golden girls, criminals, and oprah. (lake part I)
I spent the weekend at a lake house on Belleau Lake in Wakefield, New Hampshire. Saturday was beautiful, and the fish were biting. My brother-in-law caught 3 largemouth bass; his brother caught a pickerel. We drank Long Trail, we wore coats (temperature on Saturday was high 40s), we pointed out trees that had begun to change color for the fall.*
Saturday night we sat by the fireplace and watched National Lampoon's Vacation while playing a game called "Things." The point of the game is to answer the prompt on each card and then go around the room and try to guess who said what. One card's prompt read: "Things you would line up to see..." One person wrote, "A Golden Girls reunion show;" another wrote, "Criminals;" another, "Oprah." As we went around the room to guess how each of us had answered, we recited the responses to help remember what was left. When were down to the final three, the mantra became, "Golden Girls, criminals, and Oprah. Golden Girls, criminals, and Oprah..."
I laughed out loud (I usually do) because this sounded like the strangest possible combination. I pictured Sophia Patrillo, Jack the Ripper, and Oprah in a room together. The image was funny, violent, and sentimental - and suddenly not so far-fetched.
While I'm tired of commercials and pop songs about the proverbial multi-faceted, misunderstood, highly complex woman ("32 Flavors" by Ani DiFranco; a commercial for Downy with different scents for different moods; Hannah Montana), isn't it true? Don't all human beings (not just women) have the capacity for uplifiting humor/cheer, damaging violence/anger, humbling reflection/sentimentality?
1 - Few things make me laugh as hard as Dorothy, Rose, Blanche, and Sophia sitting around the kitchen table and talking about sex. I've heard varying opinions on The Golden Girls but I still maintain it's one of the most brilliant shows ever created, and set the stage for Sex and the City, another four women sitting around talking about sex. I certainly have this capacity. I'm 26 years old, one of four sisters (who all love the Girls), and believe in the power and necessity of humor. And making out. But the gathering - usually at a table - is what I believe to be universal. Nobody texts him/herself from the bathroom while out on a first date. Nobody comes home after a breakup and calls the home phone to discuss with the self what happened. People do process alone in journals and long walks, but eventually we reach out. The Golden Girls simply show us that we never stop reaching. We're humans with arms, and we reach.
2 - I'm not sure why my brother-in-law responded that he'd line up to see criminals. I wouldn't. If my tax dollars go to keeping them in jail, then that's where I want them. I don't believe that anyone is all good or all bad (even the most horrifying villains throughout history weren't conceived carrying fetal swords and guns); if I believe this, then I must accept that I am at least some parts bad; if I accept this, then I must admit that somewhere inside me is the capacity for anger, or malice, or violence (the difference between the criminal and me is that I channel this capacity in legal ways, such as envy, gossip, and road rage). I don't like it - I try to rid the thoughts from my mind like a windshield wiper sweeping away drops of water almost before they even hit the glass. I'm a nice person, mostly. And I try to be a good person, mostly. But scary as it is, I have to acknowledge that my humanness is no different than a criminal's - and thus I have the capacity to damage.
3 - I've never been an Oprah devotee. I think her magazine has carried some interesting articles, her show has allowed many people to empathize, sympathize, and cry together in a safe (albeit internationally broadcasted) environment, and her book list has pushed people to the library. The problem I've always had is that extra teaspoon of sugar - it's too much for me. But honestly, what's wrong with a little extra sugar in the world? And more importantly, why bother saying that something is "too sweet" for me when I cry watching movies, reading emails, saying goodbye, having a fight, making up, and when the sun comes out five minutes later than it should? It's a facade that I've been conditioned to show so that I can appear strong, confident, and certainly not too emotional (the biggest grievance against women as far as I can tell). But it's just not true. I like a good cry, a good hug, a good apology, a terrible confession that clears the air. I don't plan to subscribe to O, The Oprah Magazine anytime soon, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't have a little in me. And I know I have the capacity to lie (see #2, above), but I don't. Not on Sea Salt.
*further reflections on the weekend regarding nature, fishing, and the rain are forthcoming in "lake part II"