In 2019, I resolve to watch more TV. The problem is I prefer to work. I’m preoccupied with getting my stories published and producing a podcast, which is why I hardly ever cozy up in front of the TV and veg out.
The TV was always on in my house growing up. My brother was addicted. And because the TV was on, I watched from the day I was born until the day Tony went to college in 1984. I was 16. In those 16 years, I logged 23,296 hours, which is a conservative estimate based on the 1970s national average.
I consumed some really good shows: The Brady Bunch, M.A.S.H., Charlie’s Angels, The Jeffersons, Happy Days, Laverne & Shirley. And when my parents went out and we were left with a babysitter, we’d stay up to watch The Love Boat and Fantasy Island.
When my brother went to college, my pop-cultural education ended and now it’s so embarrassing to talk about life between 1984 and today because if it happened on TV, I missed it. Whenever anyone mentions 90210 or The Sopranos, I feel like a total dodo. (READ FULL ESSAY HERE…)