Jon Frid and Dan Curtis's dream

OK, now I've had a few days to think about losing a final chip of childhood. I don't know whether I can put it into adequate words, but here goes.

I've already told you about being obsessed with "Dark Shadows" as a kid. Throughout most of high school, I would immerse myself for one hour a day (30 minute episodes back-to-back) via re-runs in the saga of the crazy characters of Collinwood.

All those memories came flooding back last Thursday when his relatives announced Jonathan "Barnabas Collins" Frid had passed away, ironically enough on Friday the 13th. (Useless trivia: Frid starred in director Oliver Stone's first movie, a horror film called "Seizure.")

Part of the attraction of "Dark Shadows" for me was its story. Think about it. A Gothic mansion filled with ghosts, vampires, werewolves, and attractive young women in miniskirts...for what more could a teenage boy ask?!

Looking back on it, I think I identified with Frid's portrayal of Barnabas Collins, the self-loathing, reluctant vampire. If you suspend belief and take the character for who he was, Barnabas Collins was adrift in a strange world, struggling to find his way, hating the bad aspects of his nature and learning how to fit in. Well, doesn't every teenager do that? Especially one with nostalgic tendencies anyway?

And, of course, I would laugh with mirth at all the live-on-tape mistakes. "Gravestones" blowing in the wind. Cameras crossing cameras. Boom mics slipping down into the scenes. Grips wandering around on the side of the stage.



I collected all but two of the old Paperback Library books (my sweet mom has bought me the other two to complete my collection), several VHS videos and Kathryn Leigh Scott's "Dark Shadows Companion." I bought the 1969 soundtrack vinyl album from Mike and Maria at Lost and Found Records when it was located in West Knoxville. I joined the "Dark Shadows" fan club and subscribed to a few fanzines.

As the years passed, I left "Dark Shadows" behind. College and career took over. When Netflix arrived, I would rent the DVDs from time to time. I'd watch them usually on Saturday mornings, while eating cereal, for old times' sake. It never failed to bring a smile.

Last Thursday night, I toasted Frid, dug out my VHS copy of the 1970 film "House of Dark Shadows" (which did so well at the box office it single-handedly saved M-G-M from bankruptcy) and Jenn and I spent two hours with those crazy characters from Collinwood. I bought Mr. Frid's autograph on eBay and decided to splurge on the second-edition of the complete series DVD set, which comes out in July.

Dan Curtis's dream called "Dark Shadows" will forever hold a special place in my heart. Crazy camp and all, it was (and is) a heck of a lot of fun.

The last innocent summer

So how pathetic is this?

I'm curled up in my recliner, wearing PJs at noon, watching "Dark Shadows" and eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I'm feeling better, but still not great, and so here I sit, watching this nonsense ("You can't kill me. I'm already dead!"), eating a kid's meal. After awhile, I'll turn the clan from Collinsport off and watch Justin Verlander and the Tigers stare down the Baltimore Orioles at Camden Yards.

Funny, but this is close to how I spent an entire summer, 15 years ago. Well, minus the migraines.

No, I didn't get headaches back then. Didn't really have a care in the world. That summer, the last innocent summer you might say, I slept late, read books, immersed myself in Dan Curtis's crazy dream each weekday morning at 11, and watched baseball in the balmy evenings.

Looking back, I guess it was a lonely summer, but it didn't feel that way then. I didn't have a point of reference to know any different.

I call it the last innocent summer, because soon after that I met this dark-haired girl, fell in love, and, well, life never has been quite the same.

But that summer, I cared about Fred McGriff coming over to Atlanta from Toronto. I lived and died with the Braves then, TBS, 7:35 p.m. Eastern, Skip and Pete, Don and Joe. Terry Pendleton at third. Dave Justice (damn him for taking Dale Murphy's place) in right, Marquis Grissom, Jeff Blauser, the Lemmer, Tom Glavine on the mound.

And, "Dark Shadows," my goodness. I knew more about Barnabas Collins than I did about the neighbors across the street. It's silly to think about now, the devotion that only a child can give to a TV show. Every now and then I'd get bored and watch a John Wayne western. "El Dorado," for about the 100th time. In the afternoons, I'd sit in the sun, and read books. I've forgotten what -- I'd graduated from the Hardy Boys by then -- but the titles are lost to time.

But the summer ended, as they always must. Then my dad sold his house, and I didn't get the Sci-Fi Channel and "Dark Shadows" anymore. I kept the Braves, but that fall I met that little dark-haired girl with the perfect teeth, and my priorities changed, probably for the worst.

Now I'm 15 years older, but still watching baseball, immersed again in "Dark Shadows" (thank you, Netflix), am madly in love with several dark-haired girls.

What is it they say about the more things change...?