Skip to main content

Take a Ride (down Memory Lane) With Me



   I love to watch a good television train wreck. I don’t mean a real, live Northeastern Railroad smash up. I’m talking about Nancy Grace, nostrils flared in indignation, interviewing pretty much anybody. I like how she asks the dirty questions we all want to ask but can’t. I like how she chokes up every now and then. I like how she clearly doesn’t care that she’s got really bad hair. I like that handcuff necklace she wears in the CNN promos. She’s kind of badass.
   And I love watching The Little Couple. You all know how much I enjoy that one. I find myself tearing up all the time when it’s on. Sometimes they’re tears of joy because I’m so damn happy they adopted those two little babies. And God knows I can’t believe all the crap they have to go through to live a happy life. Enough already.
   Then there’s my infatuation with the Duggars. It’s like I don’t want to watch them purely on principle. I don’t agree with their views on just about everything and yet, I see them all standing there in their khaki pants and long jean skirts and Michelle says, “and I delivered every one!” and I’m captivated. Amazing. Can you imagine the stretch marks? I have to wonder if those kids don’t turn on each other when the cameras are off, a little make-up to cover the black eyes.
   I’ve been obsessed with HGTV for years, long before Martha’s Vineyard was chosen for the dream home. I watch it way too much. I love to watch the women when they say, “I love the tray ceiling and the spa bathroom and the hardwoods and the stainless steel, but these countertops aren’t granite. Why did you show us this house when you know it doesn’t have our must-haves?”
   I love to watch the loosely described television journalists these days while they bait the people they interview, trying desperately to get a sound bite to carry over into the next day.
    Lately I’ve been watching Nellyville. There’s the St. Louis connection, but more than that, he’s raising his own kids and his sister’s kids since she died of cancer. And then there’s his scholarships and charity work. I know he’s got some raunchy videos, but I’ve seen where he came from and that’s something. And he’s pretty funny sometimes. I'm not going to apologize.
   Remember when we wanted to watch I Dream of Jeannie and Laugh-In and our parents insisted on Gunsmoke? That used to really piss me off. And I had to turn the sound practically off when I was in high school and wanted to watch Monty Python. My dad wasn’t a fan of the British television shows, didn’t trust them.
   “Times have changed” doesn’t begin to cover it. I’m still not over Robby Benson and do you remember the color of Bobby Sherman’s eyes? Oh, I do.
I miss those days. As I write this, people are shouting on CNN where Dr. Drew has clearly lost control of the show. Thank God in my mind, I’m still trying to master walking while I do the funky chicken. 



Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Getting well takes baby steps

So I’ve had what you could call a case of the pneumonia. It was not pleasant. And to top it off it happened in San Antonio, Texas. Like I wasn’t sweating before the fever.
I was there to see my niece Michelle, who by the way kept asking me, “Are you going to write about this?” which is funny because she’s a writer too. I naturally said, “Oh no, of course not.” And here we are.
Thinking back, the best part of that trip teeters between meeting my two great-nephews, Oliver and Isaac, and having a couple of beers with their Yaya, my sister, who I haven’t had beers with in decades. Like I said, it’s a toss-up. There’s also the fact that I got to spend time with my niece’s husband Alex. He’s a hardcore military guy. He teaches other military guys how to be military policemen. I’m not going to gamble on writing anything about him. He’s from Wisconsin though, which I like. And he likes to cook, which I also like.
I thought to myself before I ever left my nice cocoon of Martha’s Vineyard to tra…

Just sitting around doing jack

I think my blog may have been hijacked. I haven’t written in forever because I’ve been writing …for my job, which may mean I’m no longer a “jobless goddess.” I may just be a regular goddess.
I love the word jack. I could use that all day. Whatever, hopefully those who want to read the blog will read. Back to jack. It’s a cool freaking word. I had a brother-in-law named Jack who pretty much personified the word “cool.” He’s gone too soon and missed by everybody.
There’s Billy Jack, get back Jack, Jack Sprat, Jack Nicholson, Jack Berry, Jack in the Box, Jumping Jack Flash. And my favorite, a little ditty my sister introduced me to, “Jack Mother.” This is a something you say when someone cuts you off on the highway. “I’m sorry officer, I was cut off by that Jack Mother in the blue Subaru.”
My brother Steve has a friend named Jack. I thought he was about the greatest thing ever when I was 12. Who are we kidding? I probably still do. Jackie was hilariously funny and I loved to watch my brot…

Little women

I’m getting a real kick out of my co-workers these days. I’m working with about a half dozen young women — young being the operative word.
They’re all so freaking competent it kills me. They can write like it’s nobody’s business, they all take great photos to go with their stories, and they almost always laugh at my jokes. I call them ‘the girls.’
They’re either about to go to university, just leaving university, or all done with it and on their way. They do yoga and eat a lot of avocados. We live on Martha’s Vineyard and none of them know who John Belushi is but they all know they should keep using the same plastic cup for take out iced coffee over and over and over again. If they see a bug, they think twice before killing it. Actually they leave it for me to kill because they couldn’t possibly… and they know I won’t hesitate.
We get along just fine the girls and me. Oh, there’s a little trouble when I insist on running the window air conditioner up in our second floor office —ramsha…