Dearest Anne...

My faithful readers know how much I love you. My friends know how I adore you. My mother tried to plan a pilgrimage to Prince Edward Island to pay homage to you, but we couldn't coordinate schedules.

But it has been so long since I have last gazed at your red pigtails, your freckles, your dress of grey wincey. I have not turned your pages in years...to be frank, I can't remember the last time I paid a visit to Avonlea.

I have been in the middle of quite a few heavy duty books lately, as evidenced by my sidebar. At this time though, all that material is getting too heavy for me. Whenever that happens, that is when I need to visit an old friend--and you, my dear, are that old friend.

But will you still hold appeal for me as an adult, as opposed to a fledgling adolescent? Will your tales still bring me magic even though I'm no longer as youthful as you? Will Avonlea be as magical and romantic as I once remembered?

I shall find out soon, for tonight, I am opening your pages once again. I shall be with you as you and Matthew journey home on the White Way of Delight, past the Lake of Shining Waters. I shall be with you the first time you cross the threshold at Green Gables. And I shall be cheering you on as you stand up to Gilbert when he calls you "Carrots."

Dearest Anne, I have missed you so. It will be so good to spend time with you again. Last month was tough for me, and while things are much better now, I still need a reminder that "God's in His heaven, all's right with the world."

Why I heart Brian Williams

Every weeknight at 6:30, I have a standing date with this man:

Ahhh, Brian Williams. How I do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

1. You haven't forgotten where you came from. I admire your modesty, Mr. Williams. In nearly every interview you've done with the talk shows, you always say, "I'm just a guy from Jersey." Let me add, working-class Jersey. Jersey, home of Papa Cat's side of the fam. The Jersey that Bruce Springsteen, our hometown hero, represents oh-so-well in all of his songs. Jersey, home of the greatest beaches in the world. You're one of my peeps!

2. You were a volunteer fireman. You understand the brotherhood that firemen share. You served your community, something I really admire in a guy.

3. You take your job very seriously. When you deliver the news, you don't sugarcoat things. You're a cut-to-the-chase type of guy. I really liked when you said on Ellen that you deliver the news as if you're talking to your family and all the ones you love. Boy, did that make me swoon! Anyhoo, I like how you deliver the news objectively and honestly, with no bias whatsoever.

That having been said, I remember this clip from the July 7, 2008 edition of the NBC Nightly News:

Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy

I mean, how could I not laugh when you broke out of serious anchorman mode to present this bit? It was as if you wanted to say, "I can't believe I'm reporting this." But I loved the way you did it, straightforward with a touch of sarcasm thrown in. Mama Cat and I were on the floor laughing when you delivered this report. (For the record, Mama Cat was also very sad to learn this, as she loves her Pringles).

4. You don't take yourself too seriously. Witness your Saturday Night Live hosting gig, something you did so brilliantly well. Witness all of those interviews you do with Leno, Letterman, Conan, Ellen, The Daily Show, and most recently, Bonnie Hunt. You have such a wonderfully dry sense of humor.

5. You're not afraid to let a little of Brian Williams, the human being, slip into your broadcasts. There are stories that you report on, and when they move you, sometimes you'll let something slip in like, "As a father of two, I..." It's clear that you care so much about your family.

6. You've been married to the same woman for 23 years. I think that's sexy. This coming from a woman whose idea of commitment is five minutes over a cup of Dunkin' Donuts coffee. There aren't that many people involved in the news or entertainment businesses who have had long, steady marriages. Yours is very admirable. Not to mention, you have a very attractive, funny wife. You have good taste. :)

7. You look like you're a great hugger. I can't believe I just typed that! Now I'm starting to sound all high school! Witness this clip from your appearance on The Bonnie Hunt Show:

I mean, look at the hug you gave Bonnie Hunt! Polite, yet firm, and you hugged as if you meant it. Some Hollywood types don't really hug the host, but you did. That was an embrace right there. (By the way, it's not the kiss that does it for me when I meet the guy; it's the hug).

8. You are wicked smart. Who else listens to hours and hours of the LBJ tapes just for the fun of it? You're a geek after my own heart! I love geeks!

9. You were on Sesame Street! I mean, that's just the epitome of cool in my generation! And you were awesome! I can't picture either Walter Cronkite or Dan Rather doing what you did!)

(OK, Kitten, breathe, calm down, wipe up the drool, remind yourself that you're an almost-33-year-old woman with a huge crush on a TV journalist and not an almost-13-year-old girl with a huge crush on her math teacher. Now's the time to redeem yourself, girl. What can you come up with for reason #10?)

10. Your baby blues look ever so much bluer and cuter in HD.

...a period of silence follows as Kitten realizes she's failed to redeem herself...cue the crickets...

I need to go now. I need to take a cold shower and watch some old Huntley/Brinkley footage. That'll bring me back down to earth...

...at least until 6:30 Monday night...

R.I.P.: Mayor Mike

Those of you who don't live in Connecticut will have no idea who I'm talking about when you initially read the heading. Once you finish, however, you will know.

Mayor Mike was Mike Peters, who was mayor of Hartford, our capital city, from 1993 until 2001. He was an extremely popular mayor, truly a man of the people. He wasn't one of those stuffy, fuddy-duddy, serious politicians. He was approachable, and always took time to listen to anyone who wanted to talk to him. Mayor Mike had a real casual, yet affective, way of approaching city politics. Here was a man who, as many media outlets have said in the days following his death, was more comfortable talking politics on a barstool than in a boardroom.

I remember a CBS News reporter once called Hartford "the forgotten city between New York and Boston." How right he was about that! This is a city that has long been overshadowed by our bigger siblings to the south and north, a city that many think is unremarkable, a city that becomes a ghost town Monday through Friday at 5 PM, when all of the commuters go to their home in the suburbs.

Mayor Mike, however, believed in his city. I mean, really believed in it. He loved Hartford. He wanted to see it become, as the advertising slogan says, "New England's Rising Star." He tore down drug-riddled housing projects and rebuilt them, so they would be safer. He helped build up after school programs. He tried to get the Patriots to move down here, and they were seriously considering it!

Many hockey fans, however, will remember Mayor Mike because, under his term, the Whalers moved down south in 1997, where they eventually became the Carolina Hurricanes. (NOTE: as you'll see in this Wikipedia article, it wasn't Mayor Mike's fault that the Whalers left!) Their Stanley Cup win several years back was a very bitter pill for many Whaler fans to swallow.

Mayor Mike opened up a restaurant in Hartford in 2004 and named it--what else?--Mayor Mike's. He wasn't involved in politics, but he still frequented his establishment to talk to the people.

He had been in declining health for several years, having disclosed several months back that he had cirrosis of the liver. He received a liver transplant, and was feeling better, even contemplating running for Hartford mayor again in 2011. However, he developed kidney problems as a result of the transplant, and his health declined very quickly after that. He was 60 when he died; far, far, far too young.

I saw Mayor Mike on TV not long ago, and he looked awful. He was really gaunt, with thinning hair and a higher voice. He still had his upbeat enthusiasm and stamina, though; that could never be dimmed.

Mayor Mike was not into corrupt politics or scandal. He was a man who wanted to help his city, his people, his state. He didn't care about party lines; Democrats were none too thrilled that he endorsed Governor Rowland in the 2002 gubernatorial election (but remember what happened there).

Voters responded; he won by landslide victories in 1995, 1997, and 1999.

Ironically, though, even though he was much beloved, he wasn't very powerful as a mayor. Under the Hartford city charter at the time, the City Council held more powers than the mayor did. You'll find out more about it in the link I'm about to give you in a minute. This inbalance of power helped contribute to Mayor Mike's decision not to run again for mayor in 2001.

Read more about Mayor Mike Peters and his accomplishments here. The Courant did a great job on this one.

Two Things I'm Thankful For

1. Sunlight. Why? Well, there are two reasons. First of all, I have a vitamin D deficiency, and vitamin D, as we know, is "the sunshine vitamin." Our bodies produce vitamin D whenever we're out in the sun. I do take vitamin D supplements, per doctor's orders, but I'm always grateful when the sun shines. I try to take in as much as I can. It's good for my body, and my mood.

2. Lower gas prices. Today, the idiot light went on two exits before the one I get off of. Not wanting to be stranded in the afternoon on Route 9, I pulled off the exit and went to the closest Mobil station. I didn't want to use my debit card to pay an extra five cents per gallon, so I took out a five and paid with that. Today, my five dollar bill got me almost three gallons of gas! Woohoo!

Of course, I have to fill up the tank later today for the drive up to the family homestead tomorrow. I know the gas stations will be open tomorrow, but I'm going out tonight, so I may as well get some gas while I'm out.

There are other things for which I am thankful...but these two are the ones I'm most grateful for right now.

I Am an Eighties Lady

Even though I have a special fondness for the 70s, please remember, I was only born in 1976! But remember, too, that my parents are both natives of the greater New York City metropolitan area, and even though I grew up in Connecticut, they still spiritually lived in Westchester and Elizabeth (where they were born and raised). So my bringing-up was filled with my parents' longing for New York news, New York TV, the Daily News, and the New York Post.

I was raised with 70s pop culture all around me. My 80s influences came from my peers at school.

I remember when there was a rivalry between Cyndi Lauper and Madonna, and how I thought Cyndi Lauper would trump Madonna easily in a cage match. I remember grooving to Bon Jovi and having such a crush on Jon. I remember watching Saturday mornings on ABC, and how Menudo would come on between airings of Schoolhouse Rock.

I remember watching the Smurfs, and having a collection of hundreds, literally, of the 3-inch figurines, which my sister and I kept in coffee cans. I remember wearing ruffled skirts and denim skirts with the leggings underneath. (They were still better looking then than when teenagers wear them now). I remember wearing neon jelly bracelets, at least ten at a time, and when there wasn't a meaning behind the color of each bracelet.

I remember playing clapping games on the playground and jumping rope with my friends. I remember wearing lip gloss lockets around my neck, and how my teachers used to yell at me for putting on lip gloss during class. I remember Tinkerbell cosmetics, and how we used to put it on our faces on the bus to school. I remember my pink Barbie makeup kit, and how much I loved that one, too.

I remember my Cabbage Patch Kids, Strawberry Shortcake, My Little Pony, and Care Bears dolls, and how today's versions can't even hold a candle to their counterparts of yesteryear.

I remember watching He-Man and She-Ra after school, which came on right after reruns of Tic Tac Dough, The Joker's Wild, and Press Your Luck.

I remember watching The Facts of Life, really identifying with Natalie Green and loathing Blair Warner.

I remember wanting to watch Fame, but was upset that I couldn't, because my mom thought the show was too old for me.

I remember defying my mother's orders, on many occasions, not to watch You Can't Do That on Television.

I remember wanting to be as confident as Punky Brewster.

I remember Friday nights being the night, when we could watch Full House and Webster.

I remember reading Sweet Valley High and The Babysitters Club books obsessively, and would count down the days until the new book in the series was available at Waldenbooks.

I remember my frustration at not being able to get my bangs three inches high, and how my mother would not let me crimp my hair.

I had Wonder Woman Underoos and wore them till they were barethread.

I remember when Deborah Gibson was known as "Debbie," and being a charter member of her fan club.

I remember my delight when I bought my first iPod, and how I could re-create all of my mixtapes with iTunes.

A large portion of my iPod consists of 70s singer songwriters and 80s tunes from my childhood, with some current tunes thrown in for good measure.

Which reminds me, I haven't posted a playlist in a while.

Excuse me while I pull up my iTunes...

I Am A Child of the 70s

I was born in 1976, grew up in the 80s, came of age in the 90s.

So why am I such a fan of 70s pop culture?

When it comes to entertainment, all the reviews you've seen so far on this blog have to do with 70s icons: The Carol Burnett Show, The Magic Garden, and Patti LuPone's nightclub act from 1980. (Yeah, I know, it's the first year of the 1980's, but it's one year off from the 70s, so that should count, n'est-ce pas?)

Now...I loathe shag carpeting, bellbottoms, and hot pants. But I do have a fondness for ABBA, James Taylor, Bruce Springsteen, Billy Joel, and Carole King. I love disco and all of the 70s singer-songwriters who wrote their own material and played their own instruments. I remember when my mother had a fondness for Tab Cola and drove an orange Pinto hatchback. My father was floored when he heard I could pronounce "Ayatollah" at the age of 3. (I kid you not.)

I remember when the Muppets were cutting edge, and had biting, satirical humor wrapped in their shows, and weren't Disney-fied like they are now. I remember when reruns of I Dream of Jeannie, The Brady Bunch, and I Love Lucy ruled the airwaves, not the manufactured, over-produced, badly written crap that's written for today's kids. I remember trying to play fake sick so I could watch these shows, as well as The Price is Right. I remember when Bob Barker had dark hair, and was upset when he let it go grey. (Although I got used to the grey hair pretty quickly).

I remember when the USA Network had the Cartoon Express, with reruns of The Flintstones, Devlin, The Banana Splits, and all of those old Hanna-Barbera shows from the 70s that are almost completely forgotten now. I remember coming home from school, flipping on USA, and watching reruns of Tic Tac Dough, The Joker's Wild, and Press Your Luck (the favorite of me and my sister). I remember watching reruns of The Gong Show when I was in high school, and my mother yelling at me for those acts being too risque. (Although, in today's standards, most of those acts are pretty tame now).

I remember watching the old episodes of Zoom, when the kids wore those striped rugby shirts, and learning how to speak Ubbi-Dubbi with my friends on the playground. I remember when Mr. Snuffleupagus was imaginary to everyone on Sesame Street except for Big Bird. I remember watching The Electric Company, and was amazed that the same guy on Fat Albert was also on my favorite show.

I remember Fat Albert, and all of the Cosby Kids. That is, the Cosby Kids whose names weren't Saundra, Denise, Theo, Vanessa, and Rudy. I remember Bucky, Mushmouth, Dumb Donald, Rudy (not the little girl), Old Weird Harold, and Russell.

I remember the original Not Ready for Prime Time Players, and how they could put today's cast of SNL to shame.

I remember those old In the News segments on CBS, as well as Schoolhouse Rock on ABC, and how my Saturday mornings weren't complete without them. I remember being freaked out by those old production company logos: The Viacom V of Doom, and the ITC spinning diamond logo (the latter of which creeps me out to this very day).

I remember when WPIX was known as "11 Alive", and when Jim Jensen was the man to watch on TV news on WCBS. Well, he was the man to watch for local news. My dad always, always, always stopped whatever he was doing so he could watch "Uncle Walter" Cronkhite. That I remember especially.

I remember when Bugs Bunny, Daffy Duck, and Porky Pig reruns greeted me in the morning before I went to school, and am saddened that few kids know who they are today.

I am a child of the 70s who grew up in the 80s and came of age in the 90s.

I still have fond memories of the 80s and 90s, though--but those are for later posts.

CD Review: Patti LuPone at Les Mouches

I was up late last night, since I had today off. Well, that was only one of the reasons why I was up late. I really wanted to see how quickly after midnight iTunes unloaded its latest releases. It turned out to be pretty quickly, since, when I logged on at 12:45 AM, the CD that I had been coveting for a while was available for purchase.

That CD? Patti LuPone at Les Mouches.

I was in college when I became fascinated by Patti. A good friend of mine introduced me to the music of Andrew Lloyd Webber, and Patti's version of "Don't Cry for Me Argentina" was on the disc I borrowed. That was enough to make me fall in love with her voice ten times over.

That, and the fact that she was a fellow Sicilian-American girl, sealed the deal for me.

Anyhoo, that compilation CD led me to purchase a couple of Patti's solo CDs. I also have some songs from Evita on my iPod (not the whole soundtrack...yet), and her soundtrack to Gypsy (which, if I'm lucky, I'll see on Broadway if I can get a good price on tickets) is on my most-wanted list. I saw her perform "Everything's Coming Up Roses" on the Tonys this year and was absolutely blown away. I felt that if she didn't win this year, there was something wrong with democracy. Fortunately, our Patti won.

So last week, I found myself over at SarahB's blog, where she had uploaded a WNYC interview between Patti and Leonard Lopate. I took a listen, and it was an excellent conversation. Patti is a diva, and one who takes a great deal of pride in her craft. This is where I found out about her new CD. There was a sample of a track from the Les Mouches CD at the end of the interview, "Latin from Manhattan," and it sounded so good I knew I had to have it--and it's very rare that I really want to buy a whole CD.

So what's the big deal about Patti LuPone at Les Mouches? Well, back in her Evita days, Patti moonlighted in a Chelsea nightclub, Les Mouches (now closed), Saturday nights at midnight. This gig lasted 27 weeks. She'd come out of doing her 8 PM performance of Evita, get to Chelsea somehow, and perform her cabaret act.

The gig was filmed, the tracks recorded on audio, and the tapes were seemingly lost to the ages.

Until now.

So how did Patti's legendary performance at Les Mouches once again see the light of day?

Patti related the story to Leonard Lopate. A couple of years ago, Patti asked a friend to put all of her tapes from her performances on DVDs "before the tape disintegrates." Her friend found the video from Les Mouches, decided it should be a show, and then, as Patti was starting rehearsals for Gypsy, Joe's Pub had a show called Leslie Kritzer Is Patti LuPone at Les Mouches, where Leslie Kritzer sang the exact same songs and said the exact same dialogue that Patti did in the original gig. This led to renewed interest in Patti's nightclub performance.

According to Patti, they were about to release a recording of Leslie Kritzer's rendition of Patti's set from Les Mouches, when Patti stepped in and said, "Wait a minute here."

The result? The original tracks from the Les Mouches gig were digitally remastered and recently released onto CD.

And it's incredible.

You really feel as if you've traveled back to 1980, traveled back in time, to a nightclub in Chelsea, where a young Broadway ingenue is singing her little heart out. Patti's patter is so incredibly endearing in this set; she is so incredibly in awe of everything that's going on in her life, of everyone who has come to see her perform.

It's an interesting, wide-ranging set, and Patti really demonstrates her versatility well. In addition to "Rainbow High" and "Don't Cry for Me Argentina," she sings some 60s standards like "Downtown" and "Mr. Tambourine Man," as well as a Bruce Springsteen tune, "Because the Night." (I think another Patti, Ms. Smith, also sang that one. I need to do a fact check).

My favorite track, however, is "Meadowlark." I've heard Patti sing this on a couple of her solo CDs, but this one is my absolute favorite rendition. It will send chills down your spine. It's unbelievable.

It's really neat to listen to this gem of a CD, and see how far our Patti has come.

Now to get the Gypsy soundtrack!

This has been a week of reviewing some favorites of mine from the entertainment industry: Patti, Carole and Paula, and Carol without an E. Which reminds me, I promised to review the other Carol Burnett Show DVD I received a couple of weeks ago.

That will have to wait, Kittens, since I have to go to bed.

After all, I have work tomorrow!

Toodles!

Carole and Paula and "The Magic Garden" in Today's New York Times

A couple of days ago, I wrote a post on one of my favorite TV shows as a child, The Magic Garden. I wrote about how I was reliving my childhood by watching their new DVD, which has 10 episodes of the show.

Today, I was in Starbucks, grabbing a coffee before choir practice, when I saw that there was an article about Carole and Paula and The Magic Garden in the arts section. I was so excited that I skipped over the crossword and read the article first. I was amazed to learn that both Carole and Paula are 68 years old! I thought they were a few years younger (like early 60s).

Anyhoo, you can read the article, too, and learn more about my heroes, by clicking here. You can even watch a clip of The Magic Garden.

I must say, the ladies look good--and so does Sherlock! He looks just as pink and happy as ever!

Eighty Years Ago Today...

...on the 11th hour, of the 11th day, of the 11th month, the Armistice Treaty was signed in France. It was the treaty to end "the war to end all wars."

Eighty years later, the United States is involved in two overseas wars.

And let's not forget World War II, Vietnam, Korea, and the Gulf War.

Most of my colleagues, and I include myself in this, were grumbling that we had to have Tuesday off, as opposed to Monday. Come back one day, only to have the next one off?

And then it hit me.

Why am I grumbling? Most Americans look at this day as just another day off. They've forgotten why we have this holiday in the first place.

I knew a lot of older men, my parents' age or my grandparents' age (if my grandparents were still alive), who had fought in foreign wars. But this past Sunday, that all changed. My minister honored the veterans during this week's service. One of the veterans was a woman--a woman my age, perhaps younger, who had served in the Gulf War.

That's when it really hit me.

It's not just a day off for me anymore.

Remember our veterans today, whether you buy a poppy from someone at the VFW or go to the cemetary, or even have your own moment of silence, please, don't forget them.

Don't forget. Never forget.

"Pardon us, the garden-us is where we'll be..."

When I was four years old, my family moved from Westchester County, New York, to a (then) small town in northern Connecticut. I don't have a ton of memories from my time in New York, but the ones I do have are very, very vivid and fond. One of those fond memories involves a local TV show that has since become a classic.

That show? The Magic Garden.

WPIX-TV, which was then an independent station (it then became a WB affiliate, and is a CW affiliate in its current incarnation), produced this lovely show. It started airing in 1972, and starred two young women, Carole Demas and Paula Janis, who had been singing and performing together since their days as schoolchildren in Brooklyn. It was a very simple, gentle show about friendship, creativity, music, and imagination.

Of course, that description sounds very simplistic, but that's pretty much the premise of The Magic Garden. Every day, for half an hour in the afternoons, I would watch The Magic Garden, oftentimes with my Aunt Marlene, a neighbor who used to babysit me quite a bit. My favorite part back then was the Chuckle Patch, a patch of daisies that would shake and giggle whenever they had corny jokes to tell. Carole and Paula would each take a leaf or two from the Chuckle Patch, and the leaves had jokes written on them.

The opening and closing images of The Magic Garden were seared into my brain for years. The show opened with the image of a window in the center of a wall with pink striped wallpaper. As soon as Carole and Paula sang the opening chords of the theme song, the window's French doors would open out into the garden, and slowly, the camera panned through the window, showing Carole and Paula in the Magic Garden, both in their long pigtails, sitting on rope swings, singing the theme while Paula strummed her guitar. The show's closing was very similar, only the camera panned out of the garden, and the window slowly, slowly closed on Carole and Paula as they sang the ending theme.

The Magic Garden was a cult hit in the New York City area, and Carole and Paula had a huge fan base. Kids of my generation who grew up in New York bond instantly whenever we hear or sing the first few words of any, any song that Carole and Paula sang on The Magic Garden:

This is the garden of make-believe,
A magical garden of make-believe,
Where flowers chuckle and birds play tricks
And a magic tree grows lollipop sticks.

When we moved to Connecticut, cable TV did not exist. It was something fancy that my grandparents had, and whenever we went to visit we would ooh and ahh over the number of channels they had. But I digress. The point is that we didn't have cable in our little Connecticut town, and we were so far away from New York we couldn't pick up WPIX, no matter which direction we pointed our TV antenna.

In short, as I grew up, I had all but forgotten everything I knew and treasured about The Magic Garden. Cable eventually came to Granby (that little town where I grew up), and WPIX was a part of the channel lineup, but The Magic Garden was no longer broadcast. (Hell, when my parents learned that they could now watch PIX and WWOR from their Connecticut living room, they practically drooled. My mother, especially, for she always talked about PIX with sort of a longing for days gone by).

Anyhoo, fast forward to the fall of 2002. I was in my living room, in my cozy little one bedroom in New London, watching the WPIX News at Ten. I was putting some corrected papers into my backpack, getting ready for school the next day, when I looked up and saw, for the first time in many, many years, Carole and Paula themselves. They were older now, but I still recognized them. They were speaking in unison, inviting viewers to tune in, on Thanksgiving day, for The Magic Garden reunion special at 1:00 PM.

The image of that window, hidden deep in my memory bank for twenty-something years, came roaring back instantly.

Open up the window,
Listen to the wind blow,
Pardon us, the garden-us
Is where we'll be.

I set my VCR.

But it turns out, I didn't set it properly.

I was crushed, but recovered after half an hour of disappointment.

The Sunday after Thanksgiving, I went Christmas shopping with my best friend. When we returned to his apartment, his partner was engaged in--raptured, even--in something on TV. He paused the TiVo when we came in.

Can you guess what he was watching?

When I learned that, yes, indeed, he was watching The Magic Garden, I shrieked. We immediately started reminiscing, and my best friend just shook his head and rolled his eyes.

We rewound the TiVo, and, for the next hour, sat silently, enraptured by the images on the TV.

My best friend didn't get it. He still doesn't.

Well, he gets part of it. We still both rush home to watch A Charlie Brown Christmas and Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer when they come on TV.

And we're both 32 years old.

But back to 2002, and that wonderful special about The Magic Garden. I googled Carole and Paula when I got home, and learned that they had a website--and tapes for sale. Granted, it was a two-tape set with one episode on each, but I didn't care. I ordered a set for me, and a set for my best friend's partner, who then told me it was the best Christmas gift he received that season.

Then I went on eBay. Quite a few sellers from the New York City area had taped The Magic Garden reunion special and had it for sale on eBay, along with the two episodes of The Magic Garden that aired afterwards.

I bought it. I paid an exorbitant amount for it, but I didn't care.

About a year later, I loaned my precious tapes to a friend of mine who loved The Magic Garden as much as I did. We were planning to get together to watch.

That get-together never happened.

And she still has my tapes.

I went back on eBay six months later. Nothing.

And then...only recently...I happened upon Carole and Paula's website. They had a DVD on sale...WITH TEN EPISODES!!!

I did some comparison shopping and found a set on eBay for $15.

It arrived yesterday.

I've watched four episodes so far.

It feels so good to be a kid again. But the adult in me appreciates the fact that The Magic Garden was so powerful, and struck such a chord, because of its simplicity. It was about as low-tech as you can get for TV shows. You could clearly see the strings that made the Story Box open and close, as well as those that made the Chuckle Patch giggle. But its low-tech made it so endearing. In one of the episodes, the Magic Tree gave Carole and Paula a set of cardboard nesting boxes. They made the boxes into a variety of things, all with the power of their imagination. There was a boat, a train, and an ice cream sundae. There were no special effects that helped them out. There was no fancy music, no quick cuts to a scene outside of the garden. It was just two grown women having fun.

I also appreciate how The Magic Garden was not an overly-scripted show that talked down to kids. Carole and Paula talked very naturally, not as if they were reading from a script (Hi, EVERYBODY! My NAME is DORA!), but rather, as if they just talking casually with an old friend. They were both very mellow, very low-key. There was no gimmick to the show at all. They weren't trying too hard to shove curriculum down a kid's throat, much the way that a lot of kids shows do today.

But I best appreciate that this show allowed kids to use their imaginations, a quality of kids shows that doesn't exist today. The Story Box segment used very simple props that kids could find around their homes, nothing fancy that required them to go to the store and purchase. And if they didn't have the exact props they needed, they could use glue, tape, and a little fabric to make props themselves. There was no merchandise tied in to The Magic Garden, except for three albums of songs that the fans requested--or maybe even demanded--Carole and Paula to record.

I spent the afternoon watching four episodes of the compilation, and smiled fondly at remembrances of my childhood. The Magic Garden will no longer be buried in the depths of my memory bank, thanks to the good people at Koch Entertainment, the company that released the DVD.

I'll be scrounging YouTube for a Clip of the Week featuring Carole and Paula, for those of you who did not have the privilege of growing up with these two lovely women. In the meantime, Kittens,

See ya, see ya!
Hope ya had a real good time, Bah-bum,
Hope ya had a real good morning, do-do,
Hope we get to see ya again!

We're Gonna Bring You The Power!

I was doing a little browsing through the iTunes store when I discovered that they carried two volumes of episodes of The Electric Company.

My childhood heart was absolutely delighted! The Electric Company was one of my favorite shows as a kid, and was the reason why my mother moved dinnertime from 5:30 to 6 PM. I never, ever, ever missed an episode, and was absolutely devistated when it left the airwaves.

So now I've downloaded a few episodes, and have spent a good portion of this rainy Saturday revisiting my childhood. As an adult, I'm amazed at the A-list talent they recruited for this show: Rita Moreno, Oscar winner. Bill Cosby, who had previously starred in I Spy on network television. And of course, who could forget Morgan Freeman as Easy Reader? You could never get that kind of talent to star on a PBS kids show today.

So right now I'm looking through some YouTube clips to add them to a playlist. One of them is definitely going to be next week's Clip of the Week; I haven't decided which one yet.

In the meantime, I'm going to continue being eight years old for a while. I wonder if iTunes sells old episodes of 3-2-1 Contact...

R.I.P.: Paul Newman

My sophomore year in college, I was entering the cafeteria with my friends Frank and Carolyn when our friend Jason bumped into us, lunch tray in hand, all excited about the news he was going to share:

"Paul Newman's here! He's talking by the salad bar with Father Kelley!"

Our eyes widened. "Paul Newman, really?" I asked.

"The real Paul Newman?" Frank queried.

Only Carolyn was puzzled by our excitement.

"Who's Paul Newman?" she asked.

It wouldn't take her long to find out. Paul Newman had donated $10 million to the Charles F. Dolan School of Business at Fairfield University. We all knew he lived in Westport, the next town over, and was a huge supporter of the Westport Country Playhouse.

And as we were getting lunch, there he was, in the flesh, chatting with Father Kelley, who was, at the time, our college's president.

He didn't attract too much attention, nor did he seek it. The hungry college students were so focused on their next meal that they didn't take the time to say hello. Then again, not many Fairfield students took time out of their day to talk to Father Kelley during one of his on-campus appearances, either.

Paul Newman looked good. He wore half rimmed glasses, which were laying low, near the tip of his nose, a white oxford shirt, and a beige cardigan with black dress pants and shoes. He was laughing with Father Kelley, and even from a distance, you could see the piercing blue eyes which helped make him so famous.

I must confess that I never have seen a Paul Newman movie, but I am more of a fan for his humanitarian efforts than anything else. He did so much for kids with cancer through his Hole in the Wall Gang charity, and all of the profits from his Newman's Own line went to charity.

Even though I didn't get closer to the man than five feet, I feel that I can say that I met a Hollywood legend in person.

I wonder how the Connecticut media will respond to this one.

My thoughts go out to Joanne Woodward, his widow, and their family.

Thank You, Lynn Johnston

Not long ago, I wrote a Kitten Confessional on how much I love comic strips. I really get involved in all of the characters' lives and find myself on the edge of suspense with ever new strip that's drawn.

Well, today I vowed not to go to bed till the final original For Better or For Worse strip was posted online. And now that it has, I can post the link for you, and I can go to bed.

For some background information, go to the main For Better or For Worse website here. The story of Lynn Johnston's retirement, and un-retirement, can get quite complicated, so it's better that you get your information from there.

And you can find the last strip here. I won't spoil it for you by telling you what happens, but I will say this: not since Charles Schultz passed away the day that his final original Peanuts strip was printed has a comic strip moved me to tears. As I'm writing this I'm getting a lump in my throat.

I hope you all enjoy it. Lynn Johnston, I doubt you'll ever read this, but I wanted to thank you for all of the years of laughter and happiness that your comic strip has given me. I followed the story of the Pattersons as if they were members of my own family. I can't wait till the final anthology comes out; I'll be one of the first to buy it!

Enjoy the links, Kittens. I've got a long cat nap to take.

Good night!

R.I.P. George Carlin

I mentioned George Carlin's routine on "Stuff" in my 100 Things post recently. This morning I turn on NPR and learn that the man died yesterday.

We're losing too many entertainment/journalist legends/icons lately! First Harvey Korman, then Jim McKay, then Tim Russert, and now George Carlin! (And let's not forget Cyd Charisse or Stan Winston, either).

Arrgh...this is too sad. Anyway, when you get a chance, go to Google video and type in "George Carlin Stuff". It's my favorite of all of his routines.

And Mr. Carlin, they're playing your "Seven Dirty Words" routine on the radio today--albeit censored. I'm not sure you'd like that.

A Father's Greatest Legacy

I rarely, if ever, watched Meet the Press, but I admired and respected Tim Russert. I enjoyed watching him do political analysis on all of the NBC news shows, particularly during the 2000 election, when Tom Brokaw couldn't tell whether Bush or Gore captured Florida. All of the other networks had fancy graphics, computers, and charts to display their statistics, but Russert captured the essence of what was going on with a simple white board and dry erase marker. Technology wasn't for him. He was the type of guy who could grill politicians and pundits by day, yet at night, you could picture going to a football game with him and be comfortable. He was that rare combination of esteemed journalist and regular guy--a rare combination indeed.

This, and many other wonderful memories of Tim Russert, were shared yesterday at his memorial service, broadcast live on MSNBC. Tom Brokaw opened up the proceedings with a wonderful blend of humor and tenderness: "This is a celebration, and we're gonna do it Irish style. There will be some tears, some laughs, and the occasional truth. And as Tim would look out on this gathering, he would say, 'It's wild! It's wild! My family, my closest friends from near and far, the powerful, the ordinary, and the largest contingent of all in this room, those who think they should be his successor on Meet the Press."

That last sentence really got a belly laugh from the crowd, and set the tone for a touching, funny, and warm tribute to a man who was taken from this Earth all too soon. Maria Shriver spoke of a man who became another brother to her: "I lost my heart to Timmy Russert the day I met him. And the entire time I knew him, he took care of it. He protected my heart when it needed protection, he nurtured it when it needed care, and he helped it grow. And he never, ever broke it--a rare man, indeed."

Brian Williams, anchor of NBC Nightly News: "We dared to think that he would live to comb grey hair. He had every gift but length of years. This brings us to a perfect note to end on, at least for me. Let's talk about Tim's hair. Tim spent a fortune on his hair...he went to a very fashionable salon...for years...his only attempt at vanity. And on the day when he got it done, he looked outstanding for 60 to 90 minutes afterwards. And then, gradually, as he went on the course of his day, something happened...he just went back to being Tim."

All of the speeches were touching, funny, and paid tribute to a great man. Yet there was one other person mentioned in each of those speeches: Russert's 22 year old son, Luke. The camera panned to Luke whenever he was mentioned, and the camera viewed a young man, with his mother's dark eyes and his father's facial expressions, laughing along at the memories shared in that room at the Kennedy Center. Luke, a freshly minted college graduate, who was suddenly thrust into manhood upon the death of his father. Luke, whom everyone had to think, "How is he dealing with all of this?"

We soon got our answer.

He was the last to speak.

He approached the microphone with a confidence well beyond his years. "Good afternoon," he greeted, "I'm Luke Russert, proud son of Tim and Maureen. Before I begin, my mother and I would like to extend our deepest thanks for the tremendous outpouring of love and support from all of you and everyone all over the country.

"Earlier today, I delivered my father's eulogy, and I'd like to share a few excerpts. I'm sorry to break the news to every charity group, university, and club that he spoke to, but he had the same speech for all of you; he'd just tinker it a little bit, depending on who exactly he was talking to. So I would like to do the same thing, and do what I said earlier."

What refreshing candor and honesty! This got a huge laugh, and lots of applause from the crowd.

He continued on, quoting his own dad, from chapter 20 of his dad's book, Big Russ and Me, titled "Loss": "It's about Michael Gardner, my dad's friend who lost his 17 year old son to acute juvenile diabetes some years ago. After his passing, my dad phoned Michael and he said to him, 'Michael, think of it this way: What if God had come to you and said, "I'm gonna make you an offer: I'm gonna give you a beautiful, wonderful, happy and loveable son for 17 years, but then it will be time for him to come home." You'd make that deal in a second, right?' Well, I had my dad for 22 years, but I, too, would make that deal in a heartbeat.

"Later on in that chapter my dad goes on to say, 'The importance of faith and of accepting and celebrating death was something I continued to believe as a Catholic and a Christian. To accept faith we have to resign ourselves as mortals to the fact that we are a small part of a grand design.' Well my dad may have been a small part of God's grand design, though, but he was such a big presence on this Earth."

This kid is just 22 years old. And yet I felt his father ooze out of every word he said, as if his father was standing right beside him, almost as if he were using Luke as a mouthpiece for what he needed to say about death. And yet the funniest moment of his eulogy was just coming up:

"He had a great time living, and is no doubt having the time of his life in Heaven. So I ask you, this Sunday, in your hearts and in your minds, to imagine a Meet the Press: Special Edition, live from inside St. Peter's gate. Maybe Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr will be on for the full hour, debating. Perhaps JFK and Barry Goldwater will give their two cents about the 2008 election. You could even have Teddy Roosevelt for the full hour talking about the need for a third party."

This got a laugh from the entire crowd. And then, at the end, this young man brought the crowd to its feet.

Tim Russert was very proud of his son, and you could see why. This young man is a hero to many of us right now. He is handling his father's death with grace, aplomb, and a maturity well beyond his years. Of course, this is Luke Russert's public face; he may mourn his father's death in a different fashion away from the press.

But on that June day, at the Kennedy Center, we witnessed Tim Russert's greatest legacy, and it wasn't Meet the Press.

It was his son--and Luke Russert gave everyone reasons to be proud of him. I know that he has a great future in front of him.

Let's hope that he has the gift of more than the 58 years that his father had.

So Glad We Had This Time Together

You've all heard the story. Starlet grows up in Hollywood, but not the glamorous version depicted in the movies. She grows up in a one-room apartment, is raised by her grandmother, and lives down the hall from her mother. She and her Nanny are on relief, but still manage to see eight movies a week. She comes home, acts out all the parts in front of the mirror, then acts out the scenes with her friends in a vacant lot right down the street. She heads off to UCLA, wanting to be a journalist, but soon realizes her fate is to be an actress. She receives a loan from a mysterious benefactor, goes to New York to pound the pavement on Broadway, gets the lead in a George Abbott musical, and the rest, as they say, is history.

In case you couldn't figure out by the first paragraph whom I was writing about, of course, I'm writing about Carol Burnett, a true living legend of American entertainment. The story of her childhood is now considered showbiz legend, but after reading her memoir, One More Time, I now know that there was a lot of hard work, determination, and pavement pounding leading up to her success.

I don't consider myself to be a rabid fan of many entertainers, but for as long as I can remember, I have ALWAYS loved Carol Burnett. My earliest memories of watching her show occurred when I was around seven or eight years old, watching it with my grandmother at her cabin up in the Adirondacks. My grandmother's place was the only place where we could watch Carol Burnett and Friends. Then we got cable, and I watched it whenever I could.

In high school I had a small group of friends who appreciated Carol, but not to the level that I did. She had brief runs on TV in the early 90s, and I never missed a show. I still have the Carol Burnett Show 25th anniversary special on tape, and it is one of my most prized possessions. (Could that possibly count as one of my 100 things?)

In college I taped Carol Burnett and Friends whenever I could. I drove my roommate nuts as I programmed the VCR: "Carol Burnett AGAIN?!?!"

A year after graduating from college, I found a used copy of One More Time online and purchased it. It was one of the first editions of the book: hardcover, with a book jacket depicting the title in bold red letters. I read it cover to cover when I first purchased it, then it went into the closet of my old bedroom for nine years.

Harvey Korman's death made me remember I had a copy of Carol's book, and knew it was still in my parents' house. I had to read it again.

When I was home for Father's Day, I went straight to my bedroom closet, and the book was still there, along with Walter Cronkite's memoir, Lesley Stahl's autobiography, and a copy of Angela's Ashes. I retrieved all four books and took them home.

Last night I started re-reading One More Time. I finished it an hour ago.

One of the many reasons why I love Carol so much is that she brings such a humanity to whatever role she plays. She brings such a vulnerability and truthfulness to her characters. When she played Eunice, you really felt sorry for her. When she played Mrs. Wiggins, you knew that the portrayal was over the top, but at the same time, it reminded you of other people you knew. When she was the Charwoman, you really wanted to cry; her portrayal of a cleaning lady who dreamed of bigger and better things was so moving.

And a lot of these characters were influenced by her real life. Eunice, Carol has said in previous interviews, reminded her a lot of her Mama, a woman who had big dreams that never came true. Louise Burnett moved to Hollywood from San Antonio to try and get on the staff of a major Hollywood magazine. She only freelanced a handful of articles. She became depressed and turned to the bottle. Alcoholism eventually killed not only her, but Carol's father.

The Charwoman, I believe, came from a job that her Nanny briefly had working as a cleaning lady for Warner Brothers Studios. Carol would accompany her on her jobs, and would admire all of the pens, paints, and brushes that the studio artists used to paint their wonderful posters.

Maybe that's why the Charwoman became Carol's signature character/logo; she represents humble beginnings and the aspiration for greater dreams...

I also admire Carol because she has not, nor will ever, forget about where she came from. She writes about her days growing up with tenderness and affection. Some who have grown up in circumstances such as Carol's, in poverty and with addiction in the family, with bitterness and resentment. Carol knew that she was loved; her Nanny, Mama, and Daddy all loved her "in the best way they knew how." If Nanny had to lie to get a relief check, she did, and the money would come for another month. If Nanny had to lie to get grocery money, she did. Nanny made sure that Carol had food to eat, clothes on her back, and a roof over her head. Carol was never abused nor neglected. Her family may have had problems, but it was her family, and she loved them the best way she knew how.

Most importantly, Carol appreciated every bit of her success. Many Hollywood stars can be ungrateful of their wealth, but Carol valued every minute of it, mainly because she knew the value of hard work. She writes about how she worked as an usherette, handbag saleswoman to save money for tuition and transportation fare to UCLA. Once she got to New York, she worked as a hatcheck girl to pay for her rent at the Rehearsal Club, a boarding house for young women interested in pursuing careers in the theatre. (Rent was $18 a week--imagine that in this day and age--and she kept worrying if she would earn enough tips to afford it).

This was not a memoir I really wanted to end. She finishes the book by visiting her old one room apartment as an adult. She brings a tape recorder with her to chronicle the visit, and discovers that, in the words of an old French proverb, "The more things change, the more they stay the same." Carol writes that she will never visit her old apartment again...

...but she does. A later edition of One More Time was published several years ago to coincide with the opening of a play based on the book. Carol ended up renting the space and lived there for a month. I would love to get a copy of the update and find out her thoughts on this.

The play that Carol wrote, Hollywood Arms, opened on Broadway in late 2002, not long after the death of her oldest daughter, Carrie Hamilton, who co-wrote the play with her mother. Carrie was the one who suggested turning One More Time into a play.

Ironically enough, Carol's Nanny states, after the death of Carol's mother, "Nothing is worse than the death of your child." How tragic that Carol had to experience this, the most unfortunate of deaths. Carol Burnett has experienced much tragedy in her life, but has also experienced much happiness. She has said, "A lot of comedy is tragedy plus time," which is my all time favorite quote and the one I leave on many blogs, forums, and E-mail surveys. She is a survivor.

Maybe that's why America has always loved her--she is a survivor. She is not afraid to be human.

We're so glad we had this time together.

Another childhood icon lost

To me, Jim McKay WAS the Olympics. For as long as I can remember, I was glued to the TV whenever the Olympics and Jim McKay were on. And my parents didn't mind; they figured that the Olympics only came around once every four years, so what harm could it do? When the Olympic broadcasts moved to NBC, it just wasn't the same without Jim McKay.

He was also the Wide World of Sports, a program that my father never failed to miss. Many a Saturday afternoon was spent watching this program with dear old dad.

And now, a farewell article to Jim McKay, courtesy of Sports Illustrated online.

http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/2008/more/06/07/obit.mckay.ap/index.html?cnn=yes

R.I.P. Harvey Korman

Last night we lost one of the funniest comedians ever. I grew up watching Carol Burnett and Friends at my grandmother's house, and loved every single second of that wonderful show. Every time I caught it in reruns I would always remember the time I had with my grandmother.
It was especially worth it to watch, if only to see Harvey crack up every time he had a sketch with Tim Conway.

Also, who can forget Harvey as "HEDLEY Lamarr!" in that Mel Brooks classic, Blazing Saddles.

In tribute, here is what is arguably in the top 5 of the best Carol Burnett Show skits ever.

Rest in peace, Harvey. You will be missed.