If you asked me to rank the things I look forward to in a given year I'd have to scratch my head fairly vigorously, which wouldn't necessarily be a good thing in light of the rate of hair loss I've been experiencing.

At one time I might have said it would be the first day of trout season, which was practically a religious holiday in Pennsylvania.

You'd spend the full week beforehand getting your gear ready and wake up long before dawn on that second Saturday of April each year, just so you could shiver your timbers standing in an icy cold creek waiting for the hands on your watch to hit 8 a.m. so you could cast a line.

(Invariably, your line would become tangled with the line from a guy on the other side of the creek upon the first cast, so trout season wouldn't actually begin until about 8:15 a.m. by the time you got the bird's nest of fishing line untangled.)

At another time, I might have said it was the last day of school.

I went to a grade school that required uniforms so it was refreshing to be able to yank off the tie and dress shirt, throw on some shorts and my favorite "The Dukes of Hazzard" T-shirt, and head out onto the streets of my small town on my rusty but trusty bicycle for a summer of misadventure.

But even though times have changed, the last day of school no longer holds any personal meaning, and my hobbies have vacillated as much as my waistline, there's one passion that has always remained at the top of the list — summer movie season.

Not unlike the Capri Theatre here in Gaffney, I grew up near two single-screen movie houses.

The Forty Fort Theater in Forty Fort, Pa., was the better bargain of the two, as well as the closest. Two bucks would get you a double-feature. A quarter would get you a small cup of soda from the old-style vending machine. Another quarter would get you a box of popcorn.

While it wasn't all that long ago, it seemed life was a lot simpler and more innocent.

Parents could actually allow their grade school children to go see a movie unattended and not have to worry all that much about their safety — or the movie's content.

There'd be a pile of similar rusty but trusty bicycles out the front door of the theater, left there by all the other children who had the same passion for escapism that was readily found in the dark and air-conditioned confines of the movie house.

The Forty Fort Theater, with its plush red velvet seats, carpeted floor and fancy decor, succumbed to the inevitable long before the Capri. Two multi-screen theaters that opened nearby in the 1980s made it impossible for the single-screen theater, no matter how stately, to survive in the movie business.

In a twist of irony, the multi-screen theaters that led to the demise of the single-screen theaters were themselves supplanted when the megaplexes with 14 and 20 screens, posh stadium-style seating and digital surround sound came to town.

The wheel turns. Life goes on. But at least the summer popcorn flicks kept coming.

Even though I lived in an area that some considered the birthplace of cable, I never had that luxury growing up.

I relied on PBS, which ran an awful lot of movies back then, and a local ABC channel that showed a movie every day at 3 p.m.

One week would be a Mickey Rooney week, another might be a Fred McMurray, Jimmy Stewart, or John Wayne week.

All were fascinating. But none compared, to me at least, to a Red Skelton or Bob Hope week, since those two guys could make you laugh with just a facial expression.

I still love all of those movies today, but watching a black and white flick on the tube was no replacement for the widescreen and the big budget flicks that wow us every May and June.

It's probably because of my early love affair with the movies, and wide-ranging taste (from old school westerns and WW II movies to today's "Star Trek") that I tend not to pay much attention to reviews.

My personal judgment of a movie doesn't require a four- or five-star ranking, but the answer to a simple "yes" or "no" question.

Was I entertained?

Though everyone has seen movies that were bad, illconceived, poorly directed, poorly acted, poorly framed or just plain wrong, I'll find myself giving movies a passing grade the vast majority of the time. Seeing one in a crowded, air conditioned theater on a hot summer night even makes any movie all the better.

Maybe I set the bar low, or maybe my expectations are realistic.

But even though there's no such thing as a 25-cent soda or 25-cent box of popcorn any more, it's still a cheap diversion.

Unfortunately, I think I'll have to pass on riding my trusty but rusty bicycle to the Starmaxx. The traffic around Hyatt Street, Exit 90 and the Yellow mall is a little too hectic for an aging man with thinning hair and a growing waistline on an old Huffy.

But I'll be there, regardless.

I heard there's plenty of explosions and action in the "X-Men Origins: Wolverine" movie now playing. It may not be Oscar worthy, and some critic might have panned it, but I'm sure I'll be entertained.