Mornings With Barney by Dick Wolfsie (e book reader .TXT) 📕

If I had arranged this, planned it, rehearsed it, it would have never happened. If this were a movie scene with a “professional” dog, who knows how many takes it would have required.

Here’s another Barney moment I didn’t rehearse. And couldn’t have. During an early morning segment to promote the opening of a new restaurant, the musicians hired to play some authentic Mexican music lacked a certain something: talent. The first two segments bordered on something you wouldn’t want to hear on the border. In segment three, their electric banjos mercilessly ceased to function. This was not an act of selflessness; it was the result of Barney’s removing the extension cord from the wall with his teeth and then enjoying his high-fiber (wire?) snack. Everyone’s a critic.

Even the harshest entertainment critic would have given Barney an A for perfect comedic timing in this one. At the opening of the new Westin Hotel in downtown Indy, I did the show from their lobby—in my pajamas, pretending I was a guest of the hotel. The Westin was promoting one of its highly touted new, state of the art mattresses. The manager suggested I order breakfast and have it delivered to my “room.” I ordered two pieces of bacon, not good for anything coronary, but great for the comedy. I figured Barney would jump on the bed and devour both pieces in one huge bite while I pretended to be too engaged with my guest to notice. That’s not how Barney saw it. He hopped up and took one piece. Then he leaped off the bed, waited a few comic beats while he gobbled his treat, then returned again, each trip stealing a single slice. But he didn’t snatch it; he slowly and meticulously slid it off the plate by placing the end in his mouth and backing away. Why get just one big laugh when you can milk the premise for a few minutes?

The bottom line was that there existed this palpable anticipation by every viewer that at some point between 5 AM and 7 AM every weekday there was an awfully good chance that Barney was going to be a dog. Not a well-behaved canine from a nice family with good breeding, but a real dog. And real trouble. And real funny.

Viewers were charmed by his natural dogginess. They didn’t worry about his discipline or feel responsibility for his unsocial behavior. Everyone was like Barney’s grandparent, especially me.

At the same time, I had to be a real parent, and I remained aware that Brett’s perception of my relationship with the dog posed potential problems. Calling it jealousy might be an oversimplification, but when I was out with Brett and Barney, people would come up to me and say, “Wow, that’s the dog from TV.” It was rare in the beginning for anyone to address Brett. I learned to minimize the effect of this by always first saying to fans, “Hi folks, say hello to my son, Brett.” That gave Brett the chance to play his role as the beleaguered brother and say, “And that’s Barney. Be sure you don’t have anything edible in your pockets. He’s real trouble around food.” Even with this, Brett avoided opportunities for the three of us to go out together. He felt invisible. And it broke my heart. It did motivate me to do even more things with him without the dog. In an odd way, it might have even brought Brett and me closer.

Fair Game

Both Barney and Brett loved the Indiana State Fair. There were always so many WISH-TV fans in the crowd that it was hard to get from one end of the grounds to the other without stopping dozens of times to talk to people and let them meet the real star. In all the years Barney and I appeared on TV, I never brought my son to the fair with Barney, and vice versa. I was smart enough to know that father-and-son time didn’t require a mascot.

Before I came to the Midwest, I had never been to a State Fair. I’m from New York City. I didn’t even know that New York had a fair. People tell me it’s upstate, wherever that is. I didn’t know what I was missing.

The Indiana State Fairgrounds occupies 250 sprawling acres at the major intersection of 38th Street and Fall Creek Parkway, just a few minutes northeast of the statehouse and WISH-TV. The event is over 150 years old and has been at this location since 1892.

While the fairgrounds hosts hundreds of events throughout the year, people venture from every corner of Indiana in August for the State Fair. These folks parade their livestock, enter their pies in contests, take part in sheep-shearing competitions, and sell their arts and crafts. And, yes, stuff their faces.

For many, a day at the fair is just an excuse to graze the main drag, sipping on icy Lemon Shake-Ups and gnawing on huge turkey legs or pork chops the size of a small laptop. Sugar-dusted elephant ears, crispy onion rings, roasted ears of corn, and the time-honored grilled cheese sandwiches are all favorites. Even health-conscious Hoosiers anticipate their annual trek to indulge in an Italian sausage on a bun with sautéed onions and green peppers, along with an overflowing plate of greasy curly fries. How about a deep-fried Oreo cookie for dessert? Hey, it’s just once a year.

There’s so much to see: Brett loved the state marching band championships and the pageant that selects the Fair Queen. Mary Ellen has a thing for the baby rabbits and exotic chickens. I look forward to the demolition derby and—I hate to admit this—baton twirling. There is clogging. I hate clogging. Then I see it at the fair. And I still hate it.

For the almost 800,000 people each year who spend a day at the fair, this is more than a trip, it is a tradition. Grandparents love to share memories with their grandkids. But they won’t share