So Long, Farewell

“The jury is in.” With those fateful words, the very existence of Peter Florrick and his somewhat less than good wife Alicia was left hanging in the balance until tomorrow night, when the television drama “The Good Wife” will come to an end. I know it’s not real life, but I’ll miss Alicia and the cast of supporting characters we’ve welcomed into our living room on Sunday evenings for the past few years.

I grew up in the pre-cable TV era, and early on associated television programs with nights of the week, especially during the long Buffalo winters. No DVRs, Netflix, or on-demand in those days. Sundays gave us Lassie and Bonanza, along with Walt Disney and his signature music, “When You Wish Upon a Star.” Wednesdays juxtaposed Lost in Space with the Beverly Hillbillies, while Thursdays’ favorites included The Munsters, Gilligan’s Island and Bewitched. And on Saturday nights, I’d set up stools of varying heights in preparation for Dick Clark and his American Bandstand, interactive television at its roots.

I’ve tried telling the lovely Madelyn Simone that when I was her age, the TV programs were in black and white, we only had one television in the house, and everybody watched the same show - together. She cannot fathom that cartoons were only available on Saturday morning, rolling her eyes in disbelief.

Back in those days, we connected with the characters on our television sets. Watching Petticoat Junction, I begged to change my name to Amy Jo so I could be like Billie Jo, Betty Jo, and Bobbie Jo of Hooterville. And it just wasn’t the kids. Early in our marriage, Larry and I came to visit his parents one day and his mother was in tears. “I’m so upset,” she told us. “My friend died today.” “Oh, I’m so sorry. How did you know her?” I asked. “She’s on my story (meaning soap opera).”

Like Larry’s mother, America had a hard time saying goodbye to its favorite shows and their familiar characters. When Sam had to tell a late-night patron that Cheers was closed, we mourned the demise of the place where everybody knows your name. St. Elsewhere left us shaking our heads over the image of a little boy and a snow globe. The ending montage for Six Feet Under was a keeper, as death’s icy fingers stretched far into the future. And when Mary Tyler Moore turned off the lights in the WJM newsroom for the last time, we all reached for the box of tissues.

Then there was MASH. Millions of us, dressed in scrubs and fatigues, gathered together on the night of February 28, 1983 to bid farewell to the life-like characters of the 4077^th MASH. We’d truly miss Hawkeye, Hotlips Houlihan, the cross-dressing Klinger, and the long-suffering Colonel Potter, who finally got to go home to his beloved Mildred.

Whether it’s Cheers, Breaking Bad or Downton Abbey, our viewing preferences may change, but our identification with the characters remains strong. I may not want to be one of the “Jo” sisters of Hooterville anymore, but on The Good Wife, I’m drawn to Luca’s strength and pragmatism, and Elsbeth Tascioni’s quirky brilliance. I love how Diane can maintain her composure under any circumstance, and I’ve enjoyed Marissa’s growth from Alicia’s body woman to a prospective law school student.

As for Alicia, my feelings for her are summed up in early dialogue, when her mother-in-law said, “I am doing the best I can,” to which Alicia responded, “Well, join the club.” As Alicia experiences the confusion arising from the tension between her own desires and her responsibilities, I silently scream “don’t do it” or shout, “you go, girl!” Don’t judge me (smiley face emoticon).

To engage my readers in meaningful thought beyond pleasurable television memories, I’ll draw upon the wisdom of G. K. Chesterton from “What I Saw in America” to conclude. “I wish we could sometimes love the characters in real life as we love the characters in romance. There are a great many human souls whom we should accept more kindly, and even appreciate more clearly, if we simply thought of them as people in a story.” Good counsel for 1922 – and 2016.