Question: This may get me fitted for a straitjacket, but I seem to recall a show from the early 1970s that went something like this: A father, daughter and possibly someone else lived together in a house after the mother died, I think. The father was an architect, or cartoonist, which required that he have a large sketch pad in his attic where he would retreat when searching for solace. When he contemplated his life's issues, a sketch of his house would take the features of a human face, turn and look at him and have a conversation with him. No one else would see this drawing but the dad. Feel free to send the wagon over to my house to collect me, as people think I'm absolutely crazy, especially when I mention the talking-house part.
Answer: Instead of a straitjacket, might I suggest something a little more freeing, perhaps a windbreaker, blazer or even a nice sweater vest, Martin? There's no need for restraint — I believe the show you're
Question: I know you in the TV world frown on old fogies like us, but we've got a Murder, She Wrote question. Obviously, Jessica Fletcher was a writer on the show, but my friend says that's all she ever was. I say she was a teacher before that. Who's right? We're not betting people, but each of us would very much like to lord being right over the other one. Thank you for your time.
Answer: Before I get into that, Carole, allow me to distinguish between myself and those flighty showbiz folks. I am not of the TV world; I'm an outsider. And I call on my television powers to help those of all ages, not just those impertinent young 'uns with their too-loud music and too-low jeans.
That said, it's a shame you're not a bettin' woman because you could've gotten at least a free lunch out of this one. On the successful CBS series, wh