Now that Lola has moved on from Sesame Street, I've been thinking about how much I'm going to miss it. Not just Elmo, but also Abby Cadabby, Grover, and most of all, Mr. Snuffleupagus (with those very rare appearances.)
Prior to Lola's first viewing, it had been about 33 years since I had seen an episode. But as soon as I heard the song (with a new, spiced up back beat),
Ooooh ooh, ooooh, ooh
yeahhh, yeahhh
The memories came flooding in.
I immediately knew each character and segment by heart. And I should note, the same visceral sensation has been true for Little Mermaid, Ninja Turtles, and Mister Rogers.
The whole experience got me thinking about the media carousel that we navigate through in this life. Like earth's winter months around the sun, we go through these long stretches of time away from certain types of shows and music and movies, discovering a myriad of new content along the way, only to end up right where we started.
Contining on with Seseame Street as the prime example, you watch it nonstop until age four or five and then with the flip of switch, you want nothing to do with it. It's for babies for God's sake.
You make fun of it all through elementary school, hating on Oscar the Grouch.
Then you romanticize the show in high school and reminisce with fellow, former viewers.
Then in college you analyze it theoretically and challenge its inevitable sociological flaws.
Then you abandon Big Bird, and all his friends entirely, not thinking about them at all for years.
Then you fall in love with someone whose childhood is rooted in one essential episode and you begin to admire the production value to a certain degree.
Then you have a kid, and they turn 2, and you flip on the TV, and find that your media carousel has turned full circle, and Elmo is there waiting for you, throwing confetti into the air like nothing had happened at all.
With some of the technological advances we've made since 1986, admirers of the show no longer have to wait a week for an episode. Or a year to see an episode for a second time. So me and Lola, on a Sesame high, were watching episodes 5x times plus, knowing them line for line. Singing the songs in the shower, before bed, at the highest volume permitted in our neighborhood.
Over the course of 2 years, the show's content made its way into our toy collection, our snacks, our wallpaper, our birthday cake icing, and our Halloween costumes. In 2021, Lola was Abby and I was her nonacheiver friend, Rudy. She was one with Sesame Street, as was I, at long last.
Then, out of nowhere, Lola stopped singing along, and she stopped thinking the Count's laugh was amusing, and she stopped screaming "M" when the letter of the day was "M." On one Saturday afternoon, she walked up to the screen slowly, and voluntarily powered off the TV, before running over to the play dough table with no regrets.
I could feel the media carousel's engine cranking up beneath my feet, utterly aware that soon enough Cookie Monster's face would be a spec in the distance once again. It was a wave of meloncholy for me that lasted a week or two. To lose the show again. Or maybe, more so, to lose that chapter of Lola's life.
Forever.
But, just yesterday, in the shower, I could hear JTT singing "I Just Can't Wait to be King" on the TV, in the OG Lion King, as exquisite as ever, and I had a much needed realization.
This carousel is still turning,
There are so many shows and movies and songs that are on deck waiting to be discovered by Lola and shared endlessly on repeat.
And no one knows what this life will bring, but I might, in fact, have one more reunion with both Bert and Ernie after all. The ultimate viewing reunion as a grandfather with Lola chasing after kids of her own.
I'll put my arms around Elmo and say something along the lines of:
"Are you ready for this final go round, my friend?"
And he might reply with something along the lines of:
I wonder
What if
Let's try
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