Scrooge never watched MCTV
Every burned-out bulb was replaced. Every gift, unwrapped. Every shard of rustled paper, policed. Even two buckets of ash, cremated remains of Yule logs heroically victorious against seasonably frigid forces, had been swept up and away.
It was time at last to settle down for a long winter's nap — interrupted only by the televised clatter of two dozen meaningless sports events and this year's 4,896th through 5,964th showings of holiday classics.
The tele-pollution was enough to sour even the sweetest memories of Clarence's bell-ringing visit to Bedford Falls, of a department store Kris Kringle's salvation delivered by postal workers (or, in remake version, by a dollar bill's motto) and, yes, even of the all-too-familiar quest to avoid shooting your eye out with a Red Ryder BB gun.
Then what to our wondering eyes should appear but one last and very welcome gift and opportunity for cheer — an entire weekend of school and community music and sports, courtesy of MCTV, Channel 22 on Galaxy Cable.
What in summer months can be as exciting as watching grass turn brown (the primary challenge being to see how long it takes to memorize all the slides) was transformed into a winter wonderland of the best the community has to offer — from two highly competitive and entertaining basketball games (Marion boys and girls, both with come-from-behind victories over much-larger Haven) to a host of heavenly inspired instrumental and vocal music from area schools and churches.
The programs ran, as they say in director's booths, wall-to-wall. They turned the weekend into a magic carpet ride in the process.
No, it wasn't Keith Langford or Beverly Sills or Britney Spears or the Boston Pops. It was better. It was tiny tots, their eyes all aglow, memorizing more words than one thought their vocabulary allowed, then belting them out — in tune and on key. It was high school musicians tackling extraordinarily difficult music, with numerous solos well above the level of similarly experienced performers. It was a passion, both for sports and for music, that clearly gripped not only the young but also their elders, from big-league, two-camera, play-by-play and analyst coverage of sports to instrumental and vocal solos by almost as many white and bald heads as towheads.
To be sure, some watched only to see those they knew. But others, who like us knew few if any, still were captivated by what hour upon hour of programming proved: a community's obvious and life-long love affair with performing, whether it be on a stage or on a court.
To the volunteer elves and reindeer who delivered this joy into the homes of those with access to cable, thanks for reminding us that merry is a crucial part of Marion.
To those who fret over population and restaurants, who doubt the town's leadership while seeing only the ghosts of Christmases past, we have two words — Bah, humbug! — and some advice:
Let's resolve in the new year upon us not to dwell on what we aren't but we are, not to talk about what we can't be but what we can become, not to focus on the uncontrollable things we can't resolve but to highlight the small things that make us what we are — very special.
You don't even need cable to see that.
— ERIC MEYER
