Errin Haines
ASAP

I can't say where I was when the last episode of "The Cosby Show" aired on April 30, 1992. But I can safely say that I rarely missed my weekly date with the Huxtables in the eight seasons they were on the air. And these being the days before TiVo, we're talking quite a commitment.

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Not that it was a hard sell. "The Cosby Show" was -- and is -- a rarity. Its cultural accomplishments have not been repeated, at least not yet.

Here was a show featuring an affluent black couple and their five children, three of whom we saw off to college. The show regularly celebrated black love, not only in the daily interactions between Claire and Cliff Huxtable, but between Cliff's parents (who can forget the family lip-synching in anniversary episodes?) and later in the marriages of Sondra and Denise.

Black history and pride were on full display. College sweat shirts, including many from historically black colleges, were as much a part of Cliff's wardrobe as his trademark colorful sweaters. In the children's rooms were posters of Miles Davis, Florence Griffith-Joyner, Martin Luther King Jr. and other black heroes. Claire and Cliff danced and romanced each other in the living room to jazz greats. And living legends like Stevie Wonder, Lena Horne, Miriam Makeba and Sammy Davis Jr. made cameo appearances on the show.

Here was a show that quietly declared, "I'm Black and I'm proud." It didn't beat viewers over the head with the fact that decades after the end of legalized segregation, there were black folks in this country who were making good, even at a time when crack cocaine was dropping a bomb on much of the black community.

Yes, 10 Stigwood Avenue in Brooklyn was a wonderful weekly escape for black people, but the show's popularity transcended race, and for good reason.

Despite its focus on black life, "The Cosby Show" was accessible to everyone, helped in part by the diversity of guest cast members. That diverse group encouraged people to watch who otherwise wouldn't, and invited those watching to expand their social circles.

From first grade to 10th, I was a member of Cosby Nation, sitting on my couch in my pajamas watching Claire, Cliff, and their clan after I'd finished my homework and piano lesson. For me, the show wasn't about hope; it was an affirmation of my own upbringing.

Though I only have one sibling and my mother raised both of us alone, I grew up in a middle class suburb, and the importance of education loomed large over our home. Like the Huxtable children, my brother and I were exposed to many different experiences: We traveled together as a family, we participated in all kinds of extra-curricular activities, we were well-recognized at our neighborhood library and were season-ticket holders at our small-town theater company.

And so in my mother's house, to watch the Huxtables wasn't to live vicariously through a positive black family -- we were one.

No fictional black family has come close to recreating the chemistry, class or charisma of the Huxtables in the 15 years the show has been off the air. Not "The Bernie Mac Show," where the title character and his wife raise his crackhead sister's three children. Not "Everybody Hates Chris," which waxes nostalgic on comedian Chris Rock's rocky New York City childhood.

Such shows are certainly entertaining, and these fake families certainly have much more company on television networks today than the Huxtables did then. But some of the magic is gone, perhaps because they favor more realistic scenarios than the fantasy world sometimes criticized as too far-fetched on "The Cosby Show." (Here's a little trivia: Cliff was actually originally cast as a chauffeur, and the Huxtables were going to be a blue-collar family.)

After all, who would believe that black, white or green, a doctor and a lawyer were home together that much? Or that Cliff could run an OB/GYN practice in the basement? And how about Claire, a mom with never a hair or thread out of place after having five kids -- who were also all without major problems?

And yet the suspension of disbelief was worth it. Before the Huxtables came along, there was certainly no family like them on television. George and Louise Jefferson had already raised their son and were well past middle age by the time they'd moved on up to the East side, and despite the title, there weren't many "Good Times" for the James, Florida and the rest of the Evans family living in the Chicago projects.

The mid-80s may have been the perfect time for America to meet the Huxtables. The rise of the African-American middle class probably introduced much of the country to the kinds of black people they were already meeting in the workplace, at PTA meetings and their own neighborhoods. Why shouldn't they also be on their television screens?

Looking back, in many ways, "The Cosby Show" seemed ahead of its time. And yet, it remains timeless. I, for one, am thankful for reruns and DVD collections; otherwise, my 11-year-old niece might never know the joy and wisdom of this show.

I'm willing to bet that "The Cosby Show" played a significant role in shaping many young black boys and girls who grew up with the Huxtable children.

It certainly shaped this one.

asap contributor and AP reporter Errin Haines knows how to give a zrbrrt.