My dad died four years ago, so Father's Day is bittersweet for me. Yet it's also an occasion to remember all the good times we had in connection with the movies.
Rather than recount the most uncomfortable experiences (fuming about the profanity in a movie I'd recommended the whole family see, while I cowered; listening to him awkwardly define "rape" after my pre-teen sister heard it in a movie I wanted to see), let me tell you about the time my brother and I convinced my parents to see The Sting.
We'd seen it early in 1974 and loved it; after it won several Academy Awards, we urged them to go and they finally agreed. (They'd reduced their moviegoing to once every few years by that point.) We were nervous, because The Sting had a little profanity and even a brief, risque dancing scene with Sally Kirkland (OK, my eyes popped out).