Mornings With Barney Dick Wolfsie (best ebook reader for ubuntu .txt) 📖

for coming to our school. I would like to watch you and Barney on TV, but my mom just lets us watch stuff that is educational.

Dear Mr. Wolfsie,

I love your dog. I think he is smarter than my brother. Is he for sale?

Ernie

Dear Dick and Barney,

Thanks for coming to our school. Can you come for dinner some night? My mom would love that. I’m not sure about my dad.

Love,

Kaitlyn

Dear Dick and Barney,

Thanks for coming to visit us. We were all very happy. Mainly because Mrs. Potter canceled the test.

Lana

Dear Mr. Wolfsie,

It was very cool when Barney crawled on his belly when he wanted something. My father can do that.

Eric

Dear Dick and Barney,

My teacher said any of us could grow up to be like you, but just in case we don’t, we should study hard.

Love, Toni

Dear Mr. Wolfsie,

Who makes more money, you or Barney? I have watched you on TV and you should split it.

Effie

Dear Barney,

Thanks for coming to our school. And for bringing Dave with you.

Love,

Erika

Dear Dick and Barney,

My dad said that you needed a dog to get people to like you. I really don’t like dogs. Will a cat work?

Jona

Dear Mr. Wolfsie,

Where do you work? I see you on TV in the morning sometimes. But where do you work?

Anna

Yes, it was hard to think of what I did as work. With all the pressures and politics of TV, I had a job that wasn’t really a job. I wore jeans; I brought my dog; I met new and interesting people every day. I didn’t go to a factory every morning, I went to a Frisbee contest; I didn’t work at a bank, I went to a banjo convention. I didn’t have to show up at the office. I just had to show off.

Touched by a Beagle

Barney seemed to grow more comfortable in his skin as the years passed.

“A major part of his success was that he was so comfortable with people,” Lee Giles recalls. “He never lost his patience, especially with the kids.”

But it wasn’t just little people. Barney and I first met Sandy Allen at a charity event in the early nineties. She was the tallest woman in the world. All seven feet seven inches of her loved Barney. On several occasions we also visited her in the retirement village where she lived. Sandy had a rough life. She was born in Chicago, then left by her mother and raised by her grandmother. She once observed that she was kind of like Barney—abandoned at birth, never fully appreciated. Barney always jumped onto a chair so Sandy could pet him. Kneeling or reaching down to the floor was virtually impossible due to her size.

Sandy’s height was both a liability and an advantage. To be sure, her abnormal tallness afforded her some opportunities in life, but this required calling attention to her stature, like when she was hired as a greeter at the Ripley’s Believe It or Not Museum in Canada. Her whole life she had to endure both the ridicule of others and the sheer complexities of getting through a day dealing with problems posed by her size—like finding a pair of size 17 shoes. She used humor, just like Barney and me. When people would ask, “What do you eat?” she’d point to her T-shirt, emblazoned with the phrase, “I love short people. I had three for lunch.”

When Sandy had a bout with some health issues, Barney would jump up on her specially made bed (no small leap) and nuzzle himself against her. Sandy would beam and remark, “Thanks for bringing Barney; he’s the only reason I watch the show.” Then she’d ask if that hurt my feelings. It didn’t. I was used to it.

Accepting others regardless of their looks, size, or mental ability was Sandy’s mission in life. It was also Barney’s. Happily, dogs don’t make such distinctions, but Barney’s public display of total acceptance probably served as a lesson to all who watched. The message was: we all should be more like Barney—more loving, more tolerant.

Sandy died in August 2008. She had remained upbeat until the end but had clearly tired of her battle against the restrictions placed on her by her own body. The local stations ran video of the assisted-living home in Shelbyville, Indiana, where Sandy resided. In a shot of her room, a photo of Barney was clearly evident on the bulletin board above her bed. They were together at the end. She was truly his biggest fan.

As a television reporter, I was attracted to stories like Sandy’s, tales of people who dealt with prejudice and discrimination.

But remote live TV did not always lend itself to issues as heavy as this. A taped package or a longer format program give you more time and the luxury to develop the subject. But during my morning spots I had only three minutes each hour—barely enough time to ask a couple of basic questions.

That’s why I was torn when a local support group of parents whose children had Down syndrome contacted me about doing a program highlighting their efforts.

How could I raise awareness of the organization, spread the word that support was available for new parents, and do it responsibly in three-minute intervals? Oh, and still make the show light and entertaining? Remember, I was supposed to provide the break from hard news.

After exchanging a number of phone calls with the executive director of the support group, I began searching for an angle.