That sensitivity, that wisdom, was the foundation on which she created one of the most beloved and longest-lasting shows in television history. We thrived while Agnes was there: our always unseen but benevolent creator, who could almost effortlessly divine order from chaos-the person behind the curtain who appreciated not only the heart’s incredible ability to endure but also its needs for community and purpose. Pine Valley was as much a living presence as any of its citizens, a lovable collection of ridiculously eccentric and often scandalous families struggling to evolve in an ever-evolving world: families brilliantly brought to life by the talents of such people as Kay Campbell, Ruth Warrick, and Mary Fickett. In its heyday, the miracle of AMC was always greater than the sum of its parts. More important, it is the very thing that lends an ongoing story its power. To intuitively know how and when to surrender the past in favor of the future is a rare and precious talent. Any generation, no matter how remarkable, must nurture-and then bow to-its successor. At its heart, All My Children’s history has always been its greatest asset. The job is one that requires the skill of a master storyteller-someone like Agnes Nixon. A smaller audience, more specifically targeted through an online network, may yet save the day. It’s gratifying to know that All My Children continues to represent something worth fighting for, as evidenced by the efforts of forward-thinking men like Rich Frank and Jeff Kwatinetz, whose Prospect Park has secured the rights to continue both All My Children and One Life to Live on the Internet (and perhaps cable), with the cast and staff still in flux. In late January, after One Life to Live also ends, only four daytime dramas will still be airing on the three major networks, out of 10 a decade earlier. Advancing technology challenges advertising reality television continues to redefine entertainment and an increasingly sophisticated audience has embraced the right to choose how, where, and when it spends its downtime. More recently, due to constantly evolving cultural and economic changes, soaps have been all too easily labeled (even by those responsible for their welfare) as dated and archaic. The genre was always a simple one, easy to satirize and dismiss, though immensely profitable. That said, for years “soaps” have been struggling for relevance and, according to some network executives, losing the fight. The ongoing outcry has made us all intensely aware, with varying degrees of discomfort and gratitude (depending which side of the camera you worked on), of the dangers of messing with a piece of contemporary zeitgeist, especially during an era of such immense, and global, transformation. Without a doubt, our audience has made much of the sad news. But in the here and now of it, I ask for your patience, and forbearance, while I give it a shot. Were I to attempt it six months from now, I’m sure the result would be a completely different article. Making sense of things will, doubtless, be an ongoing process. The last few years in particular have been immensely challenging. After all, the show has been a dominant factor, and commitment, for well over half of my life. As a member of its cast for almost 30 years, I must admit this feels a little like tacking pieces of Jell-O to a bulletin board. I have been asked to express my thoughts on the cancellation of All My Children this fall.
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