Thursday, the High Holy Day

I love Thursdays.

Weekends get a lot of love. Mondays get some unfair hatred.  Any good comedy writer will tell you that the funniest day of the week is Tuesday.  But Thursdays? Man. Freaking love this day.  

Sometimes we can’t understand why we love the things we do.  But I can easily trace my passion for this day, and it leads to two sources: NBC and CPS.  

The former of those two sets of letters stand for the powerhouse network that aired the greatest two hour comedy lineup in the history of TV – “The Cosby Show,” “Family Ties,” “Cheers,” and “Night Court.”  There isn’t one minute of any of these shows that I didn’t enjoy.  There first half of the night had people that looked like me and my family .  The second half of the night was just silly folks telling jokes that flew over my head 50% of the time, but I laughed along with the studio audience anyway. Besides, my mom let me watch the little black/white TV in my bedroom until “L.A. Law” came on.  I was gonna love anything that I could watch in my bed.  I felt like a rich kid or something.    

The latter of those acronyms stood for Columbus Public Schools, which delivered not only a stellar education, but also a hot lunch menu you could set a calendar to. Because without fail, every Thursday was pizza day.  No matter what the day may bring, the K-8 set could depend on a perfect rectangle of bread, sauce, cheese, and exactly five slices of pepperoni.  

There were other cool things that happened on Thursdays throughout elementary school: field trips, library time, movie days, gym (remember the parachutes!?). But no matter the adventure, the fact that it was on Thursday made it even better.

They say that kids need routine. They’re right.  But so do us big people. So when I thought about what day would be best to send my blog, the answer came quick.  

The world isn’t full of a lot of routine right now.  Each week seems to bring new tragedies that show us how ugly we can be to one another – whether it’s through direct brutal assault, or the even more sinister crimes of apathy and marginalization that realize the gilded dreams of the one percent. So in the routines of our lives, we find comfort, and hope for a tomorrow that won’t be like today.  

Unless that tomorrow has pizza.  And Rudy Huxtable.