Little House on the Prairie Moment

Back in the early '80s when my parents still had a say in what my sister and I watched on the boob tube, we actually spent quality family time in front of the television. At that time, Little House on the Prairie was still first-run and a relatively popular choice for all of us. Sissy & I spent most of the hour mooning over Almonzo. But the last ten minutes were spent in ridicule of my Mother.

Mama cried. It was one of those 100% guaranteed moments (rare in any life). She would weep openly, and we would laugh.

Now that I'm a Mama, I think I may have an inkling as to what was inspiring the waterworks.

I had one of those moments last night, staying up past my bedtime to watch this week's premiere on HBO, Spanglish. I think I pretty much blubbered my way through the last half-hour. Now, for those of you who are not into crying for extended periods of time as part of your entertainment experience, let me back up. It's not the kind of bawling one does watching Meryl Streep in Sophie's Choice (I actually refuse to watch this movie again; Streep is a genius but there is only so much gut-wrenching and perfect linguistics one can take). The tears I shed were soft, happy, and truthful. Which for me, is exactly what this movie is: soft, happy, and truthful. Every performance was touching and real. It's also worth noting that Adam Sandler kicked ass all over the place -- I knew he had it in him after 50 First Dates, but I wasn't entirely sure he could pull off something this...."straight." I'll spare a review; just rent it! At the very least, you might pick up some Spanish.

And after blowing my nose for five minutes, I called my Mom and apologized for laughing at her 22 years ago. And when I hung up, I somehow knew the cycle would continue. So when my daughter laughs at me during one of my predictably weepy moments, I'll just ask for the tissues, knowingly, anticipating the continuation of the circle somewhere down the road.

And the seasons, they go round and round
And the painted ponies go up and down,
We're captive on the carousel of time
We can't return, we can only look
Behind from where we've been
And go round and round and round
In the circle game.

"The Circle Game"
from Joni Mitchell's Ladies of the Canyon(1970)