RIP Mr. Limpet...

I'm not kidding when I say that Don Knotts was one of the most photogenic people of the 20th C. He was an unspoken touchstone for all of us, and even an Ubermensch of sorts: He singularly defined the ultimate specimen for one particular branch of the human species. His obvious talents aside, I want to honor the man behind that face. When we look in the mirror and we search for clues as to who we might be, what do you think Don Knotts felt deep in his soul? Tonight, hearing of his passing, I think about the quiet solitary moments when a young Don was wrestling with his "funny looking" persona and offering it to the world in an act of near martyrdom. I think of him alone at night as an old man in his chlorinated jacuzzi in San Bernardino or wherever he lived, sipping a drink (no loop-di-loop straw, no buxom blondes stroking his pate) and leaning his tired head back against the edge and just gazing at the stars. What did he feel like then? I wouldn't presume to know, but somehow I doubt it was hilarious.