Comfort

There have been many losses for the women in my writing group this year. Usual (and unusual) losses of family, friends, jobs, houses, that pass through our lives and change us. This month, we wrote about what comforts us. There were sighs of recognition over the amazing balm of hot baths during the darkest coldest months, reading before bed, fuzzy pets, and rich stews. This is what I wrote...

One of my favorite things to do to de-stress (I look forward to it each day) is watching old tv shows at night with my 10 year old daughter. For the past year or so, we have been rotating between The Brady Bunch, Family Affair, and The Waltons. I love all of these shows for different reasons.

In the Brady Bunch, I love Alice the best. I wish Alice lived in my house. She would cheerfully clean up our messes, cook, clean, shop and love doing it. She'd be part of the family, come on vacations, pay attention to us when we hurt. Mr. and Mrs. Brady are unfailingly understanding. There isn't a fuck-up big enough to cause either of them to yell or hit, or shame the children. The children accept all punishment with mature acceptance that they deserved it. I love the groovy clothes and when they sing....WOW!!

Family Affair I love mostly due to the relationship between Mr. French and Uncle Bill. I think they are lovers (With a name like Mr. French...). Uncle Bill is so tall and muscular and handsome while Mr. French is round and soft with a stylish beard. Uncle Bill appears to be quite wealthy; the family lives in a five bedroom apartment high rise somewhere in mid-town Manhattan. Uncle Bill dates a different mod looking woman (think hair spray, fake eyelashes, and wonder bras) each episode but its clearly a ruse. Mr. French runs Uncle Bill's bath, packs and unpacks his bags (he frequently travels to third work countries to build bridges) smooths the tension out of his stiff shoulders. On the camping trip episode, Mr. French brought along the steaks that they ended up eating when Uncle Bill and Jody were unable to catch any fish for dinner. French stood by the fire pit, his fitted linen suit wrapped in a clean white apron, happily rustling up grilled steaks Au Poirve for all the hungry mosquito bitten campers. Like Alice, Mr. French is part of the family. He and Uncle Bill discuss child psychology, Sissy's boyfriend dilemmas, the twins separation anxiety with thoughtful, caring, motherly insights.

It's The Waltons I long for when I am feeling most lost. There is perfect acceptance, calm persistence, and hope in this most inauthentic circa 1930's family. Grandma and Grandpa have a respected place in the family (no old age home for them). They are loved and productive even in old age. Mamma and Grandma make just about everything from scratch; butter, cakes, breads, pies, sausages. They had spaghetti in one episone which I can't imagine really existed in rural Virginia back then. Nonetheless, like the time they let the Jewish family down the road hold a bar mitvah in their living room, it showed an enlightened and untimely spunk and cultural sensitivity . John Boy would make the perfect young lover so innocent and sensitive and eager. Everyone is tired and fulfilled at the end of a day of hard work. They go to bed early, stomachs filled with roasted chicken, mashed buttered potatoes, milk, and black berry pie.