I worked for a Cineplex Odeon the summer of 1990. Our theatre was kind of the red-headed step-child of the chain. We were grandfathered to always get the Back to the Future and Star Trek movies opening weekend but the rest of the time our fare was hit and miss. If we got a blockbuster it seemed to be a fluke more than scheduling. One week our triplex was showing Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Boomerang and How My Parents Saved the World. The upside was that we were always able to get opening night passes.
I don't remember why I got it in my head that I wanted to see Ghost. I wasn't much of a Swayze fan and I still hate Demi Moore. I can't tell you why, but I decided that I wanted to see it opening night with my Grandma Dirty.
Dorothy was my god-mother and adopted grandma. Both of my grandmothers lived too far away to come to school events like 'bring your grandparent to class day' but Dorothy was right across the alley so she came to all of them with me. My mom likes to tell the story about the first time she left me at home with dad while she went to the store. She came in the house just in time to catch dad carrying me through the back gate. Mom went running out to ask what was wrong and dad replied 'Oh, she needed her diaper changed so I took her to Dorothy.' I think mom and dad meant for me to call her Grandma Dordie, thinking that would be easier to say than Dorothy, but it still came out Grandma Dirty when I tried.
Anyway, I took Dorothy to see Ghost and about the time that Patrick Swayze was killed I was suddenly hit by a huge, horrible realization - Dorothy's husband, Bud, had passed away earlier that year. I brought my widowed Grandma to a movie about a ghost and a woman coping with the death of her boyfriend.
I was the worst grand-kid on the face of the Earth.
All through the movie and all the way home I was silently freaking out. As soon as Dorothy pulled into her driveway, I bolted home to confess all of this to my mom. I think I got about as far as telling her how badly I'd upset poor Grandma Dirty and how much she must have hated the movie when the phone rang. It was Dorothy.
"I just wanted to thank ghost_light again for taking me to that movie," mom relayed to me. "But I'm worried about her, she didn't seem to like the movie very much, is she okay??"
For the rest of the summer, Dorothy was a celebrity with her friends. She would meet the girls for coffee or whatever and someone would always mention Ghost. While all of them talked about what great things they'd heard about the movie, Dorothy would smile smugly and say "MY granddaughter took me to see it opening night."
Woza, Patrick. Grandma Dirty, I miss you.