Chapter 7 - Heathcliff Huxtable
I am looking at the images of the houseless (as I stand corrected by a shade tree mechanic: he is not "homeless" as he pointed to the wooded area where he comfortably lay his head with his fellows at night). These are not images I see only on television: I see them alarmingly closer to my suburban home; alarmingly resembling my neighbors.
"Nick at Nite" has run through all ten years of the Cosby Show and is now on the initial reruns dating from 1984 when Rudy was cute. Now, Keisha Knight-Pullam is starring with Queen Latifah in "Beauty Shop" and had a magazine expose in what looked like skimpy bikini fashion (saw it at the grocery store: didn't buy it).
Nineteen eighty-four was not only the year I graduated with my Physics degree, we were treated to positive images of black family life by Bill Cosby and Phylicia Rashad.
As I understand it, getting Cliff cast as a doctor and Claire as a lawyer took a heated confrontation by "The Cos" with the show's producers. They wanted another "ghetto sitcom" similar to Good Times (which, John Amos left the show because his TV family never left the ghetto); The Jefferson’s, George never left his ignorant acting ways from when he was neighbors to Archie Bunker though he'd made it to the "deluxe apartment in the sky," and lastly Sanford and Son, with Fred faking heart attacks to Elizabeth and Lamont tripping through life clueless (I hear he is or at one time was a preacher).
I was twenty-three, young, impressionable and scared to death. I was going in the US Air Force as a Communications Officer - a specialty everyone says was a good choice. The problem is, I didn't choose it. I digress.
Cliff and Claire became the black Ozzie and Harriett. We were glued to a tube that stated simply "you can have a successful black sitcom without the general stereotypes." Unfortunately, we substituted new ones.
What I mean is Cliff and Claire represented the “new” rich in black America. Most of us were just beginning the steps taking us towards the middle class. With the exception of the occasional "glitch" with each of their TV children, they resolved most problems in thirty minutes or less in time for the final scene.
I now realize the Huxtable clan were both a good thing... and bad.
Good in that I could view The Cos in his element: comedy. I could laugh and take my mind off my troubles for just a moment.
Here's the bad [all opinions mine]:
The Cosby Show became the litmus test for the so-called "color-blind society" that conservatives, black and white, began touting in the eighties. Unfortunately, the success of the show was warped into the foundation for attacks on affirmative action and set aside programs for black business owners to get a leg up (like major corporations still do with tax abatements).
Bad in that Heathcliff and Claire Huxtable became an ideal I subconsciously reached for and would do anything to fulfill that image of success. That image became an idol.
Bad in that we went from one extreme of "ghetto fabulous" to "suburban somnambulism." We went from no hope of getting out of our dire straits to obviously never having been there. We went from being held down by “the man” to “lifting ourselves by our own bootstraps.” I know Dr. Cosby never meant to have that effect on the black community, but I suspect overreach is part of the Urban League’s report that our net worth is 1/10 that of whites still… in the Twenty-first century: trying to be like the Huxtables.
So, I find myself juxtaposed between the reality and the fantasy of the Huxtable image. I am unemployed. I am trying to get a business off the ground that like many of us began as a hobby, an outlet after work. I am looking at the real possibility of loosing the business and the house unless some drastic, RADICAL changes don’t take place. I know what one of those changes is: selling my 4-runner. My wife makes a good point: what are we going to do when you NEED a car? My simple answer is “get one.” With what resources at my disposal at the time, God and truly God, only knows. I know the other change is to lease or sell our home. Even with her working and it refinanced out the wazzo, we can’t afford the mortgage.
I feel like the father with the son possessed by a demon, crying out: “Lord, I believe, help thou my unbelief!”
I don’t know how God will get me my wealth. I do know it’s needed now!
"Nick at Nite" has run through all ten years of the Cosby Show and is now on the initial reruns dating from 1984 when Rudy was cute. Now, Keisha Knight-Pullam is starring with Queen Latifah in "Beauty Shop" and had a magazine expose in what looked like skimpy bikini fashion (saw it at the grocery store: didn't buy it).
Nineteen eighty-four was not only the year I graduated with my Physics degree, we were treated to positive images of black family life by Bill Cosby and Phylicia Rashad.
As I understand it, getting Cliff cast as a doctor and Claire as a lawyer took a heated confrontation by "The Cos" with the show's producers. They wanted another "ghetto sitcom" similar to Good Times (which, John Amos left the show because his TV family never left the ghetto); The Jefferson’s, George never left his ignorant acting ways from when he was neighbors to Archie Bunker though he'd made it to the "deluxe apartment in the sky," and lastly Sanford and Son, with Fred faking heart attacks to Elizabeth and Lamont tripping through life clueless (I hear he is or at one time was a preacher).
I was twenty-three, young, impressionable and scared to death. I was going in the US Air Force as a Communications Officer - a specialty everyone says was a good choice. The problem is, I didn't choose it. I digress.
Cliff and Claire became the black Ozzie and Harriett. We were glued to a tube that stated simply "you can have a successful black sitcom without the general stereotypes." Unfortunately, we substituted new ones.
What I mean is Cliff and Claire represented the “new” rich in black America. Most of us were just beginning the steps taking us towards the middle class. With the exception of the occasional "glitch" with each of their TV children, they resolved most problems in thirty minutes or less in time for the final scene.
I now realize the Huxtable clan were both a good thing... and bad.
Good in that I could view The Cos in his element: comedy. I could laugh and take my mind off my troubles for just a moment.
Here's the bad [all opinions mine]:
The Cosby Show became the litmus test for the so-called "color-blind society" that conservatives, black and white, began touting in the eighties. Unfortunately, the success of the show was warped into the foundation for attacks on affirmative action and set aside programs for black business owners to get a leg up (like major corporations still do with tax abatements).
Bad in that Heathcliff and Claire Huxtable became an ideal I subconsciously reached for and would do anything to fulfill that image of success. That image became an idol.
Bad in that we went from one extreme of "ghetto fabulous" to "suburban somnambulism." We went from no hope of getting out of our dire straits to obviously never having been there. We went from being held down by “the man” to “lifting ourselves by our own bootstraps.” I know Dr. Cosby never meant to have that effect on the black community, but I suspect overreach is part of the Urban League’s report that our net worth is 1/10 that of whites still… in the Twenty-first century: trying to be like the Huxtables.
So, I find myself juxtaposed between the reality and the fantasy of the Huxtable image. I am unemployed. I am trying to get a business off the ground that like many of us began as a hobby, an outlet after work. I am looking at the real possibility of loosing the business and the house unless some drastic, RADICAL changes don’t take place. I know what one of those changes is: selling my 4-runner. My wife makes a good point: what are we going to do when you NEED a car? My simple answer is “get one.” With what resources at my disposal at the time, God and truly God, only knows. I know the other change is to lease or sell our home. Even with her working and it refinanced out the wazzo, we can’t afford the mortgage.
I feel like the father with the son possessed by a demon, crying out: “Lord, I believe, help thou my unbelief!”
I don’t know how God will get me my wealth. I do know it’s needed now!
posted by Unemployed | 8:06 AM
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