Little House

Having been raised Catholic in a nice, middle class family in the late 70s and early 1980s, it should come as no surprise that I adore the Michael Landon series Little House on the Prairie. In fact my entire family, including my extended family, loves this show. Once at nineteen I walked into my grandparents' rowhome in Philly to find my godmother sitting in the front parlor wiping her eyes. It needs to be stated that my godmother is the family bad ass. Smoker at age nine, hanging in alleyways throughout her adolescence, and swearing like a sailor before puberty began, she always reminded me of a young Bette Midler. Prior to walking in the door that day, I had never seen her cry. I thought maybe someone had died. While I stood frozen in the doorway of the vestibule, Aunt Gina finally sniffled, "Fuckin' Little House." Truer words were never spoken. Just thinking about episodes like The Lord is My Shepherd or Four Eyes sends most of the family straight to the Puffs Plus. Tonight while out shopping with Mum, I saw seasons 1 and 2 for eighteen bucks. Eighteen bucks total! How could I say no? So after this episode of Starsky & Hutch I plan on curlin' up with my pile o' hankies and watching the first ep of season one. Best purchase I've made in six months.