Thel, you're the cats

Some thoughts from a trip to Mayberry (AKA Mt. Airy, NC) last week:

Jack stands in for 'ol Barn
with the Thelma Lou of our memories

Jack loves The Andy Griffith Show, as does his dad. He especially loves Barney and Gomer, names still woven into American television pop culture.

The living cast members have grown scarce, and Thelma Lou is one. Of course, her real name is Betty Lynn, but who would call her that.

She is forever Thelma Lou, Barney’s girl.

The very sweet Thelma Lou of today

As we were entering The Andy Griffith Museum, Thelma Lou had just arrived for her autographing session in a wheelchair. Her handler turned her around and we were the first people she saw. After a few small pleasantries, she said to Jack, “I’m Barney’s girlfriend.”

It was a great moment, which felt almost private.

Thelma Lou, Barney’s girl.

Time moves on, and Thelma Lou doesn't really physically resemble the Thelma Lou of those 26 priceless episodes in which she appeared. Or at least all that much. But she could not have been nicer, and she spent as much time with each person as they wanted. To sign, to pose, to laugh, to reminisce.

I told her how grateful I am for the show, saying that it’s nice to know there is something the whole family can watch.

I will always remember her physically as Barney’s girl.

But I also won’t forget how she, at 87 years old, thrilled Jack with kind words, several autographs and a hug.

Which I think will also stay with him for a long, long time.

Ain't no church bells ringing

What causes a outwardly normal looking middle-aged woman to go out onto the streets wearing a t-shirt that features a photo of white powder with the words: "I f##king love coke?"

I saw said person wearing said shirt last night.

Some people may wonder why I have introduced Jack to reruns of "The Andy Griffith Show." Yes, the show features a world that for the most part no longer exists.

But it seems safer -- and far more sane -- than a great deal of what I see in the Real World. 

You could laugh and cry in a single sound

"The tears on my pillow bespeak the pain that is in my heart.'
                     -- Barney Fife, Class Reunion, The Andy Griffith Show - 1963

My kids will never know the innocence portrayed on The Andy Griffith Show.

Maybe it’s rose-colored glasses, but I did know that innocence, at least for a little while.

My hometown in Pennsylvania resembled Mayberry in more than a few ways: our own Barney Fife, Howard Sprague, Miss Clara, the filling station, even Aunt Bee, who lived two doors up the street from us. We even had an Otis Campbell, who was less of a drunk and more of a town oddball. Mayberry had party line and front porch gossip; I heard the same thing, almost every day.

Also, my family sat on the porch for hours at a time, made homemade ice cream, and never dreamed of missing church/Sunday School.

And at least in my mind, those in my hometown exhibited some of the Mayberry values that will forever live in syndication (forever is fitting for one of greatest shows in the history of television.

Take this sterling scene from "Man in a Hurry." Charlotte businessman Malcolm Tucker's car breaks down on a Sunday, and he can't get any help because the Sabbath is a day of rest in Mayberry. Tucker is forced to slow his pace, and this poignant and lovely moment reminds me of similar occasions on our own front porch, with a tune my own father used to sing in church. No singular scene in the history of "The Andy Griffith Show" better illustrates the afore-mentioned Mayberry values.

There are many, many reasons that many are nostalgic when thinking back to the world portrayed on the show; their towns undoubtedly had similarities. It takes many of us back to a faraway, more uncomplicated time with fewer commitments, less danger lurking outside our homes, and freedom from adult complexity and responsibilities.

And loved ones still alive.

It was a life certainly not sophisticated in the minds of many. Mayberry will never be an exotic destination.

I wonder if today’s shows, which I admittedly do not watch much, reflect present-day life and society. But I imagine folks will be nostalgic for those shows in the future as well.

But I wonder if anything will be a welcoming, comforting and endearing as Mayberry.

I suspect not.

Millions of people are saddened by the passing of Andy Griffith because the world portrayed in Mayberry is now just a thing of the past, a fond remembrance if you will.

And it's not coming back.

Which is a sad, sad thing.

Will the Circle Be Unbroken?




“The Andy Griffith Show — A simpler time, a sweeter place, a lesson, a laugh, a father and a son.”
Inscription on the TV Land statue -- Pullen Park, Raleigh, N.C.

Andy Griffith

1926-2012

Darkness on the Edge of Town

I write today to praise one George "Goober" Lindsay, he of the famous Andy Griffith Show character in the mid-to-late 60s. He was so identified with the character that even on "Hee Haw" in subsequent years the Goober name was part of his persona.

He was always Goober, never just George.

The Griffith Show provided many great moments for Goober, especially the episode with cousin Gomer and the  legendary "Judy, Judy, Judy, Judy, Judy." 

Of course, this "country" humor was beneath many who thought it unsophisticated. And that meant a general disregard for his work, despite the fact the Lindsay appeared on Broadway and was a serious actor before moving to Mayberry.

Case in point: "I am the Night - Color me Black," a taut, 24-minute meditation on hate from "The Twilight Zone" in 1964. This episode is burned into my conscious; I have never forgotten it even after some 40-odd years. The acting is so precise, the story so well told, the message so clear. And there is "Goober," playing a character so far removed from Wally's Filling Station that you have to look twice and listen hard to be be sure that it's really him.

And helping to deliver a message that seems to be a hard one for many to learn.

RIP "Goober"

"I am the Night - Color me Black" -- Part One
"I am the Night - Color me Black" -- Part Two