In spite of my effort to bury the hatchet of sleeplessness, I awoke this morning before the rooster could muster his first gesture of gratitude to the new day’s sun. My slumber had abruptly ended for no defendable reason. My brain was like, “good morning, Sunshine”, but my body was not feeling sunny or shiny. I had come alive about the time the nocturnal predators were punching the time clock and heading to the comfort of their daytime lair.

As a child, about the time when Garanimals were pre-school chic, TV was my main source of entertainment, but only when the outside elements were not conducive for a five-year old to be unaccompanied by a grown up. As adults, TV can still be the consummate pacifier. Nowadays, we binge watch Yellowstone while eating Cheetos and sour worms on the sofa. So, I decided to take a little sip of LED bliss to pass the time.

After reaching for, but fumbling the remote to the floor from the bedside table it slept on overnight, my belly ballast shifted, almost rolling me out of bed. I managed to upright myself to a place where my equilibrium was more satisfied. My plan was to lie there until my stomach expressed its need to be filled.

I love black and white television shows and, at 6:00 am, there’s a gaggle of ‘em to be found all across my over the air antenna. We cut the umbilical cord long before Beverly Hills 90210 became a thing.

Sometimes, I ponder what life was like living in black and white. No cell phones, laptops, or kids on a couch playing Call of Duty. Bicycles littered driveways, ice cream trucks made their rounds, a garden hose was a source for mischief and capture the flag ruled the day, until the street lights lit up. I guess there were no Chick-Fil-As or Bojangles’ either. I may need to rethink my ponderin’.

Because brevity is the soul of wit, I feel obligated to express my point and then quickly, but quietly exit this stage of prognostication.

There’s not much good to be gained from living in the gray, fifty shades or one. Gray seems uncertain, indistinguishable, and just blah. I was taught something was either one way or the other. Living life in black and white gives me clarity, decisiveness and direction. It’s right, or wrong. Knowing the rules just makes life work.

The Andy Griffith Show is one I still watch. Of all the things this program gets right, the one which has had the most impact on me and other well meaning men is, the fictional, but identifiable, Andy Taylor.

He showed us how to be a loving and engaged father, a trusted and revered pillar of the community, and a loyal friend. There wasn’t ne’er a problem Sheriff Taylor couldn’t solve. He cared deeply for his family, had the compassion of an angel and loved those he disagreed with without condition. He was dependable, reliable and always put other’s interests ahead of his own. He’s who I want to be, but sometimes my good example blinker is broken.

I owe a great sense of gratitude to Andy Taylor for helping to shape me into the person I’ve become. As a father, husband, and friend, I often pause in moments of indecision and ask myself, “what would Andy do?” Andy Taylor is more than just a fictional character. He’s a connector, a path maker, a model of all things good but, most importantly, he’s a man of character and integrity, two traits I covet.

I’ll close with one of my favorite quotes Andy ever uttered on the show, and one that envelops my heart with each re-run I watch; “When a man carries a gun all the time, the respect he thinks he’s gettin’ might really be fear. So I don’t carry a gun because I don’t want the people of Mayberry to fear a gun. I’d rather they would respect me…”