The Godfather

Family men don't wear name brands. Men of modest means like myself have other priorities for their limited funds and space.

Last week, my wife decided that we needed to have a garage sale and trade some of our "clutter" for cash. Project Clutter Removal's first target was my beloved "Godfather" VHS collection.

I admit, my movie collection does take up quite a bit of our house and it would be nice to fit our couch back into the living room, but we're talking about my "Godfather" videos here. So what if I have a slightly large movie collection?

When I was a bachelor, I bought a lot of movies. Once I got married, "a lot of movies" turned into about one movie every Christmas. When I look under the Christmas tree these days, all I get are tools to fix the house, so the movie collection isn't really growing.

Aside from the mass of videos in our house--overflowing into the guest bathroom medicine cabinet (these are the toilet humor comedies, themed with the bathroom, of course), my wife's rationale for getting rid of my "Godfather" VHS collection was reasonable. I already have it on DVD.

Nevertheless, I fought to archive my VHS versions in my personal junk box because they have sentimental value. I forfeited a lot of other movies to Project Clutter Removal to keep my "Godfather" collection.

My "Godfather" videos were the first movies I ever bought- and, of course, the best movies ever made. My dad feels the same way about them. He named me after Michael Corleone, and my younger brother took the name Tom after Don Corleone's adopted son, Tom Hagen-I suppose my dad should've named my brother Fredo, but Fredo was weak. Hagen, on the other hand, became consiglieri, so that's a plus for my brother.

If that wasn't enough, we even had a fish named Luca Brasi, who, like the character in the movie, "slept with the fishes."

My obsession with the "Godfather" movies was further fueled by the fact that they told great stories and they were about Italian Americans. I myself am of Italian heritage. My family comes from Sicily, just like the Corleone family.

But as I got older, and as I started a family of my own, I found an even deeper appreciation for the "Godfather" films. I really began to relate to Michael Corleone, who did everything he could to protect his family. Michael and I do have some differences in approach, however.

Whereas he lived in two compounds in New York and Nevada, I live in a three-bedroom, twobath tract home in a California suburb-though my house does have new copper plumbing.

Michael Corleone spent several years in exile in Italy to avoid federal officials who were after him. I spend several hours on the road commuting to my job, which allows me to pay my bills and avoidbill collectors who would otherwise be after me.

People wait in line to see Michael Corleone for "family business," and my family waits in line to give me family work.

I've never said, "Leave the gun, take the cannoli," but I have said, "Pay the check, take the doggy bag." And that's in the rare case my family can afford to eat out at Chuck E. Cheese's.

And while Michael Corleone controlled several casinos in Las Vegas, I don't even control the TV clicker in my own house. But I'm okay with that because Michael Corleone lost his family in Part II.

Michael Corleone had his brother whacked in a fishing boat. I talk to my brother every day. More diplomatic, I think. I've substituted Michael Corleone's extravagant lifestyle for being able to keep a close-knit family. So what if I don't get to buy name brands? I can't have my cannoli and eat it, too.

Good mothers and fathers will do anything for their kids. They'll substitute personal wealth for the ability to afford toys for their kids that will get three months of play and then be sold in a garage sale for five bucks apiece.

I know this because all my original "Star Wars" action figures vanished from our driveway for just five bucks for the whole batch. That box of figures inspaceship and my die cast Death Star. Lucky my dad doesn't know how much that stuff is worth today.

In the future, I'll use this column to share more stories about being a family man. I hope you enjoy them. I now must go because, you see, my wife just slapped a $5 for-sale sticker on my son's name-brand baby swing, which cost us $100 not even two years ago.

E-mail Michael Picarella at pic@theacorn.com. Nice comments only. The author is very fragile.