Wonderful, George

“You want the moon? Just say the word and I’ll throw a lasso around it and pull it down. Hey, that’s a pretty good idea. I’ll give you the moon, Mary.”

“I’ll take it.”

Our married names are Warren and Amy Hynes, but this time of year we often call ourselves Mr. and Mrs. Bailey. During the holiday season, we like to slip It’s a Wonderful Life into the DVD player at night, and recite the words to the screenplay along with Jimmy Stewart and Donna Reed. We’re like a lot of folks in our love for this movie. A film doesn’t get its own board game, holiday ornaments and cookbook unless it’s got a solid fan base.

Granted, Frank Capra’s 63-year-old movie can be a bit corny, dated and silly at times. But it’s also so much more real than 99 percent of the films that strive as mightily as it does for a happy ending. Capra is going to let you leave his film smiling, but he’s also going to fill your eyes with tears as the credits roll. He has made this happen because the film has tapped into a universal feeling in the form of Jimmy Stewart’s George Bailey character.

We can work backward from the film’s final scene, as George finds a message from his guardian angel, Clarence, inside a copy of Tom Sawyer: “Dear George: Remember no man is a failure who has friends.”

These words are needed because George Bailey has nearly given up on his life out of a deep feeling of failure. His career and life are at a crisis point when Clarence arrives, as George is tired of the sacrifices and the unfulfilled dreams he’s endured throughout his life. Of course, he has not yet noticed the incredible impact he’s had on those around him – be it his wife, his children, his brother, his colleagues, or the hundreds of people he has helped through his job. He’s unable to see just how extraordinary a life one man can live, even in a small town, with a drafty old house to call home, and a job supervising a broken-down building and loan operation.

When Clarence shows George what the world would be like had George never lived, the stressed-out man has his epiphany. George realizes how much he’s done, how many he’s helped, and just how wonderful it all really is. He is brought first to a state of delirious joy, then to a moment of speechless wonder. You couldn’t wipe the smile off his face if you tried. Not that we would try; we’re grinning along with the guy.

We know the story, after all. Many of us find ourselves wondering, at times, if we’ve really accomplished much, and if we’ll ever fulfill the lifelong dreams we’ve had. It can be hard to see just how much we’ve done, and just how many lives we’ve touched. It can be difficult to realize that the life we’re living is not equal to the dreams we once set simply because it has been better in some awfully important ways than anything we ever could have dreamed up in our sleepy adolescence.

The George Bailey who lives in the Hynes house has never found himself leaning over a bridge on a cold winter’s night. But he’s had his share of self-deprecation and frustration over the goals not yet achieved, or the material goods not yet affordable. I did not grow up to play shortstop for the New York Yankees, nor have I won a national teacher of the year award quite yet, nor published a dozen books before age 40.

And yet, when I look at my Mary – who, by the way, also plays the role of the angel in this family – I feel grounded and fulfilled in ways that feel an awful lot like the emotions George finds inside of him at the end of the film. When I see our children, and our family, and yes – of course – our many friends, I feel George’s joy along with him. It’s a joy of contentment, and of pride, and of deep gratitude.

“What’d you wish, George?”

“Well, not just one wish – a whole hatful. Mary, I know what I’m going to do
tomorrow, and the next day, and next year, and the year after that.”

Here’s to the power of dreams. But more than that, here’s to the stunning beauty of the dreams we’ve fulfilled but not yet recognized. May the angels of our little worlds reveal them to us always.