I have a wide variety of interests.  Just ask anyone I know and they will tell you with no uncertainty what-so-ever: "Shane is interested in that?"  I think about obsecure stuff all the time and I am sure I think far too much for any healthy human being.  I think about things I am sure no other human being on the planet (or just those I interact with regularly) would consider to be situations that could exist in this time-continuum. Which, of course, begs the question: what am thinking about today?

I will happily tell you with no uncertainty what-so-ever: do you ever think about Norman Fell?

If you're around my age and took a moment or two to catch an episode of Three's Company, you would know him.  Remember Mr. Roper?  That is Norman Fell.  The guy (according to the little information I can find) was a rock solid kind of guy.  He was able to match wits with Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin while having the comedic funny bone to pull off the thankless job that was Mr. Roper.  I suppose it wasn't that thankless since his Mr. Roper role landed him a two season stint on The Ropers, but who is really counting.  So, what the heck am I talking about a guy who passed on just over twelve years ago?  The Rat Pack, that is what. 

I am sure I have written about this before but, over the last year, I have been reading a lot of autobiographies and a few biographies.  I have read about dancers, singers, actors, writers and, more recently, been interested in learning about the Rat Pack.  It all started when I checked out a couple of autobiographies from the library (Alan Alda and Jerry Lewis, I think) and, for some reason, I loved reading them so much I haven't been able to stop.  I have become somewhat addicted to this style of writing.  What I think I love about these books is the fact I am reading about a real person (or as real as they will let themselves be).  What surprises me is the "six degrees" that seems to happen.  So and so met up with another so and so and - bam - they did a flick together or recorded a duet.  There is really nothing suprising about this but we're talking about famous people here.  God, I am starting to sound like those stupid shows like Entertainment Tonight.  Moving on.

As I was saying, I am reading about the exploits of the Rat Pack.  I mean, people, this is the frakin' Rat Pack!  If I were around in those days and involved in Hollywood I would have killed a guy to have been granted membership even if it were for a few moments!  And this is what brought me to the subject of Norman Fell.  According to a couple of things I have read, the guy was a member.  If they had some kind of lapel pin he would be one of the few who wore one.  And, well, there you have it.  Pointless trivia for your day. 

I guess what is driving me to learn about "famous people" is a desire to understand what will I leave behind when I go.  Dean Martin left behind music, a voice, and an impression that he screwed Jerry Lewis over after ten years together on the Hollywood circuit.  William Shatner appears to be completely oblivious to the resounding fact that his co-stars (during the 1960s, anyway) didn't like him at all.  (With the exception of Nimoy.)  They thought he was a jerk and I believe the one who the most annoyed was Walter Koenig.  If you ever get to reading his book, this first five pages are like an advertisement for how much of an asshole Shatner was. 

Anyway, I wonder what people will say about me fifty years down the road.  Anything nice?  Drivel about how they didn't really know me?  I know what they are saying about me currently and you can all take a full mouthful of some dirty cheddar.  I am kidding, of course - or am I?

I am rambling, as I normally do, but I can't escape this feeling that I have been reading the words written by people I could have run into on the street and it has touched me somehow.  A kind of time travel has been experienced (to paraphrase Stephen King from his book On Writing).  Norman Fell was just a guy who worked as an actor and became known as that role and, for some reason, it left a lasting impression on me.  It just makes me wonder about my lasting impression - on the ladies.  (Cough.)  I meant to say, "on the world".  I have a bunch of thoughts colliding at the moment and, as usual, it is quite late and I really should head off to bed.

Strange little tid-bit about Mr. Fell.  The guy was a tail gunner in World War II.  Of all the places in a B-17 (or whatever plane he served in), I would not want to be in the tail.  You've got the guys on the side guns and in the ball turret underneath - but the tail.  It is like wearing a bullseye on your forehead.