One Tree Hill, or Montreal to one of my bestie’s adorbs little sisters, said peace out last week. I am a lover of shows, often those that center around adolescents and their crazy dramas and struggles. I loved 90210(the OG), MSCL, Melrose Place, Dawson’s Creek, Party of Five and the list goes on.
I didn’t get down with Tree Hill until a couple of years in at the relentless behest from another adorbs little sister of said bestie. And all of a sudden I loved it. The crazy shenanigans were fun, the drama was…well, dramatic and the episode titles were epic. And then there was the music. They had an indie, ears to the ground quality that I found pretty freaking rad. The soundtrack fit the mood and was always comprised of shit you wouldn’t hear on the radio. It was like a weekly mix tape from a cool sophomore with an uncle in a kickass ska band and a penchant for the drums and French films from the 60′s.
But even with all that, I was really in it for the characters. I didn’t care that the acting wasn’t top shelf and that the storylines included a killer nanny and a Russian mafia kidnapping scheme. The Scott family, Brooke and Julian’s twins, the goof troop with the sexy bod, Quinn James and all the rest made it worth my while to hang out there every week. I’m sorry to see them go. My 42 year old ass is not at all ashamed to say that I cried big, fat tears as the gang belted out the theme song alongside old Gavin DeGraw. It was a lovely sendoff.
Loves ya, Millie and Mouth. See ya Haley James. Peace out, Brooke Davis. Sayonara, Skills. Good night, River Court. I love all y’all. Yes, even you, Chris Keller. Thanks for the memories. I don’t want any of you to be anything but what you’ve been trying to be lately. Don’t be anything other than you.
