If it makes you happy

I’ve always had a soft spot for “The 39 Steps,” an early thriller from Alfred Hitchcock. It came out in 1935, and I saw it for the first time more than 40 years ago. I was crouched on the floor at the end of our bed, trying to catch the dialogue while my husband snoozed soundly three feet away.

We were housesitting for his grandparents. They had a 12-inch black-and-white TV in their bedroom, the kind with rabbit ears on top. It resembled a large toaster, masquerading as a preying mantis.

I had to adjust an antenna every few minutes to fight off the waves of snow and static that sought to obliterate my movie. Maybe it was a bad weather night. Maybe someone next door was boiling a cup of darjeeling in their microwave. I don’t know. It may have been a passing airliner or a croaking toad in a nearby bog that triggered the interference. If you’ve ever added columns of rolled-up aluminum foil to a set of rabbit ears to improve signal, you know my sorrow.

But the source of interference didn’t matter. I was 20 minutes into the film and I was hooked. Hitchcock was good at that, at keeping you crouched on the floor at the end of your bed to see what happened next.

The movie was airing on one of those TV channels that programmed classic films overnight, for the benefit of insomniacs and people who worked the swing shift at the local hospital or the neighborhood truck stop.

Watching all-night movies was a favorite pastime of mine in those days. Sadly, the precious midnight-to-morning time slot was soon to be supplanted by infomercials pitching the Thighmaster, or Ginsu knives. (“But wait, there’s more!”) Before long, channel surfing at 3 a.m. would yield nothing but Richard Simmons “Sweatin’ to the Oldies” or George Foreman pitching his iconic grill. (“It’s so good I put my name on it!”) Finding a rerun of “Shane” or “Planet of the Apes” would become impossible.

But not that night, when “The 39 Steps” came wobbling through the airwaves and onto my black-and-white toaster. That night was one of the rare times that insomniacs live for, when something worth the struggle comes along and you alone are awake to join the fight.

The movie itself is a classic, the original spy story that has informed every spy story since. A man inherits a secret from a chance encounter with a beautiful government agent, then has to go on the run from a false murder charge as the result of her death. On his way to evading the police and saving the world, he takes on a dizzying set of side quests with a host of supporting characters, all while engaging in witty banter with everyone he meets. Cinema magic.

Since that night, I’ve watched all the film versions of “The 39 Steps” I can find. Thanks to the beauty of digital conversion, I’ve even read the 1915 John Buchan novel that inspired Hitchcock’s efforts.

Do you have a favorite something-or-other like that? Some interest discovered by chance that remains with you? It’s the stuff that makes life fun, in a “collecting salt and pepper shakers” kind of way. I harbor an enduring affection for late-night cinema classics. I still follow the careers of filmmakers from the Golden Age of Hollywood.

Maybe you have a soft spot for Oliver tractors, or the Currier and Ives artwork that depicts the four seasons. Maybe you collect the vinyl recordings of the Moody Blues or fragrance bottles created for Avon perfume. Perhaps you nail vintage license plates to the walls of your shop. Whatever interest has followed you through the years, I hope your signal stays strong and your rabbit ears true. As we enter another New Year, I believe it’s these little things that make life worth living. In fact, I’d put my name on it.