3:28 p.m. - 2006-02-13
Lassie Rant
So my first real crush was the kid in Lassie. The first kid, Jeff Miller. Not that tow-headed interloper, Timmie, who replaced Jeff just because he got tall and started using drugs in real life. Jeff had a sensitive, mysterious face. Sullen. He played Marilyn Monroe's pouty son in some Western whose name I forget. Anyway, Jeff had a chubby friend. They had a secret call ... something that sounded like "Eeeee-ah-keeeey"! Wherever they went, in the woods or out in the lower forty, each would hear the haunting echo and know that he was being summoned to adventure by his very best friend. Magical boystuff. But Jeff's real companion and confidante was the butterscotch collie. Jeff related to Lassie as if she were a person. None of that condescending stuff Timmie dished out! Jeff was respectful. Dark. When he asked Lassie, "What are you tryin' to tell me, girl?", he meant it. He was not simply patronizing her like his yellow haired replacement. He relied on Lassie for accurate and unambiguous information, as they were always getting involved in some sort of scrape or intrigue. Some mission that required a savior or two. Jeff was handsome for a kid. His face told you nothing. I would sit in front of the tan Muntz sucking on a lemon sprinkled liberally with salt. Hanging on his every and spartan word. One day, I happened to be home from school sick and Tommie Rettig (Jeff's real name) was on a talk show being interviewed. God was good that way. How is it that we are programmed to like this and not that? Jeff and not Timmie? What predisposes us to make the choices we make?
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