In the spring of 1952, Daddy brought home the technological marvel that would finally introduce us to the world beyond Winfield � a 21-inch, round screen, black-and-white, Philco television. We�d been pestering him about a TV since we had seen Gannaway Mitchell�s, the first in Winfield, but he had resisted for almost a year. Little did I know at the time that the TV would not only provide hours of entertainment, but it would also introduce me to the first real love of my life.
Our first meeting was purely by accident. Bill was switching channels, looking for a program since it was his day to choose. You see, to avoid fisticuffs between my brother and me, Mama had assigned us days on which we could pick the programs of our choice. Watching the channels fly past as Bill frantically searched, I suddenly saw a face light the screen momentarily before being sacrificed to Bill�s incessant channel hopping.
�Hot d***, Bill. Turn it back quick. Did you see that girl on Channel 7!� Bill usually ignored my pleas, but the mention of a girl caught his attention; however, by the time he got back around to Channel 7, she was gone. In her place were a bunch of kids about our ages wearing funny hats with ears on them, parading before the camera and introducing themselves.
Unimpressed, Bill resumed his search, and the girl of my dreams was destined to remain just that for a while longer.
Mama called us to supper, and, among the fried chicken and cream gravy, I soon forgot about that beautiful face, at least for the moment.
After supper I had more pressing business than arguing with Bill about the TV. My treehouse, about half-finished, needed attention since my love for the new TV had occupied most of my spare time. However, as I climbed the makeshift ladder to my home among the leaves, I thought about that face again and saw so clearly in my mind that black hair and those beautiful dark eyes.
�I ain�t never seen nothin� like that in Winfield,� I thought to myself as I quietly labored among the branches of the sycamore tree.
After school the next day, I decided to renew my search for that lovely creature who had smiled at me from the TV before Bill had sent her scurrying with his mad channel turning. I remembered that it had been about four o�clock when we had first met, so about five till four, I turned on the Philco and waited impatiently for the picture to emerge.
Suddenly, there they were again, those same kids with the funny hats parading right up to the screen and introducing themselves. �I�m Cubby,� said one, and �I�m Karen,� said another. Then there she was with those two words that would set my heart racing for years to come. �I�m Annette,� she said with a smile I knew was meant for me.
I learned that Annette was Annette Funicello, and the show was The Mickey Mouse Club (of which I became a card-carrying member). She went on to star in several beach party movies with teen idol Frankie Avalon, but I knew that deep down her heart still belonged to me.
I�m sure that Annette is a grandmother by now. She valiantly fights an on-going battle with multiple sclerosis and appears occasionally as the spokesperson for a peanut butter. Though she never knew about me or my undying love for her, every time I see some kid in a Mouseketeer hat, I smile and I remember. Sometimes if I�m alone, I sing M � I � C (See you real soon) K � E � Y (Why? Because we like you.) M � O � U � S � E.
Good night, Annette, and sweet dreams.
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