Wednesday, January 29, 2014

A Very Brady Childhood

My memory has been labeled, by D, as a steel trap.  It appears as though I have this uncanny ability to recall the trivial nonsense that happened to me, my family and my childhood friends, as far back as the early 70's up to present day.  Note: Does anybody else think that it is strange that I don't recall anything to do with homework? - wow, that speaks volumes, right?  But one of my favorite and most vivid memories is my after school routine: come home, change into my play clothes, slather some saltine crackers with margarine and get ready for hanging out with my favorite family: The Brady Bunch.  By the time I became acquainted with this groovy group of kids and their super understanding parents, the show was in syndication so I was able to watch the episodes over and over for many years - kind of like hanging on to my Barbies and wearing footie pj's, the Brady's were an easy and convenient way to hang on to my childhood.

What was the allure of this cheesy, too perfect blended family?  Predictability and Dependability.  First off, the show's template was perfectly predictable: a minor dilemma would occur within the first few minutes, often involving more than one Brady.  The kids' struggle with making a morally correct  and attempt to work it out together. The parents were always on the fringe, never directly involved until the end and then Mike and Carol would walk in with simple but firm advice - usually with Mike sitting behind his drafting terrible, Carol supporting him in the background.  The kids never argued or talked back to their parents and it always worked out.  Silly, entertaining, and predictable.

The Brady Bunch episodes were dependable.  Just like I could count on Channel 4 to have my favorite family on every day,  I could count on the Brady's to share their extremely straight, white bread existence with me.  Like a good book, I could escape for thirty minutes - no worries, just me and the Brady kids, chilling with my crackers. Life was good. 

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