Elmo Among Other Monsters

When it comes to Sesame Street, my daughter is following in my footsteps. I love Sesame Street, still do. It was the only show that I was both consistently allowed to watch and enjoyed watching. The show's educational, yes, but not only did it "make learning fun," but it captured the joy of learning things, a joy so many of those drab hygiene and physical science videos we watched in school never had. Add in smart pop culture references and characters kids and adults can care about, and you've got yourself a fine piece of television. So in this new age of the Information Super Highway, one of my first acts as father was to plop my kicking baby in my lap and watch YouTube videos of classic Sesame Street. She loved it so much I can't open up the lap top to do something important (like write a blog or goof off on Facebook) without having my daughter run up, grab my leg and in her best "melt papa's heart voice" say: "Letter B?"

There has been, however, a cultural shift since my childhood of sitting on our plaid-green couch to watch a show brought to you by the letter "K." You see, one of the biggest appeals of Sesame Street was that it was always a little rough around the edges. The street itself appeared a bit dirty, the characters lovable but gritty, the pictures and film had sort of a Public Television residue that smelled of cheapness and passion and authenticity. But this has changed. Sesame Street looks gentrified. Take a look at the website. You won't find smoother edges in Buckingham Palace. It's as clean the surgery ward. There's been a change, and I can sum it up in one word: Elmo. 

No question Elmo is the Street's most popular character. No question. If you visited the website, then you were greeted by his sweet furry face. That same face makes the little icon on the URL. He's everywhere, including my daughter's crib and coloring books. He's ingeniously designed for maximum cuteness and cuddliness. The cute one with a cute voice, and his cuteness has spread all over Sesame Street like a funny picture on Facebook. When I was home for Christmas, my mother wanted me to go to the local art house theater to see a documentary about Elmo's mover, shaker and speaker, Kevin Clash. His story is a powerful, feel-good, American-dream story of the best kind. No doubt he's a genius at his chosen career, and if there's a puppeteering pantheon, then he will sit with Jim Henson and Frank Oz to judge us all. But I couldn't see the film. There were some scheduling difficulties that explained this. But the truth is, I hold a grudge against Elmo. I miss the old furry monsters, like the ones in this old "C is for Cookie" video. 

It's not that the old monsters have been fired. Cookie, for one, still plays a prominent role (though the good folks at Sesame Street are reigning in his gluttony to help confront America's childhood obesity problem). And if you look through the website's list of muppets, you'll find characters like Herry, Frazzle and the Two-Headed Monster, all monsters of the old school. The old-school monsters weren't like cuddly kittens. They were more like your crazy uncle's biker friends. You know who I'm talking about. They were rough. They drove American-made motorcycles, drank beer from the bottle and had powerful, meaty arms. In fact, they may have both showed you your first tattoo and given you your first sip of beer. Your love for them was mixed with fear. They weren't ones for snuggles, but if you ever had a problem with a bully, needed repair work on the tree house or were threatened by a rabid dog, you knew you could count on them, just like you could count on old-school monsters. Now, not only are they crowded out by Elmo and his relentless sugartooth, but they're in a sad state. Look at their pictures on the website. They look like they've been thoroughly scrubbed and shampooed by a child-marketing expert. 

I don't mind Elmo's existence. Cuddles are necessary, and I wonder how many of today's conflicts could be solved (or at least eased) by a good snuggle. But life has rough edges, and Sesame Street's greatest strength was that it could acknowledge this and still take joy in singing, laughing and learning. 

Of course, the Elmo promotion is on to something. My daughter loves Elmo, the same way she loves puddles and pretty dresses. With no prompting (certainly by me), she was drawn to them. Among her army of stuffed animals, she has two Sesame Street dolls: Ernie and Elmo. Ernie was my favorite growing up. My daughter likes Ernie, and Ernie is my daughter's main sleeping partner, because by chance we threw him in the crib when it was dark outside and she needed a friend. But as much as she may try to hide it, Elmo is her favorite. She just sees him first. Elmo's like that gregarious kid in your third grade class that always made your teacher smile in a way she never could for you in spite of your obvious superiority in both behavior and grammar. Whenever we watch that old "Letter B" video, her next request is "Elmo." Doesn't matter which Elmo video, and there are lots to choose from. And, given time and mood, I indulge her. But I use my fatherly authority to throw in some old-school monster videos too. After all, there's more to fatherhood than snuggling.