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November 17, 2007

A Story I've Never Told

No... this isn't the "how I almost didn't graduate from high school" story. That's comin'. Not today. ;)

This is the "why Con Air is one of my favorite movies" story.


I know I know... WTF, right? I mean, it's Con Air. It starred Nicholas Cage doing the worst southern accent ever and--of course--the future Mr. Bonnie Gillespie, AKA John Cusack, as a sandal-wearing federal marshal. And, well, it was just BAD, as movies go.

Okay, I grant you all of that. It was a total dick flick. BUT... I happened to go see this movie at the dollar cinema on Alps in Athens after having had, well, the most non-boy day ever.

See, I have a cousin who is a midwife. (By the way, if I should ever choose to have a child, the midwife thing is about the coolest thing EVER. And I now know this for a fact.) And for a few years between Tracy's life in the ATL and Tracy's life in Hawaii, there was Tracy's life in Athens. And that was some of my favorite time, as a grad student at UGA.

(PS--Go, DAWGS!)

Anyway, Tracy used to come home from work and talk about the various issues she faced as a midwife at county. The phrase: "It was an exploding vagina day" rings in my memory. Egad!

But, I learned a lot, listening to my health-care-giver family member. A friend I trusted (and continue to trust). Someone who is adjacent to coochies every day. I mean, damn. Right?

Okay, so something I had never experienced, being "an only child" (who wasn't really an only child, but who was born a full 16 and 18 years, respectively, after her *planned* male siblings), was the whole "sister having a baby" thing. I mean, sure, each of my sisters-in-law had babies, but I wasn't invited in for that show (and why would I be, not even being old enough to babysit said kids, right?).


So, when my cousin Tracy invited me to shadow her for a day's work at Athens Regional Medical Center, I figured, "What the Hell!"

I put on scrubs. I signed in. I waited for hours and hours and hours. And nothing happened. Nothing.

Tracy assured me that there would be babies. There would be emergencies. But it was like life... you couldn't really predict when and what.

So, I hung out. Got to know the other midwives (girly-boys and girls). Began to understand these people who spent years of schooling--at great expense--only to basically give their time away at county and go home at the end of the day, needing hooch and good friends like me on the porch (another-another story to come later) to toast them for their thankless life-saving or--at bare minimum--coochie-healing.

And then, after ten hours of hanging out (and as a gal who don' sleep much, that's never an issue), I was called to emergency--thrice--and there were three "may not make it" babies delivered in 50 minutes. And I was there for all of 'em. One didn't make it. One made it just fine. Another made it with special help. And I learned something from all of it.

There was the 17-year-old with her boyfriend and his family. Balloons. A party.
There was the Hindi woman who would only allow me to be there because I was "a female teacher" and that was sacred to her.
There was the 40-something woman whose 13th child would be born prematurely. And dead.

I got to see an episiotomy. An epidural. A natural childbirth.

I got to experience all of the sounds and smells of this world. And I still own the scrubs I wore.

But the point of this blog post is this: I left the hospital, after having experienced more estrogen in 50 minutes than I've probably felt course through me before or since, and felt the need to reboot.

Not to have a drink.
Not to get laid.
Not to meet my posse at the Engine Room and throw darts 'til dawn.

I needed more testosterone than I had ever experienced.

And Con Air was showing at the dollar movie.


So, I paid my buck, sat there amongst the frat boys and their dutiful girlfriends, and--in my scrubs--watched Con Air and decided it was one of the best movies I had ever seen.

And tonight, I watch it rerunning on some local channel--even with the "bad words" edited out--and I love it exactly the same.

It reminds me that there is such a thing as hormonal balance in life. And isn't it weird that I still value that? I mean, aren't I knockin' around at the expiration date on my ability to have chillens?

Eh, it makes me ever-grateful that I married a man who has a son. Therefore, I have a stepson. And that kid loves me like crazy and I'm thrilled that that is true. Yeah, even Quinn wants me to be knocked up when he comes to live with us in a couple of years (a seed I'm sure his dad planted in him, but whatevz), but I'm just so very happy that I appreciate the reproduction that happens because it's s'posed'ta.

If it's gonna, it will.

And I'll get to any of mine when/if the time is right. Put the bunny back, the bad-southern-accented boy said. ;) Ah, the irony!

And that's the story of one of my favorite movies ever.

I know. Right?

Posted by bonnie at November 17, 2007 4:30 AM


I LOVED Con Air. It was one of the most unintentionally funny movies ever. I wonder if the cast had a hard time keeping a straight face during filming.

I still crack up when the Corvette falls from the sky, and I think it's Nicholas Cage who blankly says, "On any other day, that would be unusual."

And the name "Cyrus the Virus?" Priceless!

Posted by: Hal at November 17, 2007 4:30 PM

My turn: I LOVE this story!!! :-)

And isn't it true how sometimes, the greatness is in the greatness and others, it's all in the timing?

Weird, confounding, wonderful life.

Oh, and just 'cuz I haveta...*13*!!?!?!?

Posted by: communicatrix at November 17, 2007 5:17 PM

I love that movie too!!!

Posted by: Amy at November 18, 2007 2:55 AM

I love Con Air, too! Put the bunny back in the box...Dear Casey...

Loren and I always quote that movie.

Vince Larkin in his huraches was the moment that I realized that he probably doesn't dress that well in real life, or he never would've let wardrobe put those horrible things on his feet.


Posted by: Anna at November 18, 2007 10:10 AM

just to let you know, i have my own con-air story, and it is this:

"i cried at the end of con-air."

Posted by: Babes at November 18, 2007 5:14 PM

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