My Wife, the Whovian

My wife hasn’t always been a Whovian.

In fact, she was a long-standing scoffer of the Doctor and his adventures.

It took her close to 40 years and a guide to bring her into the fold. Her experience was somewhat forced during the reign of Jon Pertwee, the Third Doctor.

Ah the 70’s the fresh scent of polyester and the ever-present battle of yellow waxy buildup! One of her older brothers had basically taken over the television during that time frame and forced her to watch the Third Doctor and his adventures in reversing the polarity of the neutron flow.

Because of the “introduction” technique that her brother had used, she was turned off of the Doctor and his wild adventures through space and time against poorly clad enemies and extremely obnoxious Daleks.

What was the difference between then and now?

Patience.

I reintroduced my wife to the Doctor at the beginning of his ninth iteration.It was ‘fantastic!’ She didn’t want to like Chris Eccleston. She didn’t want to like the stories under the direction of Russell T. Davies. I let her come to know the Doctor as I did. He wasn’t just a time-traveling, sometimes stuffy-nosed genius with a penchant for trouble and clichéd adventures.

No, the Doctor was the agent of change (the oncoming storm) that allowed me back into my own love of fiction and smart but witty stories. The Doctor was the one who showed his passion and concern for humanity while still saving the day with naught but his brains and a sonic screwdriver. The Doctor,in short, was a brilliant being who showed his companions the best way to be either by being the example of what to do, or in some cases what not to do.

She didn’t like when the Doctor regenerated. She felt what all of us feel when the Doctor goes through that.

“Who is this new one? What’s he going to be like? I liked the old one!”

Yes, my wife made an emotional attachment to the Doctor despite her predisposition towards uncaring and ennui towards the Last of the Time Lords. She focused that on Doctor Number 10 for the first few episodes. The Chat Nurses helped ease her frustration during the trip to New Earth.

In watching the series, my wife had many questions. Some I didn’t have the answer for, some I had to answer with a knowing smile, some Ihad to answer, “just watch!” She began to really become vested in the new iteration of the Doctor. She was the new companion. Just like Rose, Martha and Donna, she moved along with the Doctor to try to find the answers along with that man with so much passion that two hearts could hardly contain it.

The transition from 10 to 11was difficult for my wife. The transformation that took place was gripping and emotional. Not only was the Tenth Doctor not ready to go, but she wasn’t ready to let him go. She had to go through it all over again.

The Doctor regenerated and now he liked bowties and fish fingers and custard. He was an alien to her. He was unruly and ignorant. He wasn’t her Doctor. He was someone new. Fish fingers and custard? Here we are four decades later from the Third Doctor and now she can’t wait for the new episodes to come across the pond (hehehe, Pond) on BBC America. Granted, she still thinks the Daleks are obnoxious, but who can blame her?