Tuesday, August 26, 2008

"Regrets...I've had a few..."

And one of those regrets is absolutely no fault of my own...

I wasn't born in 1922.

If I had been born in 1922, I would have been in my twenties in the 1940's.

I would have been happy. I would have fit in a lot better than I do now.

I am not sure exactly where my love of the 1940's came from. It's an odd obsession for a kid to develop. I did have a Molly McIntyre doll when I was a child, and learned a lot about life in America during World War II thanks to those Molly stories. I was also raised on Frank Sinatra music and old movies and the majority of my favorite movie stars were dead by the time I was born.

And then there was Homefront.

My gosh.

This show was magical.

The series began its run in 1991. I was in the 4th grade. I should have been watching Full House and Saved by the Bell, or even Beverly Hills 90210 (like all those girls who thought they were much older than they really were were doing.)

I also thought I was much older than I really was...but, unlike those girls, I didn't think I was 18.

I thought I was around 75.

And I loved Homefront, discussing the series with my aunt and great-aunts. They, too, loved Homefront. (They were Homefront's target audience...while I was 9-years-old.)

I clearly remember sitting-up in my little yellow bedroom watching that show every week. I can honestly say that it is the only television show that I really loved and anticipated watching.

The show was about a tight-knit community in Ohio adjusting to life after World War II.

Over just two seasons, I honestly grew to love these characters...and, even moreso, I wished they were real people...and my friends.

I wanted to live in Riverrun, Ohio in 1945 so I could hang out with them.

(And wear fancy hats with them.)




Homefront was also the first time I looked at a fictional couple (although they didn't seem very fictional by their second date!) and said, "I want to have something like that one day..."

Oh, Jeff and Ginger.



What a pair.

In the world of fictional romantic pairs, Jeff and Ginger are second only to another dark haired boy and wacky redhead...

Anne and Gilbert!



Anyway, Jeff and Ginger grew-up together. Jeff was the kid brother of Ginger's best friend. (I guess there is a big difference between 10 and 8...) The first episode has Ginger planning on greeting her soldier fiance, Charlie, in a wedding gown at the train station.

Charlie, however, is not alone...he has brought home his floozy (oh, and this girl was "floozy" personified) British warbride, Caroline.

Meanwhile, Jeff has fallen in love with his brother Hank's (who was also fighting the war) fiancee, Sarah.

Jeff and Ginger first bond in a "misery loves company" sense, but by about the fourth episode, they're a pair...bantering and breaking-up and exchanging some of the wittiest dialogue I've ever heard in a television show. Tammy Lauren and Kyle Chandler had some excellent chemistry, and I really think they should have worked together several more times over the past fifteen years since Homefront ended.

Heck, I even want to write a show for the two of them.

I think it's always a sign of a great piece of fiction (television, movies, books, etc.) when you walk away caring about the characters. I remember tuning into that show and rooting for Jeff and Ginger and all of their family and friends.

I tracked-down copies of Homefront recently, and was concerned that it wouldn't be as good as I remembered it...I haven't seen it since it last originally aired.

However, I was pleased to find that the show is even better as an adult...

(It hasn't been released on DVD, which I think just isn't right! Check out www.HomefrontonDVD.com and sign that petition!)

I don't watch much television...mainly because I am hardly home to do so, and because there really isn't much on that I want to watch anyway. We live in a world of trashy reality tv...and as much as I love Dancing with the Stars, it's sad that something of such high quality as Homefront only lasted for two years, but The Bachelor will never go away...



Diana Rissetto