i needed George's redemption

In 1985, I graduated from college and moved to Dallas, and into my first apartment, all by myself.  This was to begin my "professional career" at Electronic Data Systems (EDS), a software services company run by Texas Millionaire, H. Ross Perot (his story is truly inspiring). 

Back then, nobody was a “computer nerd”; the phrase was not even a thing.  I sensed that computers were the future, so I took three classes in Computer Science in college. This by no stretch of the imagination made me a technical guru.  Luckily EDS offered to run me through their 10-weeks of intense technical training, called "Phase II". If I could survive that ordeal, the second leg of their System Engineer Development (SED) program, then I would become a System Engineer.  That sounded good to me so I signed up. My first assignment was in Richardson, Texas, working onsite at Blue Cross Blue Shield of Texas.

The work was tough and I mean it.  I consider myself a bright guy, but I had no idea what I was doing. I did not understand systems, how computers worked, how health care claims systems worked. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Basically, my two most useful skills were blocking defensive linemen, and plowing a fifty-acre wheat field. To apparently add insult to injury, it was required that I wear a full business suit. Every. Day. Yes, even in the 110 degree Texas summer heat.  

I was over-whelmed, without question. Regardless, I dedicated myself to “stick it out” (thanks Neal Peart for that phrase from the album Counterparts). They were gonna have to fire me because I sure as hell was not going to quit because "My mom didn’t raise no quitter”. That motivation fueled a lot - I felt strongly that I owed my mother a successful son.

On the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, I had to work really late day, so, after work, I decided it best to stay in Dallas that night, alone, in my mostly unfurnished apartment.  I purchased some wine coolers, ordered way too much Chinese food, and stretched out on my couch-less living room floor to watch my crappy 18-inch RCA TV, also sitting on the floor. Luckily, the apartment came with cable. Networks at that time had just started to play back-to-back showings of Frank Capra’s It’s A Wonderful Life, starring James Stewart, to gear up for the holidays. I liked James “Jimmy” Stewart. He was a regular on Dean Martin’s Celebrity Roasts, where his mannerisms and stuttering voice were often mimicked by famous impersonator and comedian, Rich Little. Of course, Mr. Stewart was a good sport about it. 

Prior to that evening, I had NO interest in sappy holiday movies. Honestly, I just could not relate to them.  However, this night I felt very melancholy. The wine coolers helped.  I was a whole lot of homesick. So, I hunkered down and watched the movie start to finish. 

Well - I bawled my eyes out. Over and over. Every scene just tore me up!  When the movie restarted, I watched it again. And again.  Why was I so affected this way? It’s just a dumb, black and white movie!

The scene that hit me hardest was his mother's denial. Is there no safer haven in existence than the arms of your Mom? When she opens the boarding house door, we do not see the loving face of his true mother, but a bitter, jaded woman. Then, to have her deny knowing her own son and even call him a liar! This is the moment that George realizes the truth in Clarence's words. This is the emotional bulls-eye of the film. God bless you Beulah Bondi for your unforgettable portrayal of Ma Bailey.

Before that night, these "feel good" films offered nothing with which I could not relate. My life had been simple and I was always taken care of. I was the poster child for white privilege. I just never had to think about anything deep.

That night, that holiday, I was no longer a carefree college student. Instead, I was an employee, a very small, insignificant cog in a large impersonal machine, being pushed hard to meet corporate deadlines. That night I finally felt...lost. I now had responsibilities that took me away from my comforts and monopolized my time. I had no idea if things were going to work out. Was I on the right track? I felt this heavy weight on me. The film struck a deep, painful chord.

You see, I was now George Bailey.  I was a man painfully questioning his choices and decisions; a man unable to see his own blessings. George Bailey is given the wonderful gift to see how those he loved would be impacted by his absence. What is the value of one man’s life in a world that eats everyone up and spits them back out?

I needed George. I needed his journey. But most importantly I had to witness his redemption, his realization, his new appreciation. In my self-pitying haze, I needed a reason to go on.

The next morning I awoke, lying on cheap tan carpet, my left arm asleep, and stinking of pork egg rolls and Bartles and Jaymes. When my head cleared, I realized that I had learned a couple of things.

First, a person has to be ready to watch certain movies. Until you are impacted by external or internal experiences, you are simply not ready.  Period.  However, when you are ready, the right film at the right time may help you find some answers.

I also decided to revisit older films in general, specifically the films of Frank Capra (Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, It Happened One Night (1934), Arsenic and Old Lace (1944)) and the complete works of one of America’s true treasures and film icons: James "Jimmy" Stewart. To this day, he is my favorite actor. Yes, he even tops John Wayne, and for me, that's saying something.