Another Vote for Idol: After Years                                               Without Television, A Return To Reality 

by Mala Hoffman

In the six years we’ve lived in this house without it, there’s little on television that I’ve missed. Shows I’d loved, like “Homicide,” are either long gone or, like “Law and Order,” have mutated far beyond my original interest. Must-see t.v. for me, such as the Oscars, I’ve managed to watch through the kindness of colleagues, one of whom even started an annual party to accommodate my obsession. And in the case of disasters, natural or otherwise, these days, there’s always the Internet for immediate updates.

For my two daughters, however, our lack of television became a growing concern with each passing year, until finally, in February, I relented.

It was actually never a deliberate decision not to have television. At first it was circumstantial; the street on which we built our house did not have cable, and we were not inclined to put up a satellite dish. (For some reason, the notion of having hundreds of channels at my fingertips, and a huge gray plate jutting from my roof, was not appealing.) But as time went on, the non-television lifestyle became a kind of retreat. We read after dinner, rather than flipped the changer. Many craft projects were completed, piano was practiced, and movies, without commercials, were watched. (We’d kept the VCR, which was eventually upgraded to a DVD player when my friend Perry, who couldn’t stand our resistance to new technology anymore, bought us one.)

But then the girls got older. They had managed to keep up with the latest shows through weekly visits to their grandparents, who were only too happy to share (and sing along, as my father did with the theme song to “SpongeBob Squarepants”), or evenings with friends, but eventually the drumbeat began to get louder.

I suppose I should have been prepared for the demand. For the past year or so, the DVDs they had chosen to purchase with assorted gift certificates were no longer movies, but collections of t.v. series past and present: “Green Acres” and “Bewitched” for my younger daughter and “Gilmore Girls” for the older. When they bought a season of “The Amazing Race,” I knew I was lost. I promised them television by the Winter Olympics.

It was a good place to start. We settled in to watch together, learning about the perils of the Super G and rooting for Kimmie Meisner during figure skating, and I remembered that feeling I used to have when I was growing up and watched the Miss America pageant or the annual broadcast of “The Wizard of Oz” with my family. There was an immediacy to the event, and sharing that made it seem special.

The same thing has been happening with “American Idol.” Though I know it’s so two, three or four seasons ago -- for us it’s brand new, and let me tell you, we love it. Even my husband, who started by just peeking in occasionally (mostly when the girls screamed for him to come listen to Elliott, one of our favorites), has slowly joined us in our compulsion, now sitting on the couch during the height of the competition.

The show is compelling. It has drama, stories, talent and, of course, Simon, who, despite his occasional meanness and the booing of the crowd, offers clear, concise criticism. (One of my recent favorites was when he described Taylor, who has a jerky kind of older rocker charm, as being like one of those dads who gets drunk at a party and gets up to perform, but who can actually sing). Sure it’s cheesy (Barry Manilow, anyone?), and all of us avert our eyes when the promos for the other shows in Fox Network’s stable come on, but it also hearkens to a simpler time, when potential stars could be picked up from a seat in a Hollywood drugstore.

In fact, at this point in my return to the medium, “American Idol” is the only thing I’ve committed to watching regularly (although friends tell me that Julia Louis-Dreyfus, as the Old Christine, is definitely worth a view). It’s not just that I want to see who wins, though I admit that that is a big part of it, it’s also that I’m enjoying the familial camaraderie that has developed around the show. We analyze possibilities, we discuss strengths and we talk about chances. So when my younger daughter yells, “Mom, Idol’s on,” I come running.

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