Nostalgia and the Elephant Show

When news broke of Lois Lillenstein’s death I-- along with many others on the older end of the millennial spectrum--was heartbroken.  My productivity hit a wall, as I scoured the news and reminisced with friends and family members about what a loss this was for the generation—my generation—who loved her. The Elephant Show was a staple for Canadian kids in the 80s and 90s, and there was something so sweet and innocent about the program-- buoyed in large part by its highly likeable and quirky hosts. And, while Sharon and Bram still tour and record, for those of us now in our late 20s and 30s, it was always about the trio, a puzzle made up equally of three wonderful parts.

Lois’ passing represented not only the death of a beloved children’s entertainer, but also yet another trigger of the nostalgia I find myself feeling a lot these days. The Elephant Show is, to me, a snapshot of a simpler time, of being a kid, and thinking of it causes me to long a little bit for whimsical days past. I found myself looking back in the same way when Robin Williams died, and even just the other day when the Full House reunion was announced. With Robin Williams, I remembered watching Mrs. Doubtfire in my grandparents’ basement with my cousins when they came to visit, or putting Aladdin on every day when my brother Jacob was a baby. Full House was a show my mom (correctly) deemed ‘non-educational’ and so it was a once-a-week treat I so greatly looked forward to. In other words, every milestone that passes, every time a childhood hero dies, every reboot that’s announced, they all bring at least a little bit of that ‘I remember’ or ‘I miss.’

The nice thing about memories, though, is that they’re always there when you need them. Recently in a serious ‘feeling old’ moment, I learned that Alanis Morrissette’s Jagged Little Pill was hitting its 20th anniversary. Quite aside from the fact that the album itself is amazing, it also came in handy a few weeks later when I was feeling stressed, anxious and ultimately all too immersed in the big bad adult world. While I couldn't transport myself back to 1995 or relieve my life of every grownup pressure I felt that day, listening to Hand in My Pocket a few times, realizing I still knew all the words to Head Over Feet, brought me to a place when I could feel as if I was 9 again and the world was still simple. Essentially, I know I can never go backwards, but sometimes I can bring the past to me and make things a little more ok.

Perhaps even better than that is the fact that these cultural memories are shared. Though we all have unique stories to tell and our own associations with celebrities or events, ultimately every 90s kid went on a similar journey through pop culture, and when we get bad news or an old show is resurrected, we’re reminded that we’re not alone in our moments of mourning or reflection. And for me, as I approach my own age milestone, it’s shared moments like these that remind me that there are lots and lots of others out there feeling the exact same thing.

So yes, our whimsical Elephant Show days are behind us, and this week with Lois Lillenstein’s death, that rings a little more true. Still, nostalgia does more than make us feel old or remind us that we aren’t kids anymore-- it provides us with a wonderful memory lane we can walk down together, and most importantly, it gives us a smile. And so with that I say: Thank you, Lois Lillenstein, for the good times—you'll be greatly missed.