Watching television in the summertime can be a dreary affair. The hundreds of available channels tend to pack their schedules with reruns or replacement programs of dubious value. Most of us are too busy enjoying travels and the long hours of daylight to really care about the dearth of decent options but when rain is dampening plans we sometimes reach for our remotes hoping to find something interesting and worthy to view. Sadly our options aren’t always promising.
The summer Olympics in Rio have been fun but somehow NBC manages to go into overkill with certain events and completely ignore others that might be interesting. I have found myself tuning out every time that they showcased yet another beach volleyball game. Don’t get me wrong. Those competitions are fast paced and even have the potential to be exciting but when they seem to be part of the programming every single day they soon get old. On the other hand we never get to see much related to soccer or rugby or basketball. I thoroughly appreciate the finals in swimming and track but don’t really need to see every event leading up to those matches. I’d much prefer a montage of the many different sports and not just those that NBC has selected for my viewing pleasure. I suspect that I am not alone in my thinking because ratings for the Olympics are down.
Luckily there is a bright spot in the vacuous desert of summer programming. Stranger Things is yet another Netflix original limited series that demonstrates how a great story, taut writing, a perfect cast and stunning production can elevate a simple idea into a winner. Stranger Things is so nineteen eighties and that is a very good thing. The tale weaves a tapestry of mystery with characters right out of the movies that we so loved in that era. Subtle but powerful touches include a soundtrack of eighties favorites that illicit memories of MTV with starring roles for once young actors and actresses who have settled into middle age. The formulaic themes so common in the golden age of the eighties are all there but with twists and turns that keep us on the edges of our seats. Stranger Things is a romp through the past that seems to have elements of Goonies, E.T., Sixteen Candles and Alien. In other words, it is great fun, especially for those of us who so enjoyed that glorious time.
When I think of the eighties I get a huge smile on my face. It was a decade when everything in my world was going well. I loved my job and had few worries. I lived in a great neighborhood and enjoyed adventures with so many wonderful friends. My two girls kept me busy but I loved every moment with them. I was still in my thirties, a time when I was confident, energetic and still rather nice looking. We traveled all across the United States as a family and created memories that are vividly exciting even to this day. The world itself seemed safer and less complex. We lived contentedly at the end of a cul-de-sac thinking that life would always be as perfect as it appeared to be back then. We were so busy enjoying our little slice of heaven that we hardly noticed the changes that were brewing just as they inevitably do.
We would all grow older. Family members and dear friends would die. Our children became adults who left our little nest to begin their own sagas. The world seemed to evolve into a more dangerous place. Our nostalgia for the good old days increased and yet if truth be told these are good times as well.
The reality of life is that it is in constant motion. As the Bible so beautifully tells us there is a season for everything. How we react to each stage of our existence will color the way that we view our past, present and future. With the right attitude we are able to accept and enjoy our status even with the many changes that alter the way we live. True joy comes in embracing the moment and finding the blessings that most surely are right in front of us.
My mother was masterful at enjoying the simplest of things. She had very little money but she never complained. She received as much joy from a McDonald’s sausage biscuit as she might have had from breakfast at Brennan’s. The simple act of waking up each morning was a grand miracle in her mind. Each day was precious to her and she packed her hours with generosity and love. Whether she looked backward or forward at her life she was filled with optimism. She loved the eighties like me but she appreciated all of the other decades as well and they spanned from the twenties of the twentieth century to the teens of the twenty first. She had a way of finding the silver lining even on the darkest of days and constantly assured us that every problem has a way of working itself out if we are willing to be patient.
Watching Stranger Things reminded me of one of my favorite times but it also made me think of just how wonderfully far I have come. I now have seven grandchildren who weren’t even part of my imagination back then. I have met so many remarkable people in the days since dresses had more padding than a football uniform. The inventiveness of humankind in the last thirty years has made virtually every aspect of my existence far easier than it has ever been. I can tutor my granddaughter or visit with my grandson without any of us leaving our homes thanks to technology. I am daily reminded of how lucky I am and of the goodness of most of the world. It is with a sense of anticipation that I think of what may lie ahead. I suspect that wondrous things are on the horizon and that’s a good thing.
The best thing about life is how creative we humans are again and again. We adapt and thrive and carry on because it is in our natures to build rather than destroy. We laugh and enjoy the adventure of a good challenge. The bonds that tie us all together weather the test of time and there is nothing strange about that.
When I was growing up in the south the mere mention of William Tecumseh Sherman’s name ruffled feathers. The stories I heard described him as a despicable general with a drinking problem who swept across the southern landscape burning and pillaging and destroying everything within his line of sight. Because I knew little about my own ancestry I assumed that at least half of my family connections were steadfastly rooted in the old Confederacy because my paternal grandparents had lived in Kentucky, Virginia, North Carolina, Texas and Arkansas for decades. Thus I blindly derided General Sherman for being so cruel to those I believed may have been some of my innocent relatives.
When I was a child I kept my toys in cardboard boxes from the grocery store. I had one that held my dolls along with “furniture” made from an assortment of smaller containers. Another stored a hodgepodge of items like a jump rope and roller skates. Then there was my school box, a collection of books, paper and pencils that I used to pretend that I was a teacher. I kept it at the ready for any occasion in which I was able to entice my friends or relatives to participate in my favorite make believe game of being an educator. I suppose that I was always destined for working inside a classroom. Being a teacher was more than just a job. It was a vocation, something that I dreamed of doing for as long as I am able to remember.
Last week my husband and I decided to try a local Pollo Tropical for lunch. We had heard from several people that the menu in this fast food chain was exceptionally good. Sadly we never had even a taste of their wares. Instead, we entered the restaurant and almost instantly left before moving past the door. The sight that greeted us was disgusting beyond measure. Dirty dishes and trash were piled high on several of the tables. The floor was littered with trash and crumbs. In other words the place was filthy and nobody appeared to be making any sort of effort to rectify the situation. We both agreed that we were not going to spend our money on food that came from such a disgusting place. We wondered how the kitchen in the back might look if the most visible section of the eatery was in such a state of disarray. Our imaginations painted a dismal picture.
Morning time is still quiet in my neighborhood. The big yellow school bus that stops just outside of my living room window won’t be picking up children until next week. Nonetheless today virtually every school teacher in the state and a significant number of students are officially back on duty for the new school year. Thus begins the annual effort to educate our youth accompanied by the criticisms of our educational system that are certain to come from parents and pundits, professors and proletariat. Everyone has an opinion when it comes to how best to teach our children and for as long as I have been associated with that profession most of the critiques have leaned toward the negative. In spite of all of our discussions it sometimes seems as though we never quite escape from the sense that somehow we have failed our teachers and our kids.