I watch a lot of old television shows. I am 67 years old but I burned my AARP card. Old people, yuck. However, I do like my old shows. I guess I am reliving my youth when I watch Maverick and the Monkees. The days of our youth, the days of our glory, said Lord Byron, but he never made it to Medicare age.
I did watch some recent shows. I liked Major Crimes and the Good Wife. I made it through the first couple of seasons of Chicago P.D. and Fire, and How to Get Away with Murder. I watched years of Criminal Minds, NCIS and CSI. Then the plots got too violent and/or predictable and I got bored.
I put up with Jonny Lee Miller’s ADHD Sherlockian ravings on Elementary; watching Lucy Liu as Watson, was like watching the paint dry on the wall.
Of course, there is always Jeopardy and the Wheel of Fortune.
Old shows, gotta love them. Perry Mason and Dick Van Dyke, Carol Burnett and Bob Newhart. Rowan and Martin’s Laugh-in. Sock it to me? You bet your sweet bippy? Am I the only one who remembers go-go boots and Nehru jackets?
Ed Sullivan, that dynamo, (not) introduced the Beatles to America. Dean Martin smoked and drank on camera. We weren’t so healthy then. We were ready to be entertained in our homes. You could cook fattening French cuisine with Julia Child. The old west? Give me Bonanza, Gunsmoke and Wagon Train. Men were rugged and ladies wore petticoats. Fantasy.
I never really got into Fantasy Island, but I sure liked the Love Boat. All those vintage movie stars coming aboard for a last acting hurrah. Ray Milland and Eleanor Parker. Gene Kelly and Janet Leigh. It was campy fun.
It must be a sign of aging when we return to the memories of our youth. Some happy, some horrendous, but memories of days gone by.