Cudowne lata

Kilkanaście lat temu przywiązałam się do Kevina Arnolda, Winnie Cooper i Paula Pfeiffera. To bohaterowie serialu "Cudowne lata" ("Wonder Years",

1988-1993) nadawanego w polskiej telewizji publicznej w połowie lat 90.

W tej produkcji najświetniejsze były trzy rzeczy. Po pierwsze czołówka i piosenka, którą w niej umieszczono. Beatlesowskie "With a little help from my friends" w woodstockowym wykonaniu Joe Cockera. W utworze można znaleźć słowa:

What do I do when my love is away.
(Does it worry you to be alone?)
No-no.
How do I feel at the end of the day?
(Are you sad cause you're on your own?)
I can't, don't even say it no mo
(By with a little help from my friends.)
Get high with a little help from my friends.
Gonna to try with a little help from my friends.

Akcja "Cudownych lat" rozgrywa się w latach 60. XX wieku na jednym z amerykańskich przedmieść zamieszkiwanym przez białą klasę średnią. Wojna w Wietnamie, hippisi, Woodstock, narkotyki, miłość, pokój, rewolucja, kłamstwa polityków, afery. Tyle dzieje się w tle, ale najważniejsi pozostają Kevin, Winnie i Paul - dorastający kilkunastolatkowie. To drugi aspekt świadczący o świetności serialu: dobrze zbudowane i zagrane postacie. Co znalazło się na miejscu trzecim? Jedno z najlepszych serialowych zakończeń jakie do tej pory oglądałam.

Dorosły już - żonaty i dzieciaty - Kevin z offu opowiada o dalszych losach głównych bohaterów:

Once upon a time, there was a girl I knew who lived across the street. Brown hair, brown eyes. When she smiled, I smiled. When she cried, I cried. Every single thing that ever happened to me that mattered, in some way, had to do with her. That day, Winnie and I promised each other that, no matter what, that we'd always be together. It was a promise full of passion, and truth, and wisdom. It was the kind of promise that could only come from the hearts of the very young.

The next day Winnie and I came home, back to where we'd started. It was the fourth of July in that little suburban town. Somehow, though, things were different. Our past was here, but our future was somewhere else. And we both knew, sooner or later, we had to go. It was the last July I ever spent in that town. The next year after graduation, I was on my way. So was Paul. He went to Harvard, of course, studied law. He's still allergic to everything. As for my father, well... we patched things up. Hey, we were family, for better or worse. One for all... and all for one.

Winnie left the next summer to study art history in Paris. Still we never forgot our promise. We wrote to each other once a week for the next eight years. I was there to meet her when she came home... with my wife, and my first son, eight months old.

Like I said, things never turn out exactly the way you planned.

Growing up happens in a heartbeat. One day you're in diapers, the next day you're gone. But the memories of childhood stay with you for the long haul. I remember a place, a town, a house, like a lot of houses. A yard like a lot of other yards. On a street like a lot of other streets. And the thing is, after all these years, I still look back... with wonder.