The confusing tears of Survivor
I made a mistake this Survivor season. Not really, because sharing things with my daughter is always cool, but I let her watch the first episode of the season with me, at which point she was hooked. And that wouldn’t be that big a deal, except for the fact that she spends half her time at her dad’s house, and also has other interests, and of course there are twin 2-year-olds here that make finding time for watching TV difficult.
That’s all a long way of saying that I’m way behind on this most recent Survivor season, which is annoying because Twitter exists, and while I tried my absolute best to avoid spoilers, I’m about 90% sure I know who ends up winning.
That’s not the point today, though. As I write this, Sunday night, we’re watching the episode of the season with the loved-ones visit. For those who don’t watch the show, every season on Survivor, there is a point late in the game when the remaining contestants get to have their loved ones visit. Normally, a family member come out, get about a minute to hug and say hi, answer some questions from Jeff Probst that hopefully gives them good sound clips, and then there’s a challenge. The winner and usually another contestant or two get to then have a picnic or whatever with their family members, while the others just have to say goodbye after only a minute or so.
This season, because it was the special 40th season and the Winners at War conceit, they went for broke. Instead of one family member per contestant, they brought entire family units. And instead of a challenge, they let everybody have a picnic with everybody. (I’m sure a big chunk of that is that they let contestants’ small children come out, and one minute of “Here’s daddy!” followed by “Say goodbye to daddy!” would make for little-kid tears and less good TV.)
Add in the fact that (almost) everybody who has been voted out was still on “Edge of Extinction” — basically loser’s island, hoping to win their way back in — and we got family reunions of every contestant this season other than Sandra Diaz-Twine, the two-time winner who got voted off and chose not to go to the Edge (and I’m sure she got to see her family as well). The first 24 minutes of the episode were devoted to the reunions, which meant a lot of tears and hugs and happy times.
I just never get it.
I want to be clear here: I’ve never been on Survivor. I had a very vivid dream once about having been on the show before and finishing fifth — so vivid that I feel a vague twinge of annoyance every time there’s a returning-player season that they haven’t invited me. The twinge lasts for about a second and then I’m like “You dummy, you were never on the show,” but it’s still there. Regardless, the point is that I can’t empathize with the players. I don’t know the emotions they’re dealing with. They’re hungry. Sleep-deprived. Lonely. Paranoid at all times. So I have to start with that. I don’t know what they are going through.
And at the same time, I love my kids. During Lucas’ first three surgeries, Jordan was still breast-feeding, so Laurie more or less had to stay with him, and that meant I got to stay in his hospital room. But by his fourth surgery, Jordan was untethered, and Laurie made it very clear that this time she would be the one staying at the hospital. I do not blame her for this in the least — she hated being away from him the other times — but I didn’t like leaving him either, and I actually went one whole day without seeing Lucas, and I hated it entirely. When I saw him the next day, I didn’t cry, but there was a very long hug. And that was one day.
I’m writing this and almost changing my mind as I do. But still. These aren’t people seeing their child after heart surgery. These are largely affluent people (otherwise they wouldn’t be able to take the time to go on Survivor in the first place) who are taking a vacation — a stressful, often unpleasant vacation, to be sure, but it’s still a few weeks at the beach. I can’t get my mind around the feelings that would lead to the tears we see. (Yes, I’m sure they are encouraged to turn on the waterworks as much as they can for TV, but not everybody is that good at acting.)
In their defense, in the episode I’m watching right now, there are the kids. Maybe that’s different. But these waterworks happen every season, every year, whether it’s kids, spouses, parents, or on the rare occasion cousins or some such.
They’re tired. They’re mentally drained. They’re on edge. But the tears are just so much.
I don’t have a grand point here. I’m just watching this and amazed. It’s less than a month and you haven’t seen, in once instance, your sister? I haven’t seen anyone in my family in two months right now because of quarantine, and yes, I have modern comforts and technology and such, but if my brother were to pop up right now, I’d just say “Hey, bro,” and move on. If it was my mom, there’d be a hug. My wife and kids, a bigger hug. Waterworks? Maybe I’m a robot, but I can’t see it.