Wednesday, 4 July 2012

Our Andy

I grew up on the Andy Griffith Show.  I've probably seen every single episode at least forty times over.  I can give a philosophical view, a religious view, a southern view, and a small-town view of every single episode.  I can tell you what Barney said and meant, or what Otis was thinking, or the inside jokes that Floyd would occasionally tell.

Today, Andy passed on.  It's best to say that God has stopped Andy at the gates of heaven....asking him to explain NCAA football, the one-bullet policy for Barney, and why the Ernest T. Bass was as crazy as a loon?  I would imagine God and Andy will sit there at the gate for two or three hours discussing matters....before they enter on in, and stop by someone's front porch to have a pitcher of ice tea.  God will be amused by the common nature of Andy's words, and probably slap his leg more than forty times over a good joke that Andy retells for the one thousandth time.

The thing is....we all just craved to pack up and move to Mayberry.  We wanted to personally know Barney and ask him to show his pistol.  We wanted good mechanic advice from Goober or Gomer.  We wanted to have some Aunt Bee's peach pie.  We wanted a decent hair-cut from Floyd and the latest gossip that he'd heard.  It'd be nice to hear the Darlings play a tune or two.  And we'd have appreciated some advice from Otis on fine liquors and the best aspirin for Sunday mornings after a tidy evening of drinking.

The thing is....we were all blessed by simple southern humor.  It wasn't fancy or crafted in unusual ways.  Sometimes, you actually felt sorry for Barney.  Sometimes, you just wanted Floyd to take off and admit he'd been in WW I and gotten some kind of French medal for heroic efforts.    So for some brief period of time, we were given the best that TV could offer, and we came to appreciate it.  And Andy probably was the best medicine that you ask for on a bad day.