Category: Television

Why We Love “This Is Us”

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

This Is Us - Season PilotJack, Rebecca, Kate, Kevin and Randall visit living rooms all across America on Tuesday evenings and the nation is in love with them. The hit series This Is Us tells the story of complex familial relationships through flashbacks and the present. The show provides us with a look at the dynamics of an unusual family that manages to seem so real and so much like us. It has stolen the hearts of fans and critics alike. After each new episode Facebook and Twitter fill with commentaries from devotees whose emotions have been aroused once again by the sheer humanity of the writing and the acting of the ensemble cast, but there is more to the This Is Us phenomenon than talent. There is something so relatable about the characters and stories that it reaches deep into our psyche’s and pulls out thoughts and feelings we have experienced in our own lives. It is so very real.

The series begins with Jack and Rebecca, a young couple very much in love but struggling with the fears that are part and parcel of married life, a lack of ample funds, worry about differing beliefs and the surprise of becoming the parents of triplets. Almost immediately there are kinks in their best laid plans that both strain and bless their lives. Their family’s journey into the present day is littered with the ups and downs that we all experience. Sometimes they seem to hit home runs with their wisdom and at other times they fall far short, creating damaging secrets and hurts that affect everyone.

Kate, Kevin and Randall are the children. There is a brilliant twist in their story that I will not reveal lest I be a spoiler for those who have not yet tuned in to this acclaimed show. Kate struggles with her weight and more importantly, her confidence. She has fought the temptations of eating from her childhood, a difficulty made even more intense because her mother seems to her to be a perfect and exceedingly beautiful woman. Kate is giving and loving and never appears able to put her own needs before those of her brothers and even her boyfriend. She lives to please but finds herself continuously unhappy and confused about what her true role in life should be. She has her own beauty and talents but has subjugated them for so long that she doesn’t even appear to know that they exist.

Kevin is handsome and seemingly full of himself. When we first meet him he is an actor in a successful television series that is nonetheless ridiculously silly. He longs to be more than a shallow caricature and seeks a more serious part, quitting his steady job in a fit of pique. In spite of all of his attributes he is as unsure of himself as Kate. There is an emptiness in his soul that he doesn’t know how to fill. He relies on his family, particularly Kate, for the reassurances that he seeks.

Randall is the odd man out. He is far different from his siblings, highly successful and brilliant. He is the only one who has a family of his own with a gorgeous wife and two adorable daughters. Still, he too longs to know himself better and in his quest for his identity he discovers long buried secrets that test his relationships with the other members of his family. 

This Is Us charts the dangerous waters of real life. It holds up a mirror to the human experience in which we see our own reflections juxtaposed with those of the very believable and lovable characters. They are us with their sibling rivalries, bad choices, and deep devotion to one another. We laugh and cry with them each week because we understand both their pain and their triumphs, for we have walked in their shoes both as children and as parents. We understand what it is to muck up situations when our intentions are so good. We have felt the same slights and unwanted jealousies in our own relationships. We all seek the best of ourselves but too often fall short of expectations. Our lives are wrought with failures and victories. We pick ourselves up from defeat over and over again and keep trying because that is who we are and how we are made. We feel the pain and the joy of Jack, Rebecca, Kate, Kevin and Randall in the most gut wrenching ways. We root for them as though they are real. That is how good the writing and the acting on this show is.

Even with the hundreds of channels and thousands of twenty four hour choices that we have for our watching pleasure in today’s media driven world television is still mostly a vast wasteland. This Is Us is one of those rare jewels that becomes an instant hit from the first moment that we meet the incredible and believable characters. It is a grownup version of The Wonder Years in which the angst of childhood has matured into the difficulties of being an adult. Human imperfections and resolutions drive a narrative that comes to life in the hands of incredible actors like Sterling K. Brown, Milo Ventimiglia and Mandy Moore. Each week the ensemble cast provides us with a tour de force of raw emotion and laughter that we discuss over the water cooler and dining table until the next installment as though we are speaking about our own families.

At times I feel like Rebecca, a mom doing her best to provide her children with the finest possible upbringing but being equally unsure that I have done things properly. At other times I am Kate walking in the shadow of a mother who seemed to be perfection itself and two brothers who never really understood what it has been like to be a woman competing for attention with men. I have known Kevin’s frustrations and the sense that I might do better things with my life than I have already done. I have known the same feelings of being an outsider that stalk Randall. Mostly I have been totally and unapologetically in love with my family just as these characters are with each other. I know that at the end of the day no matter what has happened my brothers will be there for me and I for them. Together we share a bond built on a lifetime of adventures. It is who we are.

If you haven’t yet begun to watch This Is Us I highly recommend that you do so when it returns for the winter season. Previous episodes are now available for catching up with the story. Start from the beginning to better understand why they are who they are. You won’t regret letting this lovable family into your heart. Be sure to bring some tissue with you because the tears will surely flow as you tag along with them and recall your own family memories. Their story belongs to all of us.

  

Our Greatest Gift

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

bn-fi133_speech_gs_20141031151239I have long been a voracious reader, a willing student of things both old and new. I enjoy considering ideas and long for the days of my youth when academic institutions were places of free discussion, fountains of information from multiple avenues of consideration. I was taught by my academic mentors to be open to points of view different from my own and to listen carefully to even the strangest sounding arguments, for within even the ridiculous there is much to be learned. “Perception often defines individual truth” my professors suggested. Our beliefs are built on the foundations of our unique experiences. Our thinking is the sum total of the knowledge that we have learned and the emotions that we have felt. Our outlooks are slowly programmed as we travel through life. Unless we are willing to understand the totality of what has brought an individual to a particular conviction our arguments for or against will fall on deaf ears.

I loved the frankness of unforgettable discussions from my college days. We were encouraged to feel comfortable with a variety of philosophies. Our reading lists often included the works of thinkers who ran the gamut from the far left to the far right. We were told not to blindly accept any argument but rather to consider both the pros and cons of everything that we encountered. Lemmings and sheep were rarely welcome in the classrooms of my youth. We debated each idea on its merits and everyone felt free to hold a forum. The experience was exciting and it molded me into the open minded person that I have always attempted to be.

In the present days we seem to have adopted a different way of approaching conflicting ideas. The debates of old have evolved into wars of words. Certain ideas are not even allowed to be uttered. We are more often than not forced to choose sides even before we hear the totality of the arguments. Those who suggest that we look for compromise in thinking are thought to be non-thinkers, weaklings unwilling to take a stand. We are told that we must be on the right side of history as though there is a clear and concise way of determining which side that is. Our leaders expect us to be automatons who utter our beliefs in unison and without thoughts or questions. I shutter whenever I hear the same lines being repeated regardless of whether they come from the right or the left. Too many of us have become consumers of propaganda, believers without doing research. We follow the boy who cried wolf rather than the one who pointed out that the emperor has no clothes.

I have had to counsel college students who received failing grades on persuasive papers not because their arguments were not rational and grounded in research but because they did not regurgitate their professors’ points of view. I have spoken with young people who fear making their true beliefs known lest they become ostracized. I have watched friendships dissolve over conflicting philosophies. I wonder when our democratic society began to forget the importance of the liberty imbedded in our right to freedom of speech.

I came of age in turbulent times. My male peers were being sent to a war that many of us questioned and others supported. The dream of full integration for our Black brothers and sisters was yet to be fulfilled. My own religion was being transformed from an archaic Latin based liturgy to one that embraced many languages and tore down barriers between the clergy and the congregation. Women were forging new territory in careers once thought to be the exclusive domain of men. There was an excitement in the conversations that we had with one another. Sometimes we found ourselves in the company of friends whose thoughts were diametrically opposed to ours. We gathered around tables and debated sometimes heatedly but always in the spirit of learning. We almost always walked away with our friendships intact despite our differences.

Open debate is frowned upon today. We politely avoid topics that might bring about conflicts. We no longer know how to enjoy a lively discussion without becoming emotional. We spout sound bites rather than reasoned ideas. We close our minds and leave the room if anyone dares to utter political notions. Our feelings are so easily hurt. It is a sad state of affairs.

I find myself missing my mother-in-law more and more. She and I used to sit at her dining room table enjoying tea and cookies while our husbands watched football on Sunday afternoons. She was a convert to conservatism and I was still in my intensely radical progressivism days. We often spoke about the history of the world and the possibilities of its future. She wanted to know what I thought about the economy, international relations, religion and other subjects that would be taboo in most of today’s polite circles. She always listened with respect and then quietly presented her own reflections. We learned from each other without judgement. She was a brilliant woman who might have been intimidating had she simply closed her mind to what I had to say. Instead she taught me the power of truly open debate among friends. It is difficult to find such enjoyable adversaries like her in the super charged environment as we begin 2017.

I suspect that I am not the only one who is weary of the unofficial civil war that is waging across the globe. I’d like to think that our teachers and professors will one day return to a way of teaching our young that allows for great freedom in the exchange of ideas. I would like to see an end to the rampant use of group think in our institutions. We need more reality television like the thought provoking debates between Gore Vidal and William F. Buckley that were so popular in the late sixties. I want our news reporters to state facts, not opinions. I would rather have them ask questions and then simply listen rather than arguing and attempting to push their own opinions on all of us. I will miss Gwen Ifill because she was one of the few journalists who always remained fair minded

I was impressed by something that Van Jones of CNN recently did. Rather than repeating the idea that those who voted for Donald Trump are mostly deplorable woman hating racists he set out to learn what had really prompted them to give their nod to Trump. He travelled to different parts of the country and sat informally across from Trump voters encouraging them to talk while he listened. What he found was that their main motivation was in wanting to be heard. They felt as though they had been forgotten and somehow Trump had made them believe that they were as important as anyone in America. It was not hatred that drove them to the polls but a sense of longing to be noticed.

In the long history of the world people have time and again asked for the freedom to voice their personal concerns and to state their ideas for solving problems. It has only been when humans have been willing to consider alternative points of view that progress has been made. Our Founding Fathers understood that. They set up a republic rather than a pure democracy because they realized that it was a way to hear the voices of even those in remote corners of the nation rather than only those in our most populated areas. They long ago sat through a hot summer risking their very lives so that we might one day be able to speak our minds without fear of being silenced or imprisoned. They heard the different voices from the colonies and compromised to insure that farmers would have as much power as industrialists. They found consensus between great thinkers as different at John Adams and Thomas Jefferson, those who advocated for a strong federal government and those intent on guarding the rights of the individual states. Their genius, with the help of James Madison, eventually gave us freedom of speech in a Bill of Rights that was unmatched in the history of the world.

Let us think twice before we continue to abridge our right to peaceably assemble or petition the Government for a redress of grievances. Let’s honor our differences rather than recoil from them. There is still room in this country for both the Black Lives Matter Movement and the Tea Party, for socialists and libertarians, for democrats and republicans. We might all want to become better acquainted with the members of each group and open our minds to what they are trying to say. Freedom of speech is perhaps our greatest gift as citizens let us all encourage its unfettered exercise.

The Sound and the Fury

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

160926213408-clinton-trump-debate-hofstra-your-own-reality-sot-one-00012411-large-169I sometimes enjoy fooling people regarding my age. If I’m well rested, wearing the right colors, and my makeup is fresh I am able to masquerade as someone who is a bit younger than I actually am. I am generally able to get by with pretending to be in my fifties rather than my sixties but I give away my deception whenever I begin to speak about the events that I have witnessed in my life. The reality is that I am only a couple of years younger than the two individuals who are running for President of the United States. They are my peers and sadly both of their campaigns remind me far too much of high schoolers hoping to secure my vote by offering goodies and changes that will probably never happen.

One of them is the class blowhard and bully, the same kind of guy who stomped on my photo with his shoe and proclaimed that nobody liked me. The other is the girl with the fake smile on her face who would say anything to get my vote and that of my classmates but in reality only ran to achieve a taste of power. Even as a gangly teenager I understood that politics was often a game and that those speeches that we heard inside the gym were crafted to attract our interest just enough to secure our votes, hot air that most of us would forget once the winner was ensconced in office.

I remember watching the debates between John F. Kennedy and Richard Nixon back in the nineteen sixties. I wasn’t old enough to vote but I was curious to learn more about the handsome Catholic who seemed to be a very different kind of politician than the stodgy old men who had traditionally run for office. The discussions between Kennedy and Nixon were intellectual and meaningful and I was so fascinated that I became a political observer forevermore. The camera loved Kennedy and showcased his natural charisma and optimistic sense of humor. Unfortunately for Nixon it revealed all of his physical and emotional flaws, making his arguments secondary to the overall impression that he made. Still, that first debate was not a circus but a serious analysis of the issues and it set the standard for all future televised encounters between candidates.

Over time politicians and their handlers learned how to game the debates. They became more of a spectacle and less of an effort to outline the real differences between candidates. In most cases the members of the electorate rarely changed their votes based on what they heard in those encounters between candidates. We the people realized that one moment in time was not nearly enough to define an individual and so we watched more for the whimsey than to learn anything new.

For the most part the great debates became rather boring production numbers. Only now and again did a candidate do something so egregious that it turned the tide in a tight race. When President George H. W. Bush glanced at his watch during his debate with Bill Clinton it sent a message that he was bored and thought himself above his opponent. It became the last straw in the unraveling of his presidency and a moment that many remembered when they went to the polls. Mostly though the debates have only influenced a small proportion of the voters of late. They serve little purpose other than to reinforce the support of those who have already decided which way to lean. They rarely change minds.

I have to admit that I was rather disappointed in the first debate between Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump. It felt more like a marital dispute between and a man and woman who had grown to despise one another. I had already heard every soundbite that each of them proclaimed and found their snark and digs to be annoying and cloying. There really was no substance to any of their plans. Each of them dreams big but can’t really explain how to successfully fund the programs that they espouse. Our country is deeply in debt and neither candidate addressed ways to eliminate the growing economic crisis that will surely hit us if we continue to ignore the fact that we can’t afford all of the things that we do. The reality is that lowering taxes and building a wall will not work anymore than raising taxes on the wealthy will pay for college for everyone. The numbers simply don’t balance in our national checkbook. The sad truth is that we need a combination of both austerity and more income from all of the people but in today’s political climate it is far too unpopular to suggest that we might have to make sacrifices to get our house back in order.

At the moment our choices lean toward two extremes when what we really need is a bit of both platforms. Each candidate possesses some ideas of merit and some that are so far out that they will hopefully never come to pass. Sadly it is out of fashion to be moderate, something that Bill Clinton was masterful at doing. Today the outrageous is in fashion. If I were running my plans would incorporate a wide spectrum of ideas designed to move our country forward together, not as splintered as it has become. Therein lies my gravest concerns for our future. Frankly I don’t believe that either Donald Trump or Hillary Clinton care as much about the nation as they do about themselves. Neither is up to the standards of the job but hopefully the winner will learn how to really be responsible.

The good news is that we have had some rather nondescript presidents in the past, men who didn’t quite measure up to Washington, Lincoln, Roosevelt or Reagan. We’ve seen real crooks like Nixon and misguided policymakers like Hoover. We have made it through assassinations and impeachments. We have endured the good, the bad, and the ugly time and again. I simply don’t believe that any one person will destroy the democracy that we have. We will make it one way or another and somewhere on the horizon a real leader will eventually emerge.

Ours is a complex government in which no one person may become a dictator. As long as the members of Congress uphold their duties and the Supreme Court rules for the good of the nation rather than their personal political leanings we will continue to be strong. Who knows how the eventual winner of this contest will adapt to the office. The weight of presidential responsibilities has certainly changed many men for the better in the past. I would like to believe that I will be pleasantly surprised regardless of the outcome in November.

In the meantime I doubt that I have the patience to tune in to any more debates. They are simply a mashup of sound and fury signifying nothing. There is little point to spending ninety minutes hearing the same talking points over and over again. It is simply time for me to consider all of the pros and cons, vote according to my own conscience and then hope for the best for the country that I so love.

The Ascent of Humankind

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

ad220478590first-lady-miche-e1474795934923I have always been a creature of habit. When I was still working I had to keep to a hard and fast routine or I would end up feeling overwhelmed. I told myself that when I finally retired I would become more easy going but found it almost impossible to live without daily parameters. I still generally follow a pattern of living not unlike the one that guided me for most of my adult life. I find myself measuring the quality of my day by the number of tasks that I accomplish. I follow the same steps both when I awake and during the waning hours before I retire for the night. There is comfort in the sameness at the beginning and end of each cycle of the sun. The things that I repeat over and over again provide me with a feeling of stability in a world that of late seems to have gone somewhat mad.

One of my morning quirks is to read the news while I eat my breakfast. I want to know what has happened in the world while I was slumbering. I know all too well what might take place in the dark of night. I have lived the nightmare of arising to learn that a loved one has died while I was blissfully dreaming. Waking to very bad news has happened to me and to my friends many times over. Perhaps it is one of the reasons that I have evolved into a restless sleeper, always on alert. I am thankful for each morning that I see the sun but also leery that I might learn of yet another tragic event.

Today I awoke to find that a shooter was firing at passersby at a strip center in my city. I am quite familiar with the area where the incident unfolded even though it is somewhat far from where I actually live. I have shopped and dined there. For many years I dreamed of living in the neighborhood near there. It is an upscale part of town, somewhere that always seemed safe and devoid of the problems that plague much of Houston.

The updates that kept pinging on my phone indicated that six people were transported to the hospital which luckily is only minutes away in one of the best medical centers in the world. The shooter was “neutralized.” The always very busy road where all of this played out was closed and there was a shelter in place for residents of an apartment complex located near the tragedy. In real time I learned all about an event about which I might have been ignorant in times past and I find myself wondering if all of this news to which we are privy is helping or hurting us. Do we actually have better lives because we are now able to be “eyewitnesses” to war and murder or is the continuous barrage of carnage somehow damaging our collective psyche? Are we becoming immune to the violence or is it frightening and inciting us? Is there a connection between the twenty four hour news cycle and the questionable character of the two people that we have nominated as the potential leaders of our nation? Are we indeed backed onto a dangerous precipice or is the continuous reality show to which the newscasters subject us merely hyperbole designed to keep our attention? How much do we really need to know and how much should we simply ignore?

I am as uncertain about such things as most people are these days. I take comfort in knowing that while we do indeed live in a brave new world that is fraught with uniquely modern day problems, mankind’s journey has wound its way through centuries and somehow we have managed time and again to continue moving slowly but surely forward. Time stretches so far back that it is unimaginable. Our history as people is recorded from thousands of years ago. Whether we take the Old Testament of the Bible for granted or view it as a kind of folktale we understand that murder, war and mistreatment have been a part of our natures for as long as we have walked on this earth but hope and promise of a better world have time and again guided us to the realization of our better natures.

I began watching a series on the history of India last night. It told of ancient Greek navigators who risked monsoons to sail to India in search of enchanting spices like pepper and cardamon. The narrator told of the development of the silk road from China and the earliest kingdoms that dominated what we now call the Middle East, Pakistan and India itself. Many of the places that became centers of invention, trade and religious pilgrimages still exist today much as they did thousands of years ago. Most of the progress and learning that prompted such adventures took place during long stretches of peace. When there was no war humans turned their talents and their interests to creativity and inventiveness. Sadly jealousies and hunger for power all too often overtook mankind’s better natures and brought violence that destroyed entire dynasties. Our collective story demonstrates a human pattern of renaissance and destruction that asserts itself over and over again.

We never seem to completely solve all of our problems even with our best intentions to do so. Sometimes events overwhelm us and we become swept up in realities that most of us would rather avoid. We become part of the cycles of both everyday living and history. Our hope is that somehow we will manage not just to survive the difficult times but also to become stronger and better because of our experiences. Our goal is to learn and improve and move forward, a dream that is at times easier to imagine that to execute. It requires the capacity and willingness to accept one another just as we are.

In a world that can seem cruel and unfeeling a breathtaking thing happened this past weekend at the opening of the new Smithsonian museum for African American history. A photographer captured a touching moment when First Lady Michelle Obama gave a big hug to a smiling former President George W. Bush. The photo shows a millisecond of unplanned, unrehearsed innocence and genuine friendship between two people who have often been scorned by the public at large. In that brief encounter lay the seeds of a better future, a time when we might become more capable of seeing each other not as philosophies or religions or nations but simply as the wonderfully beautiful human beings that we are. It is only when we can look past the slogans and posturing and opinion mongering that continually invade our space that we truly harness the potential for greatness that lies in each and every one of us. It is during the times that we grow weary of fighting and instead live and let live that our humanity most shines forth. That is when our most awe inspiring spirits have the room to soar and ascend.

I don’t know where we are in the unfolding our human history. I have seen both good and bad times in my almost seventy decades. In the grand scheme of things I am but an infant and yet I know enough about our human routines to believe like King Lear that we always circle back to peace and goodness even when we appear to be at our worst. No matter how bad things may look, we need to keep the faith. A new day will come. The sun will shine. A Leonardo da Vinci or an Albert Einstein will be born. The future lies somewhere in our midst, somewhere in each one of us, and it is good. 

Brave Courageous and Bold

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

wyatt-earpI wasn’t allowed to watch much television when I was a child. My mother thought it prudent to limit the amount of time that I spent sitting in front of the box with its black and white images. She much preferred that I play outside or read. As the popularity of this new invention grew she began to relent just a bit but still insisted that she be the one to chose the programming that I was allowed to see. Being a woman she wasn’t particularly inclined to select westerns but for me those were far and away the best of the offerings.

The first adult western offered during primetime viewing hours was The Life and Legend of Wyatt Earp starring Hugh O’Brian, a dashingly handsome man who supposedly was chosen for the role because he resembled an early photograph of the real Wyatt Earp. The show premiered in September of 1955 and ran until 1961. Four weeks after Wyatt Earp came on the air Gunsmoke joined its ranks. At one point in time there were more than twenty different western themed series being offered by the three big networks, many of them inspired by the success of Wyatt Earp.

I loved visiting my uncles Jack and Louie. They were western fanatics and while my mother was being otherwise entertained I was able to get my fill of those remarkable programs while sitting next to them in the dark. The lead characters became my heroes and I learned the theme songs for my favorite shows by heart. I’d ride around the neighborhood on my bicycle bellowing, “Wyatt Earp, Wyatt Earp, brave courageous and bold. Long live his fame and long live his glory and long may his story be told.” It gave me a bit of credibility with my friends to be so well versed in the more important aspects of kid life.

I had little idea that there had actually been a real man named Wyatt Earp whose story was a bit less impressive than the television counterpart. I only knew that he and the other cowboys who lit up the screen were always good looking, brave, honest and loyal men who fought for what was right. They were role models for all time. Little did I understand that in reality the men and women of the wild west hardly resembled their Hollywood posers. I innocently dreamed of their exploits and heroics and sometimes imagined that my two uncles might have made fine lawmen had they happened to live in the era portrayed on the screens each evening.

Westerns were popular at the movies as well as on television. Gene Autry was a singing cowboy and Alan Ladd was a brooding cowboy but the best of the lot was John Wayne. I loved every one of his movies and luckily so did my mom. Most people choose True Grit as his best role but I was a huge fan of Stagecoach and The Searchers. Somehow I imagined that every place west of San Antonio was filled with horse riding, gun toting heroes as amiable and charismatic as John Wayne.

Perhaps television and film producers alike created a few too many westerns back then much like the reality programming of today and the public grew weary of the sameness of the shows. Slowly but surely the old westerns were replaced with other fan favorites. Now cowboy shows are a rarity which is a shame because some of them really were quite good. Maybe we just outgrew them and began to realize that the image of the great hero of the old west was little more than a myth. We may have just become too cool for those guys with their ten gallon hats and boots.

I remembered how much I had enjoyed those stories when actor Hugh O’Brien recently died at the age of ninety one. I hadn’t really thought about him for years and I was actually surprised that he had grown so old. In my mind he was still a young lion in his early thirties with that steely eyed expression that told outlaws that he meant business. He seemed to be the perfect man to keep a town safe. Watching him in action always made me feel a bit more secure even in the real world. Hearing of his passing was like acknowledging the end of an era.

They say that what goes around comes around and I often wish that there might be a revival of the old westerns. I’ve heard that Longmire is a somewhat reasonable facsimile of those old shows so I may have to check it out soon. I still think that the viewing public might appreciate a well crafted western. Perhaps once we the audience have had our fill of present day offerings someone will think to create a really good story about the characters who roamed in the days when the western expanses of our country were wild and unpredictable.

We seem to be a bit down on cowboys and ranchers these days. I suppose that some of those of old did things that were of questionable morals but someone with a very creative mind should be able to create a character who is real and not just a cardboard caricature. It might be a compelling program that explores the complexities of that era with an imperfect but somewhat noble hero. I tend to think that Darrell of The Walking Dead is cut very much from the old western cloth. It shouldn’t be that difficult to build a story around such a man.

We’ve lost most of the actors who made those roles come to life and brought little kids like me so much delight. I for one think it’s time again to “Head ’em up, move ’em on.” We’re ready for another Rawhide.