The thing about Friends is the show said what it needed to say at the time it said it. It was clumsy; it was downright awful, sometimes (you know, how they said whatever they said, especially in later seasons); and it was, for the most part, fun. I first watched the show, fondly, in Peru, in an entirely different context, via cable from the middle of the U.S. I’ve caught a few eps of the entire run of the show during COVID reruns. Tonight, it’s “The Last One.”
(Skrrt – a rerun rewind to Season 1 and 1994 is on now. Talk about a different context.)
What was up with all the girls and Paris at that time, anyway. Rachel was headed there. Carrie left her beloved New York City and went there, too. Even LC braved outside The Hills to see the City of Lights. What’s it…all…mean…?
Friends works because it’s about the context of our friendships at the time we enjoy those friendships, and the growth that follows. Those old Friends of ours remain ever hopeful, literally unaware of the revolution in the cards one Sweet Sixteen ahead. Flawed as though they may be, looking back, they are who who they were. Friends simply navigating who they were going to become best they could.
I’m never curious about who our Friends might have become 16 years after the show ended. Who cares where they are in 2020; I am much more interested in who we can become and where we are headed moving forward.
Register to Power the Polls with me on Nov. 3. I can’t vote yet, and I’ve already rocked the vote with parties and by literally singing the praises of voting out on the streets. You know…before. This is the least I can do now.
I’ll be the one smizing through my mask.
King of Cups 