Things PBS Taught Me and How I Turned Into My Father

Now that I’m almost forty, I’ve found myself becoming interested in a genre of TV I call, “shows aired on PBS.” These shows are very frequently set in Britain at some point in the past – anywhere from Tudor times to the 1970s. They’re gently dramatic, and feature an occasional sweeping vista. Sometimes there is a very attractive man with a very messy personal life who makes very questionable decisions; Poldark’s Captain Ross Poldark has the best abs in Cornwall but my god is he frustrating. Same as Granchester’s “hot vicar” Sidney Chambers, the chain-smoking, jazz living, whiskey drinking, hard living priest with a passion for solving murders – and for the divorced Amanda. 

‍

The shows are entertainment but there can be moments of accidental education involved as well. Did you know that Cornwall, England was at one time a leading producer of copper? You do if you watched Poldark! There’s also a lot of scenes about mines: how to run them, finding mineral veins, what happens when they collapse, or when your former friend tries to steal it from under you. Damn you, George Warleggan!

‍

I’ve long been a fan of period pieces like these and historical fiction. I can trace it back to my first American Girl dolls and their accompanying books. Felicity, a red-haired doll with a spunky side, lived during the Revolutionary War. She rode horses and gave up drinking tea because tea was British and the British were her second greatest enemies. Her greatest enemy being the man who abused his horse. Samantha, a brunette doll, lived in New York at the turn of the 20th century and was a rich orphan, yet her best friend was an immigrant child laborer. Molly, a WWII era doll, grew a victory garden and wore glasses. She was my first doll, gifted by my parents.

‍

That interest continued to grow as I got older. I loved works of fiction that expand my world view, but the goal was never to learn but to be entertained. Learning was just a pleasant byproduct.    It is only recently that I have begun to delve into what can only be described as “educational programming” - the immense catalog of Ken Burns documentaries. Want to learn about America? There’s Ken Burns’ The Civil War, Ken Burns’ The Roosevelts, Ken Burns’ Jazz , Ken Burns’ Baseball, Ken Burns’ The Vietnam War, and on and on. I hope one day to watch Ken Burns’ Y2K.

‍

Currently, I am watching Ken Burns’ The American Revolution because, somewhat unexpectedly and terrifyingly, I’ve begun turning into my history-nerd father. Like any public school educated American, I can tell you that the Boston tea party was a thing that happened, George Washington was our first president, the Declaration of Independence was adopted on July 4, 1776, and Benjamin Franklin made sure to make time for flirting with women amongst all his diplomacy efforts in London and Paris. Truly, our first American slut.

‍

I haven’t completed the series yet. Though only six in total, each episode is two hours long and the narrator, Ken Burns’ frequent collaborator, actor Peter Coyote, has an incredibly soothing voice which lulls me to sleep roughly 45 minutes into an episode. What I absorb while I am awake however, are things that are infrequently discussed or taught in detail - whether in school or when politicians pontificate on the “great history” of our nation. There’s additional perspectives from Native and Black historians; there’s a more clear-eyed narrative of Washington’s military prowess (or lack thereof) and the split sentiments amongst the colonists regarding the war, and of course a reminder that war is always brutal and filled with a violence most of us have been lucky enough to only experience through screens. Is it perfect? I doubt it. There will be omissions and oversights, and like any work of media there is still a prevailing narrative that Ken Burns wants to tell. However, it has provided me with a reminder that every “great nation” or “great man” is built on a foundation of myths, half truths, convenient omissions, and even outright lies. Each new perspective shared leads to a moment of unlearning - letting go of the inaccurate or misleading information I had been taught or absorbed in the past in order to view the world through more dimensions.

‍

Looking back at my past readings, many of my favorite books have been ones that challenged me to question things I thought I knew, or had complicated characters whose motivations couldn’t neatly be slotted into good or bad. Some of my recent reads that have stayed with me include Pachinko, The Adventures of Amina al-Sirafi, The House of Spirits, Homegoing, and Wolf Hall (also a PBS Show! IT’S SO GOOD). These books taught me not to be curious about histories I was not taught, but to be open to questioning popular narratives, to seek other opportunities for learning and unlearning. 

‍

As we enter an era increasingly driven by AI fake outs and algorithmic loops, I find myself drawn more to the stories that push me to continue learning (or unlearning). I want to be someone who can look beyond my limited world experience and to interrogate the things that I have accepted as truth, things that maybe are true but which I didn’t bother to learn much about in greater detail. This doesn’t mean I will stop watching shows like Bridgerton or Emily in Paris, some things can just be entertainment. I will however be finishing The American Revolution, if only to listen to Peter Coyote lull me to sleep once again.  

‍

Kerry is a new writer who loves to watch tv and then read about the tv she just watched. She is excited to expand her creative endeavors by partnering with Gal Pal. She is based in Queens, NY, the world’s borough, and lives with her husband and their two jerk cat sons.

‍