victorianscribe
09-19-2003, 11:49 AM
Hi. I'm a new member here, and I'd like to introduce myself.
My name is Jerri; I was 16 when Freddie passed, and his loss hit me very hard. I grew up madly in love with both Tony Orlando and Freddie. I must admit that I had more of the crush on Tony, while I thought of Freddie as more of a big brother figure. I heard that he had shot himself on a cold, grey January afternoon, right after I got on the school bus for the ride home. For hours, I couldn't figure out whether this awful story was true or just a rumor; back then, remember, there was no CNN or MSNBC, no twenty-four hour per day news culture. When I did hear this awful truth confirmed on the nightly news, however, I prayed for Freddie and clung to a childlike faith that no matter how dire his condition sounded, he would still live and be okay.
I kept the radio on all next day, a Saturday, while I waited a vigil. At about four o'clock, I heard that Freddie had passed, and I will never forget the song that was playing when the announcer broke in with that sad news -- Cherchez La Femme (sp?) by Dr. Buzzard's Original Savannah Band, a one-hit wonder. Gloria Estefan re-recorded it about ten years ago; I have that CD, and I still get the creeps whenever I hear that song.
I've never been able to understand why Freddie's death has haunted me all these years. I can honestly say that, since January 29, 1977, not a day has gone by when I haven't thought of him -- sometimes it's only for a moment, sometimes it's longer.
During that summer of 1977, our local NBC station broadcast reruns of Chico during the day; I would watch them and feel so sad for him. I was never able to watch the Chico episodes without Freddie -- it was too sad for me, just too sad.
When TV Land rebroadcast Chico a few years ago, I thought I would try to watch it. I lasted for about five minutes. Freddie was even better than I remembered -- he literally sparkled with brilliance, and it broke my heart just to see him.
One week ago, I got up early, logged on to the computer, and was shocked to read about John Ritter's premature death. For the past year or so, I've loved curling up in front of the TV on Tuesday nights, reading a book, and having "8 Simple Rules" in the background. I thought he was such a great talent, and the role reversal of that show cracked me up -- the former Jack Tripper, one of "Three's Company", as harried parent of two pretty girls like the ones Jack Ritter lived with -- one a gorgeous blonde like Suzanne Somers! Of course, seeing John Ritter age made me more conscious of how I've aged over the years.
Last Tuesday, instead of watching "8 Simple Rules", I watched ABC's tribute to John Ritter, and was immensely touched by the reactions of those who worked with him, especially the young actresses who played his daughters. They talked about how he would always be in their hearts. In addition, although I tried to understand the reasons behind continuing that show without John, I honestly wondered if it would work. Naturally, my mind traveled back to previous shows that had struggled on without a pivotal or central character. And naturally, my mind traveled back to ....
Chico and the Man.
I stayed up late Tuesday night, typed "Freddie Prinze" into my Yahoo! search box, and sat back to see what I might find. A site called "Sweet Laughterman" touched me deeply, one reason being that the background music was Josh Groban's "Where You Are", a sad/beautiful song I've always connected to Freddie in my mind. Do you know, I went out the next day and bought that CD, even though I couldn't really afford it?
Then yesterday -- and I hope this won't offend anyone or make you think I'm odd -- I went to church, as I do most mornings whenever possible. I usually light a candle for everyone I know who's passed on -- my grandfather, Freddie, etc. (If I tried lighting one candle for each person, I'd take up all the available space in the church, and go broke in the process.) Yesterday, I resolved to light a candle for Freddie and Freddie alone. After I did, I said a prayer to the Virgin Mary that she would keep him safe, and went back to my seat. At that moment, I heard a phrase in my mind: Forgive Me.
I'll leave this event open to your interpretation, because I don't wish to force mine on anyone else. But I will tell you how I interpret it -- I think Freddie was talking to me. I don't know how else to explain it.
As you can imagine, there are very few people I can tell about the fact that Freddie's death still haunts me, that he's still in my heart. I just know that I haven't been able to get him out of my mind for the past few days, and that's why I'm posting here. I can't NOT post here. I don't know what to do with this feeling; I've wondered if I'm going crazy, losing it totally. I would love to see Freddie on TV again, and TV Land doesn't show Chico anymore! I've already stored some pictures of him on my computer, and I'd love to put one up in my house, but no one here would stand for it, I'm sure! Anyone who knows me would consider this morbid, or strange, or simply wrong. But I can't get him out of my mind ... and I haven't forgotten him for almost twenty-seven years now. I have a journal of feelings I wrote down after his death, and to this day, I haven't gathered the strength to open it. As I said earlier, I've thought of him at least once every day for all these years.
Goodness, I've rambled on long enough! I hope I haven't bored you. As I read your posts, I knew I couldn't remain just a lurker here, because the subject matter is too close to a very private, very painful, but also very joyful part of my heart.
Thanks for listening.
My name is Jerri; I was 16 when Freddie passed, and his loss hit me very hard. I grew up madly in love with both Tony Orlando and Freddie. I must admit that I had more of the crush on Tony, while I thought of Freddie as more of a big brother figure. I heard that he had shot himself on a cold, grey January afternoon, right after I got on the school bus for the ride home. For hours, I couldn't figure out whether this awful story was true or just a rumor; back then, remember, there was no CNN or MSNBC, no twenty-four hour per day news culture. When I did hear this awful truth confirmed on the nightly news, however, I prayed for Freddie and clung to a childlike faith that no matter how dire his condition sounded, he would still live and be okay.
I kept the radio on all next day, a Saturday, while I waited a vigil. At about four o'clock, I heard that Freddie had passed, and I will never forget the song that was playing when the announcer broke in with that sad news -- Cherchez La Femme (sp?) by Dr. Buzzard's Original Savannah Band, a one-hit wonder. Gloria Estefan re-recorded it about ten years ago; I have that CD, and I still get the creeps whenever I hear that song.
I've never been able to understand why Freddie's death has haunted me all these years. I can honestly say that, since January 29, 1977, not a day has gone by when I haven't thought of him -- sometimes it's only for a moment, sometimes it's longer.
During that summer of 1977, our local NBC station broadcast reruns of Chico during the day; I would watch them and feel so sad for him. I was never able to watch the Chico episodes without Freddie -- it was too sad for me, just too sad.
When TV Land rebroadcast Chico a few years ago, I thought I would try to watch it. I lasted for about five minutes. Freddie was even better than I remembered -- he literally sparkled with brilliance, and it broke my heart just to see him.
One week ago, I got up early, logged on to the computer, and was shocked to read about John Ritter's premature death. For the past year or so, I've loved curling up in front of the TV on Tuesday nights, reading a book, and having "8 Simple Rules" in the background. I thought he was such a great talent, and the role reversal of that show cracked me up -- the former Jack Tripper, one of "Three's Company", as harried parent of two pretty girls like the ones Jack Ritter lived with -- one a gorgeous blonde like Suzanne Somers! Of course, seeing John Ritter age made me more conscious of how I've aged over the years.
Last Tuesday, instead of watching "8 Simple Rules", I watched ABC's tribute to John Ritter, and was immensely touched by the reactions of those who worked with him, especially the young actresses who played his daughters. They talked about how he would always be in their hearts. In addition, although I tried to understand the reasons behind continuing that show without John, I honestly wondered if it would work. Naturally, my mind traveled back to previous shows that had struggled on without a pivotal or central character. And naturally, my mind traveled back to ....
Chico and the Man.
I stayed up late Tuesday night, typed "Freddie Prinze" into my Yahoo! search box, and sat back to see what I might find. A site called "Sweet Laughterman" touched me deeply, one reason being that the background music was Josh Groban's "Where You Are", a sad/beautiful song I've always connected to Freddie in my mind. Do you know, I went out the next day and bought that CD, even though I couldn't really afford it?
Then yesterday -- and I hope this won't offend anyone or make you think I'm odd -- I went to church, as I do most mornings whenever possible. I usually light a candle for everyone I know who's passed on -- my grandfather, Freddie, etc. (If I tried lighting one candle for each person, I'd take up all the available space in the church, and go broke in the process.) Yesterday, I resolved to light a candle for Freddie and Freddie alone. After I did, I said a prayer to the Virgin Mary that she would keep him safe, and went back to my seat. At that moment, I heard a phrase in my mind: Forgive Me.
I'll leave this event open to your interpretation, because I don't wish to force mine on anyone else. But I will tell you how I interpret it -- I think Freddie was talking to me. I don't know how else to explain it.
As you can imagine, there are very few people I can tell about the fact that Freddie's death still haunts me, that he's still in my heart. I just know that I haven't been able to get him out of my mind for the past few days, and that's why I'm posting here. I can't NOT post here. I don't know what to do with this feeling; I've wondered if I'm going crazy, losing it totally. I would love to see Freddie on TV again, and TV Land doesn't show Chico anymore! I've already stored some pictures of him on my computer, and I'd love to put one up in my house, but no one here would stand for it, I'm sure! Anyone who knows me would consider this morbid, or strange, or simply wrong. But I can't get him out of my mind ... and I haven't forgotten him for almost twenty-seven years now. I have a journal of feelings I wrote down after his death, and to this day, I haven't gathered the strength to open it. As I said earlier, I've thought of him at least once every day for all these years.
Goodness, I've rambled on long enough! I hope I haven't bored you. As I read your posts, I knew I couldn't remain just a lurker here, because the subject matter is too close to a very private, very painful, but also very joyful part of my heart.
Thanks for listening.