Me and J.B.

When I was a little girl (really little, think six and seven and eight), when I finished school, my mom and I would sit down and watch Murder, She Wrote reruns on A&E. We'd eat popcorn and and I'd curl up, safe in the knowledge all was right with the world, because my mother and JB Fletcher were in it.

For those of you not in the know, Murder, She Wrote was (and is) an hour long cozy mystery show that ran 12 seasons (and four tv movies) from 1984 to 2003. In it, a small town English teacher turned successful mystery novelist (played by legend Angela Lansbury) solves crimes that confuse police, befuddle private eyes, and bewilder the CIA. 

It baffled my mother a little that I wasn't alarmed by the constant parade of death that seemed to trail this elderly woman where she went. "Was I afraid?" She'd ask. "Did I know it was all just pretend?"

Of course I knew! I was a bookworm from infancy, and narrative was my bread and milk. Before I had even discovered Agatha Christie, JB Fletcher taught me the delights of fictional murder. She was everything I aspired to be someday--a teacher, a writer, a globetrotter. She had the perfect comeback in every situation, grace under every fire, a heady mix of kindness and spine I aspired to.

And then, I guess, I grew up. I graduated to things that I considered more sophisticated, and became a teacher and a globetrotter (although never quite a writer). I don't always have the perfect comeback, grace under fire is difficult, and while I hope I'm kind, I'm still working on spine.

But when COVID introduced me to the roughest few years of my life, I rediscovered JB, and found that she had aged marvelously well. So much of what she said and did still resonated, so much of her life was still aspirational in a way that makes the modern cheapening of that word seem small and sad. 

She's my comfort watch now as I juggle work and mental health and family, something of a pattern to imitate when I find myself in tricky situations.

Of course, Murder, She Wrote isn't perfect. A product of its era, it tells mostly white stories, never has an openly LGBTQ character, and isn't really interested in real world issues.

But for all its flaws, I still adore it, even while I criticize it. So join with me, as we recap and explore the various adventures of the woman I hope to be someday: JB Fletcher.