“You can run from the disappointments you’re trying to forget. But it’s only when you embrace your past that you truly move forward.”
Samantha, Now and Then
In my favorite scene from the 1995 classic Now and Then, precocious Teeny consoles her morose friend, a wannabe author named Samantha, with this sage bit of wisdom: “There are no perfect families. It’s normal for things to be shitty.” Earlier, Sam had confessed that her parents were getting a divorce. Teeny tried comforting her by listing imperfect sitcom families, but Samantha immediately spotted the difference:
“All those parents died, Teeny. My dad chose to leave.”
The movie transitions between two timelines: Now, or the mid-90s when the movie was released, and Then, the summer of 1970. In the early 70s, getting a divorce was still considered taboo. Divorce rates in America were already on the rise, but they wouldn’t reach a crescendo until the end of that decade. By the time these childhood friends reunite in 1995 as adults, the divorce rate had leveled off and even started decreasing. The movie’s fictional town of Shelby, Indiana, was crafted to represent quintessential small-town America with its white-picket fences and superficial charm. And it worked. I saw my hometown of Pensacola in Shelby, and myself in oddball Samantha.
Rewatching the movie recently, I found myself unexpectedly teary-eyed. But I’ve been strangely emotional since the end of February. This heightened emotional state coincides with my newborn niece’s arrival—it’s not sadness, but wonder. Seeing her perfect, innocent little face, I couldn’t help but question how my daddy could look at his own babies without feeling compelled to overcome his alcoholism. Logically, I understand that his addiction was a disease. Emotionally, I still grapple with his failures as a father, of not feeling worthy enough or good enough for him to get better for.
“…[O]ur days of playing make believe were over. As we grow older, it becomes difficult to just believe. It’s not that we don’t want to, but too much has happened, and we can’t.”
Samantha, Now and Then
My parents didn’t get divorced until the year 2000, but I felt much the same way Sam did back in 1970. In the space of thirty years, society changed, becoming more accepting of divorce. There was less of a stigma attached to my parents and our “broken” family. But the feelings Sam expressed throughout the movie were the same emotions I experienced as a little girl. I imagine it’s much the same for children of divorce today, now fifty-five years later.
Coming-of-age films resonate because they show kids they aren’t alone.
Another coming-of-age movie (and book[1] series) that more people will be familiar with is The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, which came out in 2005. I related less to a specific character in this film; it was more their depiction of friendship that I gravitated toward. Like the four main characters, I existed within a tightknit group of girls that I’d known since our days toddling about in diapers. We made similar proclamations about remaining best friends forever, reinforced by media fantasies rather than reality. (The girls of Now and Then also swore in their treehouse they’d be, “Friends for life. For life.”)
“We all used to try so hard to fit in. We wanted to look exactly alike, do all the same things, practically be the same person, but when we weren’t looking that all changed.”
Samantha, Now and Then
Like Tibby, Lena, Bridget, and Carmen, our personalities differed, bolstering my belief that childhood friendships weren’t built on compatibility but something else entirely. As a child, I likely would’ve explained it as magic. As an adult, I realize it wasn’t magic at all that brought us together, but a random set of circumstances. Would this explanation have made as compelling a story as, say, our moms meeting at a prenatal aerobics class? Probably not. It would’ve been more realistic, though, which would’ve helped me cope later on when I lost those close friendships.
Eventually, my core childhood friendships faded, which I interpreted as a betrayal of that sacred trust to remain “best friends forever.” I didn’t yet understand that drifting apart was nobody’s fault. Instead, I internalized it as abandonment, damaging my already fragile self-esteem—shaken by my complicated relationship with my daddy. It took years to realize I’d unfairly idealized those early friends, elevating them to near sainthood and setting expectations no one could realistically meet.
Without realizing it, my personality changed. As a teen, I was bitter and resentful. I fell in with a different crowd, one that better matched my energy and spirit, but I always held something back. Afraid to get too close. I wasn’t my best self then, but that had nothing to do with my new pals. Once, I found it easy to make new[2] friends, openly inviting people into our group. I never wanted anyone to feel left out, especially as a kid. I was more confident then, because I felt I’d always have my group of friends to fall back on. Basically, I took them for granted. Ironically, while clinging to old friendships, I neglected new ones, repeating the cycle of taking people for granted. This habit, fueled by unresolved family hurts, left lasting marks on my self-worth.
Now I see clearly how unrealistic expectations, crafted by media and distorted by personal trauma, set me up for disappointment. Understanding this has finally allowed me to move on from past hurts and start forgiving myself—and perhaps, someday, I’ll forgive my daddy too.
Because no one—not friends, not family, not even myself—could meet such impossibly high expectations.
“Things will happen in your life that you can’t stop. But that’s no reason to shut out the world.”
Crazy Pete, Now and Then
[1] I don’t recall reading these books, though I might’ve done, but for this post I’m just talking about the first movie.
[2] The biggest travesty of this debacle is that I find it hard to believe I was ever different from how I am now. Meaning, I still struggle to make new friends, and simply haven’t done so since freshman year of college. If I didn’t have specific memories of making friends all by myself as a kid, I wouldn’t believe it possible.
Sources:
Steven Ruggles, “The Rise of Divorce and Separation in the United States, 1880-1990,” Demography 34, no. 4 (November 1, 1997): 455, https://doi.org/10.2307/3038300.
inspo: the 1995 classic Now and Then // my sweet little newborn niece and her attentive momma // memoir musings // a few bittersweet childhood memories // the 2005 movie The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants // childhood friendships
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This is really good kenzie and think many go through the same things
I’d like to think so, but I’m not sure. I think it’s a common phenomenon to not be as superclose with childhood pals when you’re older, but that’s not usually how they portray it in films. So it makes you feel like something’s wrong with you for not still being “best friends” when in reality it’s normal to drift apart, then come together again years later like no time’s past at all.
As always, such beautiful, raw and deep writing. I think you have a gift for sharing experiences from your past, about which so many of us can also relate. Thank you thank you thank you for your writing.
I appreciate your love. It’s hard not to feel crazy sometimes, posting all these thoughts online like what I think about actually matters to anyone but my mom! 😛