Good DAY.

As a former neighbor of Paul Harvey…he lived a few houses down the street…just want to say I hope that your final limo ride to the big studio in the sky went smoothly, Mr. H. We were used to seeing Mr. Harvey on his frequent walks around the block always wearing his xxxtra large bright yellow sweat shirt emblazoned with the words “GOOD DAY.” And always very bald without his blond, curly toupee. He walked very fast for a an octogenarian, never stopping to chat, but always with quick wave of the hand and nod of the head. On halloweens all the kids in the hood loved hitting multiple times his white 22-room mansion where Mr. Harvey would drop giant Baby Ruths, Butterfingers and Snickers into their bags. Every weekday morning a special limo would be sitting in his circular driveway…with “Angel” on the license plate to drive him to his downtown loop office. When younger, I thought of Paul Harvey as a right-wing conservative. Later on, I came to see him as a comical, old-fashioned corn-ball vestige of the radio “news” ham. A lovely neighbor, eighty year-old Winnie, in Columbus, Ohio would not miss his afternoon broadcast. She literally giggled and flushed when talking about him. That’s when I started to look at him in a new light and actually enjoyed listening to him…bemused, a guilty little pleasure. Good Morning America…and let’s hope for more…Good Days.