Shoveling Sand in the Studio

A nostalgic, warm-toned scene from a 1970s living room where a young boy sits cross-legged on a shag carpet, cupping his hands to shout into a vintage metal electric fan. A dramatic sunbeam cuts through the room from a window, illuminating floating dust flecks in the air. Outside the window, a blurry figure rides a bicycle past a brick house. Next to the boy, a large, wooden console television sets the atmosphere, broadcasting a black-and-white episode of Gilligan's Island featuring Gilligan in the jungle. Scattered on the carpet around the child are wooden alphabet blocks and a toy tricycle.

Childhood is an ever-changing time where nothing stays the same. The world is a place of wonder, with every new site and sound fully engaging your senses. You notice things that older people don’t.

Flecks of dust floating in a sunbeam. The sound of A bicyclists passing by the house. The way your voice changes when you shout into an electric fan.

Sometimes unexplained things don’t have satisfactory answers, and no one seems willing to answer your questions.

Sometimes you know that something isn’t real, but you’re not sure how to explain it.

For example, I always knew things on the television or in the movies weren’t real. Clearly cartoons were not. People on TV shows and movies always seem to be dumber than the ones I knew in the world of reality. I suppose that is at least one thing that has not changed since the days of my childhood.

I remember watching TV shows like Gilligan’s Island that took place in an outdoor setting, on a deserted island. Yet, I still knew it was filmed in a studio. I just couldn’t figure out how they changed the set so quickly for the next TV show to come on. Especially when the next TV show might take place in someone’s living room or office. How did they get all that sand cleared off the stage so quickly? Yeah, I know, a dumb question. But for my young preschool brain it was very profound, and no one was willing to explain it to me. All I would get was, “things that happen on TV aren’t real.” Well, I knew that already. How did they make it happen?

Clearly, very few TV shows were broadcast live. The magic took place in the pre-recording of all those favorite shows. Transcribed, or videotaped, for conveniently broadcasting later.

I also had this strange, and unfounded idea that all TV shows originated in the local studios in St. Louis Missouri. The largest city near to where I lived at the time. I came to understand that some were filmed in Hollywood, especially when I would visit grandparents several hundreds of miles away to be able to enjoy the same shows I did at home. Just because I knew some were made in Hollywood, didn’t mean I was willing to believe that everything was.

Although I finally came to know the truth behind how TV shows appeared in my living room, sometimes I still like the idea of busy stagehands shoveling off a lot of sand and palm trees to make room for the next program.

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