Good Night, John Boy!

The Waltons was one of my favorite childhood TV shows. I own the video of The Homecoming, the Waltons Christmas story that introduced the family to America back in the seventies. It's still one of my favorite Christmas shows. And so when Katie started to express some interest in the TV show because a local theater group is performing The Homecoming this fall, I suggested that we rent the series from Netflix.

I was a little worried, mind you, that the show wouldn't live up to my memories. So tonight as we sat back on the couch and that familiar country tune sounded from the speakers, I sat expectantly as I viewed that cozy house at the foot of Waltons Mountain and watched as face after face of my old friends turned toward the camera with the opening credits, hoping that I would not be disappointed.

I wasn't. At the end of the show, not only did I wish that John Boy was my boyfriend, so did Katie. I laughed at Grandpa as he teased Grandma, and I wanted to hug Jim Bob for giving up his birthday quarter to buy a forlorn deaf child a toy that she saw in Ike Godsey's General Merchandise. Erin is still the prettiest sister, and Elizabeth still gets into mischief and remains a little bit spoiled. I remembered why I anxiously awaited Thursday nights at 8:00--great story line; interesting, realistic characters; and a wistful glance back at a time when you could buy enough licorice to feed four children with two cents (and Ike threw in another piece of candy for Elizabeth for free because she didn't like licorice--spoiled!).

And of course, by the end of the hour, due to the loving care of the Walton family, the little deaf girl who at the beginning of the show was completely illiterate and uncommunicative, was using the sign language the Walton family learned themselves and then taught to her in an incredibly fluent way. You just know that because of her time with the Waltons, someday she will graduate from the University of Virginia, return to the Appalachian mountains, and start an innovative school for poor, deaf mountain children.

And what was the verdict from my sophisticated, somewhat jaded, nearly sixteen-year-old? She thoroughly enjoyed it--observing that there was no sex, partial nudity, swearing, taking God's name in vain, or crudeness. She was impressed that John Boy used the word "eloquent." In my experience working with children of all ages, good storytelling always succeeds. I wish Hollywood realized that.