When I was four years old The Cosby Show began its long and glorious run on NBC. In 1984 there was no such thing as satellite tv, and we couldn't get cable when I lived out in the sticks, but fortunately, NBC happened to be one of the three-point-five stations we could get via the metal tv antenna that grew out of the ground outside the west living room window.
The Cosby show quickly became a Thursday night ritual at our house. We always were sure to be showered and pajamaed before the pre-show credits came on, because heaven forbid we missed the intro. (I named my cabbage patch doll Keshia, after Rudi) My all-time favorite intro was the one where all the cast members were dressed in colorful, pastel clothes and they danced through the credits. My least favorite was the jazzy one. Even as I kid, I never liked jazz.
But back to Thursday nights. All clean and cozy, we three kids would rush to the livingroom to join mom and dad for those thirty minutes of bliss. Bathroom trips were always reserved for the dreaded commercial breaks, and even then were frantically rushed under the constant fear of missing even precious second.
The best part about the Huxtable family was that even the adult characters were interesting to kids. Every child knows that as a general rule most adults on tv are boring. But Cliff and Claire were hilarious! I can still see Cliff, in his constant search for junk food, hiding a submarine sandwich in a toy semi-truck or taking a chunk out of an iced cake, stuffing the hole full of paper towels, and trying to re-ice it to cover his tracks. I can see Claire, with ATTITUDE shooting out of her very fingertips, confronting Vanessa after she snuck out for an ill-fated trip to BAL-timore. The scenes roll through my mind, of Theo creatively trying to hide an earring or a fake mustache from his much-too-clever-for-that parents. Theo was too old for me, of course, but I still thought he was awfully cute, if a little stupid sometimes.
There we three would be, frozen in time for those thirty minutes, unaware of anything else in the world. We didn't know what was going on in Washington or Columbine or the Pentagon or Berlin or Moscow. In fact, we probably didn't even know most of those places existed.
Harrod, Ohio we knew. Clum Road. Our house, where we were safe and loved. Where Thursday nights meant Cosby and begging to stay up just a little beyond our 8:30 bedtime (which was, of course, positively unfair because EVERYONE ELSE in the WORLD got to stay up until nine except us) and if the stars lined up right and we had been REALLy good, Thursday night might also mean a bag of Mikesell's potato chips to share.
And as hard as we tried to slow down time or distract Mom and Dad into a few extra waking minutes, 9 pm never failed to roll around. The opening song to Cheers (a show I figured I couldn't watch because it took place in a bar) played in the background as teeth were brushed and prayers were prayed and Thursday was tucked in tight and sent on its way. Yes, Thursday nights were good at my house. Very good.
2 comments:
I just enjoy reading your blogs so much! I sit hear reading, laughing, nodding my head as if you were talking directly to me and I am answering! You are a wonderful writer. Side note, my favorite was the Jazz one! How funny is that!
That opening song when they're all dancing in pastels--that's my favorite, too!! I remember the first time I saw it and how enthralled I was with the dancing, the colors, and the music! And I have similar memories of going to bed during the Cheers theme song. Wow. Small world. ;)
Post a Comment