I had an unequivocally shit childhood.
Everytime a movie from the 70s or 80s is on TV, it takes me back to the Saturdays where my big brother would take me away from the dirt, the violence and screaming abuse to a place where there was food, comfortable seating, warmth, places that weren't filthy and surrounded by concrete or the air thick with diesel soot, and the good guys always won in the end, protected the vulnerable, children were rescued and there was a happy ending due to somebody doing the Right Thing.
Those movies gave me hope and an outlook that wasn't 'hate everybody and beat them down to make you feel better because everything is always awful/that's what those with power do'. My brother had also experienced the same abuse, so I think that he was deliberately trying to give me some bright spots, some joy and hope in my life to remember each time life was again horrible. And I remember clearly trotting down the road with him, trying to keep up with my little legs, talking to him and feeling light and happy and excited for what I was going to see or wittering on about the films on our way back.
He made memories for me. Ones that override the vast majority of the others and are easily triggered by the opening notes of a John Williams soundtrack or a familiar theme.
Didn't buy me a holiday, though - does that really mean what he did wasn't anything special?