Theo Balcomb, guest blogger
Theo Balcomb, age 4. (family photo)
The Wizard of Oz is celebrating its 70th anniversary this year. My parents tell me it was the first movie I ever saw, though I don't remember actually seeing it for the first time. Somehow, it seems to have always been part of my consciousness. It's not surprising. It completely overloaded my senses. The first scenes of the swirling tornado, the wooden doors banging and the hay bales rolling. The shock of Oz with scads of smiling, shiny people, brilliant yellows and greens, a falling shingled house and striped stockings. When it felt like it was all too much to handle, there was the soothing voice of Glinda. She was the epitome of calm, cool and collected. But all that was interrupted by the overwhelming terror of the Wicked Witch of the West. She petrified me to the point that I could not go into a dark room without hearing her signature cackle or seeing her in my mind, zooming through my brain on her broom.



