- It's tax time for Cloud Creek Institute
For The Arts, the non-profit corporation that eats all the money paid me
by this fine newspaper - and then some - and that can mean only one thing:
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- Frankie Fitzgerald.
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- Frankie is Paradise's sole CPA. He may
even be the only one in the county. The difference between the way Frankie
looks in, say, August, and the way he looks during tax season in March
and April is the difference between day and night, beauty and the beast,
or Al Pacino in "The Godfather" and Al in "Insomnia."
I mean, this man works until he drops.
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- I'm not the world's greatest judge of
accountants, but it seems to me that Frankie knows his stuff. More important
than his expertise, though, is his personality. From the minute I met him,
I loved him. I felt good being around him. Warm. Comforted. In good hands.
Some people's body language says, "Stay away!" His says, "We're
not touching, but I'm hugging you!"
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- In the '60s we would've said he had "good
energy, man." And we really could have said that because he and I
are about the same age. We could've met at Woodstock, say, if both of us
had been there. Or at least in Fayetteville, at a Razorbacks game. And
we would've become friends, just like that.
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- I don't go to Frankie's office very often,
but I look forward to each visit, no matter how deep the tax man's bite.
Frankie and I sit and discuss the weather and the latest gossip about his
high school exchange student from France and what precautions we can take
to keep from having to open a vein for the feds again next time, and then
I write some checks, and we shake hands, and I go home.
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- I know it doesn't sound very exciting,
but that's the point. It's not exciting in the least.
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- It's comfortable. No fuss, no muss, no
sweat or strain. Pressure eases in Frankie Fitzgerald's office. Burdens
lift from my shoulders. Lines and years flow from my face.
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- Our meeting a couple of days ago was
the perfect example. Yes, Cloud Creek's taxes are going to be a little
higher than we thought.
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- Yes, several of those deductions we kept
careful track of aren't going to be allowed. And yes, again, I still don't
know how to make it come out better next time.
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- But Frankie's smile made all of that
seem about as important as whether our hens gave us five eggs or six on
a day when we already have three dozen in the fridge, and nowhere near
as significant as turning over our compost before the next rain.
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- As I got into my truck for the trek back
to our mountain, I thought about how good I felt. I realized Frankie reminded
me of someone else who'd made me feel very good. My first thought was that
it must be my grandmother, Pearl, who had the knack for making every one
of her zillion grandkids feel the most special and most loved.
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- And then it hit me. Frankie Fitzgerald
reminded me of someone I didn't even know. The actor, Andy Griffith. Well,
not really Andy Griffith, but his most famous character, Andy Taylor. The
sheriff of Mayberry. Wise, strapping nephew of still wiser Aunt Bea. Understanding
boss of Deputy Barney Fife. Confidant of Floyd the Barber. Opie's daddy,
the warmest, most lovable man most of us never have met.
-
- How could I not feel good around the
most trustworthy imaginary friend in the history of television - or just
about anywhere else?
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- Andy of Mayberry! In person, doing my
taxes with a self-deprecating, reassuring and endearing grin.
-
- Critics can argue about the effect films
and TV have on audiences, but the way I see it, TV's version of Frankie
Fitzgerald paved the way for me to welcome the real thing into my life.
-
- It let us shortcut the acquaintanceship
process and cut to the friendship.
-
- In this case, I got lucky. The real "Andy
Taylor" is every bit as good a man as the one I used to watch every
week. Better, because he's real.
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- But what about other people who remind
us of wonderful characters, yet are anything but wonderful themselves?
Or who resemble bad guys, but are in fact terrific?
-
- From now on, I'm keeping my brain as
open as my eyes.
-
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- Copyright C 2006 by Larry Brody. For
permission to reprint this column, please write to LarryBrody@cloudcreek.org.
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- ******
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- Author Larry Brody's weekly column, LIVE!
FROM PARADISE! appears on his website, www.larrybrody.com. He has written
thousands of hours of network television, and is the author of "Television
Writing from the Inside Out" and "Turning Points in Television."
Brody is Creative Director of The Cloud Creek Institute for the Arts, the
world's first in-residence media colony. More about his activities can
be seen on www.tvwriter.com and www.cloudcreek.org. He welcomes your comments
and feedback at LarryBrody@cloudcreek.org. Brody, his wife and their dogs,
cats, horses and chickens live in Marion County, Arkansas. The other residents
of the mythical town of Paradise reside in his imagination
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