Feb 9, 2015 4 min read

I miss “Parenthood.”

Viewed by few, overlooked by Emmy and undiscovered by millions who thought television long ago abandoned a personal taste, “Parenthood” was the medium’s last scripted investment in family drama. It also was the genre’s pinnacle moment.

“Parenthood” blended the best elements of “The Waltons,” “Little House on the Prairie,” “Family,” “Friday Night Lights” and “Brothers and Sisters” while filtering out virtually every overwrought, over-the-top and unbelievable moment. The result was the startlingly true-to-life Braverman clan; it was at once the family we all experienced, the family we all hoped for and ultimately a family we obsessively integrated into our lives once a week.

“Parenthood” refused to succumb to cringe-worthy moments. It not only didn’t jump the shark; it never went near the water.

There was never any doubt the four main characters – the children of Zeek and Camille Braverman – were related, if only because of each child’s relentless passion. Passions morphed, but commitment to those passions did not. It was that passion and the resulting small weekly victories that overshadowed – for television – a surprising string of missteps ranging from a failed business and mayoral run to marital issues large and small. Just as no issue was catastrophic, no solution was instantaneous. It was real life as reflected over six seasons on a 48-inch screen.

If “Parenthood” merely ebbed and flowed through the lives of the four Braverman children, it would have been a very good series. What made it rise above all the rest, however, was its uncanny ability to flesh out, on a weekly basis, an extended family of grandchildren, lovers, in-laws and work associates. “Parenthood” was an intricately-woven quilt; each thread was essential to its durability.

As in most families, it was the children who triggered events. And “Parenthood” was blessed with a talented group of young actors whose believability factor was eons removed from family dramas of the past. Max Burkholder, portraying a young man with Asperger syndrome, delivered a superbly nuanced performance each week, while Mae Whitman and Miles Heizer realistically captured the week-to-week, ever-changing and over dramatized trauma of young adulthood. And in smaller roles, Savannah Page Rae and Xolo Mariduena ably displayed the anxiety of bringing an adopted child into a family from both sides of the kid’s table.

Perhaps the best example of “Parenthood’s” ability to cull extraordinary performances for ordinary roles came in the person of Ray Romano, of “Everybody Loves Raymond.” One suspects his role initially was described as “grouchy photographer/employer with a heart of silver, if not gold.” On any other show, it would have been a standard supporting character. But Romano and the “Parenthood” writers infused Hank Rizzoli with a multi-dimensional personality – and a conflicted one at that. His journey of self-discovery over the final three seasons was emotional and gut-wrenching. And with nary a false moment.

One of the major victories of “Parenthood” was its ability to tell its story from multiple perspectives, which ultimately made it palatable to viewers. There were no “dumb teenager,” “wise grandparent,” “ditzy blonde” or “Peter Pan-syndrome man” characters, although, to be sure, minor characteristics of all were exhibited at times. To its credit, “Parenthood,” the series, had no viewpoint. But its characters did. And those viewpoints seldom were resolved to everyone’s complete satisfaction.

Above all, “Parenthood” was a series about unflinching family support that was reiterated each week. In the opening segment, the extended family breaks bread outdoors under a symbolic string of individual lights and accompanied by Bob Dylan’s “Forever Young.” No Braverman, we were assured, would ever be cast alone into the darkness.

One brief symbol of such family bonding remains on network television, and it is the short, but obligatory Sunday dinner scene on “Blue Bloods.” Until television better understands the viewers it is serving, it will have to do.

I miss “Parenthood.”

Television will miss it, too.

Terry Hazlett can be reached at snowballrizzo@aol.com.