I remember when there was no VHS, no DVDs, no streaming. It was a very big deal when “The Wizard of Oz” came on TV. If you didn’t catch it, you had to wait another year. There was no way in heck you were going to miss out.

The same went for “Monty Python,” “Benny Hill,” and “Saturday Night Live.” Those shows, aired late at night, forced you to stay up because if a brilliant skit happened at the end and you’d already gone to bed, you were out of the loop at school while absolutely everyone discussed it. 

Point is, much as I enjoy the convenience of watching a holiday movie at a convenient time with my peeps, the devils of video, cable, satellite, and streaming have largely thrown a fire blanket over the magic of broadcast television. Which everyone had been enjoying simultaneously, at least with viewers within their time zone. There was something special in knowing that people were out there laughing or crying right as you were.

Sadly, the changes in TV program delivery meant also the death of one of my favorite publications ever, “TV Guide,” with its crossword, vital information, and wry synopses (e.g., “A light romp starring the unlikely romantic duo of…” or “A whimsical if entirely forgettable yarn about…” or “A frisky reporter teams with a hardboiled gumshoe to solve a…”). Such notables as Joyce Carol Oates, John Updike, Margaret Mead, and William F. Buckley, Jr. actually wrote articles for “TV Guide.” It was necessary for us commoners, God knows, but also taken seriously by the literati.

Similarly, home screening rooms, Tivo, then streaming, demolished the beautiful magic of the shared experience at movie theaters. It became harder and harder to find a cinema, where an audience of friends and strangers sit in front of a big ole screen together, riding a rollercoaster of emotions (“Rosemary’s Baby,” “The Exorcist,” “Sophie’s Choice,” “Jaws,” “Gran Torino,” “Milk,” “Memoir of a Geisha”, “Philomena,” “Hidden Figures,” “To Kill a Mockingbird,” “Moonlight,” “Forrest Gump,” “Shawshank,” “Silence of the Lambs,” “Doubt,” “A Man Called Ove”). Let’s not forget our collective gasps at hair-raising visuals (aerial heart-pounders in “Star Wars,” “Top Gun,” “Crouching Tiger,” “Avatar,” “Polar Express”; James Bond’s hilarious evasive skiing antics; creepy trike rides in “The Shining”; and stunning vehicular scenes (“French Connection,” Bourne Identity, “Stuber,” “Christmas Vacation”—the sled). Nothing competes with the shared experience. Nothing, people! Watching a story unfold in a roomful of guffaws and sobbing … there’s nothing like it.

That Rutland’s Flagship Cinemas has become a gym (oof!) breaks my heart. So many theaters have become magicless businesses — or parking lots. Movie enchantment turned by evil sorcerers into a bunch of bench presses or, worse, pavement. 

If you’re having a blue Christmas, or your Solstice or Chanukah was lonely or just “entirely forgettable,” you are in good company. One in four adults reports suffering from loneliness in the U.S. I, like many, have endured terrible disappointments and losses in recent years. Those are hard to shake off. The holidays launch a tsunami of memories and feelings that we don’t always welcome, particularly if we are already down to begin with.

It helps to remember that it will soon be over, to wear clothes that make you feel snappy, and to make a list for the new year — not a list of behaviors or qualities that you should change in yourself, but a list of actions that might make you or others happy. Or: nice things you did for others, or that others did for you, like a woman in I met at a holiday craft sale who, unprompted, mailed me sewing instructions for a pillowcase. Or things you accomplished last year. Or things you’d like to accomplish, places you’d like to go, in 2024. Ways you can make a difference in this crazy world. A list just might remind you that last year held more wonder than you recall. A list might give you something to reach for, reinvigorate your good will towards men, and make you realize, “It is a new year. It is new. I ain’t dead yet.” 

Never a fan of the term “self-care,” I’ve been seeking an alternative. Maybe “self-sanity” or perhaps “making it nice.” This from the Italian proprietor of Caffé Reggio in New York City, who would say, when he saw that you needed it: “Come. Sit down. Have a cappuccino. We’ll make it nice.” 

Really, no one’s going to dump a big plate of happiness into our laps if we wallow in nostalgia and loneliness. And decency is not going to be thrust upon us. It’s up to is to gather together, make lists, and do something for someone else, perhaps a total stranger. What I noticed this year about “The Wizard of Oz” is that it is ultimately out of their love for each other that Dorothy’s companions become courageous, smart, and full of heart. Love of any kind brings out the best in us.

Sometimes you have to go a few miles to get with people you feel that kind of love for. Make the trip. Or make a new friend. It may not be your holiday tradition, but: home is where the heart is, and family is whomever you choose it to be. Feeling love for each other makes us better people, and tranquil. Go give, and get for yourself, a big serving of THAT.

So at this overwhelming time of year, make a happy list, don your gayest apparel, express your love for your chosen family, and — even if alone — go to the movies. Go. Sit down. Have the popcorn. Make it nice. Good New Year to you and yours.