But First....

Fire up the Chenbot, kids! It's time for another summer of Big Brother!

Normal people have "Flash Bulb Memories," you know? Like they know right where they were when they heard JFK was shot... or when Jerry Garcia died... or when Neil Armstrong fooled us all into believing he walked on the moon (you fell for that one, didn't you Uncle Tupelo?). They know these brief, shocking moments as impossibly-vivid recollections even now. They all have Technicolor memories of different things inexorably intertwined with a shared experience. They've marked momentous moments with mnemonic markers.

Me? I mark the miles with what's on TV.

I was on my way into the garage to feed the dogs when I caught my first glimpse of Star Trek. It was October, and way too warm, and the TV was on 'cause, well, it was always on in my house, and as I rushed to the garage door I caught a glimpse of "Catspaw" on channel 44. "Catspaw," if you recall, was the "Kirk and whoever are ensnared in a witch's vile trap. She's more than a witch, she's really a tiny, mechanized flamingo on almost-invisible strings from another planet... but ensnared they are, and it's up to Kirk and his insatiable libido to free them all. Which they do... after he tugs his boots back on" episode. Must-see TV.

I love Star Trek. Great Bird of the Galaxy help me, it has shaped my world view... and it all goes back to the that moment I watched James T. Kirk talk a giant black cat into transforming back into a tiny white woman he could seduce, and trick into giving up her power over his crew.

You wanna' know when I hit puberty? Come on... you know you do. It was the afternoon I came home from junior high school, turned on the TV and saw that, miraculously, Mary Ann had somehow assumed Ginger's identity on Gilligan's Island! I don't know... a coconut hit her on the head or something... but I do know that seeing our beloved revolutionary sweetheart slink around the lagoon in Ginger's evening gowns kickstarted my heart, and opened the door to adulthood for me.

Big Brother is a stupid show. Let's be honest. We watch people we wouldn't normally tolerate on TV and on live internet feeds 'cause it's hot outside, and 'cause part of us likes to think maybe we'll learn a little something about human nature... when really all we do is prove what we've always assumed: people suck.

But I watch it every season anyway... and I couldn't be more excited about this All-Stars season... and I have to finally ask myself: "Why?"

Maybe because before the histrionics of the show, there's what the show reminds me of... in spite of itself. Big Brother is the show no one should like, but everyone is drawn to anyway. Seven years ago, Nancy and I sat down to watch Big Brother on what the kids call "a lark." We just figured we'd mock it for an hour, then spend the rest of the night mocking anyone who actually liked it.

Not long before the series debut of Big Brother, Nancy was sharing a flat in San Francisco with the cast of every Real World ever. They were all great people, but almost comically different. The one thing they shared: they looked out for Nancy when some strange, bald guy showed up one Spring afternoon to take her to dinner. The more they looked out for her that evening, the more I liked them, so many moons later when they made fun of us for planning to watch the series debut of Big Brother I didn't even mind.

Before too long, though, we'd moved to Seattle. Me first; Nancy soon after... we made a home there even before we'd found a place to live together... and we watched Big Brother. We sat, huddled in the corner, to watch the houseguests struggle with captivity in Ikea and with each other while strangers on the outside voted on who got to stay in the incubatrix, and who was released, unwillingly, back into the humdrum world of not TV.

I remember how Nancy's eyes lit up that first evening. I remember being amazed at how someone so clever, and smart -and clever some more- could be so entranced by some dopey reality show starring people we couldn't be bothered to spit on if we passed them on the street... I remember wishing I could find such joy in such small things.

That night? Another door opened for me, thanks to Big Brother, and Nancy's unbridled love of the strange and unloveable.

That door never closed, you know... and I have Nancy to thank for that. I wouldn't go so far as to thank Big Brother for my not-so-new worldview... but I can't ever separate its network TV premier from my own coming-out that night. I felt reborn... I owe that to Nancy... but it's Big Brother that reminds me of that every week during the long, hot summer... and for that, I'm grateful.