A letter to my children…
Good night Mr. C. Thanks for the happy days.
Earlier today Tom Bosley died. Bosley played Howard Cunningham on Happy Days. His acting credits were decades long; for my generation he was, and will always be Mr. C. From 1974 to 1984, Happy Days followed a typical television family from childhood to adulthood, making out on Blueberry Hill to sending a son to Vietnam, and children growing up and having children.
The eleven years Mr. C gave advice to Ritchie and Joanie (and even the son that disappeared after the first season), I attended high school, left for college, lost your grandfather, moved back home with your grandmother and uncle, met your mom, married your mom, and became a dad. Your grandmother jokes that I live in sitcom world and she is right in some ways. Ritchie, Potsie, and Ralph Mouth went off to college when the same time that I did. They pledged their fraternity while I was pledging SAM. Ralph Mouth’s real like persona played in a softball league with the Happy Days family. In one of the show’s promo pictures of the cast, he was wearing a SAMMY t-shirt on the softball field. Ritchie married after your mom and I got married. Mr. C and Mrs. C became doting grandparents around the same time my mom took on a new role – grandmother. The first episode of Happy Days was a segment on a sketch comedy show that I watched with your grandpa and we’ve watched the last episode over and over again together. Mr. C was part of all my happy days!
I’m positive over the last thirty years something I said, did, or thought about was influenced in some way by the Mr. C would have handled it. Bosley once said that when he died, the stone would read, “Here lays Howard Cunningham.” Forgive for making the fictional character real; Mr. C. was an amazing dad. He loved his wife, understood his kids, and was a friend and mentor to all of his kids’ friends. His son never was too old to give his dad a kiss and hug. He also was aware when it was in appropriate to tell his kids that he loved them. Mr. C. was definitely middle class, decorated his home for the holidays, and was a member of a lodge. He was man enough to cry when his children passed a milestone in their lives.
Perhaps because I turn 52 this week or it could simply be this program – more importantly this character, was a part of my life, I’m sad. I lost a friend. Every generation tells the next that theirs was a simpler time. My life isn’t different because I think I did grow up in a simpler time. Mr. C was a gentleman, a loving man, an honest man, a mentor. He could dance with his wife in the same room as his children; he could watch his children marry and shed a tear. Bosley, aka Mr. C., was my role model growing up. For the two of you, its Homer Simpson, Al Bundy, and Dan Connor.
I think I like my role models better. Earlier today in a meeting someone asked why they should care about the issue we were discussing. “I don’t get anything for all of this work…it’s costing me —— sitting here talking about it,” was a statement said over and over again. Understanding the greater good and caring about colleagues is part of who I am. Just like Mr. C.
A real man died today after a long and successful life. I feel better because in several interviews, Bosley said he had had a good life – good family, loving children, loving spouse.
A fictional character didn’t die since he will live forever in syndication. He will never grow older, never suffer from Alzheimer’s, and never bury a spouse or child.
If I’m channel surfing and the last episode of Happy Days is on, you know me. I will stop what I’m doing and watch! I’ve seen the last scene dozens of times. The last scene is at the Cunningham’s home. Joanie is getting married and everyone has come home for the wedding. Mr. C has the last lines of the series. Over the seasons, some characters left, some characters became folk heroes and cultural icons; Mr. and Mrs. C. were the parents and Mr. C was the patriarch of the family. Who else could bring closure to a decade of shared experiences?
“Well, what can I say? Both of our children are married now and they’re starting out to build lives of their own. And I guess when you reach a milestone like this you have to have to reflect back on, on what you’ve done and, and what you’ve accomplished. Marion and I have not climbed Mount Everest or written a great American novel. But we’ve had the joy of raising two wonderful kids, and watching them and their friends grow up into loving adults. And now, we’re gonna have the pleasure of watching them pass that love on to their children. And I guess no man or woman could ask for anything more. So thank you all for being, part of our family… To happy days.”
Reading these words, part of me understands a team of writers crafted each word in an effort to close a fictional world. When my heart reads these words, I become emotional because they are the same thoughts I have every day. When you both were born, celebrated your bar mitzvah, graduated college, we watched you move from infancy to adulthood. We have watched you friends become adults, begin careers, and now getting married. You have become loving adults and when you are with your cousins I see you passing that love to them.
This letter isn’t a eulogy for a fictional character. It is an acknowledgement a man died today who was able to take words written by others, personify and personalize a script, and deliver a performance that was 3-D and HD without needing any technology. He did it with his eyes, the way he sat in a chair, the movement of an arm around shoulders taller and firmer than his. The next time the final episode of Happy Days is on, stop what you are doing and take a break. When Mr. C lifts his champagne in a toast to his family and says, “…so thank you all for being part of our family…to happy days” think of me loosing it and tears flowing. One of my heroes died today.
Tom Bosley, of blessed memory, thank you for being part of my family. Here’s to happy days.
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