PHOTOS BY SEAN COLLIER

I have, of course, seen “It’s a Wonderful Life” a number of times. It’s practically unavoidable, after all; countless television and repertory showings over the past seven-plus decades have made the film not just a holiday standard, but an indelible part of American culture.

It never affected me before, however, like it did last Wednesday.

On Thanksgiving Eve, I drove to Indiana, Pennsylvania, for a long-overdue trip to the Jimmy Stewart Museum. The museum, which takes up a floor of the Indiana Borough Community Building, is a hometown history of the legendary actor’s life and times — as well as an overview of his family’s history in Indiana, including the story of his father’s hardware store, where Stewart’s Oscar was once displayed.

In addition to rooms of memorabilia, movie posters and artifacts from Stewart’s life (look for his booth from legendary Hollywood restaurant Chasen’s), the museum houses a small screening room. At 1 p.m. each afternoon, one of Stewart’s films is shown — the screening is included with your admission to the museum. In a warm, inviting room (with a jolly, stuffed version of the rabbit “Harvey” sitting in the back row) classics such as “Vertigo” and “Bend in the River” play, perennially.

That’s where I had my annual viewing of “It’s a Wonderful Life,” surrounded by its star’s memories and treasures.

I found myself getting choked up when the angel Clarence says, “No man is a failure who has friends.” The movie is, after all, a story about friendship; while it is certainly a Christmas movie, it’s fundamentally a tale of social worth, of the invaluable role we play in one another’s lives regardless of how much money we have in the bank. Stewart’s many friends and companions seemed to surround me — letters from luminaries such as Frank Capra and Alfred Hitchcock, the door of his Hollywood home with a list of the well-wishers who passed through it, relics of how much his hometown loved him.

Call it the magic of a very good movie in a very good place, but Clarence’s message landed with a bit more weight than it ever has before.

And the Jimmy Stewart Museum is indeed a very good place. It is, in fact, a model for the way a museum can honor a favorite son. There is nothing dry or textbook about the displays and information here; Stewart’s life and accomplishments are vivid and moving.

That shines through the most, though, in the screening room. Here, every day, Stewart’s work is on display — publicly and communally, as it should be. No amount of artifacts or historical detail can match that; it is not only the actor’s memory that is kept alive here, it is his spirit and career.

If I lived a bit closer, I would become a museum member just for the ability to pop in and enjoy a classic any afternoon I wanted. I’ll certainly be back when I notice a favorite flick on the schedule. It’s a moving place — a tribute not just to a celebrity or a good actor, but to a person whose life and times are worth remembering in perpetuity.

No man is a failure who has friends — and if you have enough of them, apparently, your legacy can last forever.