I grew up around the Tennessee area in the mid nineties. To call my area rural would have been a bit of an understatement. Dad was probably about the only fella in a twenty mile radius that didn’t own a farm, and that’s because he was the town Vet. He ran the local animal hospital, being the only certified animal doctor in the county, and that meant he was away at all hours of the day and night. My mom died when I was very young, and Dad seemed to have taken it pretty hard. I can’t remember seeing a picture of her until I was nearly grown and Dad always said it was too hard to talk about her when I tried to ask him.
I remember spending a lot of time with my Grandma growing up, which is how I found the tv show in the first.
Grandma lived by herself on the property we lived on. I think, technically, the land was hers, but she let my dad have some of it to put a house on when he and mom got married. If dad had to leave suddenly or just go to work like regular, I would go stay with Grandma, and she didn’t seem to mind the company. There was always something to do at her house, and we would often spend the morning picking berries or weeding the garden or tending to the chickens that she kept for eggs and meat. Sometimes we would just walk around and Grandma would show me certain plants and berries that were okay to eat or good for helping with ailments.
After lunch, however, was when Grandma liked to watch her Soaps, and that was a time when Grandma was not to be interrupted.
I tried to watch them with her a few times, but they were pretty dull for a kid my age. I caught some of Grandma’s side eyed glances as I fidgeted and wiggled on the couch beside her, and while I was trying to be quiet, I could tell she was a little bit annoyed. It was hard for me to get into what they were talking about, and sometimes I just laid down and took a nap while she watched.
One day, I saw there was a little white tv sitting in the den and asked her what it was for?
“That is so you have something to watch while I’m watching my soaps. It was your dad when he was younger. It only gets about ten channels and you’ll have to use the rabbit ears if you want to get all ten, but it’ll give you something to do instead of being bored.”
On that, she had been right.
The Tv was a little black and white set and if I adjusted the metal “rabbit ears” on the top I could get all kinds of things. Most of it was boring too, news or farm reports or other soap operas but if I adjusted the robs, I could get PBS on there too. I’ve spent many lunch times watching Mr Rogers Neighborhood and Sesame Street, and the little tv was a nice treat after a morning of helping grandma with her chores. Sometimes I would watch it in the afternoons too if Grandma was doing something that was too hard for me or was on the phone with a friend of hers.
One afternoon, about a month before school started, I was trying to get the rabbit ears to play channel nine, which showed cartoons in the afternoon. Grandma was on the phone with one of her friends, gossiping likely, and I had been told to go play while she talked in the other room. I could have used the TV in the living room, but I had really come to like the little black and white set in the den. It was fun to turn the wires and get the signal just right, and I had gotten pretty good at it. I was trying to get it right on that day, hoping I hadn’t missed too much of Thunder Cats, when something came through that I had never seen before.
It was a show with puppets, and it was definitely different from what I usually found on channel 8.
The puppets were singing a song about the sun and how it’s brightness was so good, and I decided to watch for a few minutes before trying to find my usual cartoons.
I’d grown up in the south and knew a religious puppet show when I saw one. I had grown up in the era of The Gospel Bill show and Colby’s ClubHouse. Public access usually could be counted on to have a few others that were even less fancy, and this one appeared to be in that vein. All the puppets looked like someone had bought them second hand and dressed them in homemade clothes. They were interspersed with real kids and adults and the host was a man in overalls with a wide brimmed hat and a piece of straw in the corner of his mouth. He seemed to be running a country store and as he wiped the counter, puppets and people came in looking for things.
As the song about the sun ended, the camera opened back on the man wiping the counter and humming the tune the kids had been singing.
He looked up, surprised, and seemingly greeted me as if I had walked in.
“Well hello, and welcome to Bright Farm. I’m Thomas, welcome to my store. You look like you might be looking for something specific. I knew a man who was looking for something particular once. He found it in the Wonder Barn, where many miracles happen. His name was Joe and here’s his story of finding the light.”
I watched as a sad puppet cried over a gravestone. His son had died and the puppet man fell into despair as he grieved for his lost boy. Over time, he found his way to the farm and found that his son had been here. In the end, the puppet had embraced the floating ball of light that seemed to hover over the farm and his frown had become a smile.
The longer I watched, the less this seemed like your typical kids puppet show. Unusually the subject of Jesus or God would have come up at least once, but the ball of bright light seemed to be what they were all talking about. As the story ended, Joe’s wife came to join them as her sad frown was also replaced by a smile. That’s when all the puppets began to sing about embracing the light and surrendering to the Bright. They all threw their hands up as they sang, the bright light showering them with its constant aura, and in that light, their smiles looked weird. The thread they’d used to sew them on was red and it made their faces look pained, like they might be bleeding. Their eyes still appeared sad and the duality gave them a manic look that I couldn’t shake.
It wasn’t until later that I had to wonder how I had seen the thread at all?
The tv set was black and white, and the thread, the sun, everything should have been monotone.
As the story ended, Thomas came back and said how wonderful it was to embrace the Bright.
“You could embrace the Bright too, you know. It’s easy. You just have to accept the Bright into your home, your community, your world, and it will come to you. Let the Bright shine through you so that it might discover your friends and neighbors. Let the Bright bring joyful warmth to your community, and discover what it’s like to live in its warmth.”
The way he stared at me through the tv set was starting to make me feel uncomfortable, and when I reached out to turn the knob, I could swear his eyes followed my hand.
The nob clicked over to eight, and I found the end credits for Thunder Cats playing.
I wasn’t sure how I had come to be between channels, but I had somehow.
I wasn’t sure how I felt about the show, a show I just called The Bright Show in my mind, but it wasn’t the last time I saw it.
I found it again about a week before school started, but it was only a quick burst of static as the puppets reappeared and sang about Worshiping the Bright. They were raising their felt hands to the sky as a painted background of a placid field sat behind them. Their eyes looked crazy and their smiles seemed to stretch across their faces like the Joker from Batman. The words repeated again and again, the tempo increasing, and the whole thing just seemed surreal after a while.
Worship, Worship, Worship the Bright.
Worship, Worship, bask in the light.
Worship, Worship, Worship the Bright.
Worship, Worship, follow the rite.
Worship, Worship, Worship the Bright.
Worship, Worship, Worship the Bright.
Worship, Worship, Worship the Bright.
Worship, Worship, Worship the Bright.
I finally turned the channel after some indeterminable time and the ensuing static made me feel less crazy.
After that I didn’t see it again for a while. I had started Kindergarten in the fall, and my days were a little more organized after that. Grandma had kept me on a routine, but it was always one that matched what she was doing. Suddenly, there was school work, and recess, and new friends, and a big playground, and I came home everyday with a backpack of artwork and a body that was ready to drop. I napped some afternoons, but if I wasn’t napping, I was probably watching tv in Grandma’s living room. She didn’t usually use the tv in the afternoon, not until Wheel of Fortune came on, and I was free to watch whatever I wanted. My arms were too tired to fiddle with the rabbit ears, so I lay on the couch and watched my cartoons in color for a change.
Then one afternoon, I came home to find grandma watching something on the news. An oil tanker had gotten into an accident near our town and set some of the woods on fire. Grandma wanted to make sure that none of our friends or family were in danger, and she told me to go watch the little tv instead. She was on the phone with one of her gossip friends as she said it, and the two were chatting animatedly as I slunk off to the den.
I was trying to find the cartoons again, adjusting the wires so I could get the right channel, but when the singing began to crackle over the speakers, I knew I had found the strange puppet show again. This time as the static cleared and the picture came into focus, I saw the title card for Bright Farm appear from between some clouds before becoming the inside of the shop again. This time, however, there was a woman in a long dress wiping the counter instead of Thomas. She looked up as the camera panned in, and her face seemed to possess recognition as if she knew the person approaching.
“It’s you! So good to see you again. I’m Ms. Mary, and this is the General Store. Thomas is out handling some things, so I’m in charge for a little bit. Sometimes we aren’t sure we can handle things on our own, but with the Bright, all things are possible. Let’s take a look at Mica, who isn’t so sure she can handle her workload until discovering her true calling with the Bright.”
The story was about a woman with a struggling business, but I was finding it hard to concentrate on the story. The woman presenting the tale was familiar somehow, though I didn’t think I had ever seen her. Her hair was pulled back into a bun of dark chestnut locks and her smile reminded me of the puppets I sometimes saw after their smiles had been attached. The skin around the corners of her mouth was red and angry looking, but her smile was huge and inviting. The puppets and the stories suddenly meant very little, and I found myself waiting for the time I could hear Ms. Mary talk to me.
I started tuning in more often after that, and I found Mary behind the counter of the General Store more often than not. Whatever business Thomas was on, it seemed to keep him away from the shop more and more. Ms. Mary introduced stories about people who discovered their lives had little meaning, their problems had little meaning, and their pursuits had little meaning when they brought them before the Bright. People who had lost children, treasures, opportunities, and everything in between found them inside the depths of the Wonder Barn. Ms. Mary talked about giving yourself over to the Bright and letting it change you for the better, and I was entranced by the lovely voice of the new host.
It was all so wonderful, until one day it all changed.
One day, Ms. Mary told a story that was very personal to her journey to the Bright.
A story that someone heard who shouldn’t have.