My first television was located in the south corner of a living room in a parsonage in a village in the Catskill Mountains region of New York. That is the technical designation, but we can also refer to this as my early childhood home. Home is a lot of places for me in the same way that I have multiple favorites and many bests, so I will do my best to specify along this journey of TV feelings.  

I have verified the layout of this room with a family member (Image 1), but I cannot confirm the make and model of this television as I was in kindergarten and more interested in the story on the screen than its vehicle. I have looked through several photo albums to see if someone captured its portrait, but it appears that, throughout the years, my family prioritized photographs of people and places rather than things. (I respect the impulse.)

This was the early 1980s, so I can only assume that the television was beautiful, had a sturdy knob for changing the channel, and a mysterious set of antennae. That is how I imagine it even if this imagining is an amalgamation of the televisions I saw on my shows, an insistent photocopy of a photocopy.  

I was a corduroy pants enthusiast, a fan of singing on the swings, and intensely nosy curious about everyone I met. I only had a vague understanding of the world that existed beyond Sullivan Street and did not have a sense of the in between of the various settings of my world. Northern Maine’s potato fields were 600 miles away and also next door to my best friend’s house (600 feet away). 

Whatever the reason for my missing the in-between, the people who populated these places became my location markers, and I wanted to know everything about them. I needed to make sure they were real.

^{Signage of my youth}

I was a kid with big feelings that came out in big ways: tantrums, declarations of best friendship, declarations of “it’s not fair,” and a belief that my blankie was a little bit real because of how much I loved it. These feelings seemed so outsized that I often felt embarrassed after the wave of emotion had calmed which was, of course, another feeling. Feelings on feelings on feelings. 

It was hard for me to imagine all of this happening in other people’s minds. It’s probable, too, that I did not know to imagine it.

What I did know what that there was an intensity within me I wanted to understand, and I became relentless in my quest. It is this pursuit, of course, that set me on the path for a lifetime of TV feelings. 

My first TV feeling occurred during an episode of Sesame Street where the A Plot featured Elmo having a sleepover at Maria’s apartment. Maria was one of Sesame Street’s cohort of grownups. She was kind, calm, and incredible at fixing things. Maria was one of The Greats. 

In the opening scene, Elmo was tucked away in a dresser drawer that doubled as a trundle bed. He explained to the audience that he had awoken early because of an exciting dream but was being good and keeping his voice quiet so as not to wake Maria. This did not last long as Elmo soon succumbed to his instincts and began acting out the whole dream for us, sound effects included. Elmo knew cinema. 

Maria awoke, deeply confused, and was patient with her guest. (It is likely that this was not a unique occurrence.) She pointed out the clock and how she was due for at least two more hours of sleep. To a grownup, a 5:00 a.m. wakeup versus 7:00 a.m. could be devastating. She tried to explain hours and her schedule and the nature of rest, but this did not resonate with Elmo, who was ready for the day and pancakes. 

(I knew the feeling.)

During the pancake cooking segment, Maria told Elmo that there were people who could flip a pancake in the air and it would land batter-side down on the griddle. Elmo egged her on—how could anyone resist! Maria flipped the first pancake like a champ, and perhaps because of this assurance, went in for the second pancake.

Pancake number two soared high in the air, and, per the rules of situation comedy, adhered itself to the ceiling. Maria looked up (oh, the inevitability of it all) and the pancake loosened itself and fell straight down. Maria’s face was covered with ceiling pancake. 

Elmo laughed, and Maria pulled the pancake off without a word. She wiped the batter off her face, all the while looking right at the camera with an expression I could not name. 

Her expression is the crux of my first TV feeling.

I am sure we can place this moment within the context of psychology. A young child does not recognize an expression and is confused. The child seeks language and calls on her minimal years of experience to find a word that matches.

But I didn’t have that perspective, nor any perspective, at that age. My life was small and dreamlike. My map of places and feelings was the corner of a notebook page. 

This isn’t the story of how I found the right word or understanding who I was as a child in the timeline of expected milestones. It’s the story of a feeling, a TV Feeling, and how the child I was grew into the adult I am now because of this influence.

I am the main character, and the television set is my deuteragonist.

***

Maria did not say how she felt about the ceiling pancake. The rest of the episode moved along in classic fashion: the scenes jumped between more songs and lessons, Maria and Elmo ate their pancakes at breakfast, and the two greeted the morning from the stoop as Elmo informed us of the episode’s sponsors. Then it was done. 

I thought about the ceiling pancake for weeks. Years, I guess. I was preoccupied with Maria’s expression after she pulled the pancake from her face. I knew that if ceiling pancake landed on my face I would feel embarrassed. My face would scrunch up in that just-about-to-cry-and-I-hate-it way. I would look down, wishing for another feeling.

Maria didn’t seem embarrassed to me. Or maybe she was and had found a good way to live with embarrassment. Either way, I wanted in: I wanted to know how the experience of ceiling pancake moved around and settled into an emotion in Maria’s mind, an emotion that seemed so different from my own.

There were so many ways to be and to feel, and I wanted to learn them all.

My first TV feeling: Seeking.