Mamaw, Carol, and me

Whenever I see Carol Burnett, I think of my late grandmother.

Two reasons.

One, I used to watch Carol's reruns and later shows at "Mamaw" Lydia Mabe's house whenever I was there on Saturday nights. Two, we're part of a Burnett family tree (Hi, Seth!), and my grandmother made a good argument for the fact that Carol might be part of it.

Seems like the story goes as such: A long, long time ago, several Burnett ancestors left East Tennessee for Texas. Carol Burnett (her real name) was born in Texas before going to California -- with her grandmother.

Yeah, it's a long shot, but it's nice to think about on rainy days and Mondays.

Moments I'll forever cherish are taking my grandmother to Burnett family reunions in Sharps Chapel. She grew up there until TVA sent everybody packing to create Norris Dam/Lake. My grandmother talked about it, on and off, for the rest of her life, but she must've not minded too much. She remained an FDR/Truman Democrat in a family filled with Eisenhower Republicans.

We talked about it during what became our last conversation. I went to visit her in the hospital in July 2013. She'd fallen at home. The doctors discovered terminal cancer, too. They weren't going to tell her. I don't guess anybody did.

But, when I got there, she was just like she'd been my whole life. Sure, she'd slowed down, but, goodness, she was almost 89. She told me stories from the '30s, from Sharps Chapel, and I left there thinking she'd live another few months to a year at least. That was a Monday.

She died the following Saturday.

Just before things got so rough I couldn't even read, I bought a cheap copy of one of Carol Burnett's memoirs, "This Time Together." I'm finally getting to read it.

And, I asked on Facebook if some kind person out there might have any of the uncut Time-Life "Carol Burnett Show" DVDs for me to borrow. (After two years of disability and being in heavy medical debt, I'm thankful, but broke, and am looking for laughs.)

Two super souls responded. Robin Tindell said she'd let me borrow her parents' DVDs. And a Good Samaritan sent me an Amazon gift card so I could buy the seven-disc "Lost Episodes" set. I'd really been wanting to see those, especially the first show from Sept. 11, 1967. But I didn't have the $99 to spare, nor the cheaper $40 discounted one in the Amazon marketplace.

So, don't let anybody tell you that kindness is dead or that social media isn't good for something. They know their kindness will be paid forward.

So, as I watch Harvey Korman lose it at Tim Conway's antics, or Burnett sing with Bing, or the footage that hasn't been seen since the original CBS broadcasts, I can't help but think of my grandmother and wish she were here to see it, too.

But, who knows? Maybe she's being entertained by Harvey Korman somewhere in the sweet by and by.

I'm so glad we had that time together, Mamaw...

Lunch with a true lady...

Earlier today, I enjoyed lunch with film, TV and opera star Mary Costa. She's perhaps best known to most of you as the voice of Princess Aurora from "Sleeping Beauty." My good friend Dean Harned arranged the luncheon and brought along his wife, Allison, and their son, Lincoln.

Thank you, Mary, for making me feel "alive" today! What a gracious, gracious woman.

Also included is a screen shot of Mary with Bing Crosby on his 1971 Christmas special.

She was so gracious, so warm, and even so persuading that she talked me into seeing the encore showing tonight of The Metropolitan Opera's Live in HD! production of Massenet's "Werther," starring the touted tenor Jonas Kaufmann.

Here's to a true Knoxville legend!

Why I like him so much...

You know, it dawned on me earlier that I don't think I've ever told you why I like Dean Martin so much.

 Dino was supremo, the king of cool, calm, classy. Longtime readers know how much I love him and his music.

Of the members of the so-called Rat Pack, Dean is my favorite. Before you have a coronary, let me add a caveat.

Sinatra was superb. Nobody, and I mean nobody, resides in Francis Albert's league. He was a stylist, a singer's singer, The Voice, The Chairman of the Board. I own more Frank Sinatra records than any other performer, with the possible exception of Elvis.

But Dean is my favorite.

For one thing, he's funny. You can't help but laugh at the guy. His drunk routine (he usually was drinking apple juice) was classic. His ad-libbing one-liners were hilarious, delivered with pitch-perfect timing. Even his former comedic partner Jerry Lewis said Dino had the "it" that all superstars possess.

His relaxed, "I couldn't care less" attitude was inspired by his hero (and mine), Bing Crosby, updated for the '60s and '70s. There's a classic clip of the two of them together from Bing's 1970 TV show. Look at the admiration in Dean's eyes.

Oh, and don't miss this gem from Johnny Carson's "Tonight Show."

And you'll get a kick out of this. Yeah, I've tried to copy Dean's hair, his performance mannerisms when singing, even his laid-back persona when I speak before an audience. What can I say? Imitate the best!

I ordered the complete Dean Martin roasts, a collection of "The Dean Martin Show" -- both from Time-Life -- as well as the "Collected Cool" box set for my birthday. Best money I ever spent.

Maybe one of the secrets to it is that Dean, unlike, say, Frankie, seemed so accessible.

"I made myself part of the audience," he said. "I didn't act like I was doing them a favor on the stage. I've seen entertainers act like they were doing you a favor by singing for you, which is wrong. If you make 'em feel like they're a part of ya..., I don't know..."

Exactly.

And there's a serious side here, too. You know about my migraines. Won't rehash them here. But, when I get them, I can only listen to four singers: Bing Crosby, Karen Carpenter, John Denver and Dino. There's something about the timbre in each of their voices that doesn't further irritate my head.

One of my favorite things to do is put one of Dino's records on the turntable -- and they usually are records -- ease back with an ice pack, shut my eyes and dream of a day when pop culture wasn't pathetic.

So, I owe the boy quite a bit. He never fails to make me smile -- sometimes belly laugh -- and his music is pure magic.

Salud, Dino. I hope each of you has a Dean Martin in your own lives.

P.S. For the record, my favorite Dino song is his cover of Jim Reeves' "Welcome To My World" and my favorite album is "Dream With Dean." My favorite film is a tie between "Robin and the 7 Hoods" and the first Matt Helm movie.

Everybody loves somebody sometime

"And don't worry, Jeanne, I'll be home soon..."

Welcome to Philco Radio Time!

Filling in for Bing Crosby, I'm Jake Mabe!

Bought this beaut today from a nice fella named Eric, who lives up in Dandridge. Found it on eBay and he agreed to meet me rather than risk damage during shipping.

Eric restores radios, says there's just something about the sound from a tube set. I concur.

Just picked up WYSH/WGAP and have heard Keith Whitley, Merle Haggard, Eddy Arnold and The Statler Brothers in the past 30 minutes.

Classic country, indeed!

Happy Saturday, y'all.

'Seasons'

Forgive me for not ducking in until now. New year, new week, new beat, old dog, new tricks (and treats).

I've been listening to Bing Crosby of late. It started near Christmas, of course, but really long before. Crosby -- along with Sinatra and Presley -- is a favorite.

Makes me sad that he's all but forgotten now, remembered if at all for "White Christmas" and the "Road" pictures and the image of the pipe-smoking, ba-boo-ba-boo-ing paternal pap, or -- even worse -- the phony father figure who "beat" his kids and neglected his first wife when the colors faded. I'll save a rant on that (and son Gary's "Going My Own Way") for another day.

Now, I'll tell  you about "Seasons." It turned out to be Bingo's swan song, a concept album collecting the spring, summer, fall and winter of this wonderful, terrible thing we call life.

I passed up on a sweet deal for the vinyl a few weeks ago. Went back to get it and it was gone. Didn't get too grumpy. Glad somebody got it. Bing needs to be moving round and around, not collecting dirty dust.

Anyhow, this is a gem. That velvet voice was there for 50-some years, whistling and scatting and singing (never shouting) until Crosby fell on a golf course in Spain, an unexpected adios.

He begins with "On The Very First Day of the Year," sprints through spring, introspects through autumn, and laments in the winter of his years on "Yesterday When I Was Young."

Then he recites pieces and poetry before crooning through a few more cuts on the deluxe edition of the disc. A super surprise is a perfect philosophy for life, Tim Rice and Marvin Hamlisch's "The Only Way To Go."

We'll be happy 'til we die; my foolish dreams and I; relax until they take us to that bar up in the sky; and up's the only way to go; and it's the only dream I know...

Sort of like spending four hours swinging away, winning by a stroke, shaking hands and calling it a day.

May your day be merry and bright...

... and may all your Christmases be white...

A little chat over late-afternoon coffee

Polyester pants, turtleneck, Bing Crosby on Sirius/XM, late afternoon cup of coffee.

Perfect time to talk.

This is going to be quiet, conversational, cool. No vigor. No vitriol.

I don't like to read about kids being killed at Christmas. Happened last year in Connecticut. Happened this year in Colorado.

Don't like to read about it anytime. I know you don't, either. Doesn't matter one's politics, does it?

So what do we do? Let's start talking. That's all. Just talk.

I own a couple of guns. One is a gift from my late grandfather. I've never fired either, although I know how.

You may own some. You may own none. Don't know. Don't care.

Herein lies the rub with wedge issues. They don't get us anywhere.

Discussion does. Not what passes for it on FOX News or MSNBC (names listed in alphabetical order), but the calm kind, chatting over coffee, just like this conversation.

Some say inanimate objects don't kill. Others ask, "Who needs weapons?"

Middle ground? Marvelous!

Why does moderation have a bad meaning? Not sure. Not with me.

Funding for mental illness treatment/prevention? Makes sense. So, too, did the assault weapons ban that was allowed to expire. Don't start yelling. We're just talking here. Leave the talking points with Matthews or O'Reilly (names listed in alphabetical order).

I know plenty of people who hunt on weekends. I know plenty who hunt happiness. They may or may not be the same person.

I hope for this purpose we hunt for common sense, common ground.

I never want to see kids killed at Christmas. It will happen again. I'm quite familiar with human nature.

Let's just start talking. Calm and cool, nice and easy.

Bing and Dinah are singing about a white Christmas. Gotta go.

Salud to you, liberals, conservatives, libertarians, Communists, moderates, militants.

And may all your Christmases be white...

Happy birthday, Bing!

Today would have been Bing Crosby's birthday.

Talk about Mr. Smooth. I love to listen to his radio shows (bring 'em back as quickly as you can, Sirius/XM!). He stars in several films I enjoy, including "Holiday Inn," "High Society" and the "Road" pictures with Bob Hope.

The only real bizarre thing I ever heard him attempt was a cover of Joni Mitchell's "Both Sides Now." It wasn't bad; it just wasn't meant for Bing.

Happy birthday, Bing! "Ba boo ba boo ba boo boo boo boo!"

Also, on a personal note, today would have been my late Grandfather Wayne Wyatt's 82nd birthday. He passed away in September.

I am thankful that he is no longer in pain and that he didn't live long enough for Alzheimer's  to ravage his mind to the point he didn't recognize us.

Thinkin' about ya today, Pap.

'Harbor Lights' on Saturday night

Survived a stop at the ER yesterday afternoon.

Whew. Surprising diagnosis, but everything is going to be fine.

Meanwhile, I am taking it easy. Also, remember my wifey, if you will. She is in some serious pain and is worried she may have to have surgery.

Tonight, I caught an old episode of "The Bing Crosby (radio) Show" on Sirius/XM. From 1950. Guest star Dick Powell. Bing was crooning "Harbor Lights."

Guaranteed to cure what ails ya!

Ba boo, ba boo, ba boo boo boo boo...