Unsettled

Over the past several months I have rewatched the entire Waltons series.  Revisiting childhood and all that.

The first thing I realized is that I am old in more ways than remembering when gas was .30/gallon  I mentioned it one day and a coworker had no clue what I was talking about.  She was born post-Waltons.  So I did a little research.  Except for Elizabeth, the Walton children are all older than I am.  I don’t know exactly how to react to that.  It might be depressing.  Or it might be weirdly comforting.  I’m not sure.

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Back then, when the series first aired we didn’t have cable TV.  It didn’t exist yet.  Or not in the middle of nowhere where I grew up.  We had three channels that came in clear, four that were generally fuzzy.  And there was plenty to watch, the little time that the TV was on.

I don’t have any sort of provider these days.  I realized I was paying a ridiculous amount of money to not watch anything.  I’ve enjoyed the past few months, revisiting old friends.  Yes, that’s how the Waltons seem to me, old friends.  After all, I grew up with them.

Or I should say I was happy until the last three reunion movies.  For reasons I don’t understand the story line was vastly altered.  Children born to Walton children no longer existed.  Mary Ellen, whose first son vanished and who was unable to have more children suddenly had three.  Ben’s son disappeared too.  And Olivia never got to see the Atlantic Ocean for her 40^th wedding anniversary trip due to the early arrival of John Boy’s twins.  Heh.  She’d been there at least three times throughout the series.

I know it’s just a TV show and doesn’t really matter but it’s based loosely on an actual family.  The writer was involved all the way through, included the last few movies where things were altered.  It just doesn’t make sense to not keep things consistent.  In fact, watching it all at once, in order, is a bit disturbing.  I feel slightly let down.  There are no more movies so things will never be set right.

Oh well.  As I said, it really doesn’t matter.  I will keep the DVD’s and watch them all again in another ten years or so.  By then, even fewer people will know who I’m talking about.