The 21st anniversary of my dear father’s passing. I have been thinking a lot about him over the past year. Mostly who we were together on any given day at our house in the Palisades. That house, now one of the many homes in that area that were lost in the devastating Palisades fire. Our family sold that home many years ago. Recently, I’ve been thinking hard to recall the deeper memories that occurred in that house, the average every day life things between my father and I. It takes some work to focus and really drill down into the emotional bedrock of life experiences that over time tend to fade and eventually become harder to remember. I have been taking time each night before bed to run a reboot of the past, when I was a kid. It is fascinating to know that I can slowly unlock the things I had practically forgotten. Old memories do come back if you allow your mind to wander and paint freely. I have been doing a lot of this type of experimenting lately because the older I get, the more important it is to not lose the valuable home movies in my head. We all have them and we can all do this. I have managed to rebuild the house I was raised in. It’s pretty easy because it is such an early deeply rooted and meaningful time period for me. I close my eyes and imagine walking down the street. It’s like a virtual 360 degree video game. If you think hard enough you can fill in the entire neighborhood from that time. In 1970 I was five. That’s where I started. From the street I can see down our steep driveway with the two cars my mom and dad had at that time. I make my way to the front door and open it. I begin to paint in the entire front entrance and the bedroom hallway on the left. Then to the right, I take a few steps down leading into our living room. To the right of that is our dining room, and beyond that room is our kitchen. As I enter each room the memories begin flowing back to life. I can now see flashes of my mother and father, but it starts with hearing my dad’s voice echoing from another room. I proceed through the rest of the house and I can see him as he was in his 50s. Now that I have him at that age range, it triggers thoughts as to what he was doing with his career at that time. I immediately begin thinking about the McDonald’s commercials he would direct. I was with him for nearly 10 years of the creation of those classic McDonaldland TV spots. I have so many memories of him in that sound stage, working with everyone. He had a personal friendship with everyone on the crew, and he adored the cast. As I continue my journey into visualization of the past, I am getting better at re-creating those images, those situations, and all the details. I can see the entire cast and crew working so tightly together along with the man who created Ernest T Bass. It’s quite a sight to see him when he was so young, and so vibrant as opposed to what I last remember him as, in real life, on the last day of his life. 21 years ago today. May 21, 2005.
You and I are still together. I will always love you. Your forever loyal and loving son, David
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It was 20 Years ago today that Howard passed away.
This is a big one. I can’t believe it’s been two decades since the great Howard Morris decided it was time to go. Each year has been a personal milestone of mine that I’ve more or less written about on this site through the years. The yearly reflections are the culmination of 365 days worth of remembering the little things that cross my mind while moving through life. I still hear the sound of his voice, his words, his laugh, his facial expressions. I remember him around the house, at restaurants, meeting with close friends, meeting with fans, vacationing, especially day trips on our boat, being on set for acting, directing, doing cartoon voices and how serious he was about getting the creative just right. He was a master, obviously, and he brought so much life to everything. He’s very much alive and well inside my mental movie theater. I was so fortunate to have had decades with him. Stuff like this sticks to the soul forever. As with the loss of any family member (or even a special pet) that loss really hurts. Pain from loss is the price each one of us pays for the incredible experiences, friendships and love that swirls back and forth between us. About six months before he passed, he and I were discussing the inevitable. He was concerned about how I would process his death. I simply told him that it would be rough, but because of the life-tools he gave me, I would deal with it and be OK. That’s exactly what ended up happening. But with Howard, on this particular day two decades ago, neither he nor I ever saw it coming.
I will always love you, Dad.
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19 years ago today the great Howard Morris departed this life.
His voice and image crosses my mind each day, and each day I strive to live up to his integrity and legacy that he himself built, from practically nothing. I find myself amazed at how well he did in life considering the tremendous obstacles he encountered along the way. He had to be pretty damn tough to navigate through America during the Great Depression, WWII, and along the way develop his abilities as a performer. He had no governmental or financial help. He was of the greatest American generation that may ever be. Somehow, he took on a ton of stress and hardship, working it around and upside down, eventually into one heck of an amazing career, which included one of the funniest characters to grace The Andy Griffith Show.
This note marks a milestone of sorts being that it is just one year shy of twenty years since Howard’s passing. I remember that day as though it has just happened. On each anniversary I anticipate the exact time he passed, which is as I write this.
This is one of the many ways I pay tribute and honor my father. I have some friends that occasionally ask me to do impressions of ET Bass. I was somewhat uncomfortable at first. But after seeing their reactions, I realized that I do know the lines, and I can recite them pretty well. When I look in the mirror I see hints of my father looking back at me. I can tweak my voice, so what the heck?! What is the harm? There is none because it’s all about having fun. Bringing ET Bass to life still works, gets big laughs, and brings me closer to HM. Even though I am only doing an impersonation, I am a very lucky son to be able to share, as close as humanly possible, how powerful and special Howard was. I am blessed to be in these shoes.
Until next year, I love you, Dad!
DM
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18 years ago now. HM is suddenly gone, forever.
I remain, however, and am more or less in the same place in terms of dealing with the loss of the great HM/ET Bass.
Each passing year means that (naturally and obviously) more healing time has gently placed itself between the physical loss and my emotions. It’s a good thing, actually, and I’m fully committed to accepting it. After all, what choices do I have? I suppose I could resist it and maintain a life full of darkness and pain, constantly denying reality. But that’s a super hard road and kinda stupid!
Not for me.
Instead, and not unlike the movie “Otto” with Tom Hanks, 18 years ago I was handed a heavy set personal life choices.
Bottom line: my father would be glad to know that under the circumstances of his loss, I am as happy as can be, apparently able to successfully navigate both the harsh and calm conditions that make up the vast ocean of his love and legacy.
He made such a deep impression on so many of us.
I’m truly blessed to be the person writing about him.
I will always love you, dad.
DM
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Here it is again. Another anniversary of the passing of my great father, now at year 17.
That’s a pretty long time, but to me it doesn’t feel like 17 years. I am amazed at how fresh his passing still feels.
I remember all of the details of that day. A day that seemed impossible just moments beforehand.
That strange feeling radiating around in my chest, best described as an amplified sensation of shock and heartache. I get this sensation less as time marches on, but I’m feeling it right now.
I have matured since that day, and naturally I have adjusted as good as can be expected to this huge loss. None of us have a choice in this. We must find ways to regain happiness without those special family members, or great friends, or even great pets.
Cutting is the key and it’s a good thing. Do it as fast as possible. The sooner you can the better. However, it took me about 10 years.
Cutting doesn’t mean a complete emotional cut. It’s about cutting off the pain from loss, and moving on to accepting your new world.
Howard would say “Life is for the living.”
I will face this day, head on, again, and practice his wise advice.
What about some laughs? Perhaps “Mountain Wedding” is on tap today.
RIP Maggie Peterson, Betty Lynn, and ETB -with love.
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RIP ETB.
Dad, you are so dearly missed. We will always love you.
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A very very dear friend, Carl, passed away last night.
I will write more about our relationship with him, soon.
Thank you, Carl, for being there.
With love, David
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