Family Ties
I have been making my way through the Family Ties Season 3 collection (another great find at the local library). Their episodes are perfect to watch during the repeat cycle of feed/play/sleep/feed that my son is going through. And they've held their charm. Although a few episodes are slightly preachy, there is real chemistry in the casting and the premise. The family and their history provides a commentary on 1980s America and the different social values during a period of change. I kept laughing, and was amused by how well I remembered the episodes.
Watching the episodes also returned my own memories of the mid eighties. I remember dark plaid outfits, side fringes, court shoes, corduroy pants, indoor winter parties, the smell of smoke from winter barbecues. Strangly, the series only brought back winter memories. Right now it's summer and there is the normal release of a summer book of short stories, Australian writers reminisicing about nostalgic summers. So normally I associate nostaglia with summer memories, of salt and streaked out blue/grey skies, long road trips, sand infiltrating all your possessions. And today I had a strain of nostalgia that worked in a different way. Bizarre. I am still semi lost in these winter memories that I'm not quite ready to make public. They are not cheesy 80s Australian memories, they are more distinct. They are of the South East, forest plantations, winter parties, wearing woollens, innocent boy/girl flirtations, candles, stained glass window views, stone walls, hilly walks, rain soaking into scarves, wet wood smoking out rooms, puddles, lamps lighting up the corner of a room, wood chopping expeditions, listening to the radio on a dark car drive home. The colours are black and red, black and purple, black and jade green, black and blue.
Watching the episodes also returned my own memories of the mid eighties. I remember dark plaid outfits, side fringes, court shoes, corduroy pants, indoor winter parties, the smell of smoke from winter barbecues. Strangly, the series only brought back winter memories. Right now it's summer and there is the normal release of a summer book of short stories, Australian writers reminisicing about nostalgic summers. So normally I associate nostaglia with summer memories, of salt and streaked out blue/grey skies, long road trips, sand infiltrating all your possessions. And today I had a strain of nostalgia that worked in a different way. Bizarre. I am still semi lost in these winter memories that I'm not quite ready to make public. They are not cheesy 80s Australian memories, they are more distinct. They are of the South East, forest plantations, winter parties, wearing woollens, innocent boy/girl flirtations, candles, stained glass window views, stone walls, hilly walks, rain soaking into scarves, wet wood smoking out rooms, puddles, lamps lighting up the corner of a room, wood chopping expeditions, listening to the radio on a dark car drive home. The colours are black and red, black and purple, black and jade green, black and blue.
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