Last night after paying for ridiculously over-priced tickets at the Hollywood ArcLight Cinema, appropriately four friends sat on the second row of the lavishly-decorated theater. The close seats would not have been our first choice, but the film’s title had instructed us to view, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close. The adverb-heavy movie took one young boy on a journey of facing his fears after his father’s tragic death in the Twin Towers on that terror-ridden 9/11 morning in 2001.
Just that morning after a sleepover with the grandkids, we’d taken a walk to a nearby grammar school doubling as a park. The two older ones had run down to the playground toys. The normally silent, nearly two-year-old, stood at the peak of a small slope and squealed. “He doesn’t do slopes,” the eight-year-old Bug informed me. I already knew that. He stands at the top of the stairs and yells until someone comes to walk him down.
“Come on,” I’d called to him. He didn’t move and continued to holler loudly. “Come on. Run,” I’d coaxed lovingly. He started moving, gaining momentum as his diminutive limbs picked up speed. He stopped just shy of the low retaining wall around the playground yard. “Climb down,” I’d instructed. After a few more whines, he turned around and gingerly backed one leg over the wall, then the other. His feet literally dangled inches from the pavement below, but he couldn’t see. He faced backwards, hanging onto the wall and would not let go.
That’s when the Bug said, “Grandma, everyone’s gotta face his fears.” Just as in the movie touting oxymorons, virtual reality is more than facing fears, it is also about a mother’s love. I’d laughed and rushed to the baby, picked him up, and placed him on level ground. He had faced enough of his fears. Now he needed a little help.
It was a morning of bravely looking fear in its eyes. The Bug, against his cautious judgment, maybe praying a bit, allowed himself to be pushed to new heights on a tire swing. The Worm, who seemingly has no fears, except for zombies, hung upside down after one quick lesson. And the little Mouse hung on his own, with close supervision, from a bar high overhead. Grandma, that would be me, honestly tried to do a pull-up, but nothing moved up. After fifty, down is the only direction my body seems to know.
Life is full of oxymorons. The world looks very different upside down.
SPOILER: And just as in the afternoon of play, the plot was about a mother’s love — what she was willing to do, even during her time of grief. “I’ve never left you alone. I knew where you were every minute.” Me, too. To my children, I will always be there. I’ve always known where they were, except for the times when I didn’t. 
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Cute pictures. How did Bug get so wise? Everyone’s got to face his fears, indeed!
I just want to tickle that little Worm’s belly! Cute!!!!!!
Smart kiddo. I still have plenty of fears left to face (even need to admit to some needing facing), so your cutie pie is far ahead of this grandma already.
I hope you enjoyed the movie. I read the book when it first came out and look forward to seeing the movie. It’s on the agenda for next weekend. (I was glad there were no spoilers in this post.)
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