"I'm sixteen years old! I'm not a child anymore!"

Yesterday I bought The Little Mermaid on DVD, partly to streamline my VHS collection. I find that I am loath to part with the VHS. I remember getting it. It's the first movie I remember receiving. It would have been—let's see—if the movie was released in 1989, I probably received the video as an 11th birthday present. I remember (from pictures) the presence of Grandma and Grandpa Crowe, Aunt Irene and Uncle Raymond, and Susan. I remember getting a wallet from Grandma and Grandpa Crowe that was blue and had my name stamped on it. I used that wallet for years (until they saw I still had it, semi-flipped out that I was in college but still using a wallet that I had when I was 11, and gave me a new one). I remember a dirt cake in a clay pot. It was my first ever dirt cake. I don't know that I've ever had dirt cake again, actually, but the memory lingers sweetly, far more sweetly than anything named after dirt has a right to linger.

The Little Mermaid was one of my first favorite movies. (The Neverending Story was on that early list, too. This means that two of my favorite movies had a character named Sebastian. I didn't realize that until tonight.) At the time I first saw it, I remember taking Ariel's righteous cry very seriously. Of course she was ready to be on her own. Of course she was old enough to get married. She was sixteen years old! She wasn't a child anymore! Sixteen was very old to me in 1989. It represented everything television and the movies told me it represented. Of course, when I actually turned sixteen myself, I found myself not dating, not fond of driving, and not all that reluctant to accept that my parents knew what was best for me.

In the carefree childhood days of 1989, it was still okay to want to be part of another world. Love at first sight was a given. Marrying a prince you had practically just met was not to be wondered at. Leaving everyone and everything you knew behind...well, that was scary then, too.

In 1991, I would experience a paradigm shift, although at the time I didn't know what "paradigm shift" meant. My favorite animated Disney movie would become my second-favorite animated Disney movie. But for two years, I was Ariel. And, in the sense that every character I have ever loved has become part of my identity, part of me is Ariel still.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to use my dinglehopper and go to bed.