[[a/n: Oh my god, I am so sorry this is so long. I didn’t realize it until I finished. Please excuse the fact that it’s roughly the same length as Gone With the Wind -Emma]]

All my life I’ve thought of one thing whenever I tried not to sneeze. It’s just one image, black and white, some kind of very early memory that I could never pin down. This is a strange way to start the story, I know. But bear with me. For literally as far back as my memory goes, every time I muffled a sneeze I would picture a small black-haired man underneath a table full of older people who, I remembered, weren’t supposed to know he was there. The little black-haired man had one finger under his nose, trying valiantly not to sneeze and give himself away. For a long time I didn’t think much of it, figuring it was from some show I’d seen on TV in my early childhood.

Meanwhile, I grew up half of the time in my dad’s apartment, which was full of old movies on VHS and books about people I’d never heard of. While I was going about my business of growing up, he was going about his business of introducing my sisters and I to his favorite classic movies. One day when I was twelve he sat us all down and announced that we were about to watch a silent comedy starring Buster Keaton. I knew the name already, I’d heard it before, but I only knew him as a sad-faced young movie star whose picture happened to be stuck to our fridge. I had no idea what I was in for.

The movie we watched that day was Sherlock Jr., and the entire time I watched it I couldn’t help but think two things: A) ‘This is one of the best things I’ve ever watched’, and B) ‘I know I’ve seen that man somewhere besides the fridge.’ When the movie ended and we told my dad how much we loved it, he broke into a grin and declared that we needed to see more. We watched Our Hospitality, Seven Chances, Steamboat Bill Jr. and more. For a few glorious months movie night became Buster Night, and halfway through my dad’s list of films was The General. Though I wasn’t as interested at first as I was with some of Buster’s other movies, I started having a strange feeling that I’d seen the movie before. Gags weren’t such a surprise and the stunts looked familiar. Finally, it came to a scene where Buster’s character is stuck in a meeting with opposing generals, and has to hide. Suddenly I knew where I’d seen it before, and it all came back to me.

“Dad,” I asked, “Does he end up under the table, trying not to sneeze?”

He looked at me. “Yeah,” he said, “how did you know that?”

I watched the rest of the movie excitedly, hardly able to wait until the end when I was really allowed to talk. I explained to my dad and sisters about the image in my head and my dad said, “When you were about three you girls watched this with me. I knew you were way too young for it but I just couldn’t wait. I didn’t think any of you would remember!”

That was the moment when I realized Buster Keaton had changed my life: the earliest film I could remember seeing was none other than The General. After so many years of absently wondering what that movie was, I finally had my answer. Buster is more than likely subconsciously responsible for everything I love about movies, from my childhood fascination with the black and white format to my love of sight gags and stone-faced comedians. I’ve since seen some Chaplin and some Lloyd, and a few other silent comics of the same time, but Buster will always hold a very special place in my heart. It seems I must have loved him my entire life without even realizing it, and he never fails to put a smile on my face. He raised my standards for everything just a little bit higher and I know I’ll help pass him on to as many people as I can.

Yes, Buster Keaton changed my life in more ways than one, right down to what I think about every time I have a cold.

Great story. And my dad used to make me and my brother watch old movies all the time…