True Grit

We saw "True Grit" this weekend.
It was superb.

I know that I've seen the original sometime in my distant memory.  Don't remember anything about it.  But I loved this one.

I thought it was pretty brave of the Coen brothers to take on such a classic.  Some things are just better left undisturbed and unaltered.  I'm glad they were brave.

I thought it was even braver for Jeff Bridges to assume the identity of Rooster Cogburn, one of John Wayne's most memorable characters.  He was fantastic.

The main reason I loved this movie?
Rooster Cogburn seemed sneakingly familiar to me.  Not his eye patch or perpetual drunkenness or surly attitude.  His familiarity with horses and the country and the elements.  His telling stories while riding through the mountains.  His calling Maddie "Sis."

Rooster Cogburn is a rougher imagination of someone I hold very close to my heart. Someone I love dearly.

I remember riding through the mountains of Idaho, listening to my dad tell stories, or whistle, or yodel--the sound echoing ahead of us.  I know how much he loves his horses and traipsing through the mountains in any weather.  And I'll never forget that my dad always calls me "Sis."

He was born in the wrong generation, my dad.  The wrong century.
And with the wrong name, I reckon.
Reed Tucker just doesn't hold the same swagger as Rooster.
Love you, Dad.

Go see this movie.  If not for me, do it for my dad.