When I was a kid, Gran used to babysit me a lot and one of my first memories of staying over at her house was watching “The Lucy Show.” She asked me what I wanted to watch and when I couldn’t decide, she said, “you like Lucy; we’ll watch that.” Except, I couldn’t remember ever watching any of Lucille Ball’s shows before that day, but according to Gran, I was an avid fan. In a way, I guess she had amazing foresight, and she certainly played a role in fostering my love of classic tv sitcoms.
Now, whenever I grannysit, I play these shows for her. (She likes the noise of the tv in the background while she works on her sudoku puzzles. In reality, most television pisses her off–“Look at that asshole! Can you believe what they do?”) Lucille Ball seems to be her default character for familiar faces. She swears everyone, red hair or not, is Lucille Ball, simply because she knows she knows them and cannot find the right words. Once she asked me if Hillary Clinton was Lucy.
“No, that’s Hillary Clinton.”
“Hillary Clinton! I knew I knew her. Now, is Lucille Ball gone?”
“Yes. She died like 30 years ago.”
“God bless her.”
A lot of caregiving is about sticking to a routine. And for most of us, Lucille Ball is that familiar face on tv that we’ve spent many hours with since the 1950s. So in keeping with tradition and establishing some semblance of a pattern, we will continue to watch these old programs at our house. We love Lucy.