"But I still think about those parties. What they stood for. A time before TV dinners and two-car families. And grass was green and we were young... and those nights when I'd lie awake in my bed... watching the light dance under my door. And listening... for my father's laugh." --The grown-up "Kevin Arnold." :)
The Wonder Years, in my opinion, is one of the best shows ever made for television. I don't typically feel that way about shows I can't let my son watch with me, due to some of the content being questionable for a 9-year-old, but the heart of the show gets to me every time, either laughing hysterically or wiping away tears, or a little of both. The nostalgia involved in a show like that is right up my alley. I completely relate to the main character's reminiscences of childhood, even though he was a boy and grew up a decade or so ahead of me! Something about it strikes a chord.
This time of year, I always look back on my very first blog post, which was on another blog posting site altogether. It was inspired by one of my favorite narrative parts in The Wonder Years and my own thoughts at the time:
Saturday, 24 December 2005
I must admit to feeling the tiniest bit blue this Christmas Eve afternoon. Last night we had a Christmas party and all of my sisters and my parents were there. The five of us girls who grew up "Christmasing" in the same house together with our parents are rarely all together anymore. And today we're all back in our own homes, some of us hours away from one another.
Late last night, I watched a taped Christmas episode of The Wonder Years. In this particular episode, "Kevin Arnold" remembers the Christmas parties his parents had every year for the people in their neighborhood. At the end of the show, he pictures himself as a very young child, sent to bed while his parents continue to entertain their guests. He is enveloped in the darkness of night, but is able to see the "dancing light" under his door, as people walk back and forth. He can hear the general chattering of his parents' friends but he listens for the distinct sound of his father's laugh. And then he hears it and all is well.
Every time I see that episode, I vividly remember what it was like to be in my parents' house, sent to bed because I was too little to stay up until all the "company" went home. But I could see the light "dancing" under my door and hear my parents' voices above all the others. Being the nostalgic person I am, those are wonderful memories. Bittersweet, I guess. Sometimes I long for us all to be together again, safe from harm, with two people older and wiser than I to make decisions for me and protect and guide me, yet I'm grateful for my present life just the way it is. Now it's my husband's and my turn to play those roles of protectors, providers and teachers. Sometimes that's scary. But I know that my husband and I have the same Guide that my parents had, and He is the same today and tomorrow as He was in my yesterdays. THAT's why I'm only a *little bit* blue today. Mostly I'm just enjoying this season of celebrating my Savior's birth!