My father is a rather large Irish man who grew up with the Eye-talians and believes he is Vito Corleone. I've always listened to his stories of growing up with friends with connections, last names that all end with "ello, ini" and guys named "Paulie, Zito, and Crazy Ernie with the viking hat." These stories are par for the course and I never really get tired of them. It's my own personal Bronx Tale...but more like an "Orange Tale."
He grew up tough in a row house on Scotland Road in Orange with NJ Transit running through his backyard. He was known for fighting in high school and generally running with a rough crowd. As I grew up we bonded over mob culture, Goodfellas and gambling. At my wedding we danced to the "Godfather Waltz" and I pinned a red rose on his lapel.
So imagine my surprise when we were driving to Atlantic City earlier this week and he turns to me and says, "I saw a great movie. What a great movie this was." I waited anxiously, assuming it would have the regular cast of favorites--DeNiro, Pacino, Brando....and then he told me.
He kind of smiled behind his dark sunglasses, shook his head a little bit and said, "The Waterhorse."
"What a great movie," he said. "I DVR'd it."
He's come a long way from the streets, the trains, the fights and crazy ernie.
Pleasure Rating: The-waterhorse-is-just-like-the-greyhounds-of-course-he-loves-it-Courtasm Rant!