In my own lifetime, I’ve seen the movie industry change dramatically over the years. As a kid, it wasn’t all that unusual for folks to go to a movie theater without a specific flick in mind, as though going to the movies was akin to going to the bar; you don’t have to know what you want to order, to know you could use a drink.

Times have changed, of course, and our movies have to suit. Now, most of the money is made by a handful of spectacles (and a great deal of it is sourced from overseas markets where plot isn’t as important as special effects), and although I do love a good superhero flick… I can’t help but miss the good old days, when all you need was two make believe boxers, some short shorts and a lovely day at the beach to get me invested in a story.

Make fun of this scene all you want, this is still one of the all time great cinematic friendships.

I had the awful realization recently that my daughter, who just turned 12 weeks old yesterday, will grow up in a world where the movies that shaped me will all seem… old, outdated, even cheesy to her. “Who cares about some boxer working out in the snow, Dad?” I hear her whining in my nightmares. “I want to watch Miley Bieber dry hump the stage at the Kid’s Choice Awards!”

This isn’t a new concern for parents, it’s just a new one for me. I recall my father trying to subject me to black and white films as a kid, and although I eventually returned to flicks like “Citizen Cain,” “Casablanca,” and even “It’s a Wonderful Life,” I did so out of a bit of perverse irony. It was so uncool to think black and white movies were cool that the inevitable culturally backlash made it cool again. In effect, my rebellious teenage mind tricked me into liking the classics, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to count on the same luck befalling my own little one… and in my mind, that’s a tragedy. As she sighs and rolls her eyes, she’ll miss Marty and Doc attending the “Enchantment Under the Sea” Dance. While she complains about dad’s boring movies, she’s going to miss my lecture about how Iceman is actually the hero of “Top Gun” because he’s a team player that doesn’t put other pilots in jeopardy. As she falls asleep out of boredom, she’s going to miss important lessons about the tell-tale shimmer that gives away the Predator’s location in the jungle.

But most of all, I’m sad that she’s going to miss out on the workout montages.

When I was a kid, I wasn’t much of an athlete. Despite my time playing peewee football (which we actually called Midget Football at the time, but I’m sure that name has been sent out to pasture), I was always the skinny, awkward younger brother to our family’s real athlete – my big brother, Earle. While he was drawing crowds at his high school football games, I was pounding water in front of a scale just to be heavy enough to make weigh in for my Saturday games. While he was being interviewed by college scouts, I was at home, watching Rocky train and imagining a day when even I might somehow weigh as much as 200 pounds.

To give you a sense of just how small I was, I had already set a Vermont State High School football record by the time this photo was taken.

Small as I was, I was motivated, and any time that motivation seemed to be lacking, I had a secret weapon: the workout montage.