A GOOD FRIDAY NIGHT DATE

(Morning glory-covered weeping mulberry tree in front of our friends’ house. Photo by Grayson Hugh.)

Polly and I recently had a long overdue visit with our friends, Kim, her mother Carol and Kim’s son John, who are also neighbors of ours. Polly made a delicious cherry pie and we brought it down the street to their house at 2 in the afternoon. We sat in their cozy front room, protected from the hot Summer sun by their air conditioning and the shade of the weeping mulberry tree that takes up most of their small front yard. Every August this tree, with the help of Carol’s green thumb, sprouts bright blue morning glory flowers that last nearly to Halloween.

We had our coffee and pie and visited hard, as my grandmother used to say.

Somehow we got to talking about buying things online. Somebody said how convenient it was, and Polly said how she preferred to go to the store, hold the article in her hand and, if it was clothing, try it on in person. I get what she means.

Then our friend Kim said “And I know streaming movies is convenient, but I miss Blockbuster.”

Oh, man, that hit a nerve with us. Then Polly told the story of our Blockbuster Friday night dates.

In the early days of our courtship, in 2007, while Polly and I were just beginning to co-produce “An American Record” on weekends, I would take the Peter Pan bus from Bourne, Massachusetts to Hartford, Connecticut on Friday afternoons. I had not as yet renewed my drivers’ license. Polly would pick me up at Union Station in Hartford, which served as both train and bus station.

From the bus station, we’d head to Danbury, Connecticut where Polly lived. Our first stop, after getting a quad tall no-foam latte with whole milk at the Starbucks drive though, was at one of the two Blockbuster Video stores that were in Danbury at the time. It was both relaxing and exciting to wander slowly down the aisles together, looking at the movies, talking about what we were in the mood for: action, comedy, thriller, quirky independent film or one of those Summer blockbuster (pun intended) epics like “Independence Day” or “Close Encounters Of The Third Kind”. Or perhaps a black and white 60’s British dry comedy like “The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner” or a black and white over-the-top sci-fi British classic like “The Day of the Triffids”. Looking at the covers, reading the blurbs, deciding on which videos to get – that was half the fun.

(Blockbuster Video.)

(Taipei Tokyo in Danbury, Connecticut, sadly and mysteriously closed since 2013.)

Our next stop was Taipei Tokyo, maker of the most delicious cold sesame noodles, Szechuan dumplings and ginger chicken with string beans. We’d get the food to go.

What more could you need? A couple great movies, some good food you both liked, and each other. That’s a good Friday night date!

Polly and I used to frequent Taipei Tokyo often. We got to know the owners and I always enjoyed mispronouncing Xièxiè (thank you) in my very limited Mandarin. Then suddenly in 2013, they were gone. We were crestfallen. An era of congenial, relaxed dining had vanished.

Just like Blockbuster Video.

Now, yes, we stream Netflix and Amazon Prime movies (a smart tv and the Prime membership a Christmas gift from my brothers). And instead of wandering the aisles of Blockbuster, we now wander the aisles of Bethel Library, which has a really good selection of films.

Though we’ve not found a restaurant nearby that can come anywhere close to Taipei Tokyo’s dumplings, we’re still searching.

And we still have each other.