The PASSWORD Is: "Mother"

You know you really must be some kind of monster when people look through your family photos and with genuine, thoughtless sincerity exclaim, "That's your mom?!?!?!" - as if they could never fathom that something so hideous (me) was born of something so fair (she).  What can I say, not every project you work on, even one on which you've spent nine months, turns out the way you expected.  Fortunately, I was born just past the days when people would've immediately tossed me in a sack with a couple of bricks and flung me in the river like so many unwanted kittens.  I think my parents still question their own judgment until I remind them of my alternatives.  Would they have me swinging from the bell tower of a famed, Medieval cathedral or haunting the singers of a Parisian opera house OR would they prefer to have me under their constant supervision, thus minimizing the trauma wreaked upon an unsuspecting public?

This is my mom...
channeling the spirit of Tammy Wynette

My mom will hate me for saying any of this because I have brought this very scenario to her attention and she does not approve the theory; she doesn't think I'm ugly (the phrase "A face only a mother could love," comes to mind).  Yet, the only reason I mention it is to wish my Mom and all of the mothers out there a very Happy Mother's Day!

Looking at these photos makes me truly sorry for all the terrible things I've put my mom through.  It makes me realize that she was once inexperienced and idealistic and could never have imagined all the torment that five weird children and thirty eight years of marriage can bring.  It makes me see her as a real human being who never considered the seemingly-insurmountable obstacles that would be placed before her, who never realized that in the face of these obstacles she could summon the strength to laugh through her tears and persevere.  My mom had a life before I did.

Would you be able to tell this face
 how hard life was going to be?

In looking for proof of my Mom's pre-child life, I finally uncovered something for which I have been searching years and years - evidence!!!  In 1972, three years prior to her marriage with my father, my Mom appeared as a contestant on Password.  Password is the game show famous for bringing Betty White together with the love of her life, host, Allen Ludden.  My mother was lucky enough to play with White, but as much as I have combed over the Game Show Network archives and Password clips on YouTube, I have never seen any kind of documentation of her appearance.  I thought I had sorted through all of the family's slides but I found a few small boxes that I had never seen before.  Surprised and ecstatic when I held these up to the light, I knew I had hit the jackpot.

Unfortunately, I broke the one slide projector that we had and I haven't the faintest idea how to scan these into the computer.  In my desperation to share the slides, I was reduced to holding them over a lightbulb and snapping a photo.
On the left you can see my mom's competitor and Betty White.  The host, Allen Ludden, is in the center with my Mom on the far right.  I'm still trying to figure out who her celebrity partner was during this round.

*Update: My Mom informed me that her partner was Ross Martin from The Wild, Wild West.

Wearing a pink dress of her own make and design, my Mom was a big winner, earning enough money for a trip to Europe.  There are so many things that I wish after viewing these slides.  I wish that I could see the show (I would love to see how she acted, how she spoke, and how she behaved on her TV debut).  I wish that she had won enough money to set us all up for life (Haha!).  More than anything, I wish that she had kept that dress!

I can't wait to get these transferred into a more easily viewable medium.
Yet, I'm really glad to have these slides that my grandparents took of
the television while they were watching their daughter win big money!

"Spellbound"
I wish I knew whose hand scrawled the message, "Real cute?"
on the back of the slide mount...perhaps one of her five brothers?

She reminds me so much of Hayley Mills in these photos.
I really enjoy how all of the slides were placed into the card-
board mounts upside down (and sometimes backwards). 

"Trinket"
I said she won "big money," but I think she ended up with a
total of about $2,000.  I guess that's not too shabby for 1972.

It is funny, people (particularly Mary, who regularly accuses us of "Like, being the same person" ) tell me how similar my Mom and I are - in personality, in temperament, in orneriness.  For as alike as we might be, I am constantly learning something from her.  I have discussed in some length my Dad and his particular brand of challenges, but the fact is that none of that would have been a story if not for my Mom.  It is my firm belief that my Dad pulled through because she gave him something to live for.  This is evidenced by anyone who stands in a crowded room and sees that, for my Dad, the room is completely empty except for my Mother.  Every time she walks past his gaze, he sighs like a lovesick schoolboy; he brightens at her every movement.  This is no accident.  She has been a steadfast wife, a tireless worker, and the type of partner for which most people would kill.

From her I learned what it means to work.  From her I learned the meaning of unconditional love.  From her I learned how to tie my shoes, butter toast, sew on a button, crack an egg, and a million and one other things that I take for granted every day.  From her I learned that life really isn't fair. From her I learned that even when life isn't treating you fairly, it is important to rely on faith, family, and one's own fortitude to carry on.  It may seem corny but my favorite song about mothers comes from a cartoon; in a few simple phrases. "Your Mother and Mine" expresses all that "mother" means.

"Your Mother & Mine" - Walt Disney's Peter Pan

To all the moms out there, I hope your children are providing you at least one day that makes you glad that you didn't throw them in the river.  To my own Mom, I love you.  I am proud of you.  I am in awe of your bravery.  I respect your commitment and admire your consistency.  I hope to find over my lifetime half of the determination and love that you exhibit daily.

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!

Cheers!

Mr. Tiny

"What's My Line?": Falling Hook, LINE, & Sinker

It's the perennial conversation starter that has plagued every ho-hum party from time immemorial; "If you could invite any four people (living or dead) to dinner, who would they be, and why?"  The number of guests varies from time to time, but the answers rarely stray very far from the usual dead relatives, to the pedestrian political figures, to Jesus, himself.

I would hate for my supper to be the "last supper."
(Source)

If it were up to Mr. Tiny, every one of his hypothetical dinner guests could be found in one place - a CBS studio in New York City on any given Sunday evening from 1950 to 1967.  Representing theater, publishing, journalism, and the brilliance and wit of a bygone era, the host and panel of What's My Line? would provide endless hours of sparkling dinner conversation and droll anecdotes of the most clever variety.

Guest Panelist: Groucho Marx

Mystery Challenger: Claudette Colbert

If you don't have time to watch the full episode, the premise is simple - a contestant with unusual or spectacular employment comes before celebrity panelists who take turns asking revealing questions (that can only be answered in the affirmative or negative) in hopes of discovering the contestant's true "line" of work.  Every "No" answer warrants a card being flipped by the show's emcee/moderator (and the first guest at my party), John Daly, indicating a five-dollar increase in the contestant's cash prize.  Ten "No" answers stumps the panel and the contestant walks away with fifty dollars; please refrain from judging the measly prize by Who Wants to be a Millionaire? standards.

The panel tries to guess the profession of a Nudist Camp Operator

By far, the best (and my most favorite) segment of the show is when the panel, comprised of the remainder of my dinner companions, Arlene Francis, Dorothy Kilgallen, Bennet Cerf, and a special guest panelist (there's always room at my table for one more, especially when that "plus one" is Steve Allen) must blindfold themselves to hide the easily-recognizable face of the "Mystery Challenger," whose identity they must uncover by the same process of yes-or-no questioning.  It is without much debate that the award for best mystery challenger goes to that incomparable little-dynamo, Debbie Reynolds.

Mystery Challenger: Debbie Reynolds

Mystery Challenger: Salvador Dali

Mystery Challenger: Maureen O'Hara
Because it's Maureen O'Hara!!!

Mystery Challengers: Lucille Ball & Desi Arnaz

I have always had a love affair with the small screen, particularly comedies, but I am not sure that a scripted show has ever made me laugh as hard and as consistently as What's My Line?.  I love the decorous protocol - the gracious introductions, the gallantry of the men standing for every guest while the women remain seated, the supreme lack of vulgarity.  I love the oft-decorated blindfolds and the ladylike primping in which the women engage every time the blindfolds are removed.  I love the glamour with which they perform such a silly task - finding out what people do for a living/figuring out which celebrity has come to town to plug a film/book/television show.  All the while, the show maintains a candor and brightness that makes it absolutely hysterical.  Despite the lighthearted nature of the program, there was plenty of backstage intrigue (see: Dorothy's entire life, Arlene's eye patch/arm sling/accidental death settlement, etc.).  They didn't save it all for "real life," however, there were plenty of wacky tacky moments on camera as well.

Dorothy was "sneezing"....right...

If you haven't seen much of What's My Line? before, I encourage you to do so with fair warning; it is easy to lose much of your life getting lost in the champagne cocktail of witty discourse and scintillating celebrity.  I admit to having committed countless, and entirely irretrievable, hours to this very conceit.

Now that's my kind of dinner party!
Arlene, Bennet, Dorothy, and John
(Source)

But let's be honest, if I was limited to only one dinner guest,
the only spot at my table would be reserved for the inimitable
Arlene Francis.  It is all about Arlene!!!
(Source)

Aside from inviting The Man Upstairs, I have become aware that I could not have chosen a more intimidating roster of dinner guests.  For those so well accustomed to the niceties and refinements of cafe society, I'm afraid that they would find my Pineapple Upside Down Meatloaf a trifle "provincial," shall we say.  And dang it all if I wasn't going to serve a provincial trifle for the dessert course!!!  Now is the time when I realize that my neuroses are so severe that I am willing to launch into a full-blown panic attack over are my theoretical dinner party.

I guess that this is the point in our show when it must be asked, if you were the host/ess of your dream dinner party, with whom would you choose to share your best meatloaf and/or casserole?  Also, what is your favorite of all the classic game shows?  Let us know!


Cheers!

Mr. Tiny