Tragic Sandwich

Mr. Sandwich and I have different TV histories.

I grew up in a house where we watched a lot of TV. I remember watching The Lone Ranger not because I was a fan–I actually found it kind of boring–but because it came on between Adventures of Superman and Batman.

My first political memories are of TV: my mother spent hours watching the Watergate hearings.

My first political action was because of TV: I saw something about whaling, and wrote letters to the Soviet premier and the Japanese prime minister. I think I was five. (And I was clearly no Samantha Smith; I received neither a reply nor an invitation to visit either country, and whaling continues. Also, RIP, Samantha Smith.)

I don’t remember when my parents bought our first VCR, but I do remember that first we would rent one. That’s right–people used to rent VCRs like they were videos. You know, back when you went to the store to rent videos. Or maybe you don’t know. Wow, I am old.

Mr. Sandwich grew up without TV.

But that didn’t stop us from connecting over TV when we started dating. One of the things that we bonded over was not just TV. Not just that we watched the same shows. But that we watched them the same way.

Today we love the DVR because one of us can say, “Pause!” and we can talk about what we just saw. (Don’t worry, we won’t do this if you come over.)

We treat TV like it was a movie or a novel. We dissect it, we analyze it, we discuss whether or not particular actions reflect a specific character. We may be couch potatoes at times, but in our house, there’s very little that’s passive, much less lazy, about watching television.