What I Learned From 40 Years of Watching The Golden Girls

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As I gaze back at September 14, 1985, in the heart of Michigan, I find myself recalling a special moment with my grandmother, huddled around our television on a Saturday night. Our household was filled with an innate fondness for TV, which served as a window into American culture. That evening, a new show titled “The Golden Girls” graced our screens on NBC. The melodious opening theme – “thank you for being a friend” – struck a chord within me, instantly captivating my interest.

These women, aged in their 50s and one at a ripe old age of 80 (Dorothy, Blanche, Rose, and Sophia), resonated deeply with me despite our generational and cultural differences. Perhaps it was the warmth of the bond between them and my grandmother, or the ability to find myself in characters who seemed so dissimilar to me. I admired everything about these ladies – their camaraderie, laughter, and shared meals that echoed life’s trials and tribulations.

Little did I know then that I was witnessing the pilot episode of a groundbreaking, timeless TV series destined to become a cultural icon. Over the following years, through reruns, DVDs, and streaming platforms, “The Golden Girls” remained a beloved staple in my life, accompanying me through various stages and seasons.

Audience, looking back, I was that young woman you saw. I spent my life observing those ladies, never letting go of my interest, and now, at the age of fifty, I find myself standing quite close to being one of them.

If you’re familiar with “The Golden Girls,” you might understand why it has endured for four decades, surviving even the passing of its actors. This classic sitcom revolves around the deep bond of friendship and explores the unique experiences of women in their later years. It offers sharp wit, impeccable comedic delivery, and a delightful ensemble chemistry. Set in 1980s Miami, it showcases an aesthetically pleasing backdrop while tackling diverse topics such as menopause, elder care, homophobia, estrangement, discrimination, and many more. However, the series consistently emphasizes joy, encompassing themes like sex, dating, food, and the struggle against invisibility. Essentially, “The Golden Girls” is about forming family from friendships and friendships from family. It’s also a testament to the power and importance of storytelling.

In simpler, more conversational terms: Sophia frequently starts her stories with “Picture it,” taking us back to Sicily in her youth. Rose transports us to her small-town Minnesota with “Back in St. Olaf.” Blanche paints a vivid picture of the steamy South where she was raised. Dorothy shares tales of growing up in Brooklyn and dealing with her ex-husband Stan. All these stories, as they should, develop, showcase, embellish, and reflect upon life. They serve as a means for the characters to understand each other and gain perspective on their own lives. In hindsight, watching and rewatching The Golden Girls taught me, an aspiring writer, the importance of sharing our personal experiences and stories.

As a child growing up before the era of the Internet, I utilized television much like I did books – as an escape from my own life and a means of understanding others better. People typically structured their lives around TV programs instead of the other way around. On numerous Saturday nights, I would join my grandmother in front of our small television that received network stations via an antenna, having immigrated to the U.S. when I was just 8 months old and later settling into post-refugee life in the American Midwest at age 10. My only interactions with Vietnamese were with my grandmother, but I initially didn’t see much resemblance between her and the characters on The Golden Girls, aside from their age. It wasn’t until much later that I realized my grandmother shared similarities with Sophia, Blanche, and Rose – all widows who had started over in new cities and homes, just like the show was about four women learning to move forward after a fresh start.

In the first season’s final episode, named “The Way We Met,” Dorothy, Blanche, and Rose find themselves awake during the night, and as a result, they indulge in cheesecake while sharing stories about how they became friends and roommates. Each woman’s attire reflects her personality: Dorothy dons a practical and comfortable robe, Blanche opts for a silky and seductive one, and Rose wears a soft and warm one. The majority of the episode unfolds through flashback scenes, most of which take place in the kitchen, although it begins and ends there. This is where their unique storytelling skills shine brightest. Every time I revisit this group-these characters, this atmosphere, these familiar dialogues-I feel a sense of belonging.

In my personal opinion, there’s nothing quite as soothing as immersing myself in the world of “The Golden Girls.” It feels as if I’m not just watching a show, but stepping into their lives and joining them on their porch (lanai). I resonate deeply with their struggles – family concerns, romantic complications, and personal heartaches. Over time, I’ve grown alongside them, sharing in their journey. What was once a comedy that flew over my head as a child has since become a source of laughter. For instance, Blanche’s line about French lace panties cracking me up with its double entendre – “I was wearing little black French lace panties bearing the words bonjour!” Pause. “Or was it bon appetit?”

As I grow older, the show’s themes of aging resonate more strongly, like when Dorothy remarks that 40 now seems young to her. It serves as a reminder of the journey we all embark on and the wisdom we gather along the way.

When “The Golden Girls” concluded in May 1992, marking Dorothy’s wedding and move away, I was on the brink of high school graduation and college. The emotional finale saw the friends wrestle with saying goodbye. As Rose poignantly remarked, “Seven years of arguments and laughter, secrets, cheesecake – what can you say?” The final scene left a lasting impression of tears. To this day, it still brings tears to my eyes. Even now, I find it disheartening that everything must eventually come to an end. Despite the passage of time, “The Girls” appear timeless, as if they transcend the realm of shows and movies that stand the test of time. They remain perpetually youthful and vivacious, constantly finding themselves in familiar predicaments, recounting outrageous tales from their past.

For over 15 years, my grandmother has been no longer with us. I’m unsure if she ever tuned in to The Golden Girls reruns after I moved out. Occasionally, I ponder whether the nostalgia I feel when rewatching it is actually a search for her. I often reminisce about those Saturday evenings spent with her, bathed in the gentle glow of her room’s lamp. She would knit while I did my homework, or we worked on puzzles together as we watched TV. The world seemed so tender back then, if only for a brief 30 minutes.

If fortune favors us, we might all find ourselves in a circle similar to that of The Golden Girls. Imagine waking up in the dead of night and casually slipping into our favorite comfort attire – be it satin, cotton, terry, or chenille – before joining loved ones in the kitchen for a delightful surprise of cake and ice cream, sharing tales and exchanging confidences. In The Golden Girls, there’s always an empty seat at the table that seems to be meant for us, the viewers. It’s a shared experience where we all gather, laugh together, reminisce about our past selves and future journeys – a perfect way to navigate through those dark nights.

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2025-09-13 14:06