When I was a kid, I thought my Papaw Wright was a cross between Cajun chef Justin Wilson, country comedian Jerry Clower and the late-great Andy Griffith.
So when I heard Griffith had passed away on Tuesday, it reminded me of Papaw, who died just over six months ago. No doubt, he would've been sad to hear about Mr. Andy, who was one of his favorite actors.
I guess, in a way, he was one of mine, too -- especially as a kid. My family had watched "Andy Griffith Show" reruns for years, far back as I can recall.
Mamaw had a black-and-white TV on the bar in her kitchen, and she'd have "Donahue" on while she got supper ready for Papaw, who'd close the radiator shop at 5 p.m. and usually be home between 5:30 and 5:45, wash up and sit down to dinner, which Mamaw had on the table rather precisely each evening.
And, on that same black-and-white set, they'd watch "The Andy Griffith Show" -- or, as Mamaw would say from time to time, "Jas, turn on Andy Williams, will ya, Baby?"
My big brother, Jay, and I would watch reruns frequently at our house, as well as Mamaw's, so we'd probably seen every episode at least twice by the time we were teens. Jay was such a fan, he used an episode about Aunt Bea's pickles as an analogy in a marketing project in college.
Years later, my family watched "Matlock" when it was on NBC on Tuesday nights. It was one of my favorite shows and always scored in the Top 10 of the week's best programs -- at least, that is, on the TV list I created for the teen magazine I mailed my cousin once a week: "Teen-Zine! Circulation: 1."
My sophomore year in college, when Mom and Dad moved to Picayune, Miss., I lived with Mamaw and Papaw. Just like when I was a kid, Papaw would come home from the shop, Mamaw would've had dinner ready by then, and we'd sit down to eat fried chicken or pork chops or whatever awesome thing Mamaw made while watching Andy Griffith on that black-and-white TV.
Corny as this will probably sound, I hope Mr. Andy and Papaw bump into one another in heaven. And it'd be even cooler if Justin Wilson cooked for 'em and Jerry Clower cracked jokes at the table. That'd be a conversation I'd
love to overhear.
Peace, love and Mayberry memories ... XOXO
