‘Kick the Can’: Season 3, Episode 21
Published August 28, 2026
Warning: this contains spoilers, watch the episode here.
Of all the episodes of The Twilight Zone, this might truly be the most joyous. See how I didn’t use the word “happy”? There is a slight melancholy lurking beneath the surface of this episode—and its name is Mortality. Don’t let her name startle you. Perhaps we might even become friendly with her, because she does have something to offer.
What is that exactly? There is only one way to find out: through a game of Kick-the-Can!
Let’s get in The Zone!
Welcome to Sunnyville Rest: Home for the Aged
The iconic black-and-white television filter does not do anybody any favors, as it exaggerates already downtrodden facial expressions and exposes the air of loneliness that exists within this relatively full place. There is also something particularly ironic about the name “Sunnyville.” When you hear it, you think of sunshine, vacations, and happy, luxurious living—not a bleak home for those awaiting the handshake of death (who is a Mister). One of the only means of entertainment available to the residents of Sunnyville is to watch children play Kick-the-Can in the streets.
An elderly gentleman, Charles, bids a brief farewell to his longtime roommates at Sunnyville and makes his way to his son’s car, believing his son is taking him away from the place for good…I’ll let you take a wild guess on how that goes.
Sorrowful, Charles picks up the can the children were playing with and sits beneath a tree.
Then, as if summoned from the shadows, Rod Serling pops out of the bushes and delivers this monologue:
Serling: Sunnyvale Rest, a home for the aged - a dying place and a common children's game called kick-the-can, that will shortly become a refuge for a man who knows he will die in this world, if he doesn't escape into - The Twilight Zone.
Now watching the children from his room, we find Charles smiling with delighted admiration. His moment of joy is interrupted quickly by his cantankerous roommate, who I will call Mr. Grumpy.
Mr. Grumpy: “How can a man think?” [Don’t worry guys, apparently women don’t think…I digress.] “They’ve been told that they’re aren’t supposed to play on the grounds.” [Notice the “us versus them” language].
Charles: “The children? Are they hurting anyone?”
Mr. Grumpy: “Old people need their rest. Let them play some place else. They got playgrounds…They got homes.”
Charles: “Well, it’s the grass Ben. Kids can’t resist going where the grass is.
I feel a little convicted calling Ben “Mr. Grumpy,” because I, too, have gotten grumpy driving home from work and finding kids “in my way.” Seriously, why do I complain about this so much? Shouldn’t I be happy that children are making friends, playing outside, and staying away from the television? Does this mean everything can’t always be about me and my own preferences?
Let’s continue:
Ben [aka Mr. Grumpy]: “Your own son turns against you.”
Charles: “Well, the boy has got a lot of problems. It’s a small house, and the second baby is on the way. It was a foolish idea thinking I could move in on them. They don’t want an old duffer like me underfoot. No, this place is good enough for me.”
I appreciate this contrast in the conversation. Ben is thinking primarily of himself and his own preferences, while his friend is able to step outside of himself and consider the needs of others. The two mindsets could not be more different. May we all be mindful of which mindset we choose to carry with us each day.
Ben: “Listen to ‘em” [OMG he is bitching about the children again]. “It’s enough to wake the dead!”
Charles: “Oh Ben, they’re playing Kick-the-Can! Don’t you remember? Oh, we used to play that all the time! We were running and shouting…”
Ben: “And all that noise!”
Charles “Well, you can’t stop kids from playing Kick-the-Can. It’s like statues and Hide-and-Seek, it’s in their blood. It’s a special summer ritual. Did you ever stop to think of it? All kids play those games and the minute they stop, they begin to grow old. It’s almost as if playing Kick-the-Can keeps them young. You ever notice that? You believed in magic then. Yes, you did! When we walked on different sides of a street lamp you'd say 'bread and butter'. And when your baby teeth came out, you put 'em under the pillow for the tooth fairy. Yeah, you believed in magic. […] Maybe the Fountain of Youth isn’t really a fountain at all, but a way of thinking.”
Ben: “Charles, stop it. You’re an old man, don’t you understand that? Your youth has been gone for 60 years. What I mean is…you've lived a full life Charles. Don’t go sloppy now. Don’t spoil it by acting like a nut.”
Ah, now the conversation is not between friends, but between logic and imagination. Idealism and realism. Who do you agree with?
Now, considering this is The Twilight Zone, I will let you take a moment to guess where this plot is going to go.
Charles tells his friends about his crazy idea, and at first, they think he’s lost his mind. But then…they decide to play the game. I can practically picture a Fairy Godmother appearing in this scene as the elderly transform back into their souls’ true forms: children.
Ben, who chose not to join the jolly brigade, brings the home director outside to show him that the residents have gone crazy and are endangering themselves by playing Kick-the-Can. What they encounter instead is a group of children joyfully playing the game. The director walks away, and ben figures it out. His exchange with the young Charles breaks my heart a little bit.
Ben: “Charlie, is that you Charlie? Take me with you, take me with you! Charlie, wait for me, wait!”
Charlie and the rest of the gang ditch Ben and head for the forrest. Serling is going to close us out with something, but this is not our end.
Serling: “Sunnyvale Rest, a dying place for ancient people, who have forgotten the fragile magic of youth. A dying place for those who have forgotten that childhood, maturity, and old age are curiously intertwined and not separate. A dying place for those who have grown too stiff in their thinking - to visit - The Twilight Zone.”
Que Spielberg
Have you ever seen The Twilight Zone: The Movie from the 1980s?! It’s crazy: four directors of that era each chose a classic Twilight Zone episode to recreate. Steven Spielberg chose “Kick the Can.”
In his version, Charles becomes Mr. Bloom, a Black man and new resident of Sunnyville. He convinces everyone to play Kick the Can, and then the magic begins. Everyone but Mr. Bloom transforms into a child, and that’s okay because, as we soon discover, Mr. Bloom is something of a magical guardian keeping an eye on everything.
As they play, the “children” come to a realization: their wedding rings no longer fit. They cannot return to their parents, friends, or the people they left behind. They grow sad. All but one eventually decide to return to their normal ages, realizing that their lives were gifts and that they don’t want to start all over again. Instead, they choose to play Kick the Can as old people, preserving their youthful spirits.
Remember the boy who chose to stay young? He was originally an old man with countless health problems and no loved ones. Like Peter Pan, he will be the boy who refuses to grow up. A fairy tale ending.
Speilberg’s ending is truly beautiful because it suggests that Mortality does give great gifts. We were given life in the first place. Watching time pass, creating memories with loved ones, and collecting wisdom are all gifts. For those who believe, the gift giving continues as we enter a new, eternal life in heaven, away from the heartbreaking problems of this earth. Who would want to stay here on Earth, with all her problems, forever?
Mr. Death’s handshake can certainly be intimidating. But the moment we die—the stopping of our breathing and the stepping into heaven— all happens in mere moments…just like a handshake, right?
Whether we choose to play Serling’s or Spielberg’s version of Kick-the-Can, remember that all great games in life require courage, a first step, and a hopeful, youthful spirit. Without those things, we may as well resign ourselves to rotting in our grumpiness.
If living a life of joy means living in my own sort of Twilight Zone, then you’ll know where to find me.