If you’re old enough, you remember the video stories of more than a decade ago. Many of us spent hours inside those stores, staring first at VHS boxes and then the DVD cases that lined the walls, looking for a film to brighten our television screens for a couple hours, and perhaps our lives, too.
I certainly wouldn’t want to return to the days when bringing a movie into your home meant a trip to the store in hopes that it might be available, but there was something fun about entering those stores and wandering around so much possibility.
While I was still in high school, about a year before I was hired by McDonald’s and started bringing home a steady paycheck, I rode my bike down to Video Galaxy on Main Street, adjacent to the Town Chef, in my hometown of Blackstone, Massachusetts. Using money that I had saved, I rented The Goonies, then I promptly lost the VHS tape.
I spent weeks trying to find that movie, afraid to tell my parents, as the late fees mounted. Eventually I determined that the movie was lost forever and called the store to ask how much it would cost if someone was ever stupid enough to lose a movie.
I don’t remember the exact figure, but it was well in excess of $100, which was an enormous sum of money for me at the time.
About $227 in today’s dollars, plus the late fees that had already accrued.
I panicked. I started searching all of the places that I had previously searched, feeling like I had just bankrupted my family. I obsessed over this movie, worrying constantly, feeling the weight of the increasing late fees piling up on my shoulders.
In my mind, this was the worst thing that I had ever done. My biggest problem ever. A dilemma of unfathomable proportions.
I was stressed for weeks. All thought about was that damn tape.
Finally, I went to mother on a Sunday night and confessed. I cried as I told her how much the video and late fees would cost our family, and I begged for forgiveness.
My mother was silent as I explained what had happened. She sat quiet and still.
When I finished explaining, she reach out and took my hands. Then she smiled and said, “Matt, we just won’t go to that video store ever again.”
I couldn’t believe it. In an instant, the clouds broke and sunshine finally streamed back into my world. In a single sentence, the worst problem of my life had been solved.
That moment changed me forever.
Thanks to an enormous pile of misfortunes, including being arrested, jailed, and tried for a crime I did not commit, a period of homelessness, robbery at gunpoint, decades of untreated PTSD, and two instances in which paramedics needed to use CPR to restore my heartbeat and respiration, I have an enormous amount of perspective on things today.
Most problems seem insignificant to me by comparison. I tend to be a person who does not worry very much and sees most problems as less troublesome than the people around me.
It can be irritating at times. I know. My nonchalance and cavalier attitude can be admittedly infuriating to someone looking for a little empathy. But perspective is a powerful force. It allows you to see things for what they really are and what they could be.
But oftentimes, in the face of trouble, it’s not my series of misfortunes that afford me the perspective to see past the storm and into the sunshine. It’s those simple words spoken by my mother that day:
“Matt, we just won’t go to that video store ever again.”
My mother taught me that solutions are oftentimes far simpler than we can imagine.
Also, breaking the rules (and perhaps a minor law or two) can often afford you a simple and expedient solution.
Surprisingly wise words from a woman who had much to worry about throughout her life and rarely stopped worrying herself.
If you’re feeling nostalgic for those video stores, I recommend these two short films which feature two of the last video stores on the planet
I’d also highly recommend the Twitter feed @loneblockbuster, which purports to be the Twitter feed from one of the last remaining Blockbuster video stores in the country.
It’s not, but it’s hilarious just the same.
The only Blockbuster still in existence can be found in Bend, Oregon. The NY Times did a piece on them a year ago.
Also a good read.
