There’s this episode of The Andy Griffith Show (TAGS) that lives rent-free in my brain. Well, if I’m being honest, many episodes of TAGS do, but right now one of them is reigning supreme because I just lived it in real life.
I’ll get back to that in a second. First, a little personal history.
My Andy Griffith Journey
My connection with TAGS runs deep. This might come as a surprise because I’m old but not that old. I was born 13 years after the show’s last episode aired and 16 years after the last black-and-white episode aired, which is the number that matters because everyone knows the episodes in color after Don Knotts left don’t count.
However, my family is filled with absolute TAGS freaks.
My parents both grew up in North Carolina, and presumably, they gathered with their family and friends around the 16-inch television every Monday evening to watch Andy, Barney, and the gang while strumming a guitar, blowing across a glass jug, and singing folk songs.
Decades later, my family watched reruns of the show so often that not only have we seen every episode an outrageous number of times, but we’ve also memorized quite a few of the scripts. For example, if my siblings and I are discussing what type of gift we should get for my mom one of us is required to suggest “something sensible like preserve jars” and another is required to counter with “how about a nice bed jacket?” (Season 3, Episode 12). I would say that if we fail to follow this protocol, the cops show up, but that’s not the case. They don’t have to come. One of us performs a citizen’s arrest (Season 4, Episode 11).
If the topic of giraffes ever comes up, you better believe we’re going to talk about how selfish they are (Season 3, Episode 30). Going to a zoo with any of us is extremely tedious. And staying in the same episode, I don’t even need a human audience to get my references in. Our big puppy Hades loves to crowd the steering wheel anytime he gets in the car, so every time I slide into the driver’s seat, pushing him aside, I say, “Move over, I’m driving.” I don’t think Hades even gets it but it doesn’t matter. I usually have to give myself a moment before starting the car because I’m laughing so hard.
Yes, it’s clear there are too many classic TAGS episodes to count, but the one that took over my brain most recently was “Barney and the Choir” (Season 2, Episode 20).
As I’m sure you all know, that’s the one where Barney joins the church choir and it turns out he has a terrible singing voice. To avoid hurting his feelings, Andy devises a plan to give Barney a solo and convince him that he needs to sing in an almost inaudible whisper because the special “solo microphone” is extremely powerful. Meanwhile, another member of the choir sneaks backstage and sings the solo on a live microphone. When Barney hears “his” deep, powerful voice reverberating through the concert hall, hilarity ensues.
There are quite a few glaring plot holes in the episode (perhaps most significantly, has Barney never heard the other guy sing before?) but the performance by Knotts (no relation) is remarkable and I legitimately laugh every time he starts “singing.”
Anyway, I love this episode. Not only is the humor amazing but the fact that Andy and everyone else went to such lengths to protect Barney’s feelings is so sweet. It feels like something I would do… if it didn’t take so much effort. I think a little piece of myself has always harbored some degree of disappointment that I would likely never experience this episode in real life. I mean, it’s pretty unlikely, right? I’m not in a choir and I’m not even sure they use special solo microphones anymore. It’s all A.I. now.
So, imagine my surprise and glee when, after all these years, it happened. It really happened! I didn’t even know it until after the fact (maybe the episode’s plot holes actually weren’t so glaring?), but it happened!
Dreams Do Come True
I was seated in the middle of a crowd in an elementary school multi-purpose room on a cool December evening, peering between heads, trying to get the perfect video of my fifth grader playing the viola at his winter concert. My expectations for the elementary orchestra are always low primarily because I never hear anything about it. My son attends practice after school once a week for about 45 minutes. When I pick him up and ask how practice was he always replies “good” like he’s an engagement-farming bot on Medium. He almost never takes his viola out of its case at home. I’m not entirely sure the case even opens. It might not even be a real case. For all I know, it could be cake.
What I’m saying is, when I entered the multi-purpose room on winter concert night, I wasn’t expecting it to be like Trans-Siberian Orchestra level or anything. And to be clear, it wasn’t. But after about three short “songs” that seemed more like warm-up exercises and sounded, shall we say, squeaky, the orchestra launched into their closing number: the orchestral theme from the Harry Potter movies.
‘Tis the season!
I whipped my phone out and zoomed in on my son as the music began. His bow movements seemed to be roughly in line with the melody and the music sounded… good? Like, genuinely decent. I was perplexed. How could this be? I kept the video running but looked up from my screen to scan the rest of the orchestra. It sounded like someone was soloing and they were mic’d up. I could not determine where the quality sound was coming from.
I looked back at my phone screen. My son was still sawing away on the viola. A wave of thoughts flooded my brain.
Wait, was he the soloist? Had I been totally sleeping on his musical genius? Was my kid up there absolutely killing it???
The song ended. We all clapped. I was practically beaming. The orchestra received a partial standing ovation. The director acknowledged everyone. Asked for a second round of applause. She didn’t give my son a special shoutout for the solo but that was okay. It’s better to be humble. It was still an incredible moment for me and my family.
Later, after the chairs were stacked against the multi-purpose room walls and the headiness of the evening began to wane, we made the two-minute drive home.
I asked my son, all slyly like I had no idea, “So, who was that soloing during the last song?”
“Oh,” he said. “That was Sophia’s sister. She’s older and doesn’t go to our school but she was backstage on an electric violin.”
“WHAT,” I replied, a little crestfallen but also instantly elated for an entirely new reason. “So… did you guys use a solo microphone?”
The gleam in my eye was unmistakable.
Nobody in the room had any idea what I was talking about but I quickly explained it. The best jokes are the ones you have to explain. Pulling out my phone, getting ready to fire up YouTube, I asked my wife if I’d ever shown her that episode of TAGS.
Season 2, Episode 20.
“Barney and the Choir.”
She hurriedly said that she thought I had. She got those words out so fast you would’ve thought I was reaching for a bomb instead of a YouTube clip.
I shoved my phone back into my pocket and decided to describe the scene instead. My words painted a picture. Everyone was thrilled. Most notably, me.
Of course, I then had to share this discovery with people who would truly appreciate it. I texted the video I took of the final song to my mom (who attended the concert) and my brother.
I remarked how classic it would’ve been if my son’s eyes would’ve gone wide with surprise when he started playing those first notes.
My mom replied simply, “That’s hilarious.”
Yes, thank you. It sure was.
My Wish for You
Long live TAGS. Long live the solo microphone. Long live obscure legacy TV references that hardly anyone gets.
My hope for all of you is that you, too, get to live out your dreams. Because when it finally happens, it’s more magical than a visit from Count Istvan Teleky (Season 5, Episode 14 — yeah, the wheels were starting to come off at this point but nothing lasts forever).
