I played hooky today, and it was the best decision I’ve made all year.

Another rainy, grey day means that my inspiration meter is approaching an all-time low. And while the forecast calls for 17 degrees by 1 pm, the people who report on such things got it wrong, again! It’s a depressing 4 degrees at noon, and the afternoon outlook is gloomy. What to do???

I know. Let’s go to the movies!

We’re very fortunate to live so close to the iconic Playhouse Theatre in downtown Hamilton. We’re members, frequent visitors and hungry fans of cinema. So I took a gander at today’s schedule, and to my absolute delight, Baz Luhrmann’s documentary, EPiC: Elvis Presley in Concert, was playing at 1:25 pm. I’d forgotten that I had been anxiously waiting for its launch, so basically it’s my lucky day! Let’s play Hooky!

I’m a huge fan of Baz Luhrmann’s film, ELVIS. But admittedly, I didn’t know a whole lot about Elvis Presley prior to watching. I know many of his songs and can sing a handful by heart. I’ll bet most people can say that. But I knew virtually nothing about Elvis the man. Or shall I say, the legend. And while some people I know poo-poo’d the movie, I was gob-smacked by Austin Butler’s performance, the visual look of the film, fast-paced editing, the costumes and the story. And I learned A LOT!! For sure, the exploitative relationship between Elvis and his manager, Colonel Tom Parker, was hard to watch, but my takeaway was a deeper appreciation for the life and enormous talent of one of the most remarkable and iconic performers of the 20th century. Elvis Presley was the real deal. As authentic as they come.

So, when I learned that Lurrmann had plans for a documentary featuring long-lost footage from Presley’s legendary Las Vegas residency in the 1970s, I was exhilarated to continue my education. And while this isn’t intended to be a review of the documentary, I’ll share that it was a moving experience: a must-see for music fans, Elvis lovers and anyone wishing to be transported to another time and place for an hour and 40 minutes. Rainy day or not, EPiC delivers!

And inspires!

Isn’t that the point of art? To act as a catalyst for ideas and foster an emotional response? I think so. Anyway, it’s the main reason I love film. It blends immersive storytelling, visual artistry, and sound to evoke a response from the viewer. Empathy. Connection. To walk in another’s shoes.

But something else happened while I sat in a dark theatre this afternoon. I was reminded that greatness is rarely tidy. The artists who move us most are often complicated people living complicated lives. What we see on stage, on screen, or in a painting is the distilled version of a lifetime of struggle, ambition, insecurity, discipline and raw talent.

Watching Elvis command the stage, dripping in sweat, completely consumed by the music, I realized something simple but powerful: authenticity is magnetic. You can’t fake it. The crowd knew it. The band knew it. And fifty years later, sitting in a small theatre in Hamilton on a dreary Tuesday afternoon, I could feel it too.

That’s the magic.

Great art collapses time. It connects a young man from Tupelo, Mississippi, performing in 1970, to a middle-aged woman skipping work in 2026 because the weather is miserable and she needs a little spark of inspiration. And suddenly the grey day doesn’t feel so grey anymore. That’s what a good film can do. It nudges you out of your routine. It wakes up your senses. It reminds you why creativity matters in the first place.

So yes, I played hooky today. And thanks to Baz Luhrmann, Elvis Presley, popcorn and a cozy theatre where I’m snuggled up beside my best friend, I’m heading back to work tomorrow with a full heart and a much fuller inspiration meter.

Not a bad return on a rainy afternoon.

 

“Walk a Mile in My Shoes” was written by Joe South in 1968. It was based on the poem “Judge Softly”, by Mary T. Lathrap, written in 1895.

Judge Softly

“Pray, don’t find fault with the man that limps,
Or stumbles along the road.
Unless you have worn the moccasins he wears,
Or stumbled beneath the same load.

There may be tears in his soles that hurt
Though hidden away from view.
The burden he bears placed on your back
May cause you to stumble and fall, too.

Don’t sneer at the man who is down today
Unless you have felt the same blow
That caused his fall or felt the shame
That only the fallen know.

You may be strong, but still the blows
That were his, unknown to you in the same way,
May cause you to stagger and fall, too.

Don’t be too harsh with the man that sins.
Or pelt him with words, or stone, or disdain.
Unless you are sure you have no sins of your own,
And it’s only wisdom and love that your heart contains.

For you know if the tempter’s voice
Should whisper as soft to you,
As it did to him when he went astray,
It might cause you to falter, too.

Just walk a mile in his moccasins
Before you abuse, criticize and accuse.
If just for one hour, you could find a way
To see through his eyes, instead of your own muse.

I believe you’d be surprised to see
That you’ve been blind and narrow-minded, even unkind.
There are people on reservations and in the ghettos
Who have so little hope, and too much worry on their minds.

Brother, there but for the grace of God go you and I.
Just for a moment, slip into his mind and traditions
And see the world through his spirit and eyes
Before you cast a stone or falsely judge his conditions.

Remember to walk a mile in his moccasins
And remember the lessons of humanity taught to you by your elders.
We will be known forever by the tracks we leave
In other people’s lives, our kindnesses and generosity.

Take the time to walk a mile in his moccasins.”