I have cried over the movie “It’s a Wonderful Life” for at least 60 years. It’s by far one of my favorite movies. As many times as I have watched it, I never, and I mean never, fail to cry at the end.
“It’s a Wonderful Life,” directed by Frank Capra, is an American classic. Released in 1946, it tells the story of dissatisfied businessman George Bailey who’s visited by an angel named Clarence who shows him what life would be like if he’d never been born. I know what’s going to happen, yet still I cry.
The movie addresses many of life’s dark moments: bankruptcy, suicide, frustrated ambition, grief and loss, and capitalistic greed, but it also addresses some important life lessons, the most important being how we all impact each others’ lives even through simple words and small actions. For me, this particular life lesson was recently epitomized when my husband retired last month. What surprised him the most from the many emails he received from co-workers were the little things he had said or done that made such a difference to them: small favors, supportive words, things he had forgotten he even said or did. Like George Bailey, he had no idea what an impact he had made on so many lives.
This is why every Christmas season I gather my hot chocolate, spiced cider or rum and eggnog — whatever is the drink of choice that year — and settle into my chair under a warm afghan. Or, if I’m behind on my Christmas chores, I gather my wrapping supplies in front of the TV and watch while I wrap. Every year, the same story unfolds: Uncle Billy falls through the ice, Mr. Gower’s son dies, Mary and Violet are both in love with George Bailey and George’s travel and college plans are ruined by life events. I could probably tell you the entire story, but I won’t.
What gets me every time is the final scene when George’s friends come together to help him. I suspect that when I was little this memorable and touching scene made me cry because, after being in total despair, George returned to his family and friends and everyone was so happy. Then, after many life experiences over six decades, I cried out of nostalgia for the feeling of community in our towns and cities, a longing for the times when people genuinely cared about their neighbors and understood that their lives were deeply connected and that we needed to be able to lean on each other for support. And so, my tears had turned from happy tears to sad tears as I longed for the days of kindness and compassion, which seemed to be woefully absent in today’s world.
But this year, my reasons for crying have pivoted once again. While George Bailey was standing with his wife, Mary, and their children and watching their community bring him the money he needed to get out of trouble, and little Zuzu told her dad that whenever a bell rings an angel gets their wings, I cried. But this time, it was out of gratitude for my family and the community I have built, both of whom I can lean on in difficult times, and for a life well lived. I remembered that the smallest acts of kindness can change the world and that even with all of the challenges, trials and heartaches that people are experiencing around the world, there’s still hope. It’s still “a wonderful life.”
Laura Alexander is a San Rafael resident.
