Kerry Winfrey Talks with You about Joe Pera Talks with You

Also: should I move my family to Marquette?

There’s nothing better than the feeling of finding something—or someone—that was meant for you, that instant click of connection. Many of my best friendships have started this way—my high school BFF and I became best friends the very first time we hung out on a rainy afternoon at the rental house my family had barely moved into and discovered, amongst the boxes of unpacked things and a kitchen that didn’t yet hold much more than Pop-Tarts, that we had the exact same sense of humor. My elementary school BFF and I met when I saw her walking around the playground looking at the ground and I asked her what she was doing. She said she found all kinds of interesting things (pennies, safety pins) on the ground simply by paying attention, and we became inseparable for years after that meeting. My college BFF and I started talking as we left our first class together and didn’t stop talking the entire time I accompanied him on errands and to lunch, our walk turning into an entire afternoon together. I’ve never fallen in love at first sight (to put it in romance novel terms, my husband and I are “friends to lovers,” not “insta-love”), but I live for that feeling of friendship at first sight.

Honestly, I live my whole life hoping that I’ll find anything—a song, a movie, a restaurant—that feels made for me. Not to be like “I’m not like other girls” (other girls are great, and almost universally much cooler than me!), but I feel a little out of place in most situations. Again, not in a way where I think I’m better than the situation I’m in. It’s more like everyone else got a memo about the correct way to behave and I’m frantically trying to figure it out, like I’m Bridget Jones showing up at what she thinks is a tarts and vicars party. Except, you know, just awkward and not with the cute bunny tail. A few weeks ago after going to my son’s soccer practice, I told Hollis that sometimes I feel like the whole world is one big Marvel movie (maybe this will only make sense if you read last week’s newsletter). But then I find something—a song that takes up residence in my heart from the very first note, a place that seems like it’s been waiting for me to find it—that feels perfect, and I remember that I don’t actually have to feel slightly off-kilter at all times. Sometimes, I can feel like I fit.

And that’s how I felt the moment I first watched Joe Pera Talks with You, like I was meeting a new best friend.

The show is about a character named Joe Pera, played by a comedian named Joe Pera. Joe Pera the character is a middle school choir teacher in Marquette, Michigan, where he spends time with his Nana, hangs out with his friend Gene, and explores his interests, which include things like diner breakfasts, fireworks, the grocery store, and beans. Coincidentally, many of these things are also my interests.

Each episode has a theme, but as the show goes on you learn more about Joe’s life and eventually a more linear story appears. It’s very funny, although sometimes it’s sad. It’s extremely realistic and not very dramatic. It’s soothing, but never boring. The people wear clothes that aren’t fancy and the houses look aggressively normal (to me, by which I mean Midwestern-y). It’s all extremely comforting. It’s hard to explain, but here are a couple of things I’d compare it to:

-Katherine Heiny’s Early Morning Riser, which is also set in Michigan and is a (mostly) undramatic look at regular life. This is my favorite book, and you should really read it if you like laughing and crying and characters named Gary.

-Somebody, Somewhere

-How to with John Wilson

People often compare it to Ted Lasso or Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood, but I disagree with those comparisons. Unfortunately I cannot say more on the topic as I’m trying to keep this newsletter positive.

Last summer, I got into a routine of getting up early to use the treadmill and watch Joe Pera before my family woke up. I was having a hard time and couldn’t understand why—I’d gotten vaccinated, it was summer, seasonal depression was gone. I should’ve been feeling great! I became convinced that getting 10,000 steps a day would make me feel better, even though I didn’t know why I felt so bad. It took me a long time to realize that I was deeply, profoundly lonely, more so than I’d been since high school.

This wasn’t necessarily new. I became pretty isolated when I had my son, because I quit my job and two of our family members died and a lot of my friends moved away or, in the wake of me having a baby, decided they didn’t want to be friends anymore. It took me a few years to start feeling better, but in 2019 I had the best year of my life—my son was a hilarious toddler (so much easier than a baby!), Waiting for Tom Hanks was out and I was out in the world constantly, talking to people and meeting friends and feeling something I hadn’t felt in years: that I was part of society, community, the world in general. Life felt big and bright and hopeful. I was surrounded by people who wanted to talk to me, and it was an entirely new feeling. I spent that whole summer listening to Maggie Rogers and getting randomly upgraded to first class on flights and staying in lovely boutique hotels. I was living the life they talk about in those self-help books with titles like, “How to Be a Badass Bitch Who Doesn’t Even Know What Depression is Because Mental Health Problems Can be Cured by Manifesting!”

And then, of course, the pandemic happened. I didn’t realize until last summer how thoroughly isolated I’d become, how much anxiety had dug its gnarly little hooks into my brain since March 2020. But looking at social media made it very clear that everyone else was out living their best lives, drinking on rooftop bars with their friends in the sunshine and achieving their professional dreams and, I don’t know, generally not being on a treadmill in their basement at 6 am. Everyone else was surrounded by people. I was surrounded by the boxes and furniture we inherited when Hollis’s mom died in 2016, which took up our entire basement. The symbolism would’ve made me roll my eyes if I saw it in a movie. Everyone else: on the roof, with people, in the sun. Me: in the basement, alone, literally surrounded by the past.

I may have been alone, but watching Joe Pera made me feel not alone. If only for the 11 minutes per episode, I felt better. Joe Pera (the character, not the person) doesn’t always fit in. He doesn’t often fit in, actually. In one of my favorite episodes, “Joe Pera Goes to Dave Wojcek’s Bachelor Party with You,” Joe says, “If only there were a book titled, ‘How to Connect with Other Men in Their Thirties.’ I would read the whole thing, and then be the life of the party.”

Sometimes people overtly make fun of Joe, although more often they’re just confused by him. But that doesn’t stop him from trying. He still goes to that bachelor party, after all. And he acts like himself while he’s there, even though that means going out for a hike by himself to look for an eastern milk snake. He’s never mean or judgmental. He stays kind and open-minded and he’s always participating in life. He knows what he likes (creating a bean arch) and he’s enthusiastic about his interests, even when other people aren’t. And usually, his earnestness wins people over. People don’t always understand him, but they like him for being himself.

And he’s part of a community, which was the part I envied the most after having spent (at that point) over a year in a pandemic and, again, being alone in the basement. He goes to fish fries, which just look so lovely (I don’t know if we have non-Lent fish fries in Ohio?). He’s part of the school and his church. He has routines and traditions and a whole world there in Marquette. I wanted to move to Marquette so badly (still do, actually). Watching Joe Pera be a part of his community, even though he was sometimes lonely and sometimes didn’t fit in, made me feel like maybe I could do that, too. I was so disconnected from any form of community as a writer with no day job and a mom of an only child. I didn’t have a school or a church or even a club. Maybe I could find the metaphorical fish fries here in Columbus (or possibly the literal ones…again, I’m not sure if they exist here but please enlighten me if you know more). Maybe if I could believe in other people and myself, I wouldn’t feel so alone.

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Last summer, my book Very Sincerely Yours came out. The book is about, among other things, a woman who starts doing one thing every day that scares her because her life up to that point has been so small and directionless. The “scary” tasks she completes are deliberately small, because sometimes when you’re not in a good place, everything seems scary. I know, because I’ve been there.

I was there, last summer. I made myself do my own version of Do One Thing Every Day That Scares You, and the things were laughably tiny. Taking my son to swimming lessons counted, because I am scared of the pool (it’s a site of embarrassment to me because I failed the diving level of swimming lessons three times). Talking to another mom at swimming lessons counted, because I’m scared of talking to other parents. Going someplace new counted, because sometimes when my anxiety gets really bad I get a little bit agoraphobic (being in a pandemic has, of course, exacerbated this). Texting a friend and asking to hang out counted, because I was terrified of being rejected. Basically, everything counted. This would’ve been great promo for my book if it wasn’t so embarrassing. Can you imagine? “Do one thing every day that scares you! Personally, I’m being brave by saying hello to another person! Buy my book please!”

But that’s how it is sometimes. I had to remind myself a lot last summer that things happen in cycles and that I wouldn’t always feel this bad. I had to claw my way out of it by continuing to show up and go out and keep trying. And every day when I watched Joe Pera Talks with You, I felt like I could keep going. That there was a sense of community out there, somewhere, if I looked for it.

It would be great if I ended this with, like, “And then I did find a fish fry and befriended every old man there are now I feel like a deeply valued member of my community.” That didn’t happen, although I don’t feel as bad right now as I did then. I’m in a much better place right now to work on it. Maybe I will find a school or a club or a church (that last one is less likely, but you never know and I’m open to anything). Sometimes you have to be the fish fry you wish to see in the world, or keep looking for that big fish fry in the sky, or something. I have faith I’ll find my fish fry, I guess!

POV: you’re at the fish fry of your dreams with Joe Pera.

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If you haven’t watched Joe Pera Talks with You, I’d advise starting it right this second. If you don’t have HBOMax, this is worth a free trial. My favorite episode that I watch whenever I feel down is Joe Pera Reads You the Church Announcements, which fills me with so much joy that I feel like it’s gonna burst out of my chest like the alien in Alien. I showed this to our son (although I turned down the volume during the light profanity) and he loved it, so it’s also five-year-old approved. I won’t spoil it for you by telling you anything about it, but I hope you love it too.

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Okay, one more thing before I go. My brother’s girlfriend, Eudora Peterson, is in an episode of JPTWY. Alex didn’t tell me which one she was in, so when I saw her (she’s a conehead in the episode Joe Pera Watches Internet Videos With You, which won’t make sense until you watch it), I screamed and almost fell off the treadmill. I’m warning you so YOU won’t fall off YOUR treadmill!!

Next week I’ll try to talk more about a movie than about myself, but no promises! I just watched Stand By Me and I still feel really sad about those sweet little boys. We also watched The Fantastic Mr. Fox with our five-year-old, which I highly recommend if you don’t mind the made up curse words and occasional guns used by “bad guys.” See you next week.

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OH WAIT, I almost forgot so now I’m back…I’m doing an in person event right here in Columbus on August 9th at Gramercy Books, and I’d love to see you there. This is the first IRL event I’ve done since that day in March 2020 when Tom Hanks got COVID, so…well, I’d love to say I’m nervous, but actually I’m just excited. I’m gonna try my best not to shout 2.5 years worth of stories at everyone who shows up.