They lived on the corner of Third and Delaware streets.  Many would consider them brash, perhaps even downright rude. Certainly, some are put off by them–the family of five that seemed to check their filters at the door and allowed their words to exit directly from their mouths without first passing through the checkpoint of their brain.  A traditional view might assume that “Dan” was the head of their household, but anyone with even a minimal knowledge of this perfectly average family knew that Roseanne was the Queen of that Castle.

If you are a child of the 80s/90s, certainly you know who I’m talking about.  Right?  Any guesses?


Did you get it?  I’m talking about the Conner Family consisting of Dan, Becky, Darlene, D.J., and of course, the Domestic Goddess herself, Roseanne.

I didn’t watch the show much when it was originally aired.  I was in elementary/high school and was more interested in things such as logging miles, NKOTB, 90210, putting hairspray in my hair, and boys. Over the years, though, I have grown quite an affinity for the 80s/90s series.  In fact, I am certain that I can recite every single episode, word for word, along with the cast when it is aired over and over again on TVLand reruns. In fact, a look at my DVR lineup will certainly give away my dirty little secret. . . I love the Connors.

While the rest of the world was watching The Office and Game of Thrones, I was re-watching Roseanne. . . again.

Upon reflection, I can remember when my little obsession began.  In fact, I believe I can pinpoint it to almost the exact day and time.  It was November 28th of 1996–likely around 5 p.m. It was my first real visit home from college during my Freshman year and it was Thanksgiving day.  Somewhere during the late afternoon, I had stolen away to take a nap and when I awoke a Roseanne marathon was running.  (The Connors were big fans of Thanksgiving.)

I still remember lying in the darkened basement and awakening to the smells of a perfectly cooked Thanksgiving dinner.  I remember laying there, while the Connors bantered in the background, and breathing in the smells of turkey and stuffing.  I remember listening to the clanging of dishes being placed on tables, music blaring from my Dad’s stereo system, and the voices of my own family bantering above that of the Connors on the TV.  I laid in the dark for some time listening to the sounds of my own family compete with that of Roseanne’s clan and I remember feeling so. . . at home.

Safe.  Comfortable.  Peaceful.  Home.

Maybe Roseanne was only an average show.  Maybe it was just a single series that had it’s time and passed, only to be forgotten.  I will never be convinced of that, though.  For me, a silly sitcom about little more than average life will always feel like “Home”.

(Certainly, Freud would love to spend an afternoon with me.)


We are headed “Home” this weekend to spend Thanksgiving with my Dad.  Home looks different than it did in 1996.  We have more than doubled our numbers.  I see the years on the crackling edges of the walls and my eyes.  College textbooks on tables have been replaced with Legos and coloring books.  My mom isn’t there anymore.  So many changes through the years.  But some things remain the same. Home still feels as it always did. . .

Safe.  Comfortable.  Peaceful.

Home still feels like home.  A place I want to be.

It makes me think about the things our kids will associate with home. What are the sights and smells that will remind them of the place they first called home?  What feelings will be attached to those sights and smells?

I hope they remember the joy in the simple things.




I hope they carry with them the bond that only siblings share. . .










I hope that they always feel that within the walls of our home they will find a safe place to fall. . .





That laughter is the best medicine. . .








I hope they are seeing that memories are made, not purchased. . .





Unless, of course, it’s a giant caterpillar. . .

This would be an exception to that rule. . .


I guess what I realize as I think about Roseanne and the evening in the darkness so many years ago is that we are not only raising our kids today. . .






We are shaping their memories for tomorrow. . .


I hope that home will always feel like Home to them.******************************************

Wishing you all a very Happy Thanksgiving filled with beautiful feelings of Home and perhaps an episode of Roseanne.

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