So, didn’t watch the Oscars last night and while flipping through my cable-less television channels trying to find something else to watch, I started thinking about Sunday nights in the Riley household when I was growing up. First after a day of actually playing outside or reading, we’d sit down to a huge dinner, one which my mother and sometimes a couple of my sisters (never me) spent almost the entire day making — after gospel music and religion, of course. After dinner and some gastronomically sinful dessert, my sisters, brother and I were encouraged to get our clothes ready for the week, not just the next day, but the entire week. Some of us were quite accomplished in doing this — again, never me.
After all that, we’d gather to watch 60 Minutes, a news show my mother tried never to miss. We’d all sit and watch it with her initially, I think, just because she was there. For many of us, she was like a magnet and if she left one room for another, one after the other, we’d follow her until we were all “up under” her eventually. I’m sure that must have been annoying for her — never having more than twenty minutes to herself. However, eventually, I actually did find the show quite interesting, and probably would have watched it without my mom back then. I certainly did when I went off to college and as an adult on my own.
We also watched Murder, She Wrote on Sunday nights. And as much as that comma bothered me, I never missed an episode. My mother loved the show and while we watched, it was one of the few time during the week where there was absolute quiet in a house with eight children. I remember sitting next to Mom and leaning on her with bated breath as Jessica solved the mystery. They were ridiculously simple, of course, but we loved them. I still watch the show on Netflix streaming, particularly when I feel the need to veg and just want to relax. The show is very comforting and brings back fond, hazy memories of my mom. She was so cool.
What are some of your Sunday memories from childhood?
