Let’s go back to the halcyon years of 1970-1974 when television programming reached a peak of excellence never again achieved. Can I tell you what night of the week it was? No, sadly my memory is not that good. But I can clearly see our old family room done all in shades of beige, rust, and tan. My father lies on the couch reading the paper, my mother is in the kitchen cleaning up after dinner. I am kneeling within inches of the TV’s screen (which is how I know my mother was not in the room as she wouldn’t have allowed that) and my brothers lounge behind me in chairs.
Slowly the music begins “Hello world, here’s a song that we’re singin’, Come on get happy” and I inch closer to the screen. At this point I may be holding my breath, anything is possible but still I wait. Then it comes…him!!! Oh him, the most gorgeous grooviest coolest guy on the planet….David Cassidy. He may have dialogue but it is drowned out by my screaming. I rush the TV and begin kissing the screen. Yes, kissing the screen. My shrieking continues unabated until my father tiredly speaks from behind his paper.
No response from me despite needing to inhale to catch my breath.
Oops. Now I stop and turn, trying to look appropriately sorrowful and innocent- a combo that many a great actress struggles to pull off. I do not succeed as I am hopping in place like a rabbit on meth- one eye on the TV (commercial break, thank God!) and one on my beleaguered father.
“We’ve been through this before. Either you stop screaming and move away from the TV or there will be no more Partridge Family. Ever. Ever. Do you understand me?”
Hhhmmm…my options are limited. This is so far before the days of DVR, Tivo, kids getting televisions in their bedrooms, that even as I deliberate my choices (none) the commercials are ending and my god is coming back. Thankfully, it’s just the bratty redhead but I can’t take any chances. I acquiesce.
“OK, Dad, but he’s SSSOOOOOOOOOO CUTE!”
“Uh hunh. Just keep it down.”
The Partridge Family was one of my first real TV viewing pleasures (my mother was pro-public TV and we were only allowed to watch The Electric Company, ZOOM, and Mr. Rogers- explains a lot right?) and as you can see, I could not handle the delirium of my heartthrob right in front of me IN COLOR. I remember the anticipation before the show came on, the hysteria when it was on, and the 30 minutes of phone time I was allowed with my best friend rehashing every detail of David’s fabulosity. My first real crush. Who I later discovered was not a ‘teen’ at the time but was old enough to drink (gross) and maxed out at about 5’7” (while I had cruised past 5’8” and would finally settle at 5’9”).
Still, I loved loved him so much then that my kind hearted mother actually took me to see him in concert (SWOON) when I was 11. He was nothing but a tiny white dot jumping around the stage but it was magic. Right up until the moment my mother insisted on stuffing torn Kleenex into my ears to protect my hearing. It later had to be removed by a doctor with pincers as she had wedged it so far into the ear canal she could not retrieve it despite using a vacuum cleaner. What we do for first love.
This post is for this week’s RemembeRED prompt:
“Remember a TV show from your past. What feelings does the show evoke? What memories does it trigger?”