Many years ago, when I was still toiling in the corporate world, I clearly remember thinking, “I can’t wait to retire. Then, I’ll have time to attend the annual Toronto International Film Festival.” Ever since I was a child attending the weekly Saturday matinée with my friends in our small town Aron theatre (which is still operating thanks to a dedicated team of volunteers), I’ve loved going to the movies. In fact, it was at the Aron theatre that I walked out of a movie for the one and only time in my life. It was Pinocchio and the stress of watching Pinocchio get led astray by the bad guys was more than my six-year-old nerves could take. That was in the days when six-year-olds were allowed to walk to the Saturday matinée with their friends unchaperoned. Obviously, boomers enjoyed a risky kind of freedom back then.

Despite my good intentions and aspirational plans, I have never once attended the Toronto International Film Festival in the twenty years since I retired. The reason? Getting to downtown Toronto from Mississauga is such a giant hassle; whether I drive, which I am no longer inclined to do, or take the GO Train, it’s simply easier to stay home. When will they ever extend the subway into Mississauga so I don’t have to endure multiple transfers to get to my destination. Also, many of the movies I’m interested in are shown at night, and as we all know, boomers don’t like to drive at night or go out after dark. Consequently, I have voluntarily opted out. No Toronto International Film Festival for this old, retired gal.

Going to the movies is a social outing as much as it is an opportunity to see a good flick. While my Netflix and Prime subscriptions entitle me to stream pretty much any movie I want, nothing compares to sitting in the theatre. With a bucket of popcorn wedged between my knees and a tall Diet Coke in the cupholder, I can laugh, cry, gasp, and ooooo with friends or hubby beside me. I’ve also attended many movies alone, usually obscure flicks no one else was interested in seeing. I have no problem being my own date.

When I read recently that Windsor, Ontario, has its own film festival, I was filled with hope. Film festivals offer a banquet of unusual and interesting films that never make it to my local movie theatre. I’m not a fan of sci-fi, computer-generated images, and shoot-em-up movies. Scrolling through the catalogue of the most recent screenings at the Toronto International Film Festival, I unearthed an intoxicating banquet of films I would have loved to see but could not because I hate going downtown, especially at night. So many are indie productions, and these films rarely turn up on Netflix or Prime, much less my local theatre. What’s a girl to do?

Now that I know Windsor is hosting its own film festival, I’m hoping Mississauga will someday do the same. Is that asking too much? I’d even be willing to get out of my sweats, put on some decent clothes, and perhaps even splash out with a bit of eye makeup. I would be happy to make myself available for red carpet interviews. We have plenty of mostly-empty theatres, and an abundance of retirees and boomers who now have the time to attend matinées. We’re also desperate enough to get out and socialize that we will pay $25.00 for a soft drink and some popcorn to have the opportunity to enjoy an outing with our boomer friends. That’s a perfect business case in my books. Don’t make me move to Windsor—I’m too old to learn my way around a new city. Is anyone listening?