Omaha, NE: As family tradition dictates, we watch "It's A Wonderful Life" after Mom's quiche dinner and before midnight mass. I lay with my head in Mom's lap (no matter how old I get, this is where I feel safest) and try not to tear up at the same parts I do every year. It is even harder tonight since I know this is the last year I will have on Christmas eve in this house.
However.
I had forgotten about this one part. The part where George goes to find Mary when he gets his wish of not being born granted. Clarence, the angel, tells him where Mary is... and it' not pretty. Literally.
George: Clarence...
Clarence: Yes, George?
George: Where's Mary?
Clarence: Oh, well, I...I...I can't do...
George: I don't know how you know these things, but tell me, where is she?
Clarence: I...
George: If you know where she is, tell me where my wife is!
Clarence: I'm not supposed to tell.
George: Please, Clarence, tell me where she is!!
Clarence: You're not going to like it, George.
George: Where is she?!?
Clarence: She's an old maid! She never married!
George: Where's Mary, where is she?!?
Clarence: She is...
George: Where is she?!!??!?!
Clarence: She's just about to close up the library!
So George runs through the streets of Pottersville (formerly Bedford Falls) and tracks down Mary. Folks, I almost had to turn away from the screen. This woman -- this poor, wretched woman -- came out of the library with NO makeup on, a FRUMPY hat, HUGE bushy eyebrows and -- get ready for the worst bit of all -- was wearing GLASSES! It simply broke my heart to know that because she never married, she simply lost all sense of style.
I can only pray that if I ever have an angel come down from heaven (while trying to get her wings) and show me how life would be like if I were never born (though I doubt I had as much influence as George Bailey), the people in my life around me would retain sculpted eyebrows, lose all love of literature (or at least don't admit they work at a Borders) and, for the love of all that is good and true, that they are MARRIED.
