Like a good many people outside of New England, I have no interest in watching the Patriots. That doesn’t mean I don’t respect what Belichick and Brady have done; I’ll give them their due, but a deep abiding fatigue has set in. I simply don’t care anymore. Throw in the controversy concerning the Rams-Saints game and the air continues to seep out of the balloon. Let me know when it over and maybe someday in the future I’ll return to the asinine festival the SuperBowl has become.
In the meantime, I can always look in on the circus that used to be a functioning government. And yes, functioning, and, used to be, can be considered optional terms as well as applicability. But that’s not exacting inspiring either. And when I say government, I’m not talking about the poor souls working for free, I’m talking about the good folks elected to do a job for the benefit of the American people. Lamentations and the renting of garments for a precious minority of fools they seem forever tied to, to the detriment of all, is a headache I’ve grown eternally weary of.
So where’s a soul to go when he yearns for something uplifting that doesn’t require any mental lifting?
In the past I turned to important cultural touchstones such as House Hunters on HGTV. Lately, however, the show have devolved into concerted whining about the houses lacking everything I want right now because this will be my forever house and it has to be perfect for all those many great events that I’m sure I’m going to have and it doesn’t have what is the hip new thing like white kitchens that the script writers make me say to hawk the latest designer treads and whoever is advertising and ponying up the dough for this particular reality series.
It makes my head hurt. It’s also not particularly flattering if you know what I mean.
It is in this pale of ennui that I turn to the Kids Baking Championship on the Food Network. Sure it’s maybe pap and smaltz and all of that, but the kids are absolutely delightful: funny, self-deprecating, engaged, supportive of one another, creative, and they seem, genuinely, to be having a good time.
They’re what grownups should be.
Most importantly, they remind me that life is in the smaller personal passions we find that are important, and how acts of kindness, in this case making treats for others, are central to being a decent person. They deal with mistakes, pressure, and desire-it is after all a contest-in ways that are sympathetic and heartfelt versus the usual venal narcissistic hubristic nonsense we too often consume from celebrities of no actual social value.
Be shocked, if you must, but it’s true.
I find it so uplifting that I even think we can somehow, someday forge a more perfect union. That or inspire me to get off my butt and clean up the yard after the latest windstorm.
©2019 David William Pearce
David William Pearce, Writer 