Isms: Views on life in rural America

I turned 13 when a magical show debuted on Saturday evenings, full of comedic genius and up-and-coming musicians. I grew up watching what was first dubbed NBC’s Saturday Night. It didn’t become known as Saturday Night Live until 1977, after ABC dumped its lackluster Saturday Night Live with Howard Cosell.

Those first seasons with the Not Ready for Prime Time Players - Gilda, Dan, Chevy, Jane, John, Garrett and Laraine - are classics. From Roseanne Rosannadanna to Landshark to the Killer Bees, those early skits made it easy tune in.

A few years later, when I was in high school, the ‘rents would let my Hastings boyfriend stay late on Saturdays so we could watch the show. We’d stretch out on the orange-green-gold shag carpet in front of the RCA console television, a bowl of popcorn and two cans of Coca-Cola situated in front of us, and laugh hysterically and sing along with the musical talent. Once the clock struck midnight, he’d make a dash for his olive-green Mustang, hoping his carriage wouldn’t turn into a pumpkin, like something straight outta Cinderella (or Clay Center).

Monday mornings at school, classmates would rehash the show, where we’d relive those funny moments, contemplate the bits that didn’t work and spin lines at our fellow students and friends. By senior year, a group of us would recite a Steve Martin line over and over, “Die, you gravy-sucking pig.” I don’t remember the context from SNL, maybe from Martin’s Wild and Crazy Guy. I’m not sure why it was funny then, because it isn’t now.

Weekend Update remains one of my favorites. Comedy and satire require impeccable timing. Most of the time, the Weekend Update anchors provide spot-on parodies about current events, pop culture and political climates. Occasionally, they swing and miss.

At some point, though, the show drifted, lost its way from the original intent. Instead of tuning in to NBC, the show was relegated to recording so we could fast forward to the good parts when we had time or wanted to watch.

Then, around 10 to 15 years ago, the show seemed to hit a new stride, a fresh energy evident in skits and writing. I’m not sure if the change happened when Colin Jost and Michael Che took over as Weekend Update anchors or, if like most things, the cyclical evolution of life and comedy came full circle.

Now, when I need an SNL fix, I seek out clips on YouTube or wait for a video to pop up on social media. All too often, I find myself drifting to familiar favorites, Will Ferrell and Cheri Oteri as the Spartan cheerleaders, Matt Foley motivational speaker, Mary Katherine Gallagher, the Coneheads, Debbie Downer and Wayne’s World.

Comedy is a reflection of society, a glimpse into what makes us tick, what pushes us to be our best, what leads us blindly to be our worst. For 50 years, SNL has been a constant roller coaster ride, banking on 90 minutes of television entertainment to make us reflect on the world and our idiosyncrasies, to question the fine line between comedy and tragedy, to learn to laugh at ourselves.

Keep the laugh track rolling.