I was such a big fan of the TV show Lost. Bowing on ABQ in 2004 it predated our current media scene (and Golden Age of Television) and somehow captured the imagination of a lot of Americans (what else at that time? Something about 9/11?). I watched it through the end (I may have skipped a season, but somehow remember that for a while before the next its reruns of that and other seasons were ubiquitous (as much as the time allowed) so it was possible to catch up and check in on different seasons simultaneously.
And that fun-house mirror aspect somehow supported the show.
And I was one of many that, as the final episodes drew the show to a close, still believed that the team behind the show could pull off a satisfying conclusion. But…
That failure at the end somehow taints the whole show. And any attempt to re-watch feels like it’s haunted by that ignoble end.
However, this week, this month, we live in a different world. One that’s reminiscent in some small way of life after 9/11 where we felt we were under threat; when we didn’t know if and when the next shoe would drop.
Strange that now, Lost almost feels like comfort food, and so, with a little more time around the house I’m diving back in to re-explore that magical mystery box that was one of my favorite shows.
