You Can't Take it With You (Part I)

The winner of 1938's Best Picture Award was Frank Capra's You Can't Take it With You. It starred Jimmy Stewart, Jean Arthur, Lionel Barrymore, and Edward Arnold. It revolves around the Sycamore family who, by some, are thought to be insane or abnormal, but by their plethora of friends and neighbors, only abnormal in recognition to their uncommon kindness and care for others. The theme of the Sycamore's happy home defies the envisionment of a twisted American Dream. While the outside world is wasting their entire life for hopes of financial success they are inside, not lazing, but working at what it is they love. For instance Grandfather collects stamps, his son-in-law and their former ice man make fireworks, the new clerk they adopted into their family makes toys and the like, a daughter dances, the mother writes plays, a son-in-law prints things, and the list goes on. Any guest is recieved with the utmost of hospitality.

This weekend found that utopian film coming to life before my eyes. At the last minute I decided to accompany my sister, her friend, and my mother on a trip that had little to do with me save my attempts to stay awake. The trip was actually for a small jewelry making experience for my traveling-mates and my invite only came with the fact they had eleven children. What would I find, but a brief stimulus of hyperactive children?...What indeed?

I'll tell you what with none too professional diction so as not to spoil the magic of it all. My arrival was greeted by two younger boys, an older boy and a mother. They explained to me with subtle introductions the structure of their piled up house, the chicken in one of the younger boys arm, and little else. As they gradually got more comfortable around me the explanations ranged from new games like a favorite of theirs, "Bases" and why 'kids' are goats and 'children' is the proper name for human young. I saw things like a four year old girl scaling a flagpole and swinging cheerfully on her rope that she got for her birthday. I played tag, and hide and seek, and Apples to Apples. I watched knife throwing videos. I learned how to make certain parts of jewelry in a room solely dedicated to that sort of thing (which is saying a lot with eleven children). I was educated on many a Christian band, namely: Audio Adrenaline, Newsboys, and D.C. Talk. I was offered three kinds of fruit and two kinds of juices. I was lent a 7 hour DVD on people who found Christ in strange ways. I was given the names and distinctions between many, many cats who all looked the same shade of gray to me. I was offered puns I could not solved. I was made to guess names and ages. I was given a ride in a tub down a creek. I was informed about "Papa's" and other siblings hike in the Appalachian mountains. I was made known to family reunions that rent out entire hotels for the some 200 close relatives. I was smiled at, accepted, and amongst a brilliant group of minds who knew what it was to be happy. When we left, the entire family that was there stood as we pulled out and waved. Every single one of them. All with a priceless smile on their faces.

Yes indeed. People like the Sycamores truly exist and they are my favorite sort.