remember thinking that when I was ready to enter high school, watching some silly kiddie movie with my parents (of all people) would be ultra un-cool. We did watch it together one more time, though, the summer before I left for college. Although it had been available on video for a little while, MGM and Turner re-released it in a then-state-of-the-art remastered videocassette edition, complete with fold out cover and shiny storage box. I bought it, told them we'd watch it that weekend, and even made the popcorn myself. Dad fell asleep, Mom cried, and I just looked around the family room, knowing full well that I'd be going away to college that fall, leaving them behind. I was certainly ready ... ready to blossom, grow, change, and become me. College wasn't necessarily "Over the Rainbow," but it was definitely the place I learned to fly, just like those happy little blue birds Judy sang about.