Time Machine, Lockdown, and the Human Condition

            Like so much of the planet I’ve been at home since March with the company of my faithful TV.  No cable so there are a number of channels showing old TV series, old movies, and one channel dedicated to old game shows.  Hence the name, time machine.  My partner on his last visit from Spain called it dead people’s TV and said it brought back the nostalgia of his childhood since many of those shows were broadcast all around the world.

            After a day of pretending to work on my novel, I turn on the TV.  It immediately transports me to another world, one which was simpler and more less conservative.  After all, the 70’s were about trying out new freedoms, both sexual and political.  It’s like when we look way back to the pre code era of the early 1930’s.  Films portrayed all types of relationships along with many female characters. 

            The other night I watched a long forgotten (if ever watched) film called “Congratulations, It’s a Boy” starring Bill Bixby.  The main character played by Bixby discovers he has a 17 year old son, product of a fling.  There is no moral dilemma here.  However, there is homophobia when Bixby’s parents think he might be gay.  Fortunately, we’ve overcome that stigma. 

            The only game show I can stomach is Tattletales, another product of the 70’s.  Here there’s a wealth of information since there are three couples and the host.  My activity while watching these shows is conducting google searches of these vaguely reminiscent figures of the past.  These aren’t the big name actors of yesteryear like Paul Newman.

            The searches I conduct are to find out answers to questions  like who is still alive?  Who lived the longest? Who had successful children?  And therein lies the human condition in all its pain and glory.  Bill Bixby lost his son at a young age to a skiiing accident. Years later, his wife committed suicide by gunshot. 

            The host of Tattletales, Bert Convey, and one of the panelist, Bobby Van both died of brain tumors which struck me as an odd coincidence.  Van’s life, Elaine Joyce, married about four times while Robert Vaughn, a TV actor was married for decades to the same woman.  Finding out what happened to people is reassuring in the era of uncertainty.  And, on the plus side, it keeps me busy with research when I’m not quite ready for my novel.  A writer friend once told me, the only writing he could control was non-fiction.  Perhaps fiction is too difficult in this time of anxiety.  My brain is occupied with survival so the stories I find show just how that worked out for these TV personalities.