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Come September, Bruce Springsteen and I will both turn 70. It seems to me The Boss is holding on to his youth as he holds onto his guitar and performs his music. I don’t have a guitar, still I’m trying to hold on to my youth, as well.

These days, I’m keeping up with Daylight Savings Time and my grandchildren. I try to “think young.” Perhaps that will somewhat help an old codger hold on to some of his youth.

Last weekend I accompanied Number One Grandson to a movie aimed toward his age group.

You may have heard about us. We made the news. Ticket buyers spent more than a billion dollars during the opening weekend of “The Avengers: Endgame.” We were a couple of those ticket buyers.

As we settled into our seats a few minutes before showtime, I asked him what he liked about this movie series.

“I’ve seen probably around half of ‘em,” he said, referring to the 20 or so Avenger titles. “They have a good story. I want to see how the past movies link together.”

“Why not wait till you can watch them at home on the TV screen?”

He paused to sip a soft drink and munch popcorn, then explained, “They’re a lot better on the theater screen. I like to see ‘em right as they come out to avoid spoilers.”

The room darkened and the feature began. On screen the Avenger gang got reunited and repaired, and the story was underway. The almost full-house seemed to enjoy the show—including the young and the not-quite-as-young.

I believed the unbelievable comic book action. I believed the unbelievable special effects. The inner kid, still within me, was entertained just as he had been when watching George Reeves in the “Superman” TV series during the 1950s.

Sometime after the first hour, I whispered to the grandson, “How do you like it?”

He whispered back, “It’s good,” but didn’t explain what was good about the movie. We could have talked about how the Avengers demonstrated the importance of team work, or we could have discussed the connection of the on-screen characters with those from ancient mythology. That would have taken his attention away from the movie, though, so we mostly avoided comments during the three hour running time. In fact, even though he had a large drink that permitted free refills, he wasn’t inclined to make a return trip to the concession stand.

Time travel scenes in the movie sent my mind traveling back in time.

I recalled those days when my grandparents had taken me to the old Trigg Theater on the Glasgow Square. That’s where I first saw John Wayne in “Hondo.” I remembered, also, sitting beside my grandfather at a showing of a Gary Cooper movie. Now after six decades, I thought of what fun times those had been.

I turned to study my grandson, somewhat shadowed in the glow from the screen. I hoped he would fondly recall this experience years from now.

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