From Sobbing to Uplifting Moments: The West Wing in Today's World

Unpacking the unexpected tears and moments of hope I found in rewatching The West Wing.

In today’s binge TV culture, I find myself obsessed with a show, fully immersed in that world, and then experiencing a loss when I finish the season or series. In those moments, I’m not quite ready to jump into another world, so I search for a show that serves as a palette cleanser. A series I’ve seen a bajillion times– so many times that I can head off to the bathroom while it’s playing and know exactly what I missed when I get back. I was recently in desperate need of a palate cleanser after finishing The Morning Show. My go-to palette cleanser would normally be Friends, but with the recent loss of my best friend, Chandler Bing, it’s too soon for the gang at the coffee shop. So I reached for the clicker and put on The West Wing.

I’ve loved The West Wing since its debut, which was the perfect timing in TV history–smack dab in the middle of the Bush Jr. years. My wife, Mary, and I referred to it as liberal porn, and over the years, it’s been running in the background of our lives like a yule log. 

The show’s brilliance lies in Aaron Sorkin’s witty dialogue, his fast-paced banter, and the walk-and-talk scenes where decisions of epic proportions are made while circling the halls, holding blue folders. I watched an episode recently where Josh and Sam walked, talked, and argued, and at the end of the conversation they stopped and Sam said, “Where are you going?” Then Josh said, “I don’t know. I was following you.” They both took their blue folders and speed-walked off in another direction. Brilliant.

I’m obsessed with Mrs. Laningham, both the character and the actress. The character has a snarky, yet mothering charm and a tragic TV death to rival Omar on The Wire. The actress, Kathryn Joosten is an inspiration. She began acting at 53 when her kids left the house, starting her new career at Disney, before landing this plum gig. She’s inspired me in all of my “I still haven’t made it yet, but am definitely going to someday” career panic moments. CJ Craig is hilarious; whipping from serious to funny. Don’t even get me started on Josh and Donna. You had me at season one. 

In real life, I met Charlie and, of course, immediately asked him if Martin Sheen was the greatest man on earth. He said, yes. What else could he say? I saw Allison Janney on the street one day while I was picking up formula. I bum-rushed her for a selfie, and I’m pretty sure I scared the crap out of her. But I sure do look excited in the picture. I once passed John Spencer, the infamous Leo McGary, on the street and I was so struck to see him that I started applauding as he passed by. It was weird, but I’m weird, so…Oh and Aaron Sorkin was a guest on a show that I worked on. I told the production associate to get me an autograph, but I gave both forceful and explicit instructions for them to explain to Mr. Sorkin that I was his biggest fan. Still hoping he didn’t get Misery vibes from that exchange. 

The thing about The West Wing is it has always made me feel hopeful. In a world where politicians are doing politics, The West Wing showed many of us that maybe, just maybe, we can have a group of people working in the White House who care about us and fight the good fight. 

So, as I fired up season one, episode one, and heard that familiar orchestral theme song rising, I was ready to cleanse my palette and refill my tank of hope.

Unfortunately, that’s not what happened. 

As I watched, I found myself crying every damn episode. Now I admit that I’m prone to crying. I’ve cried at the following (but not limited to): sappy commercials, my kids’ not-so-amazing stage productions, any sentimental music played alongside a character striving for something (hello, Rocky,) and all Elton John songs except Crocodile Rock. What I’m saying is crying wasn’t out of the ordinary for me. What was unusual was the fact that I was ugly crying like I was watching an episode of This is Us. 

The more I thought about the previous million times I watched The West Wing from beginning to end, the more I was confused by the fact that I kept ending up with a runny nose and blurry eyes. Perhaps I am getting more sentimental? Having kids can do that to a person. One of my besties, Barb, was a tough-as-nails bish when we went to college and the years that followed. She’d argue until she was blue in the face and never cry. Then she had a kid and now she cries as much as I complain about making dinner. Welcome to the club, Barb!

But then it hit me. It’s not that I’m more sentimental. It’s that intelligent, thoughtful political banter is now a pipe dream.  It’s worse than a pipe dream. Watching the show has illuminated my fears that we live in a world that we’ve broken so irrevocably that a West Wing-type future is no longer possible. There is no longer working with “the other side,” and lying and gaslighting don’t seem to have consequences. I'm mourning the death of The West Wing dream

I debate in my head (and to all my friends who are not yet tired of listening to me) if globally, we are off our axis or if the world was always like this and we just didn’t know it. If we didn’t have a phone in our pockets that alerts us to all the atrocities in the world, would we know about that horrible thing that happened yesterday? 

It certainly feels to me though that a veil of decorum has been lifted. Once unacceptable behaviors, but for a few psychologically challenged folks, have now become commonplace. People are spitting on bus drivers and screaming at flight attendants, there are shootings in schools and daycares, and just this week a 15-year-old stabbed another 15-year-old at one of my kid’s schools. 

There are many days when I feel hopeless about our future. 

But…

And I recognize that this is a small thing, but I’m going to continue to watch The West Wing. I’m going to continue to cry as needed. I hope that by watching the show again, I may be able to find some of the hope in humanity that I’ve seen there before. Hope is important. One of my foundational beliefs is that we see the world that we’re looking for. For example, when you buy a new car, let’s say you bought a Volkswagen Jetta and it’s red. You thought it was a unique color because you can’t recall seeing any red Jettas on the streets. But as soon as you drive that car off the lot, the streets are filled with bright red Jettas. You think to yourself, were they always there? They probably were, but you were not searching for them and they passed by in a sea of Jeeps and Toyota Camrys. 

What I’m saying is, I don't want to live in a world where I am wearing a pair of glasses that encourages me to focus on every hate crime, every robbery, or every cruel thing that I read about in the news. Sure, I need to be aware of those events, but I also want to take in the good things that happen, like the lady who helped the elderly person cross the street or the person in the car in front of me who paid for my Starbucks in the drive-through. 

This morning, after my walk, I watched an episode of The West Wing while eating breakfast. I’m knee-deep in Season One. We’ve just discovered President Bartlett has Relapsing and Remitting MS, Donna and Josh have only hugged one time, and Mandy hasn’t yet been sent off to Mandy-Land (IYNYN!) Toby has spent the entire episode arguing over a single phrase for the State of the Union address. In a lightbulb moment, he has a realization and grabs his blue folder and sprints to the President’s residence to tell him they not only need to cut the phrase but revamp the entire section of the speech. Here’s what he says:

“Tomorrow night we do an immense thing. We have to say what we feel. That government, no matter what its failures in the past, and in times to come, for that matter, government can be a place where people come together. And where no one gets left behind. No one…gets left behind. An instrument of good.” 

Cue the sobbing. 

I may not have my hope back yet, but I’m grateful to Aaron Sorkin for the world that he created with a group of people working together to not leave any one of us behind. It might be a pipe dream. But it might not be. So I’m going to err on the side of hope.