Take me back to Indian River
Well produced television programs take on a life of their own. The syndicated world transcends the boundaries of politics and language, and if you were to suddenly find yourself in a different city, a world away, the set in your hotel room just might offer up a slice of your earlier life. After all, not being renewed isn’t the end of the road for certain programs. There’s a whole world out there, and they just might be watching.
Maybe you lived the Baywatch fantasy. Me, I tended more to Forest Rangers, given that the local TV channel offered up a steady Island diet. I knew more about the woods around a certain outpost and fort than those within walking distance. It turns out that I still catch the adventures from Indian River, translated badly into French. Monsieur MacLey-odd?
Earlier this week, a young man from Charlottetown happened to catch Chub and Cathy from his hotel room in Italy. Of course, Joe Two Rivers may now bear the name Giuseppe Duo Fiumi, but the truth remains; good TV is timeless. If syndication can keep Pamela Anderson in the public eye, why not the callsign XNY 556 as an earworm?
Perhaps my children (if I can find episodes on YouTube) will also fall for the charm of Cathy, the wit of the Sergeant, the dangers of fighting forest fires and the thrill of an old transmitter. I have one or two around the basement, just in case.
