Regis Philbin and Other Subjects

Hello, hello, hello-o-o!  I've been off the map for a few days, but I'm back.  Honestly -- and men, you may want to avert your eyes for the next sentence or two if you break into a cold sweat when 'female issues' are mentioned, because my neighbor's husband does . . . when he's harassing me, all I have to say is 'tampon' or 'period' and he runs far far away from me -- this monthly-cycle thing is wreaking havoc on my life, inside and out.  And it doesn't wait for a traditional month.  We're talkin' 21 to 23 days from the end of one and the start of another, and the lines are blurring.  Peri-menopause, I thumb my nose at you!  Grrrr.  I may not make it to actual menopause.  Because the mental fog has lifted, and my thoughts are able to somewhat break free of the quicksand which sucks my words down, down, down-n, I can joke a bit about this.  But only just.

I may feel the need to discuss this a bit more in-depth on THE RELUCTANT SUBURBANITE blog.  But let's move on for now.

I would like to reiterate my ongoing affection for the new Canon camera my family surprised me with for Christmas.  The thing is flippin' fantastic.  I pick it up constantly.  The camera and I may be actually carrying on a platonic affair of sorts.  It makes everything better: from the birds in the trees to the soft-boiled eggs Jimmy started eating for breakfast.  The kids will either revolt and clobber me with it or became inured to the family paparazzi and allow me to hound them endlessly. 

Fabio, the feline member in our ranks, is my new favorite subject.  (Though nothing is really exempt from my 35X optical zoom lens.)  Besides his obvious handsomeness, he's in constant motion, getting into all sorts of predicaments and trouble, and the lens bothers him not in the least. In fact, I think he rather enjoys the sustained attention.  Unless it's meal time and the camera makes him wait an extra minute past noon or 5PM.

 
 

On other fronts, Regis has announced his final season on his famous morning television show, LIVE WITH REGIS AND KELLY.  I'm not altogether surprised.  The man is an octogenarian; he's been in front of the camera for well over half his life! As I've said before, once he's outta there, TV will never be the same.  Out with the old school, and fully in with the new school.  He's the last of the gentlemen from the early days of television broadcasting.  


Tom Brokaw left his night job awhile back.  He was, and is, a class act.  Larry King retired just a bit ago.  He sure knew how to draw us in with those questions and that voice!   And there have been others.  These are guys who have witnessed the impact of decades of change in telecommunications over the course of their lives and been a part of that change within their own significant niches.  Men for whom the dress shirt and tie, or suspenders in Larry's case, seem to have been tailor made.  With their exit stage left, we lose an indefinable something that we'll never see again.  I've enjoyed spending many a mid-morning with Regis, and two early mornings in his audience, watching him mispronounce guest names, regale us with his stories of cronies like Don Rickles and Freakin' Franelli, and encourage opportunities for countless fits of laughter.  


In hindsight, with almost two years between me and the incident, I can also say I'm glad I had the chance to be embarrassed by Julia Roberts and heckled by Regis during that fateful anniversary trip to New York.  How many people can say that?  Thanks . . . for the memories, Regis Philbin.