Webster

I realize as I grow older that I owe a lot to Emmanuel Lewis. Webster taught me about the dangers of bullies, burglars, child molesters and Patrick Ewing and how to deal with each.

The biggest thing I owe to him, however, is his influence to keep me from smoking.

I didn't need the truth beating me over the head with 'smoking is bad' messages, I had the angel Emmanuel.

The thing that is most impressive is that the show that made sure that I would never smoke wasn't even about the dangers of smoking, and I never have seen the episode in question!

I remember vividly plopping myself down in front of the television, anxiously awaiting my weekly E.L. fix. The way I remember it (and these memories are admittedly spotty), the show started without it's familiar beginning, and featured people I had never seen before in the introductions. Some tomfoolery was afoot, could it be April 1?

Then the show begins and it is revealed that Webster, Ma'am and George no longer live in their luxurious high rise apartment the likes of which many a Jefferson had dreamed.

Now they were ensconced in a large house with labyrinthine secret passageways and a couple of people who were probably swingers.

But all that is neither here nor there.

As this curiosity continued I turned and asked my mother (Webster night was family night), "What the beeswax is going on here?"

She then said the words that would forever doom me from experiencing nic-fits, "Webster played with matches and burned their house down."

Zounds!

I was devastated and barely was able to follow the episode that week.

I know now looking back that episode was the reason that I, to this day cannot use, nor play with, matches. In addition I am barely functional with lighters of any kind. It is my solemn hope that at no point in our post-apocalyptic future that it will be left to me to start the cookfire, or light the torches to keep the zombie hordes at bay.

For I knew that Webster merely wished to partake of one of George's cigars. Who would not, as Ma'am's husband was always prattling on about the qualities of a good smoke, the hearty aroma and lessening of stress.

I imagine that it was very stressful to be Webster.

He probably needed two cigars.

I shall never know, unless they someday release Webster on DVD and I can confront this echo from my past.

Next time I shall explain to you how and why Nia Peeples is responsible for my never drinking coffee.