by David Gittlin

Created on: March 09, 2009

Way past my bedtime, the gentle, kindly voice kept me company on Sunday nights. I remember listening, with the radio under my covers, to a man known to die-hard fans as "Shep." Jean Shepherd passed away not too long ago, in a hospital bed near his home in Sanibel Island. He was seventy-eight. It's hard to imagine a man like Shepherd, always buzzing with life, passing away.

In his prime, Jean Shepherd filibustered and cajoled audiences for hours on subjects like bumper stickers, TV commercials, Green Stamps, and the Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval. The good news is, "Shep" may have left us in body, but not in spirit. Many of his radio and stand up performances are available on DVD's and tapes dating back to the nineteen fifties. There is a web site (www.flicklives.com) where you can enjoy, absolutely freeno strings attached, Jean Shepherd's warm wit, wry observations on American life, and his ruminations on the human condition. I recommend you check it out.

Like most great discoveries, I found Jean Shepherd purely by accident. Sunday nights were depressing until Jean came along. This time-slot held a certain similarity to the nineteen fifties movie, "Invasion of the Body Snatchers." I didn't want to close my eyes because the next thing you knew, the sun would be pinching your cheek. It would be Monday morning, the beginning of another week of Junior High Schoola situation almost as dismal as surrendering your immortal soul to an evil alien life form.

My primary goal, therefore, centered upon pushing Monday morning as far into Sunday night as my will to remain conscious and sleep-deprived brain permitted. Listening to Rock and Roll music on the radio provided the major thrust towards accomplishing this objective. As far as enjoyable pastimes went, I would rate this activity as a five on a scale of ten. It occurs to me now that great chunks of my life fell into this category. Excitement was an elusive animal to capture. This was all about to change, at least as far as Sunday nights past my bedtime were concerned. One night, while switching from one Rock and Roll station to another in search of a better song, I found "Shep."

The experts might have called it "experimental radio" at the time. I'm not sure, to be perfectly honest. Whatever it was, I had never heard anything like the smooth jazz overlaid by that voice, the one that put an arm around my shoulder and whispered, "c'mon pal, I got some cool places to take you to." When I first tripped over the threshold

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