Now that we’ve made it through the Yamim Noraim, the Days of Awe, I’d like to lighten up a bit in honor of Z’man Simchateinu, the time of our happiness and share an anecdote from my youth that has remained operational in my life; my love of television.
Being a child of the 1950s who could stare at a test pattern on a Dumont TV 12 inch screen for hours, I’ve always had the inclination to be obsessive about ingesting visual and aural stimuli. Throughout it all, I remained optimistic that the static screen would yield in short order to Howdy Doody, Rootie Kazootie, and, of course Superman. After my parents nixed purchasing a Winky Dink and You clear piece of film to be placed over our TV screen, I committed the grievous sin of drawing directly onto the screen itself with my mother’s lipstick to her primally deep consternation.
As TV developed so did I and for 40 years I lived in Los Angeles composing and arranging music for television and continued being wrapped up in its compelling lure and fascination.
Lately, as a transposed semi-retiree to Boynton Beach with more time on my hands, viewing matters have gotten even more seductive. Now we subscribe to HBO, Amazon Prime, and Netflix (and probably Hulu in the near future). The two salient innovations are that there are fewer or no commercials (or the ability to fast forward through the existing ones) and the attraction of watching multiple episodes back to back known as binge watching.
And here is where my post Yom Kippur confession enters. When I get possessed by the entertaining semitism of characters in Shtisel or the Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, I cannot pull away for hours on end and inevitably am compelled to desert my musical chores, familial obligations (“Just give me another hour Suzy before we eat dinner”) and even social ones. “Going to the Kravis with our friends tonight… can’t we put it off until next week…only three more episodes to watch?”
I have been beating my breast and myself up about this OCD manifestation until my latest viewing binge; West Wing re-runs.
Re-runs! Can you imagine that? But the fact is that Aaron Sorkin’s conceptual creation was and enduringly remains ingenious. It was highly entertaining and civically informative in its original seven seasons between 1999 and 2006 and now, thanks to Netflix…OMG it is positively therapeutic.
Consider, if you will, a POTUS who is literate, well-schooled, scrupulously diligent and honest, never nepotistic nor accepting any gratuities for the lofty position he holds, and continually admonishing his staff to hold to these highest standards as well?
I couldn’t stop relishing the return of a world on my HD-TV where the Presidency was so highly regarded by the American people. Our Commander-in-Chief was noble and there was no “I” in POTUS. It was always a team effort for the betterment of our country. Appropriately our regulatory agencies were adequately funded to fight the goniffs, our natural wonders and resources were not being seized and ravished, and our distinguished President had an educated, catalog mind for history, culture, and civility enabling a sane, aware, cogent individual to captain the helm.
Ironically, in spite of my OCD I was feeling better, more hopeful, and confident that goodness and compassion might return to our belabored federal government and the world might survive to fight another day.
When Suzy left me alone for a few days to visit the grandkids, I snapped and acquiesced to complete watching all seven seasons of West Wing, 154 episodes plus two special hours. For the sins I have committed, dear G-d thank you. It has saved me from total disenthrallment and the inability to read and listen to the latest travesties in the news.
Now I have separation anxiety of the first water. Jed Bartlett’s administration came to the inevitable conclusion and his successor President Matthew Santos and his staff will remain an unexamined synergistic entity.
But wait! There’s talk that there will be a third season of Shtisel and, of course, the third season of Mrs. Maisel begins next month. Lord have mercy on my soul.
Dr. Michael Isaacson recently moved to Boynton Beach after 40 years of composing music for television and film in Los Angeles. He is the author of “What Makes Music Jewish?” and recently authored a new novel “People of a Prayer” available on Amazon.com and Audible.com. He presently talks to many diverse audiences throughout South Florida on varied subjects. More can be learned about him at michaelisaacson.com