Last night I watched the reboot of the Roseanne-reboot, “The Conners.” It was a 30-minute after-school special about the dangers of opioid abuse. In this case, the abuse resulted in the death of Roseanne Conner. Despite it’s lack of goodness, I bawled my fucking head off.
Typing about it is making my eyes all shimmery again.
I love the original “Roseanne” to a ridiculous degree. So many of the storylines parallel my own growing-up and the relationship between Jackie and Roseanne is not unlike the relationship I have with Sister #2. She’s Roseanne, and I’m Aunt Jackie, in case that wasn’t clear.
Watching the amazing Laurie Metcalf as Aunt Jackie mourn her sister hit me right where it counts. I’m crying my face off all over again. I hope I never have to mourn my sister. I’m older I should get to go first.
Roseanne Barr showing that she’s a banana-pants racist has been a crushing disappointment and it has taken some mental gymnastics to separate who she is now as a human from the character she played. Even still, my love for the original sitcom will always have an asterisk next to it in my brain and in my heart.