Every day after school, I watched “Little House on the Prairie.” At one point, “The Waltons” replaced it – which I also watched – but there was something about Little House that made it stick with me over the years.
I clearly wasn’t the target demographic of the show. But we didn’t really pay attention to such things in elementary school. I just knew that there was a television show based on a book series our librarian talked up to us. I vaguely remember trying to read Laura Ingall Wilder’s “Farmer Boy” at some point, but I remember nothing about it – or if I even finished it.
The adventures of Half-pint, Prairie Bitch Nellie Oleson and the characters of Walnut Grove have spoken to generations of viewers. And for good reason: it’s a wholesome show that emotionally slaps you across the face.
And who didn’t love a little fiddle-playin’ from Pa Ingalls?
Both Little House and I are turning 50 this year. The show, with its portrayal of simple yet profound life lessons, mirrors the evolution of my values over the decades. And like the show, which hasn’t lost its emotional punch, neither have I – a softy regarding nostalgia.
Come to think of it, the Washington Capitals also turn 50 this year.
1974 was apparently a very good year. You’re welcome.
In honor of the 50th anniversary, I decided to mingle with the Bonnet Heads (apparently what they call the die-hard Little House fans) and attend a Little House cast breakfast. No period costumes for me, though—I'll leave that to the true devotees.
I’ve learned to embrace my love of Little House.
I’ll sit with the lights off – weeping – as Laura sells her pony to Mr. Oleson to get Ma a new stove for Christmas.
Ma: “Charles, her pony, we can't...”
Pa: “Caroline, she had the right.”
Ma: “But she loves Bunny so.”
Pa: “I think she loves you more.”
Ma: “Oh, I can't...”
Pa: “Caroline, she wants to do this. She loves you. Don't spoil it for her.”
If that scene doesn’t bring a tear to your eye, then congratulations—you must be a robot, or worse, a communist (And yes, that was once an insult that really stung when we were a proper country).
I’ll blubber like an idiot when the Rev. Alden turns a major mistake from Laura and Mary of losing the Sunday School’s money on some get-rich scheme into a lesson of love and compassion.
I’ll laugh when Laura pushes Nellie down the hill in the wheelchair.
Little House is a show that remains timeless. While the show is a product of 1970’s television, its setting in the 1800s doesn’t necessarily date it, and its lessons are universal. 1970’s television still had a modicum of decency – not appealing to the lowest common denominator and full of gratuitous sexual innuendo.
I’m no prude, but I also don’t need to be bombarded with sex and violence at every turn. Sometimes, you just want to see a wholesome show featuring a healthy, loving family sharing life lessons.
I realized we hit close to rock bottom television-wise as a society when “2 Broke Girls” stayed on the air for so long, playing from the same songbook of oversexualized humor week after week. It wasn’t creative. It wasn’t funny. It was simply insulting to the viewer’s intelligence.
Little House was quality television. The whole family could enjoy it on some level – and did once the show hit syndication, and millions of children could watch it after school.
The show had variety. It didn’t stick to a specific formula, and episodes could give you whiplash, swinging from uplifting to comedic to devastating (I mean, after making Mary blind, they killed her baby in a fire along with Mrs. Edwards).
But I will admit, I didn’t realize just HOW much the show influenced me and how much meeting the actors would mean. As I sat chowing down on bacon, I looked up and realized Miss Beadle was standing before me.
Now, I realize that Charlotte Stewart is nothing like the school teacher character she played on television – who tenderly taught Mary it was OK to wear glasses because wearing them didn’t prevent her from gettin’ it on with her beau, John Stacy.
But it was MISS BEADLE. Miss FREAKIN’ Beadle was standing there.
That was awesome – not gonna lie.
Stewart was endearing as she joked about how she was a hippy when she auditioned for the part and as she choked up explaining how she will never watch the final movie of the series where the town of Walnut Grove (and the actual set used for filming) was destroyed with dynamite. It was, she said, too hard to imagine, let alone watch.
And then I saw Almanzo (Dean Butler) with the same boyish grin while donning a period farmer hat. Butler went on to do more in front of and behind the camera, but has come to embrace his Little House fame.
The same can be said of Alison Arngim, who played the delightfully wicked Nellie Oleson. As she explained in the morning’s Q&A, she realized it was an “if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em” situation many years ago. She seemed to revel in the fan appreciation.
Arngrim’s book, “Confessions of a Prairie Bitch,” tells a heavy story about sexual abuse and growing up in Hollywood, with a transparent peak behind the scenes of the show. Arngrim and Melissa Gilbert were apparently very good friends, and she practically adopted Gilbert’s brother, Jonathan, who played her on-screen brother Willie Oleson.
Lucy Lee Flippin, who played Almanzo’s sister Eliza Jane, also was in attendance. I understand, from listening to the “Little House on the Prairie 50 for 50 Anniversary Podcast” that she doesn’t attend many of the fan events, so that I got to sit by her was special.
Alas, Melissa Gilbert doesn’t do many of the Little House fan events, and Melissa Sue Anderson has not stayed as connected – I’m not sure she’s done anything for whatever reason (good or bad).
As I sat down for the group photo, I said to the cast that I also am turning 50 this year and that Little House still makes me cry like a little bitch. They laughed and wished me a happy birthday.
And as I stood to leave, I blurted out. “Thank you so much. I love you all.”
Under normal circumstances, I’d have been mortified. But as I left the room, it just seemed apt. They were just actors. But together, they played characters I’ve connected with emotionally for decades on a show that was purposefully written to do the same.
I love those characters; otherwise, why watch them?
I also love that the actors who brought those characters to life were so gracious and understanding of the show’s fans. They respect what the show means to so many. That I could, for a few minutes, forget the real world and see beloved characters from another era was an early birthday gift.
Maybe I am a Bonnet Head after all—and I’m OK with that.