Andy Griffith is gone. It hurts the heart of every baby boomer. He was one of the last to go, after Barney Fife, Goober Pyle, and Aunt Bea.
But, even in their absence, Mayberry lives on. Not because of reruns. Not because of Mayberry Days in Griffith’s home town of Mt. Airy, North Carolina. No, because it’s a place where people still do the right thing.
When you find your fender dented and a note on your windshield, it’ll be a Mayberry number. When a dispute is settled over a cup of coffee and a wedge of pie instead of at the courthouse, Andy will be smiling.
Corny? Sure. Old fashioned? You bet. Instead of antidepressants and fish oil pills, our best hope is a familiar tune whistled by a dad and his son on the way to the fishing hole.
There’s no sure cure for what ails society, and Andy Griffith knew it. His formula was a bit of kindness and common sense.
When Barney Fife wanted to crack down on speeders Andy’s responded, “Well, Barney, you know we always give the truck drivers an extra five miles an hour so they can make it up Turner’s Grade.”
There’s a little of Turner’s Grade in everyone’s life. Knowing Andy was out there pulling for us made it easier.
So long Andy. We’ll watch over things in town.
Malcolm D. Gibson
All Rights Reserved
Published Beaumont Enterprise July, 2012