I wasn't aware of Steve McQueen in 1958. I only knew that I was extremely frightened about going to see this film. (I'd been devastated by the movie "Trantula" at age seven . . . but I was ten now). The 1st scene where the Blob crawls up the farmer's probing stick and engulfs his hand was enough to make me want to leave the theater. But I stayed and suffered through each of our monster's attacks. I felt such horror when Steve and his girl barely made it out of the doctor's office (poor doc), and even more when The Blob entered a movie theater and devoured a large portion of the audience . . . so many in fact that IT oooooozzzzzzed out of the front doors, too huge now to fit through just one. It seemed indestructible and unlimited in growth potential, and when it trapped poor Steve in a sieve-like diner, he seemed like a sure dinner to be.

To say that the Blob was cold would be a modern day description, but in the end, better icy than scaring and mentally rupturing little kids.

I remember walking home that evening with my uncle Nick, trying to act brave. He knew I was in trouble, and when I got into bed that night I could not only feel the Blob in the room, but when I summoned up the courage to look down at the floor, there the red pulsating, heart-like hungry dude sat, waiting for me to try and get up and go to the bathroom. It took months to recover.

I'm 57 years old now . . . I've made it.

Of course The Blob wasn't destroyed.

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