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Television

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By Daniel Dunaief

Daniel Dunaief

I hope my television is well rested.

Sure, we’ve watched movies here and there. We’ve gone through all the episodes of “Succession.” We’re also looking forward to the next chapters in the Keri Russell political drama “The Diplomat.”

My television, however, gets a different kind of attention during the upcoming baseball season. No, I don’t watch every Yankees game, even though, if I had the time and access, I probably would catch some of each game.

As a passionate Yankee fan, I have glared at the TV, barked at it (well, and the players on the screen at any given time) and even threatened to pick it up and throw it out the window once in a while.

Incidentally, I’ve never damaged a TV during a baseball season, no matter how frustrated I might get at the number of runners left on base, at the manager for taking someone out or at the players for not driving in a runner from third with fewer than two outs.

Long ago, I watched Game 6 of the 1986 World Series, when the Mets came back from a seemingly insurmountable deficit in the bottom of the ninth inning against the Boston Red Sox for a win that sent the series to a final game. Surrounded by gloating Red Sox fans, I watched as the game unraveled.

With my roommate in tow — we were both rooting for the Mets because he had placed a bet he couldn’t afford to lose and, as a Yankees fan, I had to support any team that played the Red Sox — we walked silently out of a room filled with furious fans.

Just before we opened the door to leave the apartment, the TV we had been watching crash-landed at our feet, exploding into numerous pieces. That night, we joined a small band of New Yorkers cheering “let’s go Mets,” while we stayed far from TV projectile range.

In this millennium, of course, the Red Sox have faired far better than both New York teams, winning four titles compared with one for the Yankees and none for the Mets.

Returning to this season, I’m sure I’ll watch the slow motion replay of a pitch that dives well outside the strike zone that will cause one of the monster hitters on the Yankees to look like they are swinging a fly swatter at an evasive insect.

At that point, I’ll tell the TV how I had told the hitter not to swing and that he should have listened to me.

Yes, I will blame the TV for not communicating somehow with the batter that I knew it.

Fortunately for me, the TV will never remind me of the times I instructed the hitter not to swing at a pitch, only to celebrate when that player crushed a game winning hit into the gap in left center field, scoring the runner sprinting home from first.

The TV will undoubtedly also hear me affix blame at its electronic feet when the channel suddenly doesn’t come in, becomes pixelated or freezes just as a critical full count pitch reaches the plate.

I could check online to see what happened, but I’d rather watch it unfold live, excruciating as the result may be when the Yankees lose yet another winnable game.

The TV knows baseball is a wonderful, miserable experience for me on some days, while it’s a miserable, wonderful one on others.

As I watch an enormous Yankees lead dissolve slowly, the TV and I both know that any opponent – even, gasp!, the Red Sox – can still win.

On the other hand, the Yankees can take a few hard punches to their solar plexus and do the same, setting a comeback record.

If you could ask my TV, he’d tell you that I’m nervous about this season. We have a few important parts, but not enough depth, particularly among our pitchers.

My TV knows that the marathon baseball season will be filled with numerous dramatic rises and falls. It also knows my tendency to turn the channel as soon as the other team records the final out against the Yankees.

Fortunately, my TV gets a break during All Star weekend and in November. The TV should fasten its seatbelt. It’s a long and likely bumpy ride between now and then.

Town Supervisor Dan Panico at a Town Board meeting. Photo from TOB

By Nasrin Zahed

The Town of Brookhaven is currently at a crossroads in its relationship with the cable and internet conglomerate Cablevision/Optimum/Altice, as officials considered the franchise agreement renewal, in the name of Suffolk Cable Corporation, during a Town Board meeting held Thursday, Nov. 16.

The agreement, granting the company sole authority to provide cable services within the town, is a multifaceted document that delineates Optimum’s rights and establishes the framework for the town’s regulatory role.

Understanding the context of the franchise agreement requires a closer look at the regulatory landscape governing cable services in the town. As revealed in recent information, a cable operator must apply for a franchise to provide cable services. Notably, it may operate outside the agreement, which is expressly limited to cable television services. The town lacks authority over internet and telephone services, even if the same cables and equipment used are shared for cable television delivery.

State and federal regulations further shape the town’s authority over cable television franchises. The town also cannot regulate programming on a cable television system and is constrained in its ability to control rates, except for the most basic level of service. Federal limitations also extend to franchise fees, capping the town’s ability to require payments from the cable operator.

During the meeting, town Supervisor-elect Dan Panico (R) expressed concerns about the internet and cable providers’ profit motives. “There’s nothing that can be said here today to lead me to believe that they are not jacking up prices and having meetings to see where the threshold pain point is to extract as much money from residents as possible,” he said.

In response to these regulatory constraints, the town has engaged the services of a special counsel, Thomas Levin, to negotiate an agreement that maximizes the town’s authority within legal bounds while ensuring the delivery of quality cable television services to the Brookhaven community. The proposed agreement spans a decade, during which the cable operator commits to providing cable television in the unincorporated areas of the town.

One essential aspect of the proposed agreement is regulating the cable system’s operation under federal and state law. The agreement allows the town to impose a franchise fee, capped at 5% of the cable system revenues, ensuring a balanced approach to funding the regulatory framework.

The proposed agreement outlines procedures for the town to verify credit payments and secure $222,100 in grants from the cable television operator. These funds are earmarked for supporting public, educational and government cable programming — a crucial step in enhancing community engagement and access to information.

As the town navigates the landscape of cable service regulation, community participation becomes integral in shaping the future of cable services within its borders. A recent public statement from town officials invites community members to share their experiences with their cable and internet providers and contribute to the decision-making process.

This call to action is noteworthy given the proposed changes to the agreement, including a senior citizen discount and the introduction of a cable subscriber bill of rights.

The Town Board will reconvene on Thursday, Nov. 30, at 5 p.m., with a highly anticipated public hearing to consider a change of zone for the Jefferson Plaza property in Port Jefferson Station. To view the full hearing, please visit brookhavenny.gov/meetings.

We start with an adrenaline-packed adventure at Cedar Beach in Mount Sinai. Discover the excitement of a fearless group braving the frigid waters for a valuable cause.

Then, catch the heat as tensions rise between the Brookhaven Town Board and the municipality’s cable service provider. We’ve got the latest on the town’s television showdown.

Later, take a trip through history with our sportswriter, Bill Landon, as he reflects on the JFK assassination’s foggy memories, marking its 60th anniversary this week.

And as Thanksgiving approaches, join us in a call to action. We’re rallying our readers and listeners to support local mom and pops on National Small Business Saturday.

Tune in to The Pressroom Afterhour: Keeping it Local with TBR for a special Thanksgiving edition.

Visit tbrnewsmedia.com to read these stories and more. Follow us on:

Pixabay photo

By Leah S. Dunaief

Leah Dunaief

Intuitively we know that our behavior changed in just about every way during the unprecedented events of last year. The American Time Use Survey, a responsibility of the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics, asks thousands of people annually to record how they spend their daily minutes, and they came up with some research to back up our intuition on how we adapted to COVID-19 in 2020. The New York Times covered the story last Thursday, breaking out a number of categories for comparison.

As far as non-work and non-school time, the data was divided into sleeping; watching TV, movies or videos; playing games; cooking; doing housework; grooming; exercising; and texting, phone calls and video chats. It was further broken down by demographic groups: 15-24; 25-44; 45-64; and 65+. As far as sleeping goes, all the age groups slept more, with those 25-44 and 45-64 getting the most rest and both the 15-24 and the 65+ cohorts having the smallest increases. That makes sense to me because those getting more sleep are probably the primary workforce. The ones who did not have to commute as much and could sleep a little later.

The 45-64 and the 15-24 groups also spent the most extra time watching TV, movies and videos, about 25 minutes more per day. Yay for Netflix and the other streaming services who introduced us to binging. By far and away the most increase playing games was among the 15-24 folks, averaging 24 more minutes a day.  Mostly all four groups didn’t change much in the amount of cooking they did, but while the others increased slightly, the 15-24 category decreased six minutes a day.

Doing housework wasn’t much different from 2019, with the oldest category completely unchanged.

So what went down? Are you surprised to know it was grooming? The others dropped from four to seven minutes a day, but the youngest members increased four-tenths of a minute. Exercising increased four to five minutes, except for the oldest set, who decreased their exercising by five minutes daily. And everybody spent more time texting, phoning and participating in video chats, with the youngest crowd up eight minutes a day.

Last year was a difficult time for those forced to be alone. The survey tracks people during waking hours by how much time spent with people outside the household, with household members only and with those alone. The numbers for time with outsiders sank to one hour and 33 minutes less a day, while for household members, the amount rose by 31 minutes. The amount of alone time rose 57 minutes on average out of an eight-hour day. Remember all these numbers measure increases, not absolute time. For those in nursing homes, for example, who were unable to receive visitors, it was a miserably lonely year. And socializing among children was severely limited.

The greatest disruption caused by the coronavirus was in the lives of parents. With schools closed, parents became homeschoolers, particularly for children in elementary school. This burden could be in addition to working on a job from home and it affected women more than men because in most cases they carry the greater responsibility for child care. Sometimes it forced women to quit their jobs. Single mothers were particularly disrupted by the situation.

The nature of work also changed. For starters, in 2019, only one in seven people worked remotely. Last year it was one in three. And the changes laid bare disparities among workers.  Hispanic workers were more likely to lose their jobs. Black workers were most often required to go to their jobs in person, thus being more exposed to infection. White and Asian workers were often able to work from home.

There were also stark differences depending on educational levels. Those with graduate and professional degrees generally spent more hours last year working from home than in the office. Those with a high school diploma or less were often considered “essential workers” and had to function in person in the workplace, 

Will this data cause change in the future?

Rebecca Kassay along with the crew from Aureate Visuals and local hired help in front of their 1991 Winnebago. Photo from Kassay

Baltimore, Maryland. So much has been said about the city, criticism that came from way beyond the city itself. But Rebecca Kassay, the co-owner of the Fox and Owl Inn in Port Jefferson, saw something incredible from the people living there. There was a community in the neighborhood of Cherry Hill growing fresh fruit and vegetables, teaching others to farm, giving access to fresh food for people who live several miles from the nearest supermarket. The program, called the Black Yield Institute, was making a difference in their community, and the Port Jeff resident said she knew it needed to be seen by the world.

Rebecca Kassay fist bumps a volunteer at Cherry Hill, Baltimore’s Black Yield Institute. Photo from Kassay

“What they’re doing there is just so incredible as far as combining uplifting the community — integrating culture and fun,” said Kassay. “It was amazing to experience it with my own eyes and be there while this incredible group said, ‘we’re going to create this garden, how can we help people become more aware of health issues and social issues?’”

The inn owner is out on the road, touring in a renovated 1991 Winnebago with her husband, Andrew, and their dog. Filming with a Setauket-based crew, she is trying to spread the news of just how many nonprofits and volunteer works are out there and how much good they do for their respective communities.

“What I really love is connecting people, not just with a cause they love to help, but more importantly, connecting them with the power within themselves,” she said.

The show, titled “Be the Change with Rebecca,” is finishing filming throughout the fall before transitioning to full post-production during the winter. The show expects to come out sometime in spring 2020 on Amazon Prime video.

Kassay, 30, who was born in St. James and later moved to Port Jefferson to open the Fox and Owl Inn with her husband, said the show is inspired by modern serialized documentaries, and takes a form much like a show she loved as a child, “Dirty Jobs,” hosted by Mike Rowe. In much the same way to that Discovery Channel hit, which had the host performing a variety of blue-collar jobs on screen along with the regular workers, Rebecca gets down and dirty with the volunteers, whether it’s driving in nails while building houses or digging in the dirt in a community garden.

“We’re collecting the stories of how they do the work and how they decided to come out,” she said. “Such as, here’s what it looks like when you volunteer at a community garden, here’s what it looks like when you volunteer to restore an oyster reef.”

By the end of their trip, they will have traveled as far east as Baiting Hollow on Long Island, as far south as Washington D.C. and as far west as Detroit, Michigan.

Kassay had the idea for this project nearly two years ago, working off her own background as a youth volunteer project manager at Avalon Park and Preserve. She reached out through local Facebook groups for a crew interested in taking on the project, and the Setauket-based Aureate Visuals production team answered the call.

The three filmmakers, Steve Glassner, Larry Bernardo and Marvin Tejada, have donated their time on a pro bono basis to help make the project possible. All three have worked on projects before, such as Mentally Apart, a feature film set to premier by the end of the year. All three met while in school at Five Towns College.

“It’s been a very, very fun experience, especially all the people we meet and the locals who worked on the crew with us,” said Glassner. “It’s been a real learning experience. We’re meeting people from all walks of life, and it’s amazing and incredible what they’re doing in their own communities.”

The project has taken in this spirit of volunteerism with the crew. The folks at Aureate Visuals, in keeping with the spirit of the show, have volunteered their time to the project. Several of the crew work day jobs, and so they are constantly travelling back and forth from Long Island to where the next shoot is taking place.

Rebecca Kassay, middle, works with a group of volunteers at an oyster farm. Photo from Kassay

Glassner added production has been smooth, and each shoot “felt like we were a family — no egos — it’s one giant collaboration.”

For the most part, the project is self-funded, though they have received significant pledges from the Port Jefferson Rotary Club and have financed $1,654 so far from backers on Indiegogo. Everything else is coming from the owners of the Fox and Owl Inn. Their minimum budget, according to their Indiegogo page, includes $3,000 for travel and lodging, $3,000 for local crew wages, $1,500 for per diem food, $500 for miscellaneous expenses and $800 in Indiegogo related fees.

As the family goes around in the renovated Winnebago, retrofitted with whitewashed cabinets and flooring to make it feel like home, she has become surer this was the right way to get the message across.

“Working with these young people when you connect them with a power within themselves, they just light up,” Kassay said. “The light in their eyes is something the greatest gift you can give someone, connecting them with that.”

The project still has investor space open, and the Indiegogo ends on Sunday, Aug. 18. People can visit https://www.indiegogo.com/projects/be-the-change-with-rebecca#/to donate.

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Donald Trump and now Aaron Boone? What’s going on?

A well-known businessman, who spent considerable time on TV after he had made his money, was elected president — in case you’ve been living in a hole somewhere for the last year or so — despite not having any experience whatsoever as a politician.

Then, recently, the New York Yankees, who expect a championship every year and aren’t fond of learning curves, went out and hired someone whose playing claim to fame as a Yankee came with one swing 14 years ago. After his playing career ended, Boone entered the broadcast booth where he talked about the game.

Like Trump, Boone was beamed into the leaving rooms of those who paused to watch the program that featured him.

And now, like Trump, Boone must do some quick on-the-job training, becoming a modern-day manager.

Now, I don’t expect Boone to attack other players, managers or umpires on Twitter, the way the president has done when he unloads written salvos against anyone who dares to defy or annoy him.

What I’m wondering, though, is how did these men get their jobs? Since when is experience doing a high profile job no longer necessary? What made Trump and Boone the choice of the Electoral College and the best candidate to make the Yankees greater again, respectively? These Yankees, after all, were surprisingly great this year, falling one game short of the fall classic.

One word may answer that question: television. Somehow we have gone from the comical notion, years ago that “I’m not a doctor, I play one on TV,” to the reality of “I know better because I seem that way on TV.”

Long ago, in 1960, when Richard Nixon and John F. Kennedy were running for president, TV helped sway voters, particularly those who watched an important debate. So, I suppose, it seems like a logical extension to imagine that TV helped fast track the careers of people who spent time sharing their thoughts, tag lines and observations with us through that same medium.

Sports and reality TV have commonalities. A sport is the ultimate live, unscripted event, where people offer off-the-cuff thoughts and analyses on fluid action. Each game and each moment can bring the unexpected — a triple play, an inside-the-park home run or a hidden-ball trick — that requires an instant reaction.

Similarly, albeit in a different way, the reality TV that brought Trump to the top of the political heap gave him a chance to respond to changing situations, offering a cutting analysis of the potential, or lack thereof, for people on his show.

While viewers watch these familiar faces and hear their voices, people can become convinced of the wisdom and abilities of these TV stars who become spokespersons and champions for their own brands.

So, does Trump offer any insight into Boone? The new Yankees manager may find that second-guessing other people is much easier than making decisions himself and working as a part, or a leader, of a team.

Trump has bristled at all the second-guessers. While he’s familiar with the media scrutiny, Boone, too, may find it irritating that so many other New Yorkers are absolutely sure they know better when it comes to in-game decisions that affect the outcome of a Yankees contest.

Perhaps what Boone and Trump teach us is that selling your ideas or yourself on TV has become a replacement for experience. TV experience has become a training ground for those selling their ideas to the huddled masses yearning for a chance to cheer.

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We worry about infections regularly. The last thing people want is a cold right before they go on a summer vacation, before they see a newborn, or before they are about to give a presentation half way around the world to a group of people who might approve their work for the next three years.

And, yet, there are some types of infections, or infectious behavior, that have the opposite effect, making us stronger, purging our system of toxins and giving us the extra energy to work harder, to be more patient with traffic around us and to smile when someone accidentally insults us.

Laughter fits that bill. TV producers certainly understand this when they add laugh tracks to their shows. It allows people to feel as if they are not alone, as they laugh with others they can’t see, even if they are alone in front of their TV.

A late family friend used to become so caught up in funny stories that his quick breaths and high-pitched squeals kept him from speaking. The tale, however, became irrelevant as his performance more than compensated for the lack of a narrative, allowing the rest of the room, particularly those who knew him well, to share his laughter.

I can still hear the laughter from my late aunt, whose giggles would often end with joyous tears.

I recently spent a few days with my brothers to celebrate summer birthdays. We sailed, ate well and hit baseballs on a hot, airless field at Gelinas Junior High School.

I stood in right field, as one brother pitched and the other sent bombs deep into the outfield. My sister-in-law patrolled near second base, scooping up grounders and acting as a relay.

My brother crushed a hard grounder directly at his wife. I immediately shouted, “Field it to the side. Move out of the way.”

My brothers started laughing, slowly at first, at advice that was so contrary to the suggestions I had made when I coached baseball and softball over the last decade.

“Yes,” I acknowledged, “but I don’t want her to get hurt. I’d rather she missed a ball that hit a rock or took a crazy bounce than have it slam into her.”

“Sure, sure,” they teased. “You really don’t know anything about this game, do you?”

Then, it occurred to me to go with it.

“Well,” I shrugged, “I’m actually trying a new technique.”

“Oh yeah?” they asked dubiously.

“Yes, I’m going to tell the kids, ‘Take your eyes off the ball and make sure you have absolutely no idea what to do with the ball when it comes to you.’”

After a few snickers, the four of us shared the kinds of things you’d never tell kids on a baseball field, which ramped up the laughter. Things such as “Yes, it is all your fault” and “No, you’re not that good at this sport.”

The laughter somehow  made the heat of the afternoon more bearable.

Later, my younger brother was in the middle of a salad when he offered something so uproariously funny that his lips could barely contain the food, even as he couldn’t possibly swallow. With great effort, he slowed his laughter and swallowed.

I’m not sure what was so funny, but I know the value of laughter. Yes, of course, one movie after another tells us about the power of love, which drives people to incredible achievements and affirms the value of our connections.

Along the way, however, laughter helps fill our tank, soothes the frustrations of the day and puts a broad infectious smile on our faces that can spread, like a beneficial virus, delivering feelings of goodwill that can cascade through a crowd.

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was watching television late at night, after my wife drifted off to sleep, when I first saw him. I don’t tend to stop channel surfing when a comedian appears.

He looked like a friend of mine, he had a devilish smile and he wasn’t shouting or barking obscenities at me. He was balding and overweight and was the definition of unglamorous. He was talking as if I was in the room with him and he was sharing observations with me. I’m going to paraphrase one of the first jokes I heard.

“Getting old sucks,” he began.

“You know, when you’re in your 20s and you come in and tell the doctor your shoulder is bothering you, you have, like a hundred options. The doctor can take a piece of your hip and put it in your shoulder, he can make you a new shoulder, and he can fix you right up so you’re good as new.”

The audience nodded appreciatively.

“But, then, you get older and you go to the same doctor with the same complaint and you wait. The doctor smiles at you and listens to your symptoms but, then, he doesn’t offer any heroic solutions. He gives you that understanding look.”

“So, what can we do about this?” you say.

“Well, you can take some Advil if you want,” he says with a shrug.

“But what about all those other options?” you ask. “What about moving around body parts, building a new shoulder and fixing me up so I’m better than I was?”

“Those are no longer possible,” he says, as he shakes his head slowly.

Getting old is difficult. I know doctors and lifestyle coaches and entire industries are dedicated to reversing the effects of aging. Lines on your face? Hey, no problem, there’s a cure for that. Putting on weight as you age? Sure, we can fix you right up, send you food, cook food for you, or convince you through hypnosis that you, in fact, don’t need food.

If a character Tom Hanks played in “Cast Away” could survive for several years on an island by himself with just a volleyball for his friend and a few fish and coconuts here and there, you can most certainly get through a day without coffee, doughnuts or any of the other bare necessities that call to you from the addicted parts of your bodies.

When our kids were small, we used to pack the back of the car with everything we might need. Pack ‘N Play? Check. Stroller? Check. Diaper bag? Got it.

As they got older, we didn’t have much to bring and just told them to get in the car and buckle themselves in.

Somewhere along the lines, though, as our kids needed less to go from point A to point B, we wanted more. Our conversations before we leave the house go something like this.

“I can’t find my vitamins,” my wife says. “Did I take one this morning?”

“I don’t know, but do you know where my reading glasses are?” I ask.

“No, but when you start looking for your distance glasses, they’re on your forehead,” she smiles, pointing at me.

“Oh, good, thanks. Have you seen my Invisalign braces?” I ask.

“I’m not sure if the ones in the kitchen are your new ones or your old ones, but there’s a set on the counter,” she offers.

As I scoop up my plastic braces, I see something familiar next to them.

“Hey, honey?” I shout. “Your vitamins are on the kitchen table.”

Getting old may be challenging but it can also be comical. Just ask comedian Louis C.K.

Frank Fritz, left, and Mike Wolfe of ‘American Pickers.’ Photo from The History Channel

The History Channel’s documentary series “American Pickers” has announced that it will film episodes throughout New York this summer.

Show hosts Mike Wolfe and Frank Fritz will scour the Empire State for hidden gems and vintage items that may have been given up as junk, according to a recent press release.

The show, which airs at 9 p.m. Eastern Time on Wednesdays, explores the fascinating world of antique “picking.” As they hit the back roads from coast to coast, Wolfe and Fritz continue their mission to recycle America by rescuing forgotten relics and giving them a new lease on life, while learning a thing or two about American history along the way.  They typically look for collections that include vintage bicycles, toys, unusual radios, movie memorabilia, advertising, military items, folk art, early firefighting equipment, vintage musical equipment, automotive items and clothing.

Does that sound like the stuff in your garage? If you or someone you know has a large collection, send your name, phone number, location and a description of the collection with photos to [email protected] or call 1-855-OLD-RUST.

*Please note: The show will not consider visits to retail shops or flea markets.

The author poses with Tyler Christopher, aka Prince Nikolas Cassadine, of ‘General Hospital.’ Photo by Rebecca Budig

By Kerri Glynn

“5 … 4 … 3 …”

Time to move. Walk through the beaded curtain. Pause by the table. Chat with the bearded man. Exit downstage.

But wait! What’s my motivation?  Who is this man? My husband? Lover? Business partner? What was I doing here in Las Vegas — so far from Port Charles?

I was a cast member on “General Hospital.” Okay. I was an extra. But I’d dreamt about this for 39 years and it was finally happening.

Rewind to November 17, 1981. I was one of 30 million people who watched the wedding of “General Hospital’s”  Luke and Laura. I was directing a high school production of “Barefoot in the Park” and my stage manager brought in a small, portable TV — the kind with rabbit ears — and we halted our rehearsal to watch the nuptials. It was the highest rated hour in American soap opera history, and the super couple ended up on the cover of People and Newsweek magazines. They were credited with taking daytime out of the closet so people were no longer ashamed to say “I watch a soap opera.”

I was never ashamed.

I’ve been watching “General Hospital” on and off since 1967. Sometimes I didn’t see it for weeks, sometimes months, even years. But I’d catch up on holidays and summer vacations, and it was pretty easy to do. So many of the same characters remained; so many story lines were recapped script after script. And there was always the Soap Opera Digest magazine to grab and peruse while waiting for my turn at the supermarket counter.

As an English teacher and Vassar graduate, many of my colleagues were shocked to hear me admit my devotion to the show. Why, I wondered? What did Charles Dickens write that couldn’t be classified as soap opera? For that matter, how different is “Downtown Abbey”? The Crawleys just have a bigger house, better clothes and cooler accents.

But I never imagined the day would come when I would join the cast of my favorite show, and it was the star of that early production of “Barefoot in the Park” who made it happen. My former student is now a writer/actor and good friend of the executive producer of “General Hospital.” When he heard I was visiting LA, he asked if I could be an extra on the soap. The answer was yes and my adventure began.

A week before filming, I was contacted by the casting coordinator. Would I be a patient being wheeled down the hospital hall? Or a barfly at the Metrocourt Hotel, swilling a dirty martini? When I was told  I’d play a guest at an upscale Las Vegas hotel, I was intrigued. A Las Vegas hotel? “General Hospital” takes place in Port Charles, New York. Which characters would be visiting Las Vegas? And what would they be doing there?

I received a list of instructions — everything from a confidentiality clause (in other words, I couldn’t share any knowledge of the plot before the episode was aired) to my wardrobe instructions. Since I don’t tweet and still carry a flip phone, the first instruction was easy to follow. The second was a little harder, but it earned me a $10 wardrobe allowance.

I was due at Prospect Studios in Los Angeles at 2 in the afternoon. Most of the cast had arrived at 7 that morning and wouldn’t leave till 7 that night. After getting my ID badge from the guard, I proceeded to the stage manager’s desk to sign in. Then on to the Business Office with my passport to fill out a W-4. I was going to get paid for this? How cool was that!

The studio has seven sound stages and “Grey’s Anatomy” is another of the shows filmed there. The space was huge and held multiple sets. I could walk past the hospital chapel and the Floating Rib to the Quartermaine mansion. I recognized each one.

The other four extras were sitting in the Green Room where we’d wait for our call. Our names were Hotel Staffer and Guests 1-4. The others were professional actors, struggling to book commercials and dreaming of their big breaks. One of them had punched Luke out in an earlier episode, another had sat at Laura’s table at the Nutcracker Ball. Who would I be acting with? Fifty three scenes were being shot that day, and the characters included Scottie, Franco, Nina, Dante — you’ll recognize all these names if you, too, watch the show. (But don’t admit it.)

Then HE walked in — Tyler Christopher, “Prince Nikolas Cassadine,” the character I’d named my favorite cat after. He’s been on the show for 20 years and I’d long had a crush on him. There he was in the flesh … holding his script and getting a cup of coffee with the rest of us. I got up the courage to do it — to introduce myself and tell him about the cat and he laughed. We talked about his long lost love, “Emily” and how I longed to have her dug up and returned to him. It could happen. Characters have been revived even after they had been shot, drowned, frozen and had their major organs given to other characters. He was joined by his co-star, Rebecca Budig, aka “Hayden,” but formerly “Greenlee” from “All My Children.” She was just as nice and welcoming as Tyler. They promised me a picture after the taping.

So, it was sit and wait, and watch the monitors as other scenes were being filmed in the building. There were two directors working that day and multiple cast members. My 10 scenes would be set in the Las Vegas hotel where Nikolas and Hayden were getting married. I couldn’t have been more excited than if I’d won that Mega Powerball.

So many things surprised me that day — the size of the crew, the speed at which each scene was taped, the actors’ voices that seemed to whisper on set but be clear as a bell on video. People may mock soap opera scripts and actors, but everyone was a consummate professional. An average television series has 13 to 22 episodes, some a half hour, some a whole hour. “General Hospital” shoots about 286 one-hour episodes a year.

When my scene was called, the primary actors walked on set with their scripts in hand. The director told them where to stand and when to move. Then two of us extras were brought in. We were given our instructions. On the count of 3, we entered through the curtain. Chatted. Left. I’ll nail it next time, I thought. I’ll create my own back story. I’ll look for the cameras. I’ll …

“Taping scene 39.”

What?

“5, 4, 3 …”

We enter again. We chat. We leave.

“That’s a take.”

Four times I was called to the set. I sat and pretended to check my iPhone. I crossed the lobby with a blond girl. My daughter? Four hours later, we were thanked and asked to leave. The others did. But Rebecca Budig (bless her heart) remembered the promise and found “Nikolas” for my picture. She even took it.

As I left the studio, I looked at all the photos on the walls — pictures of cast members. The original cast — Dr. Hardy and Nurse Jessie Brewer, the Quartermaine family … and Luke and Laura’s wedding portrait. My life had come full circle. The boy I was directing would grow into a man who made my dream come true. Three weeks later I got to see myself on TV — on my favorite show — with my favorite soap star. And two weeks after that, I received a check in the mail for $260. I’d been paid for two days work because my fourth scene appeared the following day.

I’m not ashamed to say it. I LOVE that show. 

Kerri Glynn is a retired English teacher who has lived in Setauket with her husband Tim for many years. Today she is a writer and tutor as well as the director of education for the Frank Melville Memorial Park.