Saying goodbye is hard. Change is hard. Admitting to an unknown future is hard.* (*obviously only applicable for those of us who are not prophetic.) So
series finales, although they are "just" TV shows, can be hard to process. Because they force us to think about the future. What's going to happen next? Do
we want to know or don't we? Where are people going to be in 5, 10, 50 years? Where are we going to be?
Sure, this whole thing sounds overly sentimental and cheesy, but that's how series finales work! They represent the end of an era, the end of a story. But
a series finale is not "The End." Which is perhaps the most important bit to remember. We, the viewers of television, get a glimpse into other worlds for a
time. We don't start at the beginning, we don't stay til the end. Television is not like The Truman Show -- it's not every moment of every single day. We
see a collection of moments, of stories told because for one reason or another, they are important in the lives of the characters. They may be little
moments, like organizing a birthday party, or big moments, like a wedding. And then (for most characters), their stories continue on, beyond the scope of the show. But where we imagine those stories to go, well that's all up to the finale. Luckily Parks' keeps right in line with the rest of the series, and happily ever afters are embraced as possibilities.
Look all around the internet and you'll find about a million fans and critics talking about Parks being a spot of optimism in a comedy world overrun with
cynicism. That's because it's true. I'm not going to talk much about it, because there are probably literal dissertations on the subject, but it is a big
part of what makes Parks and Recreation, Parks and Recreation. It's not that every character is constantly optimistic, or nice, or hard-working, or
selfless all the time. It's that the show believes that people CAN be that way. Even if you're sarcastic, you can help out your friends; even if you
disagree, you can get along; even if you're not the brightest bulb, you can make someone's day; even if it seems like the world's set against you, you can
still try. The show has been very ensemble-centered since the start, but there's no doubt that Leslie Knope is the show's keystone, and her energy sets the
tone. She does the work, because the work is worth doing. She does it with a team because nobody can do it alone. And she does it even though it can be
hard and tireless, because she believes that people CAN make the world a little better for the people in it. And that's the spirit that has carried Parks
for 7 wonderful seasons.
This optimism can be seen in the flashforwards for each of the characters.
Donna and Joe move to Seattle and travel around the world when they're able. But after Joe's school decides to just straight up cut mathematics from the curriculum, Donna has a better idea for her real estate commission than travel -- Teach Yo Self, an educational non-profit, organized with help from Satan's Niece (aka, April).
April and Andy move to DC, where Andy's career is ambiguous, but they both seem to have a good life. They come into some conflict regarding kids, where Andy is super into the idea and April seems pretty hesitant. After a discussion with Leslie where Leslie does not try to convince April of anything, just lets her know that she really likes April and Andy's "team." They end up having a son named...well, Jack for short, and they've got another one on the way as of the reunion in 2025.
Tom's restaurant chain fails (due to the national beef crisis), and he channels his failure into a memoir/self-help book, using the different personalities of his co-workers as models of success -- except for Jerry/Garry of course!
Ron reaches out to Leslie when he comes to another crossroads in his professional life, and, while a difficult move for him, it definitely pays off. Leslie pulls a few strings and gets Ron the most Ron-iest of jobs -- overseeing the Pawnee National Park. Which basically means he spends his days alone in nature, mostly rowing about in his canoe. It's almost better than breakfast food. Whoa, whoa, hold on, folks! I said almost.
Leslie and Ben, who have headed down similar but separate career paths throughout the series, finally find themselves in competition. Following a
dinner/charades with Joe Biden & Co, the Knope-Wyatts share the exciting news that they've both been approached about running for Governor of Indiana.
Even though the position is one that Leslie has dreamed about since kindergarten (literally), she decides they should flip a coin to decide who will run
and who will support wholeheartedly. (After all, the pro/con lists for the both of them were, as you'd expect, completely identical.) Ben decides to cede the seat to Leslie, knowing how important and dear the state of Indiana is to her. Leslie serves for the governor of Indiana for two terms, becomes the coolest commencement speaker ever, and never forgets the importance of one's team -- even showing up to pay respects to an old co-worker, some 3+ decades after working together.
The co-worker in question is, of course, Garry Gergich, who somehow ends up being Mayor of Pawnee for the rest of his life. He lives to the ripe old age of 100, and has about a million descendants and an ageless wife. Everything seems like went right for him. Except his name on his tombstone -- seems about right.
All the flashfowards are precipitated by physical connection between characters, and apt method to show how their relationships have all shaped each other, and set one another on the paths they will eventually travel. (I know, I know, it's sappy, but I WARNED YOU.)
One of the main flashfowards, in Leslie and Ben's story, is the big Parks reunion in 2025, complete with Ann & Co. It was so nice to see all of the characters back together, even though most haven't had any real screen time apart from one another. But everyone's experience the inevitable distance and accidental disconnect that comes with space and time and work and family, and sometimes people just drift away from each other. The reunion is so heartening, in that it gives hope that maybe these people, this team, were important enough to each other to try and stay connected, even when it's hard.
On a bit of a random note: the fact that the drunk in the slide from the pilot is the same suited man who requests a swing fix in the finale is a nice little touch. Obviously, there probably wasn't some grand scheme to start and end the show with the same random Pawneean, but it does bookend the series nicely, as well as call to mind how much as changed since the start. Not only has the constantly roadblocked and eternally determined Deputy Director of the Parks Department of Pawnee moved up to the political big leagues, but Drunk Slide Guy has got his act together! ("Finally!" the audience choruses in unison, "Only took him like 8 years!")
There have been many potential "series finales" produced over the course of the series, and it's clear that they really know how to make finales over there. The most important part about the various "series finales" of Parks and Recreation is that they craft a happy moment -- not a happy ending -- but the
future is full of waffles and possibilities. This actual series finale skips through the future, touching down on points here and there, illuminating the
sense of each character's future without explicitly wrapping it up.
The fact that the show doesn't leave us at the end, but rather right in the middle, as Leslie and others get ready for new adventures in their lives --
that's the best part. Nobody really wants to know all the answers ahead of time. Parks drew the Connect-the-Dots puzzle, and now you get to color it in. Did
Andy start up Johnny Karate again in DC? What was Garry's biggest mishap as Mayor-for-Life? How often did Leslie and Ann (and families) get to see each
other? What was Ben's first congressional run like? How many names did April and Andy give to their children? Did Tom ever release a "Treat Yo Self"
motivational/self-help/memoir? Was Donna the one to bring back math to numerically-deprived children all around the country? Did Leslie Knope become
President of the United States of America? (Let's not be silly, of course she did -- those were definitely some Secret Service agents flanking the
Knope-Wyatts at Garry Gingrich's funeral. And why wouldn't she be POTUS?)
The cool thing is, now you get to use your imagination. Sure, it can be a little more exciting when a room full of professional storytellers and comedians
craft a tight half hour for you to enjoy every week, but we can't keep them trapped in that room forever, now can we? So they leave us with a beautifully
crafted world full of interesting characters, and an unbreakable sense of optimism that no matter what happens next, they're ready.
Thanks, Parks and Recreation, for the heart, the relationships, the earnestness, and the laughs. Thanks for the lines that are so easy to repeat to the
point of annoyance to others nearby. Thanks for the characters that are full of wacky idiosyncrasies and rooted in humanness. Thanks for the moments of
heartbreak, and the moments of joy. Thanks for using comedy as a means to reflect the world as well as provide a different perspective. Thanks for being an
opalescent tree shark. We sure will miss you.
