It’s amazing how a fleeting moment can suddenly stir up a swell of emotion, but that’s exactly what a commercial for the series finale of One Tree Hill managed to do to me during a commercial break of Gossip Girl. Yes, I was watching live television because I refused to wait another minute to see Dan and Blair awkwardly but hilariously consummate their hard won relationship- some things are worth forgoing the DVR to experience in the moment.
The moment I was currently experiencing was no longer giggly but sniffly, as voice-over guy made sure I saved the date to view the series finale of One Tree Hill. My sudden allergy flare up wasn’t because I would miss seeing the further dramas of Hayley and Nathan or Brooke or Mouth (that’s what DVDs are for) or miss hearing Gavin McGraw soulfully tell me what he doesn’t want to be (since I have that particular single at my disposal on my iPod) or miss perusing the, uh, colorful debates of online fans who have been forever engaged in a love/hate relationship with the show’s creator, Mark Schwann.
No, what came up in my mind’s eye as I watched that commercial was that the network of my late teens and early adolescence, the WB, was that much closer to really being gone. Yes, the network ended years ago, but it still lived on in the shows that had made the cut to live on at the CW. And sure, technically, Supernatural is also a WB alum having put in one year at the frog, but One Tree Hill had put in a little more time and was a bit more representative of what the WB stood for- exploring the tormented, complicated lives of teens who were tucked away in insular little hamlets. What began with Dawson and his creek and the Gilmores in Stars Hollow now ends with One Tree Hill.
Suddenly, while watching that commercial I was grieving all over again and my WB life was flashing before my eyes; Buffy stabbing Angel to tearfully send him to hell; Felicity and her bouncy, then really short hair; the scantily clad Halliwell sisters of Charmed; Ryan Murphy giving me a gleeful high school drama before Glee, with Popular; Dido and the alien deserts of Roswell; Meeting my superhero boyfriend, Mr. Tom Welling, courtesy of Smallville; earning my WB stripes by watching Birds of Prey, Tarzan and Pepper Dennis; Treat Williams and his Everwood beard of emotional turmoil; Reba winning over my heart and having me joyfully croon ‘I’m a Survivor!’ and not care a whit if anybody heard…
In the thirty seconds of that video invitation to One Tree Hill’s swan song, I sped through those well known stages of grief in record time: Denial (This is all some colossal joke. The WB isn’t dead, they’re just pulling a long con. It’s gonna reboot and come back as The WB 2.0!), Anger (TV to talk about? Really? That’s your slogan?), Bargaining (If you give me back Everwood and Felicity: The Adult Years, I will totally watch another 10 years of 7th Heaven), depression (I’ll never see Reba find lover after Brock, will I?), and finally acceptance (All good things come to an end. Besides, the CW has given me Nikita. And, hey! Gossip Girl’s back on!)
And just like that I was past my pain and back to living life again, my television fangurl heart continuing to prove to be a resilient one.
Alas, until death comes for Supernatural…
- 7th Heaven
- Michigan J. Frog
- WB Kids!
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