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Letter from Home: My Imperfect America - Of losers, winners and washing machines

If the 50s were not a shining moment in human history, the decade at least landed us with an abundance of game shows. Truth or Consequences, The Price Is Right, Queen for a Day and, a few years later, Let鈥檚 Make a Deal. These were the four that played at our house, and I considered it daytime TV at its finest. How I became a game show aficionado puzzled me for years. Why wasn鈥檛 I in school or playing with my friends? These shows aired in the morning or early afternoon yet somehow I can picture myself, a little kid lounging on a rug the color of elephant skin, looking up at the small black-and-white box of the television while a man in a suit (the particular man depended on the particular show) called out with a booming voice that carried right into our New York City apartment.

The show I liked best was Queen for a Day. All that weeping and handwringing followed by forced smiles and fainting when the winner was chosen. Five days a week five down-on-their-luck ladies stood before the audience and told their tales of woe. Their husband had died or walked out on them, their money was gone, their kids were running wild in the streets. The winner was the woman whose story was deemed most heart-wrenching, most pitiful. The audience was the judge by means of an applause meter and the queen was crowned right there on television and given, for her trouble, a new washer-dryer.





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