Jezebel has a great piece up of Sesame Street clips whose hundreds of comments indicate how impactful the show was to many of my generation. Even now as I watch clips of the hijinks of the muppets and their human friends, I find myself smiling uncontrollably and at points even feel tempted to sing along (especially to that dentist llama joint).
I must say that the smiles and songs are bittersweet--they remind me of how intensely affected I used to be by merely being alive. I used to feel life in everything-- even simple pleasures were charged with meaning. For example,as a child I distinctly remember being enchanted by one Sesame Street clip that showed how crayons are made (embeded below). Prior to watching the clip, all I knew was that someone somewhere somehow managed to put all the world's colors into one deceivingly simple 64-count box and the the colors were so rich and ready to do my bidding that if I only dared rub them along a white page, works of wonder were sure to appear. (Aside: while drawing with crayons was its own kind of magic, crayon activity was secondary. Crayons were at their most powerful when they had just been purchased, were unwrapped moments before and were now standing still side by side, a picture of diversity before I knew colleges commissioned them; at attention in their pointy glory and freshly smelling of paper and wax.)
With no words and using only a grainy steadycam, the Sesame Street treatment showed crayon origins in a way that increased their value rather than diminished it by over-explaining. Sesame Street gave the unparalleled gift of showing crayolal birth set to gently whimsical piano music. That clip emphasized what I'd already known before watching: Crayons=joy+transportation to other realms. Inspiration, thy face art this starry-eyed blogger 18 years back.
Though I may no longer be capable of fire-y enchantment of the crayolal-inspired, another SS clip proved that I'm still very much capable of sappy sentimentality. Someone in the Jez article's comment section linked to a clip of the song "I don't want to live on the moon", which, though I don't specifically remember watching as a child, brought me to tears as I watched it a moment ago and felt its meaning the same way I would have when home was a radius around my mother's lap. I don't know why I cried. Maybe I just tapped into my inner child. Maybe this is simply a well-written song for a children's show whose lyrics would touch anyone, adults and children alike. Or maybe it's the 70s-era brown-tinged images of a muppet playing on the moon while knowing his bed is just inside a window below.
Something about grainy images from decades past add a magical quality to video.
It was with these images that I first began to dream and see worlds apart from my own. Whenever I see video from the 70s through the early 90s, they are instantly imbued with charm, cheeriness and optimism for the people occupying the frames. The closest visual analogy would be to say that they sparkle. I mean really glow with otherworldly warmth. Even now at a wizened 23 years old I feel close to their lives in a way that I don't feel when watching HD images on high definition screens. Maybe it's because they still hold the glamor that televised peoples everywhere hold to the eyes of a child. Plus the 70s and 80s just seem soooo badass compared to today. (Random tangent: I watched El Cantante recently and fell head over heels for the glammed out wardrobe that Jennifer Lopez rocked throughout. I love how cool straight-up, unironic, fabulousity was back then. Balls out looking good was in and people took fashion seriously. Halter top jumpsuits, platform heels, mini skirts, print dresses, feathered hair and bold gold jewelry?! Yes please!)
I wonder if my love for 70s media means that maybe childhood never really leaves us after all.
Bottom line: Sesame Street is a phenomenal show and I miss it.
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