Not all my favorite pop-culture obsessions served as catalysts for introspection and helped me figure out and define myself. Some, like the television series Pushing Daisies, I simply fell in love with.
The show follows the adventures of Ned, the Pie Maker, who possesses a secret and magical ability: he can bring dead things back to life momentarily just by touching them. When he touches the reanimated person or animal again, they are dead forever. Of course, Ned's unique power also proves to be a curse, and because a natural balance exists between life and death, anything he brings back to life can only be alive again for one minute. Any longer than that and another nearby living creature dies. Intriguing, right? It only gets better from there. Emerson Cod, a private detective, discovers Ned's secret and blackmails Ned to help solve murder mysteries around town. It's the perfect premise. Ned can bring the victim back to life, ask her or him who the murderer was, and then send the person back to the land of the dead. No harm, no foul. BUT then Ned's childhood sweetheart, Charlotte 'Chuck' Charles, turns up dead. When confronted with having to make Chuck dead again, Ned could not bring himself to do it--even though keeping her alive meant the two star-crossed lovers could never touch. Chuck's discovery of her untimely death and subsequent un-death, her eccentrically agoraphobic synchronized swimming star aunts, and the always pining-for-Ned character of Olive Snook eventually lead to the unraveling of a larger, over-arching narrative spanning the two short seasons of Pushing Daisies. In a word, brilliant. Filled with quirky characters, over-the-top murder mysteries, and engaging storylines, not to mention Jim Dale's perfect narration, Pushing Daisies remains one of the most whimsically original and beautifully designed shows I've ever seen. I'm not bitter that the writer's strike interrupted the show's first season in 2007 and seemingly jettisoned its momentum, ultimately leading to the show's cancellation midway through season two in 2009. No, not bitter. Not. One. Bit.
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I couldn't think of a more fitting way to officially kick off my Countdown to 40 than with Entertainment Weekly, a publication that has fueled my proclivity for best-of lists and kept me in the pop culture loop for more than 20 years.
After moving to west-central Minnesota from suburban Saint Paul, I felt acutely aware of how rural and disconnected from any sense of culture I was. Sure, we went to the movies and watched television, but as an over-dramatic and angsty teenager, I thought our new geographical location severely limited our access to what I considered the outside world. After all, I thoroughly enjoyed and had grown accustomed to the variety of programming offered by cable television in the Twin Cities area. The four local stations, or sometimes five, depending on the weather and position of the antenna, therefore just didn't cut it. Then there was our town's cinema. Though it gradually increased to include seven screens by the time I graduated high school, only three existed when we moved to the area. Adding insult to injury, many friends and relatives, including my older sister, still lived near our old hometown, and trips to visit them only exacerbated my sense of cultural isolation. Looking back, it's not surprising, then, that I often romanticized living a more suburban lifestyle, which would bring with it many of the cultural opportunities such a lifestyle could provide. When Entertainment Weekly came along, it superficially granted me access to the sense of suburban belonging I so badly wanted, and suddenly I felt much less alone and culturally uninformed. I eagerly anticipated the arrival of each weekly issue, without which I may not have heard about or seen films like Dazed and Confused, Trainspotting, or Velvet Goldmine. Nor would I have given Gilmore Girls or Sex and the City a chance. But the magazine also did more for me and my sense of self than I ever realized at the time, something subtle and perhaps wholly unintentional. In covering all things popular culture and generally throwing its support behind the entertainment industry, Entertainment Weekly introduced and reinforced the idea that being gay was okay, if not normal, and homophobia simply was not. For a not-yet-out teenager--heck, for a not-yet-aware teenager--those sentiments made a huge impact, even if only subconsciously at the time. I still read my Entertainment Weekly every week, though I've transitioned from print to electronic copies over time, and consistently rely on the movie reviews, often agreeing with them before ever seeing (or not seeing) a film. It doesn't hurt, either, that the magazine always seemed sympathetic if not approving of Janet Jackson. Still, the year-end double issue remains my favorite annual EW offering, primarily because it recounts the best (and worst) in the year's pop culture releases. A no-brainer for a pop-culture geek and list enthusiast, right? This March I turn 40. That's right, the big four-zero. An age that greeting cards, popular culture, and American advertising companies would have us believe marks the crest atop some proverbial hill of adulthood. One on which life and life experiences steadily decline afterwards, so much so that when we reach 50 years of age, society declares us officially over said hill. But you know what? I say phooey to that and refuse to subscribe to such an outdated and obsolete narrative. Truth be told, I'm neither nervous nor anxious for March 12th to arrive. Dare I say I'm slightly excited?
I have been thinking a lot about my looming birthday over the past few months--especially as more and more friends from high school and college cross that bridge ahead of me. Curious about their journeys, I like to follow my wishes for a happy birthday with a question about their newly-turned-40 perspectives. They consistently report the view from the other side of 39 is just as good, if not better, and brings with it a clearer vision of one's self. Which makes sense, when you think about it, as meaningful introspection tends to deepen with age. Maybe that's a good thing, too, since navigating the unmapped road of adulthood is singular to each person and takes years to figure out. Still, several questions keep returning to mind: what does it all mean, this aging process? Who am I, and how did I get to the brink of 40? Of course, the answers to these questions are equal parts exceedingly simple and immensely complicated. I am a son, a brother, a grandson, an uncle, a husband, a nephew, a cousin, a friend, a coworker. I grew up in Minnesota and lived there until I moved to Virginia in 2011 with my husband, which also tells you I am gay. I identify as Christian and believe with every fiber of my being that my religious beliefs and homosexuality are absolutely compatible. I think education is the single most important asset to a person's life. My favorite color is orange, my favorite season is winter, and my favorite foods are tacos, popcorn, and chocolate chip cookies. These are the easily identifiable answers to the questions I've been pondering about age, experience, and identity. Each simple answer also forced me to question the assumptions and understandings I held about my sense of identity and purpose. Then, to complicate things further, every time my path seemed straightforward and I thought I had figured out which way I was heading, I hit an unexpected turn. Or a switchback. Or a speed bump. Or a series of potholes. Or a five-point intersection. Maneuvering such obstacles, both seen and unseen, took and takes a certain level of maturity and perspective that only come with age and experience. Along the way, many family, friends, coworkers, and contemporaries helped me navigate the road before me. Sometimes they held my hand. Other times they pointed the way or offered suggestions and alternate routes. I think that's true for everyone, even if not always obvious and intentional. After all, one person never gets very far alone. Many wonderful people aided me on my journey and continue to do so. (A number of not-so-wonderful people pushed me along, too, but I'm an eternal optimist and like to focus on the positive.) There are also many people I've never met--some real, some fiction, some not even people--that helped me along the way as well, and I am not afraid to admit that they, as elements of pop culture, helped me through this life and world, too. Books and publications, movies, music, television, and video games all provided moments of self-discovery, motivation, reflection, and pure, unadulterated joy. It's an attribute specific to our late-twentieth and early-twenty-first century society that popular culture invades our lives, admittedly not all for good. But every once in a while a movie comes along that changes the way you see the world. A television show teaches you the value of friendship. A song tears at your heart, inspires you dance, or makes you believe you have perfect pitch, no matter how often you hear it. A book provides a passport to a world that pushes the boundaries of your imagination. A video game transports you to an alternate yet fantastic reality. An album gives meaning to your struggle and by doing so also gives that struggle a much needed voice. Yes, it is hard to deny the power of popular culture and its ability to shape and reflect our sense of self. And that's where my Countdown to 40 comes in. On the eve of this culturally-defined milestone, I want to take a look back at the movies, books, albums, songs, television shows, video games, and publications that carried me along the way or that I carried with me. So, beginning February 1st I will be reflecting on 40 of the most important, influential, and favorite pop references of my life so far. Then, each day until March 12th, the big day, I will post my thoughts on a particular movie, book, album, television show, video game, or publication that influenced my sense of self and why. Concurrently, I'll be counting down my Top 40 favorite songs of all time (as of January 2017--the list is never entirely set in stone). Because, let's face it, I'm a sucker for a best-of list and couldn't narrow things down to a single countdown. |
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I am a self-proclaimed pop culture geek and list enthusiast who is celebrating the big four-zero by counting down the most important, influential, and favorite music, movies, television shows, books, and video games of my life so far. Categories
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