Remembering My Dad Through VHS Nights

There’s a certain nostalgia wrapped up in the hum of a rewinding VHS tape—the way it crackled and whirred, almost as if it were breathing life back into a beloved film. My dad passed away in 1991, right when VHS was really becoming mainstream, and those old tapes remain a vivid part of my memories with him.

Back in the late '80s and early '90s, renting movies was an experience of its own. Almost every corner store had weekend specials—five movies for ten bucks, or ten for twenty. You’d get them for Friday, Saturday, Sunday, then drop them back off on Monday. I remember my dad walking through the front door on a Friday evening, carrying a plastic grocery bag stuffed with VHS tapes, ready to settle in for a weekend of cinematic joy.

He had a deep love for old films, the ones that weren’t necessarily blockbusters but meant something to him. He’d sit in his favorite chair in the family room, watching intently, completely absorbed. I'd glance at the titles, confused by half of them, and ask, "Dad, what the heck kind of movie is this?" Without missing a beat, he’d tell me, "Oh, that stars so-and-so—a great film from 19-whatever," his voice full of excitement.

At the time, I didn’t quite get it. But now, as I find myself drawn to films that might not be mainstream but resonate deeply with me, I finally understand him. There was something comforting about those movies—something personal.

I often wonder what my dad would think if he were alive today, with the world of entertainment quite literally at our fingertips. Thousands of channels, services, movies, and shows available on demand with a simple click. No need to rummage through the rental store, no need to rewind tapes. Just endless choices, instantly. I can only imagine how much joy it would bring him—to sit down on the couch, remote in hand, and pick *any* movie he wanted.

Tonight, as I flipped through on-demand films, I found myself thinking about him, picturing the way he’d bring home that bag of VHS tapes like a treasure trove of stories. Those moments—so simple yet so special—remind me how powerful movies can be, not just as entertainment, but as memories.