Musings
an Online Journal of Sorts

By Alyce Wilson

I heard the news today, oh boy. Another lucky man has made the grade...

This year is cruel. First they take Katharine, then Barry, then Warren Zevon and now, my boy John Ritter dies of a heart attack. Not surprisingly, it was while he was doing what he did so well: performing.

He was on the set of 8 Simple Rules for Dating my Teenage Daughter when he collapsed of a previously undetected heart problem.

John Ritter may have played many roles over the years since he first became famous on Three's Company, but it was that show that made me fall in love with him. Yeah, I was a teenager and he was way too old for me, but he was so damn funny. I'm a sucker for that.

I couldn't get enough of Three's Company, watching it back to back in syndication, after school on week nights, legs curled up against my chest, simply in awe. Don't get me wrong; I'd be lying if I didn't admit the naughty humor was a bit of a kick for a pubescent girl, but that wasn't what kept me coming back to the show.

It was Jack falling over a couch, Jack doing a spit take, Jack dropping books all over the floor, Jack getting flour all over himself... OK. Maybe my interest was a little bit naughty.

And of course, I loved the episodes where he played both himself and his twin brother Tex, a fiction he'd created to get out of a tricky situation. Seeing him running in and out of doors, putting on and taking off the cowboy hat to get into character, I nearly clapped my hands in glee.

At the time, I had a book I'd bought, where I was supposed to write personal details about myself. You were supposed to write things like who you had a crush on and your favorite things to watch, listen to, do, et cetera. I foolishly wrote in purple ink, which over time bled into the paper and became almost indiscernible. But "Jack Tripper" was one of my crushes. And yes, I knew his real name was John Ritter. It was Jack I liked.

There was nobody else who could compare with John's ability for physical humor. Everybody wants to talk about Chevy Chase, and I have to admit he has a talent. But John, he would fling himself into a fall with abandon and at the same time, have on his face such a deliciously silly look of surprise you couldn't help but love him. Or at least, I couldn't.

Years later, when I was in the Penn State Monty Python Society, I cultivated the skill of physical humor. And this was only partly because I wasn't as quick witted as my fellow Pythonites, so I preferred to upstage them with a funny face or a strange, over-the-top physical moment. When I flung myself into a strange pose, or danced strangely, or fell down, or did a double take, I was a little bit Alyce and a lot Jack Tripper.

I considered myself a success when afterwards, people would say, "Are you all right? That looked like it hurt."

I'd shake my head, grin widely and say, a la Jon Lovitz, "Ac-ting!"

Strangely enough, on today of all days, I dressed all in black. It started with me wanting to wear the new black pants that The Gryphon got me for my birthday, and then pairing that with a long-sleeved black shirt with a heart on it that I got at a thrift store. Then, of course, I had to pair that with the black punk-ish boots I'd just got at Payless, my black belt with all the silver eyelets on it and the silver chainmail choker my brother's wife made.

This outfit got me into the "12 items or less" line at the grocery store. The cashier, wearing a black leather belt with skulls on it, said, "You look like a kindred spirit." I complimented her spider web necklace and tried not to look frightened.

But the true reason for me being compelled to wear all black today soon revealed itself. I got the news when checking my e-mail by phone. The Gryphon had e-mailed me to break the news, since he remembered I'd once had a crush on John Ritter. I wasn't drinking anything at the time, or I would have done a spit take.

The last time I saw anything John Ritter did was when he appeared on Late Night with Conan O'Brien a short time ago. The other guests that night were Dana Carvey and Ted Nugent, and Ted was trying to do a cooking segment, where he was demonstrating ways to cook dead animals.

John and Dana were feeding off each other, being very silly and disrupting the cooking segment, and soon Conan joined in and then Ted, as well. By the end of the segment, Conan's jacket was in the stew and nobody could remember what happened to the rest of the ingredients.

And that's what John was best at, having fun and making sure everyone around him had fun, too. And now he and Barry White are partying up in heaven, with Warren Zevon on guitar and Katharine Hepburn lounging in her pants suit, saying in that New England drawl, "Do that again, John. The one where you fall over the couch. I haven't laughed like this in ages."

Guess that's why they call it heaven.

Copyright 2003 by Alyce Wilson

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