In graduate school, my social life consists almost exclusively of visits to my two best friends, Mel and his wife, Susan, three nights a week. I’m sure they are thrilled to see me so often. Good people, they are the kind who would tell you if you needed to cut back on the “we” time, and they’d say it nicely. They understand my need to be with them, to have someone to talk to outside of the constant breathing of musty air in the library stacks, the lair from which I rarely venture forth.
These three nights are sacred to me. On those three nights, we watch three TV shows: Hawai‘i Five-0, Get Smart, and Saturday Night Live.
The three of us have come to the University of Wisconsin at Madison together from Hawai’i, Mel and I to study English literature, Mel working on his Ph.D., I on my M.A. Hawai‘i Five-0 is a must for keeping in touch with our island roots, especially during the six months of Wisconsin winter. We have a great time recognizing neighborhoods and buildings we know so well, and we especially enjoy identifying the actual driving directions and locations of any car-related travel portrayed. The more outrageous the claim of where a character is headed and what route is used, the more we are entertained.
Get Smart is already in syndication, but it has never made it to Hawai‘i. For us it is a brand new, first-run treat. The humor is superiorly cornball, and the gags are often beyond believable.
There can be no doubt that Mel Brooks has his hand in the show. We three love this kind of over-top comedy. It’s another way we click.
Saturday Night Live is one year old. It, too, has never made the journey across the Pacific Ocean to Hawai‘i. I should mention, since it may seem that in the middle of the Pacific we have been TV show deprived, that these were the 70s, a time when, for instance, we would see Johnny Carson and most primetime TV shows one week later than folks on the continent. We would watch Walter Cronkite and Huntley-Brinkley on the same day, so why the other non-news shows couldn’t be beamed to us somehow escapes me. Those shows would be shipped to us via air freight or even by ship.
Thus, our TV deprivation. And it’s reversal. I guess that was one thing good about living in Wisconsin. The list is shorter than I care to contemplate.
But Saturday Night Live, that show captivates us. Live sketch comedy was new to television viewers. One year new to folks who lived over there, and brand new to us. The ensemble cast then, with the likes of Belushi, Ackroyd, and, my favorite, Gilda Radner, is sterling, their chemistry undeniable. The types of humor run the gamut from slapstick to cerebral. And unlike as still is the case here in Hawai‘i, even in 2023, the show is live. In Hawai‘i we see it nowadays on several hours delay.
Back then, on Midwest time, the show begins at 11:00 p.m. and ends at 12:30. That is late, even for a Saturday night, for graduate students. It’s not like we can necessarily take Sunday off. For me, at least, there is no such thing as a day of rest. I’m at the reading, researching, and writing grindstone seven days a week.
So, the question becomes, how good can good friends be? I mean, Mel and Susan are tired at 12:30, and so am I. But because these two people are my Mad City social circle, I have trouble leaving them some nights.
The other two shows are earlier in the evening. On those nights, indulging in another beer still has me out their door at a reasonable hour. But another beer – or two – on a Saturday night can push our little party on to the 2:00 a.m. hour.
I can’t remember if I ever thanked them, in the years after grad school, for putting up with me in such a kind and understanding way. They were and — even though they live in New Jersey now – will always be two people whom I consider best friends. They were there for me when I needed them. I don’t know if I’d have survived the English program had I not had them to keep me sane.
One of our favorite SNL sketches involves a character played by John Belushi. He is a single man visiting a married couple. Sound familiar? As the hours drag on, and as he finds yet another reason not to leave, the couple throws bigger and bigger hints that they are exhausted and would appreciate him departing the premises. But he is oblivious to their attempts at getting him out the door. He is the star of the sketch entitled “The Thing That Wouldn’t Leave.”
I don’t remember if it was Mel and Susan, or if I was the one who dubbed myself “The Thing That Wouldn’t Leave.” We joked about it back then, and I’ve even made reference to it a couple of times over the years since.
Yes, I certainly hope it was I who gave myself that title. A good-humored gesture on my part, and, perhaps, a recurring begging of their pardon for overstaying my welcome many, many a time.
Mahalo, Mel and Susan, for putting up with me sometimes very late. You were lifesavers for me in the sink-or-swim of those days when I was in very deep water.
Lanning Lee 