So Say We All

I know, I know.  It’s Friday, and not even the geekiest of geeks is online reading blogs.  Particularly this one.  But Eric at Geekadelphia posted a link to Vote-Adama.com, which launches Admiral William Adama’s presidental campaign.

And the great campaign poster they’re using as a splash page gives me a chance to talk about two things.  First of all, it gives me an opportunity to announce that Battlestar Galactica is the best written television show in the history of the world.

Secondly, it let’s me talk about television and my mom.  Somewhere along the line we developed similar tastes in television.  I got her hooked on Sports Night, Battlestar Galactica and American Dreams.  She turned me on to The West Wing, Two and a Half Men and Boston Legal (Denny Crane).  But TV shows have played a really bizzare role in my relationship with mom over the last two or three years.

For a good long while after I moved out of her house, I would go back on Sundays, and we’d marathon TV show DVD’s.  First it was Sports Night, then Murphy Brown, and a few others.  And it was nice to hang around and just relax and watch TV in a very familiar place.  That was until about last July.

My mom spent the first week of July in Isreal.  On one of her first days overseas I saw American Dreams s.1 on DVD.  I remember the show from several years ago.  Basically, it follows a ficional Irish Catholic family in Philadelphia in the late 60’s.  The oldest son is a football star in the Catholic League, the oldest daughter becomes a dancer on American Bandstand, and the youngest son has polio.  It’s really an excellent show, and stars Brittany Snow, who despite her porn-star-esque name, is usually cast in very sweet and/or innocent roles.  By the way, it’s really a crime that season 1 is the only year available on DVD.

Anyway, in the middle of my mom’s trip to Isreal my grandfather became very ill.  I won’t get into the details, but he suffered a stroke and passed away just a few weeks later.

When my mom got home from her trip, my life was in complete break down.  I was going to work, going to the hospital, and getting a couple hours of sleep somewhere.  And when mom got home we got into this routine where when I was done work in the morning, I’d pick her up.  We’d get breakfast and then go to either the hospital or hospice.  We’d spend a few hours there and then come home and we’d watch an episode or two of American Dreams.

And when I tell you that the hour or two we watched of American Dreams was the only semblance of normal life I had last July, I am not exaggerating.

So now, as much as I love American Dreams, and as much as I crush on Brittany Snow, I have a tough time watching it now because of everything that was going on around me when I watched it.  And since then I haven’t gone to mom’s house to marathon a TV show.

Now, how did I get from Edward J Olmos to Brittany Snow via the Wailing Wall?  I don’t know.  My mind doesn’t work like most.  I keep trying to RMA the thing, but I didn’t get the extended warranty.

I keep trying to search for that Kevin Arnold moment.  That one little nugget of coming-of-age-wisdom, and I’m sitting here at work next to a truck driver that reminds me of my grandfather, and I’m trying to think of something poigniant to say.  But words all of a sudden escape me.

So I’ll leave it at that.  Kind of The Soprano’s style ending. 

Que my theme song.

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