On Friday, the final episode of the soap opera ALL MY CHILDREN will air. I have to admit two things.
1. I haven’t seen it in years.
2. I’m really going to miss it.
It’s hard to explain how that’s possible, but there was something magical about soap operas. And I don’t mean the stories. Yeah, they could be compelling. Certainly, they were outrageous–evil twins and husbands back from the dead and colorful pimps and every tawdry affair you can imagine and some you can’t. And there were also important story lines–gay characters and rape storylines and eating disorders and a character who died of AIDS –all of it back before it was “okay” to tackle those subjects on TV.