'If the phone doesn't ring, it's me'
Harry Orwell is giving Thomas Magnum a run for his money as my favorite TV detective.
(Yeah, Jim Rockford is up there, too.)
Harry lives on the beach. He takes the bus everywhere because he says it gives him time to think. He's debating on whether to get his vehicle's transmission repaired on principle. And, as soon as he finishes fixing up his boat (named The Answer), he's sailing out to sea. Because, as he says, "there aren't any phones there."
Well, this was the 1970s, before cellphones became ubiquitous. But I get his point.
If it were up to me, or if I were in another line of work, I wouldn't answer the darn things. These people who walk around with a phone stuck to their ear as if it were an appendage look ridiculous. Casual conversation in a restaurant is an endangered species.
I told you the other day about "Harry O." It was an underrated show starring the underrated David Janssen. I'm working my way through the two pilot movies and the first season of episodes. You don't see TV like this anymore.
I've always wanted to live near the water. I guess Norris Lake would be more realistic than either the Gulf Coast of Florida or Lahaina, Maui. But one can dream.
The interns have returned to the Shopper News for the summer. We call them that. It's actually a six-week summer camp, if you will, in which we tour various businesses around town and try to teach them a thing or two about herding words. I joined them for lunch today at Litton's. They are all in middle or high school and have their lives ahead of them. It makes me almost envious.
I told them if they find a job they love, they will never work a day in their lives. That's mostly true.
Speaking of which, I've got to head out to an interview in a few minutes. Hope you all are having a good afternoon.
Meanwhile, I'll be dreaming about a little cottage by the coast, the surf splashing onto shore, no deadlines, no commitments. Chances are I'll be humming that Jimmy Buffett tune.
"If the phone doesn't ring, it's me."