Thursday, July 19, 2012
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
Seeker of the Elusive Job
Why yes...I would like to come work for you...I'm punctual, loyal, I work...I write, I sing, I dance, I cook, I don't need handholding.
An Ode to The Andy Griffith Show
Even though I'm not a purchaser, I read the mag rags while waiting in the check out aisles. I mostly focus on them to keep from grabbing a bag of peanut M & M's. Sadly they are the extent of my pop culture. This past week I noticed that Andy Griffith's death secured a small photo caption in a sidebar of the full cover spread ~How Katie beat Tom~ pertaining to the divorce of Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes. Some would argue their divorce is reality and actually newsworthy in comparison to Andy Griffith who was merely an acclaimed actor for more than half a century, whose name symbolized the fictitious town of Mayberry, NC and it's colorful characters, all of which became the Nirvana of Main Street America living.
There is such a little town. Mt. Airy, NC has all the allure of Mayberry RFD, and not by accident. It was Andy Griffith's hometown. One of my favorite fall weekends in NC was spent at the Mayberry Festival. Some of the tributes to Mayberry are; Floyd's City Barber Shop, The Mayberry Inn, Mayberry Bed & Breakfast, Andy's Homeplace Bed & Breakfast, The Andy Griffith Museum, The Andy Griffith Theater, Aunt Bea's Barbeque (intentionally misspelled), Aunt Bee's Room, Wally's Service Station, Bluebird Diner, Old Mayberry Jail, a true to life Barney impersonator, paddy wagon to haul off the town drunk Otis, replica of the police car that Andy drove and a life-sized bronze statue of Andy and Opie headed off for their fishing trip. The Mayberry parade kicks off Mayberry Days honoring it's reigning Pickle Queen, symbolizing Aunt Bee's quest for the elusive Blue Ribbon for her canning, cooking and baking abilities.
Despite all it's charms, Andy Griffith dismissed any ties between The Andy Griffith Show and his home town of Mt. Airy for decades. Andy didn't publicly return to his home until 45 years later for a dedication of his namesake highway, where he finally gave the town the validation it deserved.
But to me the best part of this story is that Mt. Airy NC didn't wait for his validation to turn into what it was meant to be. The economy of this area was in textiles and furniture, it's commerce dried up and rolled out of town like tumbleweed. Waiting wasn't an option. Mt. Airy, NC could be a ghost town today, if on the map at all weren't it for someone picking up a fragment of hope and building on it. We are always going to be waiting for something aren't we? The shoe to drop, the bottom to fall out, the car to reach 100K miles, the kids to move out, the alarm to go off, the sun to go down, the sun to come up, the fish to get on my line, the phone to ring, , the Mayan calendar to expire, Jesus to come.
What kept this town alive was the hope of being that sleepy little fictitious town, where men and boys whistle while they walk with cane poles to fishing holes, life slows down and everyone lives in the moment.
Mayberry had it's problems, maybe things weren't all that good. Aunt Bee's pickles were terrible, Goober spouted a few expletives while busting his knuckles in his garage. Andy lost his wife and was a single dad, Aunt Bee was a widow living with her son, Floyd lost at love, Barney was insubordinate at best. Yet we loved everything about all of them. What the show did focus on all that was good. I remember days after 9/11, I found solace in this show. The whistling at the beginning of the Andy Griffith show was a soothing salve on frazzled nerves. A half hour with Andy, Barney and Opie and I am ready to unplug that phone that isn't ringing with the job offer, make that peanut butter sandwich and walk down a dirt road barefoot. I can't imagine screenwriters fabricating a documentary on Katie Holmes and Tom Cruise that would be comparable.
Monday, July 16, 2012
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
Hotter than Hannah, 50 Shades of Red
Who was Hannah? In all probability Hannah, a southern euphemism, was a harlot whose reputation is used precariously in the south to describe an extremely warm day. She was one hot tamale, that's who she was. "Bless Pat it's warm out there" could describe early June in Charleston. I think Pat was the good girl. "Hotter than Hell" is the typical innuendo to describe the low country July heat, so if you hear it's "Hotter Than Hannah” you can bet your sweet bippy it's a scorcher. The higher the mercury rises, the more sultry the language.
Now factor in 50 Shades Of Gray and Magic Mike and lawd, you have turned up the heat index another 10 degrees. I believe, and it's just me now, that the marketers of these two female driven summer releases would have served better purpose to release in the winter.
I'll pass on Magic Mike and Shades of Grey for that matter. Nothing against either one. I like to think some things are just better left to imagination. I'll just sit on my back patio with a glass of wine and turn 50 shades of red.
I was talking to a friend who was reading 50 Shades, she told me that some of our mother's "Romance" novels were hotter than 50 Shades.
Which brings me to the true story of my mother in law. God bless her soul. She had every single romance novel that hit the shelves, the minute they were released. Her Magic Mike was Victor on "The Young And The Restless",she taped every episode she couldn't watch, her eureka moment was when she realized she would never have to miss another episode while at work with the new fangled invention of recordable VCR's.
My mother in law passed away at home unexpectantly. Sometimes those "We'll laugh about this one day" moments happen at a very bad time. And in this case, the day we laughed about it was only 2 days later. The pastor came to the home to console us and help with funeral arrangements. We talked about her last moments. I retraced her last minutes as visible from the objects in her room. A bowl of banana pudding, a glass bottled Coca Cola with peanuts still bubbling in the neck of the bottle and a good book.
Two days later at the funeral, the pastor is giving the eulogy. I sit on the front row with my family, beside my daughter and husband. The pastor talks about her life and attributes and hard work and family and finishing well, finishing well? My ears perked. His next line was "Yes, Mrs...?????'s daughter in law told me that when she passed away she was eating banana pudding with a coke and peanuts and reading ~The Good Book~" OMG. I audibly gasped. I looked at my daughter to my left because she knew what book she was reading and it didn't have Holy Bible wrote on the front, more like Nora Roberts. My daughter chuckled and it was on. We both held back snorts and giggles as we apologized and worked ourselves out of the aisle seats barely making it to the front door before belting out in peals of laughter. We tried three times to go back in and didn't make it until my daughter promised to sit behind me.
We made it through the sermon and never corrected the pastor. No, I don't think it's sacrilegious to tell this story. I have seen my mother in law smile while silently reading for too long to believe that she wouldn't get a kick out of reading this herself. I believe if she were here now and I asked her if she had read 50 Shades, she would shake her head no while holding up her latest ~Good Book~ at me smiling.
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