all good things must come to an end

When the phone rang last night and my brother asked, "Have you heard about Bob Barker?" I swear my heart skipped a beat. He is, after all, pushing 83 and we are, after all, in love. We've been in love for 7 years now this past September the 28th.

I'll remember the day always - the day I became a Contestant Not Appearing On Stage. I'm not proud of the not appearing on stage part. That I chalk up to my fate and my lack of experience making Faustian deals. When they say "be careful what you wish for, you just may get it," I didn't realize you just might get only precisely what you wish for. And I had wished, all my life, to be called to Contestant's Row.

Little did I know I would be called last. And still, though I knew the challenge that lay I ahead, I would have such uncontrolled enthusiasm that I would take the wind out of Rod Roddy's sails, predicting (accurately) that the final game would be for a car. {Note to anyone else who is fortunate enough to be called to Contestant's Row: Do not remind the vultures around you that the game they could soon be playing could be for anything more than exercise equipment and a grandfather clock. Further, don't give them any reason at all to think that you know what you are talking about our they will stack your bid more viciously than they already should.}

Oh why couldn't the item up for bid be a Lobster? Or a gumball machine? Or any other number of the specific items that Loyal Friends in True know by heart? "$909," I could have said. (Or $929 with more tennis balls, or even $1029 at its peak, though I've noticed since the price has fallen). Or "$1000, Bob," I could have beamed. Later I would have collected five crisp $100 bills from the hand (no longer the pocket) of my lifelong friend and though I still may not have won the car, at least I would have gotten to spin the wheel.

But Bob felt for me as the contestants clung to me, drowning my bid with their own. The two other CNAOS, mind you, had rotted in Contestant's Row since the opening call of "Come on Down." Five times they had bid before my arrival; five times they had failed. The one who escaped, of course, was not as worthless as these two, my fellow losers. He was lucky enough to bid last (and did not, by the way, go on to win the car or do anything of significance on the wheel). He had been more specific, I'm sure, when making requests of the Fates.

Our eyes met - my deep, dark pleading eyes welling then with the tears that would flow over much tequila that evening, Bob's powder blue, gentle eyes that had seen too much sadness over the years - and we were in love. Even the man who would later become my husband (who was there wearing a shirt that proudly proclaimed, "My Girlfriend Loves Bob" and who had professed on his pre-show interview that he was "very well trained and prepared to win") could see the love. And all he could give me was his autograph, artfully penned on the back of my TPIR postcard, offered to me during a stolen moment when he belonged posed by the wheel and I was to be seated neatly by my pathetic co-losers.

Later we would kiss. I would return to the Bob Barker studio and though I could never again be a contestant, though I could never spin the wheel, I waited in line all night like a Loyal Friend in True. With my TPIR soulmate, a man as dedicated to cult of Bob as I am, we sat in seats number 2 and 3 in the front row. And though my friend never did hear the invitation to "Come on Down" (which in his case would have been more like "Scoot on Over"), we were close enough to command attention and curry favors in between commercials.

So my lips have touched the soft, sagging cheek of a TV legend. An animal rights hero who loved his wife profoundly. A brilliant, patient man whose daily life exposes him to some of the stupidest people on television. We're still in love.

And now, as Bob Barker has announced he is officially taping his last show this June, I can only say I am happy for him. He's done us a favor entertaining the masses for literally my entire lifetime. He's given away enough gadgets, appliances, vehicles, and trips. He's been more than generous with his time. And truly, all good things must come to an end.