As I've watched the networks roll out their fall lineup of new shows and continuing series, with few exceptions I've been disappointed in the offerings, mainly because of the lack of diversity. With the axing of "Everybody Hates Chris" and "The Game," there's not much out there on network television for African-Americans, or others of color, who want to see quality comedies and dramas that focus on people who look like them. To be sure, there are African-Americans in major roles on the networks, but their characters are usually rolled in with the other players and you rarely get a glimpse of their personal lives.

To fill the void I was feeling, for the past few weeks I've been watching reruns of "The Cosby Show." After all, this is the 25th anniversary of the highly rated show that featured the very functional, African-American Huxtable family. From 1984 to 1992, the show, starring comedian Bill Cosby -- who won the Mark Twain Prize for Humor last month -- presented a positive depiction of African-American family life that has not been matched since. The show dealt with serious issues like dyslexia and drug abuse, but most of the time it was about everyday life events -- a homework assignment, a card game, the loss of a pet, an anniversary. What made it different was the family's dialogue, the music they listened to and their reaction to events, which thankfully had an Afrocentric flavor devoid of stereotypes. For example, on the show's first episode, there was Cosby confronting his teenage son, Theo, about his bad grades. Theo in turn gave a heart-wrenching story about not wanting to be a doctor like Cosby, or a lawyer like his mom, Claire, played by Felicia Allen Rashad, but just a regular person.

"I love you for who you are ... why can't you love me because I'm your son," Theo said, to the tune of violins and ahs from the audience. "Oh, no," I remember thinking, "here comes 'Leave it to Beaver' all over again." But then, Cosby stood up and said, "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard. No wonder you get 'Ds' in everything. ... You will try hard as you can (in school) ... and do it because I said so. I brought you in this world. I'll take you out."

No Ozzie and Harriet moment here. I remembered laughing hard at Cosby's response because it was so real and not the same old fluff. Plus, most African-Americans I know have a story about the time their parents told them they were going to "take them out." That one scene hooked me on the show.

I also liked the fact that "The Cosby Show" was centered on African-Americans in professional positions, something not seen a lot on television at the time. In addition, the show was one of the few places where I could see the historically black colleges and universities that my parents and relatives attended emblazoned on Cosby's sweat shirts. The family's home was also a place where artwork by African-American artists, such as Jacob Lawrence, Synthia Saint James and Romare Bearden, was hung. And whenever Cliff and Claire Huxtable danced at home or at a club, the music was songs I heard played in my own home. I'll never be able to hear Ray Charles sing "The Night Time is the Right Time," without seeing Rudy, the youngest Huxtable of five, singing her "Baby" solo. Every fan has to remember that one.

But "The Cosby Show" was not just for African-Americans; for five seasons, it was the No. 1 television show in America. It also boosted the careers of actors of all colors with small roles, such as Jimmy Smits, Adam Sandler, Blair Underwood, Robin Givens, Jada Pinkett and Angela Bassett.

Looking back, I truly miss the kind of flavor "The Cosby Show" dished out to its audience each week. And unless network television does something about the void it left, its programming lineup will remain, as Claire Huxtable might say, 'sad, tired and pitiful.'

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