Mom & Saturday Night Live: A Son’s Tale

I’m sitting on the couch. It’s late — very late. If it were a weekday, I’d be tucked in bed approaching REM sleep at this time. But it’s not a weekday; it’s Saturday. The time is 11:25 pm, and the local NBC news affiliate just signed off. My mom walks around the couch after grabbing a cookie from the kitchen. She gives me one and then sits next to me. We’re ready for that magical moment we look forward to all week.

The screen goes dark. We hear the sound of a live audience quieting down. Then, a set filled with a cast of characters fills the screen. All is right in the world. Why is that? The cold open has arrived — the first sketch before the intros and host’s monologue. For this moment, my mom and I are transported from small Lodi in Central California right inside Studio 8H at NBC Studios in New York City. We’re seated among the live crowd, awaiting the hilarity provided by the “Not Ready for Primetime Players.” Laughter erupts as we experience every second of the sketch that kicks off the show, leading to that epic moment ingrained in pop culture…

“Live from New York, it’s Saturday Night!”

Saturday Night Live — or SNL for the younger viewers as my elder millennial lower back slightly aches as I type — was a tradition, specifically with my mom and me. Not that my dad wasn’t a fan; he could easily reference moments from the original cast and the casts of the ’80s. But my dad wasn’t a night owl like my mom. He’d catch the cold open and maybe the monologue and call it a night. On the other hand, my mom and I were up for it all. Failing to last the ninety minutes once in a while, I’d feel her nudge me and say, “Okay, Anthony. Time to go to bed.”

I would return the favor those times Mr. Sandman would visit her.

From the early ’90s through the late 2000s, this was our thing. Watching the likes of Chris Farley, Phil Hartman, Adam Sandler, Dana Carvey, Mike Myers, Tim Meadows, Ellen Cleghorne, David Spade, Julia Sweeney, Kevin Nealon, and Jan Hooks was my introduction to this sketch show that left me in awe. Then, it was Chris Kattan, Will Ferrell, Darrel Hammond, Rachel Dratch, Maya Rudolph, Jimmy Fallon, Tina Fey, Amy Poehler, and Kristen Wiig, and the list of greats would continue.

Whether I was there with her from the start or returning from a night out, I’d make my way to her, where she would be seated with a big smile and watery eyes from laughing so hard. Even after moving out and getting married, she’d ask if I saw the latest SNL, which I always did. I would go on to share my love for the show with my closest cousins and friends. We’d have laughs and reenactments of our favorite sketches, but my earliest memories — and the first image in my head — will always be on that couch with Mom.

In 2020, my mom passed away after two back-to-back bouts with rectal cancer. Nearly five years passed, and the pain sits in my chest, randomly reminding me from time to time. I’ve learned firsthand that this pain never leaves; you learn to live with it. You remind yourself of happy memories to quiet the tough ones. Of the many I have, SNL will always be one of them.

As this epic sketch comedy series reached its 50th anniversary and all the legendary cast members, past and present, and iconic hosts gathered to celebrate, I couldn’t help but think how much she would’ve loved this. Watching them all relive those classic moments while creating new ones with the current crew. My wife and I sat back and watched as history was made, and I felt a warmth envelop me inside. An energy that I hadn’t felt in years.

Sitting on our couch, as our television echoed the audience’s laughter at the hijinks performed on the stage, I turned my head to the left. With my eyes slightly watery and a smile on my face, I heard it. The sound of her laugh in my ears from decades passed, just like old times.

To Lorne Michaels and all the generations of talent that have graced NBC Studios’ Studio 8H in New York City. From Chevy, Bill, and Gilda to Kenan, Colin, and Heidi. To a series that will always transport me back to that couch next to my mom, no matter how old I get: Thank you. Thank you for giving her some of the greatest laughs of her life. Thank you for inspiring me to make her laugh. Thank you… for being our show. Happy 50th, Saturday Night Live.

Okay, mom. Time to go to bed.