My mom didn’t let us watch a lot of TV growing up.
While today I’m thankful for the enforced abstention, this withholding really irked me at the time.
I felt I was missing out—recess and lunchtime conversation invariably surfaced movies and television shows I’d never seen.
Remember when [that hilarious thing] happened on [television show]?
I learned to lie, of course. Putting an agreeable face on the conversation was far preferable to the alternative: facing a fourth-grader’s poor summary of the plot point from The Rugrats. (My mom didn’t let us watch this show for reasons that never got beyond “it’s a disgusting name.”)
I learned to really, really dislike this type of conversation. (Perhaps this has something to do with my recently detailed distaste for social-media-derived anecdotes.)
I suppose there’s developmental value in learning how to summarize plot points in popular media…but it doesn’t make for very good conversation.
What amazes me is that plenty of adults still engage in this painful conversational gambit. Someone wants to reference a Friends episode? Too bad; I only made it through Season 2. Seinfeld? Again, I only got through Season 3.
Taylor Coe 