So then I flew to Orlando. Because my family was already there. Because when you’re a small documentary crew who travels constantly, you learn to bolt family trips onto the back end of shoots or you never see your family at all.
And I’m standing in the shadow of Cinderella’s Castle, watching my wife and daughter kids their minds over a churro (the irony was not lost on me), and I can’t stop thinking about what it took for that professor to get from where he started to where he ended up. The distance between a kid being told he didn’t belong in his own city and a man who built a career teaching at one of its biggest universities.
Meanwhile I’m arguing with my wife about whether we need a fourth $7 bottle of water.
That’s the job sometimes. You carry the weight of someone’s story around for a few days while you go about your regular life. It sits on you. Not in a bad way. More like a coat you forgot to take off.
I think about him every time someone tells me Houston doesn’t have culture or history worth preserving. That man IS Houston’s history. The kind that doesn’t get a statue or a street name but absolutely should.
Anyway. The churro was good.
Heritage Films has produced personal documentary films across the United States and world. If you’re thinking about making one, for a parent, a grandparent, yourself, someone you love, we’d be glad to talk.