I just heard the news of the passing of Andy Griffin.
My mother had this thing for Madlock. I don't think she ever missed an episode. In his mythical world, he was always eating a hotdog after winning his case. Every time we fixed them mom affectionately called them "Mad" dogs in his honor.
So, I'm sure that today, once St. Peter get's him processed through those pearly gates, my mother will be there in her navy blue and poke-a-dot dress with the white lace collar. She'll greet him with a smile and her southern charm, pat the empty place on the bench and when he sits, she'll offer him a hotdog, with mustard, wrapped in the paper. He'll unwrap and as he goes to take a bite, she'll pipe up and say, "Now, Andy, about that case...."
Thank you, Mr. Griffin, for hours of entertainment you gave us from Mayberry to Atlanta. You made us laugh in No Time for Sergeants, you cracked us up with your country boy take on Romeo and Juliet, and "It's Football". You were one of a kind and you blessed us with your presence.