#SOLSC15 Day 15

Thank you to the Two Writing Teachers and the Slice of Life writing community for providing this opportunity to share our "slices." Thanks to Stacey, Anna, Beth, Tara, Dana and Betsy for creating a place for us to share our work. Check out the other slices and join in the fun!

 

Last night my husband, Mark, was helping my two boys settle on a television show. Next thing I know, Mark is all engrossed in some show. I think to myself, "Great. I just lost all of them to screen time." Come to find out, Mark had stumbled on something from his childhood, The Super Mario Brothers Super Show. They were all glued to the TV and loving it. I have to admit, it was a sweet moment. A dad, his boys, and a childhood memory.

It got me thinking...what was my favorite show? I ran through a list in my head:
Captain Kangaroo
Zoobilee Zoo
Reading Rainbow
Charles In Charge
Newhart
Life Goes On
Mr. Roger's Neighborhood
PeeWee's Playhouse
The Elephant Show
Bewitched

When all of a sudden I looked up at the show my husband was watching with the kids and saw Winnie Cooper! Then, I settled on it.

The Wonder Years. 

The Wonder Years was my favorite show as a kid. I remember hoping it was on TV if I was home sick. I remember stretching out on the couch after dinner and waiting for that song...

I loved watching Kevin go through common kid struggles. I hated his brother. I loved Winnie. Then there was the mother who tried holding onto typical American family traditions within a dysfunctional family. The father who ruled with a fist and a bad attitude, but at the end of the day, he loved his family. Yes. The Wonder Years. I began going through You Tube clips, listening, laughing, remembering. I came across the the last show and watched with tear-filled eyes all these year later.

I end this post with the monologue from the last show because it has that warm, cozy feeling and brings me right back to that place in my childhood.

Once upon a time, there was a girl I knew who lived across the street.  Brown hair, brown eyes.  When she smiled, I smiled.  When she cried, I cried.  Every single thing that ever happened to me that mattered, in some way, had to do with her.  That day, Winnie and I promised each other that, no matter what, that we'd always be together.  It was a promise full of passion, and truth, and wisdom.  It was the kind of promise that could only come from the hearts of the very young.

The next day Winnie and I came home, back to where we'd started.  It was the fourth of July in that little suburban town. Somehow, though, things were different.  Our past was here, but our future was somewhere else. And we both knew, sooner or later, we had to go.  It was the last July I ever spent in that town.  The next year after graduation, I was on my way.  So was Paul.  He went to Harvard, of course, studied law.  He's still allergic to everything.  As for my father, well...we patched things up.  Hey, we were family, for better or worse. One for all...and all for one.  

Karen's son was born that September.  I gotta say, I think he looks like me.  Poor kid.  Mom, she did well.  Businesswoman, board chairman, grandmother, cooker of mashed potatoes.  The Wayner stayed on in furniture.  Wood seemed to suit him.  In fact, he took over the factory two years later, when Dad passed away. Winnie left the next summer to study art history in Paris.  Still we never forgot our promise.  We wrote to each other once a week for the next eight years.  I was there to meet her when she came home...with my wife, and my first son, eight months old. 

Like I said, things never turn out exactly the way you planned.  

Growing up happens in a heartbeat.  One day you're in diapers, next day you're gone.  But the memories of childhood stay with you for the long haul.  I remember a place, a town, a house...like a lot of houses.  A yard like a lot of other yards, on a street like a lot of other streets.  And the thing is, after all these YEARS, I still look back...with WONDER.