It’s 1985.
I’ve spent of the beginning of the decade goofing off: Living in an old house with my best friends; working jobs that offer just enough money to pay the rent, purchase food, play hockey, and go out at night. The past three years have been a stretch of silliness that has gone on a bit too long. I’ve paid little attention to the future, and I’ve done nothing to prepare myself for what’s coming next.
Except maybe I did. Just a little.
At some point during my goofing-off years, I make a movie. A dopey, hour-long, Super-8 spy flick that—after the filming is done—has me holed-up in my room for actual months editing: a laborious process of actual cutting and actual pasting of tiny segments of eight millimeter film, one after the other, until the order is just right. I discover that this is a task that brings me joy.
At another point during my goofing-off years I go back to school, part-time. Writing. Filmmaking. Video Production.
I sit in the editing lab at school. I’ve been here all day, and I’ve remained long after all the other students have gone—desperate to finish the last thirty seconds of my end-of-semester video project. I grab another three-quarter-inch videocassette from my stack of raw footage and shove into a videotape player the size of a steamer trunk, oblivious to the notion that in thirty-five years this day-long editing session will be a ten-minute process that can be accomplished on a cell phone. Whatever that is.
Maybe it’s just as well I don’t know what’s coming. Maybe I’m learning something important here—all alone, editing the hard way, creating my goofy little videos and my goofy little world.
The video class is weird. I’m in my mid-twenties—the old guy in room. But it’s all reversed. My younger classmates have created dreary videos about death and the meaninglessness of life, whereas I have stripped my production of any sense of self-importance and insight. Apparently, my message is that I have no message. Creatively, it appears I can only reflect exactly where I’ve been for the past three years. I call it Tinytown TV.
It’s 2019. My friend Tommy (one of those best friends with whom I shared that old house in the early 80s) sends an email to me and the rest of the best friends that lived in that old house. The email has a link to a video of a group of guys launching model rockets. Tommy’s message, slathered in sarcasm, reads: “Can’t believe there are people this goofy.”
My mind returns to 1985, and Tinytown TV.
There’s not much more to say. It is time to allow a few selected Tinytown TV video clips (transferred from the horror of Standard Definition video and the glory of Super-8 film) to take it from here.
I’d like to say that Tinytown TV is a masterpiece. That every moment lands perfectly. That it is expertly conceived and brilliantly executed. It’s not. It’s a hit-or-miss affair, half of it sort-of good, the other half cringe-inducing at the highest level.
Kind of like me in 1985.
Live from cape tinytown
Tammy & Tessa of Tinytown
Hockey night in Italy
Hellertown Vice
There actually was a “that’s a Burger”
Just Fellas
Coming SOON: Punk Party
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Outstanding!!!!!!!!
In watching these videos I heard the most prophetic statement by a bystander at the rocket launch – RUN! Can your past actions be a predictor of future events? Most assuredly. Were there other groups of friends and teammates that crammed so much living into such a short moment in time? I don’t know. I do know this question has been asked by many but who in our circle of acquaintances, outside of our group, can point to a stronger example? We are the example. This can be said without any qualification.
There is too much, way too much here to unpack, to review, to remember (without beer) and to contemplate. We had great times we had doing lots of fun stuff that is now, thankfully, a little hazy but not lost.
We need to capture this time, however fleeting or ephemeral, as a record of what can be found in life that makes life worth the joy, the struggles and sometime the pain of existence. I am not suggesting we become historians, philosophers or chroniclers of the human condition. OK, maybe I am, but the time we shared and continue to share is worth saving as a record of what the social bonds of friendship can create.
I put this out to all: should we gather the artifacts of these times, in their many forms, to compile in a sense, for what was for many of us was the the most intense time so far in our lives and create a “yearbook” of this blip in human history? For this we need to cast the net widely to capture all points of view and extract the essence of this time. Is there a context, a form, a summary that can provide meaning from the now scattered parts? Or should we just get together, show slides and drink beer?
I’m ready to knock some dust off some old boxes. Can we discover some deeper truths and meaning, not to get trite. Or will it just be a well focused walk down memory lane with better editing? Can’t tell, but I’d like to know.
Who’s in?
*** Please note: David these are the type comments you get when you have the day off and are at the computer trying to be more thoughtful than usual. Just saying.
Tinytown TV brings me back to a time where your creativity just kept unfolding. You harnessed the wit and wisdom of your friends and family. To view the videos, I am struck with joy and awe of that time. Although you can try to remember what was happening and how you were feeling, your post has made me look back (with love) and recapture some moments of our early days. It is that spirit of joy and humor that makes the world (of Tinytown and beyond) so fabulous.
Mom and I just watched all the video! Hilarious. Of course I though Laura and I were the best hahaha
Hey… where is “Just Fellas”?