The Mary Tyler Moore show would come on.
We were all set. We had little teeny kids. Me in college, on the GI Bill, with a start in law enforcement. Living in Married Student Housing at the University of Miami. On that night and network, there were three sitcoms i think. We watched the office antics, the sociology, the interaction. Secretly, we knew these things...bigger, brighter careers— days and times of important adventures and happenings— it was all out there on the horizon. Would we end up in Chicago? Minneapolis? Los Angeles? We were so excited to be at the real start of our lives. What would we be doing? Kids growing up. Buying houses. The vaguely hazy future as “real” adults, taking our place in society. All to the music and simplistic adventures of Mary, as she navigated the early 70’s, and as time changed this country into a different place than it had been. Faintly, the show challenged norms and conventions. She pushed for equality. Race. Sex. Dating. Gender. The hints at the changes that were gripping our western society permeated the simple show. We were right behind Mary and the rest of them, chronologically — our whole lives stretched out into a horizon so far away that we couldn’t see the end. We watched the sitcoms and felt so right and good. Mary Tyler Moore died this year. Old, ill, smiling.
SHE Ended. And now, I am so scared and sad and overwhelmed, as I see that the time we couldn’t even see on the horizon...that which was so far away... it is here. The whole thing is over. At this moment...more than anything I have ever wanted, I, I want to be returned to sitting in front of that TV, watching Mary Tyler Moore, and I want another chance. I want another go.
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