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One of the people in charge of props told me: “It’s not my job necessarily to make things look exactly as they were in real life. But I want [the movie] to look so authentic that when you see it, you’ll think it’s part of your own personal history. It will be your life to hold onto.”
That attention to detail--and that care and dedication--moved me, and I did everything I could to help them. Still, I didn’t want to just put my memories in the mail or FedEx. To put me at ease, the studio offered to use a team of couriers so that the material would be in someone’s hands each step of the way.
They sent a driver out one day. He was a big, hulking fellow who filled Chris’s office the way Chris would have.
“I just have a few more things to pack up,” I told him. “If you could just wait a second.”
“Sure.”
Bubba came in, still wearing his jammies. “Hey,” he said to the guy. “You play darts?”
“Uh--“
By now Bubba was so used to people dropping by and playing with him that he didn’t even need to ask who they were.
He’d also become pretty good at darts.
I wrapped up quickly, sparing the poor fellow the humiliation of losing to a kid whose voice wouldn’t change for several more years.
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