My Own Andy Griffith

 They moved into one of the best-known houses on the block.  The one with the strange, albeit homemade TV antenna on the roof.  That's because that was the house that had probably the first color TV in the San Fernando Valley.  Hell, probably the first one in Southern California.  Rupert Goodspeed, a TV engineer for CBS and family had moved on.  As the late 50s gave way to the 60s, a new family occupied the home directly opposite my family home.  

To say they were different folks would be an understatement.  Coming to the greater LA basin from Ripley, Tennessee was a culture shock at best, traumatizing at worse.  But they settled in, not exactly the stereotypical hillbillys, but not far off, either.  

Homer, Ruby, and their son Eddie soon adapted to the demands and lifestyle of Southern California.  Eddie "talked funny" to most of the neighborhood kids and didn't easily fall into street baseball games or the budding adolescent summer night hang-out culture now developing on Bonner Ave.  

Ruby was seen now and again running errands in the '56 Ford they owned.  She rarely talked to other neighborhood women and only appeared in the front yard with her prized Chihauwa, Twinkles.  Ruby's accent was best heard while she was calling Twinkles into the house.  Not exactly Dolly Parton, but nevertheless entertaining.  

It was Homer, the man of the house that held the most interest.  He resembled Andy Griffith, who at that time, was enjoying enormous popularity nationwide as the Sheriff of Maybury RFD.  Homer was kind, wise, and patient.  He liked all things outdoors, horses, fishing, and cars.  In no time he became a surrogate father figure to many of the kids on the block.  Homer would take up horseback riding, fishing, and on occasion, let us drive what he referred to as his "little 56" around the block.  He had his expressions too.  It was never San Francisco, but rather "San Franfrisco."  When his beloved Ford needed tires, he would say, "I got to throw some rubber on there."

One time I caught what to me was a huge bass at a local reservoir and took it over to Homer and Ruby.  They were overjoyed and before I could even ask my mom if I could have dinner with them, Homer had cleaned the fish and Ruby had breaded it in cornmeal and fried it up along with grits and okra and I sat at their table the proud provider.  That would have never happened in my home.  

After my folks died, I lost touch with Homer and Ruby, and Eddie.  I'm sure they are no longer on this earth, but Eddie might be around somewhere as he was a year or two younger than me.  My friendship with them wasn't all good memories as by the time the Civil Rights movement was in full swing followed by the Vietnam War, I'm sure our viewpoints differed.  Don't know if that would have mattered all that much, but I always wanted to tell Homer how much I appreciated all the opportunities he provided to the kid of New York migrants.