Goodbye, Pine Valley.
Farewell, Llanview.
ABC Daytime announced two weeks ago that it was canceling two-thirds of its line-up of daytime dramas. To the unschooled, that means the network is divesting itself of most of what we know as soap operas, which have little to do with either soap or opera.
And it makes me sad.
Where else in the world can you go from birth through adolescence and puberty right to adulthood in two or three years? Where else in the world can you marry 10 times and no one thinks twice of it? Where else can you have a whole closet of ball gowns with no visible means of income? Where else can you nearly freeze the planet and live to fight another day?
Only in a soap opera.
I feel like Im losing part of my family – my ultra-glamorous aunt, Erica Kane, she of worldwide fame, who has conquered the modeling world (even though she was way too short), business and media. My sort-of-crazy cousin Vicki, who has a bunch of personalities (especially around sweeps) and yet still was respected enough to become newspaper publisher, mayor, university president and waitress (in that order).
The comforting thing about soaps is that no matter how stinky your life seems to be, it always pales in comparison to the trials and tribulations of the good folk of imaginary small towns in Pennsylvania and New York. Sure, Erica is rich, gorgeous and successful – but can she ever really find happiness after Phil and Jeff and Tom and Jack etc., etc. Of course, the Lords and the Buchanans control 60 percent of the U.S. economy, but they still forced Cord to take off and where has Tony Lord been for the past 20 years?
Soap operas are an American institution. Forget the ratings (which have slipped each year for the last decade or so). Canceling a soap is like taking a face off Mount Rushmore, like putting a MAD magazine in the hand of the Statue of Liberty, like opening the Golden Gate Bridge for drag racing.
It just isnt done.
The earliest soaps were the product of radio. They lasted 15 minutes and were sponsored by soap makers because they appealed to the American housewife, who needed a 15-minute break here and there, what without the conveniences of the microwave, the food processor and the automatic washer.
When I was a kid, one of my first memories was sitting on the floor watching my mom watch Nurse Jessie and Dr. Hardy whilst she folded laundry. Over time, I, too, became a fan. During the Watergate hearings, which I was too young to understand, my only thought was theyre taking off my soaps for THIS?
The day of my college visit to Otterbein, I was most impressed that the campus activities board was hosting a reception for Luke and Laura in the campus center. Forget who my adviser would be or what scholarship I was being offered. Any friend of the Spencers was a friend of mine.
Later, my college roommate and I fought over whether wed watch General Hospital or Guiding Light at 3 p.m. on our little 13-inch TV. Facing our academic present and our impending adulthood, we somehow found the time to soap it up. These were our friends, way back to our childhoods, and somehow they took us away from the stress of finals, from the frustration of fitting in.
A few weeks back, I was home and sick and I turned on the television and there they were: the Montgomerys and the Martins and the Chandlers and the Buchanans and the Spencers and the Cassadines and all the dynasties of daytime.
Its just wrong to take them away. And for what – another fashion show? Another talk show? More reality nonsense?
Im not interested in reality. Thats why I love soaps. I dont want to see real people talk about their hoarding or their addictions or who the father of their youngest child might be. I dont want to watch 24-hour news about how the whole planet is teetering on the brink of collapse. I dont want to be told how to plant my English garden or how three sticks of butter makes everything taste good.
I dont want real life! I want better-than-real-scripted-for-longer-than-Ive-been-alive stories of imaginary characters in make believe places, even if just for a few hours. I want glamor, tension, drama, loss and love! And I dont want to have to wash my hair or get out of my pajamas to take part in it.
Otherwise, Im left with a bathroom to clean, bills to pay, laundry to do – you know, real life. MY real life.
What would Aunt Erica say?
