This year, I’m grateful for a lovely family and a thriving business. For a dynamic life in Manhattan and for living around the corner from the Village Vanguard. I never dreamed I’d be so lucky. I’m glad of my nourishing friendships and plenty of good luck in life. Hallelujah. But as a Thanksgiving gift…I’m giving you a television recommendation. I know. It’s very American of me.
Gone Fishing is a BBC series now available for free across America on the Tubi app. You can watch it here. It stars British comedians Bob Mortimer and Paul Whitehouse. Both men reached the heights of fame in England during the 1990s. They won a combined eight British Academy of Film and Television Arts awards (BAFTAs). So, they made it years ago and have nothing to prove. And that’s what’s so interesting about the show. Because it’s about fishing, a subject in which I could not be less interested. But it’s also a show about mid-life crises. It’s a show about life and death, as well as being hilarious. In other words, what’s amazing about the show is its range. For a writer it’s very nourishing and inspiring to watch. I’ve said a few times that it reminds me of watching a play by Samuel Beckett. Only I’m thankful it’s less hard work.
One minute the two men are mocking each other’s mothers and swearing. Talking about putting the c-word on their gravestones. The next, they’re musing on what it might be like to die. It’s also subtle. They don’t rely on computer graphics but the beauty of the English landscape to convey a sense of drama. My favorite two moments in the show so far, and I’ve only watched four episodes from the first season, are these. First, when Paul Whitehouse described thinking he was having a heart attack. “I made peace with it,” he said. “I thought of my kids. And then I thought about my life and realized, ‘oh well, it’s not been too bad’.” I loved his English sense of modest understatement. Second, when Bob Mortimer described meeting Sinead O’Connor. She was so beautiful she took the breath out of his body, he said. And all he could think of to ask her was, ‘do you have a local shop near you?’. “I wanted to shoot myself afterwards for about four days,” he said. Third, come to think of it, he also described the time Chaka Khan was sick all over his shoes in a total deadpan. Related from the banks of a peaceful river, these stories take on a sense of the deep absurd. At the time they were doubtless monumental for each man. But as they’ve grown older and seen plenty more of life, they are more philosophical. And they’re able to laugh from their bellies about such things. Now, they’re far more interested in the thrill they’re able to glean from the strike of a fish. “It’s like a little sliver of pure life,” says Paul, when he picks out a minnow. And you can sense his genuine awe at the mystery of it all. “They say time flies,” he says. “And yet at the same time, sometimes, it drags.”
Doesn’t it? I mean, isn’t there some richness of truth in that statement?
One of the great joys of having been super successful in life is you can pitch a show like this and get it green-lit. At least, I’d imagine so. But there’s also something inspiring about the show’s portrayal of age. By that I mean that something I’m beginning to realize about getting older is that ability to do this thing. I call it “moving up through the gears.” You begin a conversation by talking about something mundane. Then you throw in an observation based on your experience. Then somebody replies with an observation of their own. And before you know it, you’re at the limits of your range and understanding. You might be laughing hard, or you might be in awe. It might be depressing, or it might be liberating. But you find yourself thinking, “woah. I don’t remember going this far in conversation in the 1990s.”
I’m 20 years younger than Paul Whitehouse and Bob Mortimer. But the thing I’m most grateful for about having lived beyond my 40th birthday is what comes next. Even if it’s fewer years ahead than it was behind me, I wish somebody had warned me how much sweeter life gets, later. If that’s a feeling you can get from watching a television show then I’ll take it, and I assume you will, too.
Meantime, happy Thanksgiving. I’m grateful for you!
