The Charmin Guy

I read that Dick Wilson, the man who played Mr. Whipple ("Please don't squeeze the Charmin!") passed away just before Thanksgiving. I remember myself as a kid, watching him as he shamefully, yet gleefully, ducked 'round the corner and squeezed the hell out of a toilet paper package after having chastised some woman for doing the same. Sure, he was being hypocritical, but I think even then I had a spot of sympathy for him. This poor man, an uncontrollable urge that to him seemed so inappropriate and socially unacceptable yet he JUST COULDN'T STOP HIMSELF. With the Larry Craigs and the Richard Curtises and the Mark Foleys of today, it makes Mr. Whipple's addiction seem so cute. "Please," I wanted to say even then, "buy yourself some Charmin, take it home and squeeze until you can squeeze no more." Actually, I remember Dick Wilson playing a character with an altogether different kind of addiction. Do you recall the latter-stage alcoholic constantly witness to Samantha Stevens' witchcraft on "Bewitched?" That was him. And just like many drunks I have known, he'd swear off the booze after having watched Sam appear/disappear/float/morph, then he'd toddle away down the sidewalk trying to convince himself that it had all been a hallucination. But a few episodes later, there he'd be again, stumbling out of a bar, car keys in hand.

Thanksgiving was a quiet affair at our house. Our neighbors, he of the sliced thumb and his partner, were to join us for turkey and fixin's. Yet, while awaiting tendon reattatchment surgery the night before Thanksgiving, a sharp pain in the side alerted him that something additional was wrong. Sure enough, it was an appendicitis. And not a moment too soon. So, in a sense, the slicing was a GOOD thing, since he might have had the attack and chalked it up to indigestion. Two surgeries later, he's on the road to recovery and has the late turkey, ironically named "THANKSGIVING" to thank for it all.