For the past seven years, I’ve spent Tuesday nights with these people:
Okay, what about this? I actually see myself in Stars Hollow, walking around the town square, eating pancakes in Luke’s Diner, attending town hall meetings at Miss Patty’s, going to Friday night dinners at Richard and Emily’s. I could even allow myself to attend Yale. I have so many qualifications that would make me the perfect resident. Among them:
Sookie and I both have black and white checkered floors in our kitchens.
Luke and I have the same glass domed pedestal cake dish.
I am grumpy like Michel.
I adore the dog, Paul Anka.
My maiden name was ‘Kim’, just like Lane and her mom.
I like small towns where people actually know and talk to each other.
It’s hard to explain my fascination with and addiction to this series. Sure, other great series have come and gone, but I’ve never wanted to inhabit them before. (What do you mean, ‘get a life’?)
But guess what? I think I’ve figured it out. It’s all about the writing (isn’t it always)?
Amy Sherman-Palladino, who created the show and wrote most of the best episodes, is simply brilliant. I read somewhere that sheis Lorelai. What a fascinating group of quirky characters she created. Talk about authentic detail. Mother-daughter conflict. Love stories. Enduring friendship. And pure fun! Ms. Sherman-Palladino’s dialogue is always crisp, quick-fire, razor-sharp, snappy, sassy, siss boom bah. It is full of allusion to pop culture, recent history, and society’s ills. In a single spoonful, you might get Boo Radley, Kierkegaard, Norton Critical Edition and Oompa Loompas.
No other television program has influenced my writing before. I’ve always loved wordplay, and wordplay drove the storylines and shaped the characters. The Gilmore Girls was my master class in script writing. Not to mention a thinking person’s guilty pleasure.
I just don’t know. Now I’m an orphan. Sympathy, please. Fellow mourners, commiserate.