Look Mom, Ze Plane
I have a semi-vivid, age-warped, nostalgic memory from approximately 1977 that flashes before me every now and then, and depending on the mood I’m in…evokes a wide range of emotion from curious to calm, and from melancholy to joy.
The memory is that of a childhood Saturday night. In fact, of many Saturday nights.
I remember being with my mother. She was 20 years old…and I was 4.
I remember being in a room. It was a small room, and it was nearly filled by the bed that I remember laying on. I don’t remember the walls. I don’t remember the floor. I just remember the TV…and the bed…and to a degree the pillows. And I remember thinking that there couldn’t possibly be a more wonderful and safe and cozy and fun place to be on this entire earth.
I remember laying on that bed with my Mom. On a Saturday night. And I remember the television “lineup” that I had been thinking about…all, week, long. And this was it:
9pm: Love Boat
10pm: Fantasy Island
11pm: NEWS (couldn’t care less)
11:30pm: Saturday Night Live
I remember thinking about that lineup, and about watching it from my Mom’s bed…all, week, long.
I remember feeling like in that bed, at that time, and with my Mom…that nothing could possibly be better. Nothing could possibly be safer. Nothing could possibly be…cooler.
I mean…Love Boat, right? Love Boat was the #1 show in the world. It was full of drama, and beauty, and laughs…and love.
Then…Fantasy Island. Who can forget Mr. Roarke and Tattoo?
And Saturday Night Live. I didn’t quite know what it meant, but I absolutely knew from my Mom’s reaction that it was…COOL.
Do you know how many times I remember making it through that dream lineup, in that dream location, without falling asleep? Mmm…maybe one.
Do you know how many times those shows have played a significant part in my adult life? Mmm…maybe none.
But do you know how many times my semi-vivid, age-warped, nostalgic memory has brought a smile to my face? Mmm…maybe a thousand.
Because, of course, it isn’t about the shows. It isn’t about Captain Stubing, and it isn’t about the Weekend Update.
It’s about the memory of feeling like that bed, on those nights, was the most special place on earth. It’s about recalling that feeling of warmth and safety. And how nothing else mattered.
We say that there’s an innocence that is lost when children grow up. When we grow up.
I think a part of that is rooted in our awareness. Of our surroundings, of self, of the future and of the consequences that accompany every decision that we make.
Mindfulness and perspective are wonderful things. And the weight of responsibility is a privilege I wouldn’t trade. But when I look at my children, especially when we’re doing something as a family…I pray that in those moments, they have the same feeling that I did…on that bed, back in 1977.
I pray that for them, in those moments, nothing else matters. That they are free of the mental burden of future consequence. Free of distraction. Free of concern. Free to focus solely on that moment when we’re all together…and to feel that security, and love.
And most of all…I hope that one day as adults, they have this same reflection. So that they finally realize; That focus, that love, that feeling like nothing else in the world mattered more than that moment…was just as meaningful for Mom and Dad.
Probably more.
