I’m pretty loose with the F-word. I think it’s all due to a TV show I watched when I was younger. Many people don’t approve. Sometimes I use it and observe a raised eyebrow or a slight catching of breath. Certain people are downright appalled by my use of the word in situations they find inappropriate. That’s OK. To each his own, I suppose. For me, I plan to continue my unabashed use of that word regardless of what others think about it.
The word I’m referring to, of course, is “family”. At some point during my formative years, I tuned the TV to an episode of Kate and Allie, an 80’s-era sitcom featuring two divorcees and their children living together in the Big Apple. The plot of the episode I recall had to do with a new landlady enforcing alternative rules about who could live under her roof. The evil owner demanded that her tenants be families- and Kate and Allie didn’t qualify because they were merely childhood friends. Upon discovering that homosexual couples were acceptable, the dynamic duo briefly pretended to be gay. That plan didn’t last; however, and the episode concluded with a speech about how Ms. Landlady had no right to tell them what a “family” is- because a family is any group of people choosing to share their lives.
These days, I see “families” where others don’t. My dad’s girlfriend is my family. My boyfriend’s parents are my family. My dogs are my family. Love is not contingent upon bloodlines nor legal certificates.
Sometimes television takes a break from rotting our brains… just enough to open our minds.