Stay Tuned: Memoir in Prime Time

What Was Your Favorite TV Show As a Kid?

Before streaming and smartphones, our favorite shows shaped our routines—and our dreams. In this episode, we rewind the tape to childhood TV, exploring how the shows we watched became the lens through which we saw the world. We’ll unpack how to write about these moments, answer a listener’s question about sparking sensory memory, and leave you with a prompt that’s pure nostalgia.

So, what was your favorite TV show as a kid?

Maybe it came on every Saturday morning, right after your bowl of cereal and before you went outside to play.

Or maybe it was a cartoon with a theme song you still know by heart.

Whatever it was, that show wasn’t just entertainment—it was your friend. It was a signal that all was right in your little world.

We’ll dig into why these stories stay with us, how to recreate their magic on the page, and how to use pop culture as a lens for telling your personal story.

Then I’ll answer a listener’s question about how to spark sensory memory when you’re stuck—and we’ll end with a writing prompt to get your own nostalgia flowing.

A Personal Story

Every Saturday morning in my house started with two things: a bowl of Kellog’s Sugar Corn Pops and the Lone Ranger.

By the time that familiar theme song started playing—the finale from the William Tell Overture—I was already on the floor with my holster and mask and white cowboy hat. For that half hour, I was the Lone Ranger.

The poor reception of the black-and-white TV didn’t matter. What mattered was that the Lone Ranger and Tonto were already in the saddle, facing trouble with grit and bravery. I’d sit cross-legged on the floor, spooning Corn Pops into my mouth like ammunition for the day, while I waited for someone to need rescuing, for justice to be served, or for the words “Hi-ho Silver” to echo through the room.

The Lone Ranger wasn’t just a show—it was a weekly lesson in right and wrong. He didn’t kill. He didn’t lie. He didn’t brag. He helped strangers. He stood up for the underdog. And he did it all behind a mask, asking for no reward. The show always closed with the rescued victim asking, “Who was that masked man?”

To a young boy still figuring out the rules of the world, those things stuck. I didn’t have the words for it back then, but I understood that being good meant doing what’s right, even when no one’s looking—and maybe especially then.

And so, for a few years of childhood, I had a silent contract with that masked man and his code. Be brave. Be fair. Be kind. Don’t run from trouble, but don’t go looking for it either. It’s amazing how many moral compasses got handed out over cereal bowls and cowboy reruns.

Reflection & Writing Tips

Let’s talk about how you can use favorite shows—or music, or books—as a way into deeper memoir writing.

Because here’s the truth: pop culture doesn’t just sit on the surface. It sinks in.
It becomes part of your emotional landscape.

When you write about the shows you loved, you’re really writing about:

• Who you were when you loved them
  
• What you believed about the world
  
• What you needed
  

So let’s break down a few ways to do that:

1. Describe the show itself.
The basics. What was it called? What time did it come on? Was it a cartoon, a Western, a variety show like Micky Mouse Club? What was the theme song? Who were your favorite characters?

The more specific you can be, the better. If you can remember lines or catchphrases, include them. They serve as anchors for readers who remember the show, too.

2. Describe the ritual around watching or listening.
Who watched the show with you? Did you have to fight for control of the dial? Was there a snack involved? A blanket? A dog at your feet?

Describe the scene—not just what’s on the screen.

3. Use sensory details.
What did the TV room look like? Smell like? Sound like?

Maybe there was a popcorn smell in the air. Maybe the couch had that one broken spring. Maybe your grandpa smoked a pipe while Gunsmoke played in the background.

These are the textures of memory.

4. Reflect on why it mattered.
Did the show offer escape? Connection? Humor? Hope? Did it teach you something? Did it spark a dream?

Think of it this way: If your favorite show was a friend, what kind of friend was it?

And here’s the best part—when you write about these moments, you’re also writing about a piece of cultural history. You’re giving the reader a little time machine.

So don’t be afraid to go deep. Or wide. Or weird. If you loved it, it mattered.

Key Takeaway

The shows we watched and the voices we listened to as kids aren’t just memories.

They’re mirrors.

They reflect who we were, what we longed for, what made us laugh, and what gave us hope.

And when you write about them, you’re not just telling someone what was on TV.

You’re expressing your values, and whether those values still matter.

Listener Mailbox

This week’s question comes from Jules in Cincinnati, who asks:

“Are there any tricks to spark sensory memory when I feel stuck or flat in my writing?”

Great question, Jules. Most writers struggle with connecting their feelings to the words on a page. Here are a few of my favorite techniques:

1. The Object Trigger
Find an object from the time or place you’re writing about. It could be anything—a lunchbox, a toy, a piece of clothing. Hold it. Smell it. Describe it. Often, objects can open up memories like a pry bar.

2. The Soundtrack Method
Put on music from the era. One song from junior high school can flood your mind with more detail than five writing prompts. Let it play. Find the groove. Then write.

3. Close Your Eyes and Walk the Room
Imagine your childhood living room, or your bedroom, or the kitchen where that show always played. Close your eyes and “walk” through the space in your mind. What do you see? Hear? Smell?

4. The 5-Senses List
Before writing, take 2 minutes to list everything you remember about the memory using your five senses. You don’t have to be poetic. You’re the only one who will read this. Use the exercise to leverage your memories, nothing more. Try:

• What did it smell like?
  
• What sounds were around?
  
• What textures or fabrics?
  
• What lighting?
  
• Was it warm or cold?
  

Once you’ve made the list, start writing your scene—and you’ll notice it comes more easily.

And one last thing, Jules:
Sensory memory doesn’t have to be dramatic. Sometimes the ordinary details are what make a scene sing.

Prompt of the Week

Ready to write?

Here’s your prompt this week:

Write about your favorite childhood TV show.
What was the show? Who did you watch or listen with? Why did it matter?

Here are some questions to help you dig deeper:

• Where were you when you watched it? What time of day?
  
• Was it a solo ritual, or did you share it with someone?
  
• What feelings do you associate with it—excitement, escape, belonging?
  
• Did it shape who you wanted to be?
  

Bonus Prompt:
Find an old clip of the show on YouTube or streaming. Watch it again. Then write about how it feels to see it now.

What changed? What stayed the same?

Call to Action

So—what shows did you watch?

What world did you escape to through the screen—or the speaker—before the world got loud with responsibility?

Whatever it was… write about it.

Because memory doesn’t just live in the big stuff. It lives in cartoons and commercials and static on the screen. It lives in the spaces where we let ourselves dream.

Want the Scene Builder Worksheet? Subscribe to the Story Sparks newsletter at MemoirClub.net. Until next time, remember:

Your story matters. Let’s write it together.