I gave my employee a gift this Christmas, and she was embarrassed because she hadn’t got me anything. I told her I didn’t need a gift, but she was clearly upset.  I remembered that I had been in Target the other day and thought it was cool that they were selling the old ‘60s Batman movie on DVD for five bucks. I said, “You could get me that.” So she did.

But then I looked at the DVD and realized I had a lot of memories wrapped up in it.  I used to date a girl who had a 30-year old retarded sister.  The sister would sometimes come stay with us. Her expression seemed permanently twisted, almost scrunched up, as though someone had put the wrong face on her skull the way you might put the wrong sock on your foot.  My main memories of her pertain to restaurants, which she loved--sushi was her favorite--and also our slow, deliberate marches through public places.  I’d hold her left hand and my girlfriend would hold her right. Together, we made our way down sidewalks and through shopping malls as though we were floats in a parade.  If the people at the Orange Julius weren’t staring at us with surprise and curiosity, I might have thought they were throwing confetti.

Sometimes the sister became upset.  She’d get stressed, or angry, or sulky.  If this happened, or even if you just wanted to occupy her while you got ready in the morning, you’d stick her in front of the TV and let her watch a VHS of the Batman movie. It didn’t have to be rewound to the beginning; you could start it anywhere.  She loved it.  No matter what her mood, it would always make her grin and laugh. I’d often sit and watch it with her, and she’d giggle at the colors and the music and the ridiculous stunts.

So now I feel funny about having the DVD.  It’s the kind of movie that people will latch on when they scan your collection, and they’ll say something like “That’s a movie for a retarded person.” And I’ll have to nod and reply, without a hint of irony, malice, or anti-political correctness, “Yeah, it pretty much is.”