Boob Tube Nation

She's happy, I'm happy, it's all good.

Christian is trying to convince me that I watch too much television, but he’s fighting a losing battle. Doesn’t he know that it’s a scientific fact that Generation X watches more of the boob tube than any other demographic? Unlimited access to television is practically my birthright, and I take it seriously. I’m the woman who passed on a Corrine Bailey Rae concert to watch a movie on Lifetime.

I’m a big fan of Bailey Rae, and I’d purchased tickets when I learned she’d be coming to Philly. I’d been looking forward to the concert, but on the night of I couldn’t bring myself to get up from the sofa where I’d settled to watch television hours earlier. Suddenly, the thought of standing in a crowded concert hall just didn’t rate. So, about two hours before the show, I gave the tickets to Adam. He accepted the tickets but not before telling me “You’re lame, Mom.”

When Adam came home from the show he said, “No kidding Mom, and I’m not saying this to upset you, but that was one of the best concerts I’ve ever gone to. Corrine was phenomenal.” So then I really did feel lame, and old, and slightly crazy. In a panic, I logged onto the computer, frantically checking Bailey Rae’s concert schedule. After seeing that she’d be in a neighboring state very soon, I purchased another set of tickets. Ed and I ended up renting a car, driving three hours, and spending the night in a hotel, which was a bit over the top considering, but the concert really was phenomenal, and more importantly, this adventure made me feel youthful, carefree, and less of a loser. It didn’t cause me to start watching less television, however.

My mother loved television, too and when my boys were little would regularly express her disapproval that I hadn’t yet subscribed to cable. “Crystal,” she’d say, “This isn’t right. Everybody has cable. My grandsons are missing out.” She felt so strongly about this issue that a few weeks before she passed she made one final pitch, this time accompanied by a check to cover the cable bill for a year. (Of course I never cashed it.)

A mere six years later, however, and we got cable! Adam in particular was flush with the possibilities. Movies! ESPN! The Soccer Channel! I couldn’t watch to watch the home channels (I didn’t know about Lifetime … yet.) One night, I watched six straight hours of Clean House, enthralled at how skillfully the hosts managed to persuade the families to part with their junk. I took mental notes, intending to try these techniques on my husband later.

My point is, Christian doesn’t have a snowball’s chance in Hades of getting between me and the television. I appreciate his concern, but it just ain’t gonna happen. Uh huh, no way.