Tuesday nights are great. Our oldest son joins us in front of the TV after the two younger boys go to bed and we watch Glee. (Sometimes, the middle child sneaks downstairs to get a glimpse of the screen, and with a big smile on his face asks, “Is this the show that’s inappropriate?” To which his big brother nods emphatically and says, “Very inappropriate. Go back to bed.”)
So, last night we enjoyed some Fleetwood Mac classics and general hilarity, until Sam’s secret was revealed. (Sorry to all you non-Gleeks out there who have no idea who I’m talking about. Sam is the prom king-hopeful football player with a “trouty mouth” who has been spotted leaving a cheap motel – first with the gay guy and then someone else’s girlfriend. Rumours abound.)
Anyway – towards the end of the show, it’s revealed that Sam’s father lost his job. Which is why Sam is at the motel. That’s where his family lives with the few possession they still have remaining. Homophobia, bullying, teen pregnancy, drinking, OCD, racism, obesity – the show has dealt with it all. And now, the recession. The range of issues that are grappled with on air don’t surprise anymore.
What was surprising, though, was the sucker punch in the gut I felt watching the scene where we learned about Sam’s struggle. Certainly we are, and were, a thousand times better off than the family in the show – we didn’t lose our house or have to sell off our clothes. (Though we did have a massive garage sale) But clearly, the pain still lingers.
Thank goodness we’re in a more comfortable place now; there’s some security. But having gone through this, I’ve learned that you never know when the rug will be pulled out from under you. So we tread lightly, and watch out for flying slushees.
Blessing – MO, PL, BT and JC at Nishuane school. You may not read this blog, but thank you.