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

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

I might need a price check

So my husband Chris works three days a week in America, and I’m trying not to take this personally.
He’s commuting Monday mornings on the 6:30 ferry over to Cape Cod, where he works at an upholstery shop in Hyannis, the Mattydale of Cape Cod, for all you Syracuse readers. I stay here and hold down the fort, cooking up a cocktail of frozen pizzas and mac n’ cheese weeknights for my poor Danny. Chris comes back late Thursday night, all giddy over toilet paper prices and quotes on cheaper rent.
No, no, no, and more no I say. I can’t possibly leave all this off-season quiet and high-priced laundry detergent. There’s no convincing me to leave no matter how many times Chris points out that there’s a Trader Joe’s “over there.”
I want to stay here until I miraculously win on one of those $5 scratchers and can buy my own house here. The difference being that I feel confident that I will someday scratch my way to freedom while Chris thinks we’d be smarter to look into a nice rental “over there.…
1 comment
Read more

Library lady

So today a co-worker who is — let’s just be honest here — 70 years old, gave me a serious run for my money at the library. Some guy was looking for a specific movie, which just happened to be located on the very bottom shelf, and I did one of those pretend searches for it on the middle shelf. She walks over and squats down like she’s going to give birth in some Third World country and finds it in two seconds. Again, here we are. Now I’m at home tearing open the cardboard box of a frozen pizza and she’s obviously at home on a rubber mat touching her big toe to her nose.      I regularly call the doctor to renew my prescription for muscle relaxers, while it seems like the rest of the women on this ridiculously fit island drink hot tea and take a warm bath for their yoga-stressed muscles. Thank God my teeth are relatively good.
     It’s not easy to work with women your age and older who think nothing of drinking spinach shakes and lugging all kinds of crap around. If I tried half the…
Post a Comment
Read more

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…
Post a Comment
Read more