Tarzan

When I was six or seven years old, my parents took my brother (five years older than me) to Ocala to see a Tarzan movie.  But I never made it.  My mother took me to our grandparents because she thought a Tarzan movie was too violent for me.  I pitched a fit, but it didn’t work.  Returning to Citra later in the day, my brother described the movie and told me parts of it were filmed in Silver Springs, right outside Ocala.

A couple of years later, I did see a Tarzan movie and was thrilled, especially as Tarzan raced through the treetops using vines to move from tree to tree.  Of course, I tried to mimic Tarzan using thick grapevines hanging from trees in the woods near our home.  Fortunately, I learned, with just bruises, not broken bones, that the vines didn’t work for me.

When I was a teenager, I read all the Tarzan books.  The first one was the best, “Tarzan, The Ape Man” that told the story of Tarzan’s parents and how the ape took his mother’s place after she died.  I especially liked it when he returned to the cabin of his parents, found books and taught himself to read.

Last week, the Turner Movie Classics channel had Tarzan movies on non-stop for two days.  I recorded them all and began to watch at least two of them every night.  The first couple of movies were great, but then I became tired of them.  Many of the animal scenes were repeated in several movies, and not as good as the Discovery Channel.  The stories were predictable.  But Cheetah was the star in every movie.

I guess I can’t recapture the thrill of my childhood obsession with Tarzan.  Fortunately at the age of 80, I have no desire to swing through the tops of trees.

Seasoned Man

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