"Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next. Delicious Ambiguity." ~ Gilda Radner

Thursday, June 28, 2012


And now, Robbie Douglas.

Cancer. He was 68.

Robbie Douglas was 68?  No way...

Er,  Don Grady, I should say. Or, as people my age will say all day as they explain to their younger co-workers just who Don Grady is, or was...the guy who played Robbie Douglas on My Three Sons.

"My Three Sons?" the younger co-workers will inevitably reply, total Blank City on their face.

"Google it," I will want to retort.

But instead, I wll patiently explain that back in the day, My Three Sons, was one of my favorite TV shows that I faithfully watched every week on our tiny, portable, black and white television set.

God, I sound like Grandma Freaking Moses.

But back to poor Don Grady and his TV persona...

Robbie was the oldest of said three sons...Robbie, Chip and Ernie...I remember the boys' names like it was yesterday. Loveable Fred MacMurray played their dad. If I had a couple hours, I could probably recall Fred's character's name...it will most likely come to me while on the phone with a part vendor later today.

Robbie was the dreamy older brother. Or at least I, from the vantage point of pre-adolescence, thought he was dreamy. He always reminded me of my one and only older cousin, Steve. I also remember Don from his days as a Mouskateer on the Mickey Mouse Club.

Now I really sound ancient.

But my point - and I do have one -- is that while we who are old enough to fondly remember watching My Three Sons will express our sorrow at Don's passing, we are, perhaps even more so, saddened by the death of Robbie, a beloved TV sitcom mainstay from our childhood. And as such, we are staring our own mortality in the face.

And we really don't like it.

For whom does that unforgettable foot at the beginning of My Three Sons tap?  It taps for thee...

Steel yourselves, my friends... the actors and actresses who played a myriad of parts before our youthful eyes will soon begin to drop like flies...

And in our moments of silent remembrance for each, we will always hear our own lives tick, tick, ticking away.


Goodbye, and thanks for the memories, Don/Robbie. You really were the dreamiest.

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