MEDIA MATTERS

Growing up in the 50's, radio was a very important influence in my life. When I was young, we had no TV. Nobody did. All of our entertainment came from the radio. As I got a little older, TV had become a staple in practically every home on the block, but, radio still mattered. Our music was becoming a statement and the disc jockeys I listened to positioned that statement like nothing I had ever heard. They were loud, they were creative, they talked fast and, they talked to me. When I was 8 years old, my Cub Scout den mother, who also happened to be MY mother, took us on a field trip to a local radio station and, from that day, my destiny was set. I didn't think much about it for years. To me, it was just a given. I would just have to age a little and look for a window of opportunity. That all changed in 1966 when I was drafted. I came home from basic training and heard a brand new station in town. It was what was then referred to as a “soul” station and it played some of the best music around. Music that was borne of the jazz and blues I had heard growing up in my particular household, where entire walls were covered with shelves full of records. I decided that I would take a ride to the station, introduce myself and see where it went. That window of opportunity had appeared and I wasn't about to let it shut. We were in a war in Vietnam and I was about to go. “I may not come home,” I thought. I had to make my move and that's just what I did. I introduced myself to the DJ, Don Tracy, who, for some reason, decided to become a mentor and began, during my couple of weeks home, to teach me, at least, some of the ropes. I spent the next 4 years in places like Nashville, Tn., Angeles City, Republic of the Philippines and Saigon, Vietnam, where I took advantage of the local radio scenes to learn more and get involved in any way I could. I took it all in and, on Jan. 10, 1970, I stepped off the plane in San Francisco, threw my duffel bag in a ditch and headed toward my career behind the microphone. It took a short while to get my “foothold” in what became, to many, a truly storied career, during which time, I was fortunate enough to be involved in a number of “firsts” in the industry. In the mid 70's, FM was still very new and fairly untested. I was on the air in Plainfied, New Jersey and had been offered a job in Philadelphia at a brand new radio station called Magik – WMGK-FM. It was my first major market and I was their first ever morning man. I couldn't turn it down, but, after a while, I learned that I also couldn't support my young family with what they were paying. I asked for a raise and was told that I would never make any more money as long as I stayed there. I sent my tape and resume package to 2 stations in town, WIP, the #1 station in town, an AM giant and WYSP, a small FM station with a new rock & roll format. I was contacted by Sonny Fox, the program director of WYSP. We met and he immediately offered me the morning show. I took it, not knowing that he had an ulterior motive. The station was doing a lot of programming that was new and experimental. I had been doing the morning show for about a month, when Sonny called me into his office, closed the door and asked if I had ever heard of “Bob & Ray” - a radio comedy duo out of Boston and, eventually, New York that I had always found very entertaining and inspirational. I immediately knew where he was going with the question and said, enthusiastically, “Let's do it!” Sonny did the show from his apartment and I was in the studio. We never saw each other as we created a show based on “theater of the mind,” comedy and rock & roll. After a short time, Fox & Leonard became the number one morning show in Philadelphia and, what has been described as, the prototype for the “morning zoo” format that eventually took over morning radio. In 1981, I left a job as morning host on WLS in Chicago. I had been offered the opportunity to be a part of another ground breaker. I helped to physically build the studios and was the first person to turn on a microphone at the Satellite Music Network, the first company in broadcasting to experiment with 24 hour formats delivered by satellite. We were very successful and, eventually became the ABC Radio Network, from where my morning show was syndicated on nearly 260 radio stations throughout the country and in a few other parts of the world for 24 years. Through the auspices of ABC, I also became the first American to be broadcast by Radio Shanghai in the Peoples Republic of China – a show that I did twice a week for 7 years. These “firsts” were fun and very rewarding, but, there was one that was not. In the early 90's I became the first person in my family to be diagnosed with Diabetes. My doctor wasn't happy with my blood work and wanted me to see an endocrinologist, who was very matter of fact in his diagnosis. “You have Diabetes” was really all I heard. That and myself crying when I got to the car. I was devastated. I had worked very hard to get to where I was in the radio industry and this guy had just given me, what I perceived to be a death sentence. I got home and tried, through the sobbing, to tell my wife that all had been for naught. I was diabetic and it was all over. Well, the only thing that was all over was my life as I had known it. I got over my little “pity party” and we began to get proactive. I had no frame of reference because I had no family or friends who were diabetic. I knew no one with it and nothing about it. As we discovered quite a bit later, I had been exposed to Agent Orange in Southeast Asia and the government was recognizing Diabetes as a result. So, we buckled down, learned everything we could about the disease and became extremely proactive. I had supported my family for quite a while and I couldn't quit now. I had a career where I never “worked” a single day – I looked forward to going in and having fun every morning. We had quite an uphill battle ahead of us and we charged into it full force. We got rid of the “Fry Daddy” and began compiling recipes and exercise programs and, within about a year and a half, I had come off all meds and was maintaining quite nicely. It was then that I realized that I had an outlet to educate others while entertaining them. I had a microphone and radio stations worldwide carrying my show. “What better way to teach something,” I thought, than to make it fun and, maybe even rewarding. I came up with an idea for a daily contest. I would take my blood sugar readings on the air and give the listeners a chance to win a prize by guessing my numbers. The person who came closest would be the winner. It became so popular, that listeners would take their readings at the same time and we would compare notes. Because of the nature of my show, I also had authors and experts on often to explain things. Diabetes had become an integral part of my show, with the intention of getting rid of societal stigmas surrounding it. Everyone who listened to my show knew that I was diabetic and that I was on a crusade. I was that DJ with Diabetes who wouldn't shut up about it. My partner at the network and I would often make personal appearances in cities where we had affiliates. On one such visit to Helena, Montana, we were at an event signing autographs and meeting the listeners, when a man walked up with his little girl. He said that she wanted to give me a hug. It seems they were listening one morning as I was playing the “Guess My Blood Sugars” game, when the little girl jumped up excitedly and screamed, Daddy, he has diabetes – just like me!” I gave her a hug, cried a little and realized that my diabetes had, indeed, made a difference in someone elses life. This little girl was no longer ashamed. Throughout the course of the next few years, I received a number of letters and calls from people who also no longer tried to hide the fact that they were diabetic and no longer had any problem with “testing” in front of other people. It was “just the way it was!” I wrapped up a pretty amazing career when I retired a couple of years ago. Nearly 50 years of comedy, rock & roll and great fun. I have met and interviewed politicians, rock stars, movie stars and authors, yet, the greatest accomplishment, in my mind, was making a difference in the life of that little girl and, subsequently, other diabetics who happened to tune in. They now feel the way that I did when I created a bumper sticker that read: “I may have Diabetes, but Diabetes will NEVER have me.”

THEY DON'T MAKE NEWS LIKE THEY USED TO

With all due respect to Rod Serling: Imagine, if you will, a Sunday morning. The weather has cooled down. It’s a little overcast and near 73 degrees. There is a slight breeze. It's a truly lovely morning to sit on the patio having a cup of decaf and reading the Sunday paper. This was once a scenario shared by thousands, even millions around the country on Sunday mornings, albeit with real coffee in most cases. I remember how enjoyable this was and how many fewer distractions we had with the good old fashioned newspaper. I read an article online recently, that speaks with dread of the demise of one of the most useful bits of media we have had.....the newspaper. With the advent of the internet, circulation of newspapers has dropped off considerably. The fall began in the 50’s when television began to deliver everything we needed to know and increased another 18 percent between 1990 and 2004. Between 2004 and today? Who can count that high? The job of a good newspaper was to hold governments and businesses accountable for their actions and set the news agenda for the rest of the media. At least that was the general idea. Since more and more people have shied away from print and are getting their information from blogs, “citizen” journalists and on-line periodicals, newspapers were forced to print less news and more of what they feel we want to read. Entertainment, sports and celebrity dirt. The dumbing down of the print media is in full swing. Over the next few decades, half of the worlds general newspapers will shut down. TV was a great source of news for a while. There was a sense of credibility that came from real journalists. Edward R. Murrow, Walter Cronkite, Huntley & Brinkley – people who gave us a sense that they were reading the papers for us and helping us understand. They rarely editorialized. They gave us the facts, not opinion, so that we could disseminate things for ourselves and make up our own minds how we felt. Television news has become quite difficult to watch with all of the distractions. Do I watch the anchor or read the crawl underneath or that other flashing thing on the screen. The internet isn’t a lot better when it comes to that concentration factor with popups and advertising. There isn’t anything worse than trying to read the latest news about the incompetence of the Congress or follow the events in the middle east than when that tasteless toe fungus ad keeps sending the little ogre across my screen. TV news has almost become a parody of itself, now that we have all-news channels that have to attempt to fill 24 hours with about 5 minutes of what is actually news. They are nothing but opinion that attempts to sway public attitude to their way of thinking in order to drive viewership so they can charge more for advertising. They hire anchors who look great, but are incapable of stringing together more than 5 words into an intelligible sentence. Facts? What are they? MSNBC skews all the way to the left, CNN isn't a lot better and Fox, or as I often refer to it, Feaux, News seems more like a satirical skit than an objective news outlet, making up most of what they report by stretching facts to near the breaking point. They then have bimbo's relating those stories to us while making a valiant attempt at credibility. But, hey, at that point – who's listening? Most of what we get online comes from blogs and other sources, which are, in their nature, no more than the opinions of people we don't know. Those opinions fall flat when, after we've read it, the first question is: “Who?” We just have to sorta “take their word for it!” Facts fell by the wayside somewhere along the way, only to get lost in all the folderol, goo gah and nonsense. I recently decided to bring back tradition and picked up a Sunday paper to enjoy on my patio with that cup of decaf. I spent about 40 minutes sifting through myriad ads that made my newspaper weigh in at about 20 pounds heavier than it’s daily “fighting weight” just to try and find some relevant news and feeling bad because soon it may be gone and I’ll be forced to make my mind multi-task it’s way through CNN, FOX, MSNBC and a billion or so blog sites just to find out what’s what in the world. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go wash all that wonderful newsprint off my hands - with my tears!

THE REAL JERK

    A few years ago, while still living in North Texas I was driving to work from Carrollton to Arlington, about a thirty minute drive, I couldn’t help but notice how badly people drive. I’m sure I’ve noticed this before, but, for some reason, on that particular day, the realization sorta smacked me in the face. These driving patterns mostly occur when people are on a cell phone and paying absolutely no attention to what they are doing. They cut you off, they “fade” into your lane and are generally rude, without even having an inkling because they are busy “on the phone.” It almost makes road rage justifiable. Almost, but, certainly not enough to do something stupid, like, the first thing that comes to your mind as you are cussing out the idiot in the other killing machine. Besides, in Texas, there is a concealed weapon law and, honestly, I didn’t want to get shot by some clown who drives horrendously AND is “packin’.”     I mention this because I recently noticed that it really doesn’t matter what kind of conveyance you are using, rage can be a factor when there is stupidity involved. The last vehicle that got me into trouble was, of all things, a shopping cart. Call it “Aisle Rage.”      It was a very nice Saturday, midday, and my wife and I had just come from the movies. We saw “Star Trek” and I was filled with adrenalin. We decided, at the last minute that, since Costco was on our way, we would stop by and pick up a few things. Some Talking Rain (a really good carbonated water with a hint of fruit), some produce and the handy dandy 800 pack of paper towels for $12 dollars, because you can never have enough paper towels.       As we were walking through the very crowded front door, showing the Costco cop our membership cards, there was a guy who was blocking the entrance and moving quite slowly. I didn’t feel like spending the entire afternoon fighting the crowds so I pushed my shopping cart around his left side and was now in front of him. It was then that aisle rage apparently set in for him as he sped up, faster than he had been going all day, and ran his shopping cart into the back of my foot. I buckled and started to go down as I looked behind and, yes, cussed him out. He gave me a veiled apology with a very smug little smirk on his face and moved on, trying to pass my wife, who said “Go ahead, I don’t want my foot to be bloodied too.” He said, again with absolutely no sense of meaning it, “I didn’t do it on purpose.” Uh huh….and I’m Rex the Wonder Horse….wanna go for a ride?”        I saw him again down one of the aisles. I believe it was the aisle where you can get 62 giant jars of peanut butter for $11 dollars and, for some reason, no jelly. I looked him dead in the eye and cussed him again. He got that smirk back and repeated, “I didn’t do it on purpose.”       The incident, without question, ruined my day. I walked out of Costco with an attitude, found myself snapping at my wife and kids and let it get to me for hours. That’s when my wife, in her infinite wisdom, found the three words to calm me down. Those three little words that showed me how ridiculous I was being and that this aisle rage was totally unwarranted. The three words that made me realize why the guy had done what he did and why I had no reason to complain……those three magical words? “You started it.”  

THE OLE' ONE-TWO

There was a time when baseball was the “National Pastime.” Not anymore. That distinction now belongs to football. Not the football that the rest of the world knows as soccer, but the football that involves very large, very strong men running into each other like Mack trucks meeting head-on while driving full speed towards each other. I used to LOVE baseball. As a kid, we played every day. Whether we had enough players or not was irrelevant. We would simply “call our field,” meaning that, being a left handed batter, I had to hit to right field or it was an automatic out. Football took size and strength, neither of which I possessed, but, I could hit a baseball and I could pitch and catch a baseball and I was pretty quick. We were emotionally invested in our favorite baseball teams. We collected baseball cards, listened to games on the radio and sat in front of our TV sets wearing our favorite team's garb while cheering them on, often wearing a glove as well because you just never knew if, maybe, a foul ball might fly through the screen. It was pretty evident that none of us was going to go on to become a brain surgeon or a rocket scientist. I was in the precarious position of living smack dab between New York City and Boston, so the Yankees/Red Sox debate raged through the neighborhood – even through families. I vividly remember my grandmother smoking Luckies and cursing at Don Zimmer for making what she considered to be a stupid decision as the Red Sox manager. I stopped watching baseball when it became a home run derby controlled by steroids. The players got bigger and stronger and no longer played for “the love of the game.” Now they play for money and if you strip them of their uniforms and put them in pads and helmets – you've got a football team. My favorite sport is boxing. I'll take boxing over baseball any day of the week. Yes it takes strength to be a good boxer, but, it's much more like a chess game where each participant has to anticipate his opponents next move and take the proper precautions in order not to get hit while attempting to slip his glove through the other guys defenses to try and knock him out. It's about finesse and movement. It's like chess meeting ballet. I love boxing. My love for the sport goes back to all the boxing I watched with my Dad back in the 50's. Great names still resonate when I think boxing. Archie Moore, the undefeated Rocky Marciano, Rocky Graziano and the fighter that I consider to be, pound for pound, the greatest ever; Sugar Ray Robinson. I love boxing. I kept following the game as I got older. I lost money on the first Cassius Clay/Sonny Liston fight. Some clown in High School was taking Clay and giving odds. Who knew? I think I lost 6 dollars on that one. By the 70's I was living in Philadelphia and one of my best friends was the WBC Light Heavyweight Champion of the World. I got the picture of the uppercut that knocked him out at the Meadowlands in his third title defense. With HIS camera. I love Boxing. Boxing is a wonderful union of mind and body. The mind has to be strong enough to be able to control your strategy as you defend, anticipate your opponents next move, try to hit him and come up with your own next move. The body has to be able to to withstand extreme punishment while providing the stamina and power to go from beginning to end. The strength of mind has to be equal to the strength of body. I love boxing. I've taught my girls to Box. My oldest was at a party with her now husband (they were engaged at the time) and her ex kept bothering her. She made a number of attempts at resolving the issue, but he made the mistake of touching her in some way. She broke his nose. Good girl. You've learned well. When I first arrived in Dallas nearly 25 years ago, I was in great shape and was working out at the North Dallas Boxing Gym.  One of my workout buddies was another disc jockey from the network where I worked. He was doing Heavy Metal and went by the name Mad Maxx, but I knew him as Dave, a friend, a workmate and another boxing fan. One day I asked him if he wanted to spar for a couple of rounds. He said sure and we laced up and started to go at it. I threw a right cross. That's about all I remember……until I found myself being sat up in the corner and hearing a voice ask, "Didn't you know Dave had 12 professional fights and spars with heavyweights in Forth Worth?" I never got in a ring again. I try not to even WEAR a ring these days.………..I love Boxing.

HOW I GOT MY PROFILE PIC

Because Sonny did the show from his bedroom, it afforded us the opportunity to have a little more privacy during our interviews with celebrities, because we could bring them to his apartment instead of the radio station. That would free them to be a little looser as there would be no station personnel or “normal folk” trying to get autographs or asking to pose for pictures. They could relax a little and be themselves. I knew that this particular interview was going to be a lot more fun than most because it was with one of the world’s funniest men. I had been a fan of Mel Brooks since before his prolific film career or even the classic “2,000 Year Old Man” sketches he did with the equally creative and funny Carl Reiner. I remember Mel Brooks from his days as a staff writer on one of the most innovative TV shows of it’s time _ “Your Show of Shows” starring the brilliant Sid Caesar and the sublimely funny Imogene Coca. The show boasted a writing staff that would go on to become a literal “who’s who” of funny. Sid Caesar, Mel Brooks, Carl Reiner, Howard Morris, Mel Tolkin, Neil Simon and his brother, Danny Simon, Larry Gelbart andWoody Allen (who didn’t actually write for the show but did work on a few Sid Caesar specials, so I figured I could sneak him into the group - makes it look even more impressive). I had NO idea what to expect when I got to the apartment other than the basic fact that I was on my way to spend some time in a fairly intimate atmosphere with one of the funniest men alive. I was pretty pumped. He was in Philadelphia as part of his publicity tour for the just released “High Anxiety” - his insanely funny homage to the films Alfred Hitchcock. I lived in South Jersey and the apartment was in a suburb north of Center City, so I had about a 45 minute drive from point A. to point B. I would cross the Walt Whitman Bridge and follow the Schuylkill Expressway all the way to Sonny’s. As I pulled into the parking lot in my little yellow MG-B, top down that particular day, I noticed there was a limo behind me that was now pulling around in front of me, where it came to a stop. The door opened and out popped the subject of my reason for being there that day. He walked quickly towards me, hand outstretched and said, “Bob Leonard - Hi I’m Mel Brooks - I’m a star!” I knew instantly that I was about to have one of the most fun experiences of my life to that point. We went inside and the man was never “off.” He regaled us with stories about his life, his films, his comedy - it was hardest I had ever laughed. We must have recorded for a couple of hours and there is absolutely no way to describe the atmosphere or, even, what was said. It was Mel Brooks being Mel Brooks - you really had to be there. As he was getting ready to leave I asked if I could have a picture with him. He graciously agreed and, as I put my arm around his shoulder, just before the shutter snapped ,I said, “My dad told me to give you a kiss and Jews kiss, c’mere…,” at which point he mugged, I kissed and the result ended up as my Facebook profile picture. About 2 weeks after the interview, I was going through my mail box at the radio station and I saw a letter from 20th Century Fox addressed to me. It was handwritten and said: “Dear Bob, I just wanted to write and thank you for the interview. It was more fun than eating Raisinettes with Harvey Korman on the set of “High Anxiety.” Love, Melvin” To make that day even more eventful and important to me in the context of my career, years later I had two opportunities to interview the aforementioned Carl Reiner and I made it my goal each time, to make him laugh. Was I able to do it? Well - That’s another story!

KIDS

I was reading the entries on my Facebook home page, which, with the new timeline format can take a good part of your morning, only to come across an interesting note from my cousin’s wife. Let me explain that my cousin is a very accomplished rock and roll guitarist who travels extensively and has been in the business since the early 60’s. He is 71 years old and he and his wife have a 3 year old who is an absolute doll and the joy of his life, even though, when she graduates high school he’ll be in the ball park of 90. Knowing him, he’ll be providing the music for the ceremony. In the note, my cousin’s wife, who I will call Vanessa, because that’s her name, asks the little one a series of questions, the responses to which are absolutely adorable and funny. Pretty much what you would expect from a 3 year old. The exercise is called: “See what your kids are saying about you.” After reading some of the wee ones answers to questions like: How old is mom (she answered 100) and what is something mom always says to you (do you have to tinkle), I thought I would try the exercise on my kids, if for no other reason than just what the title explains: to find out what my kids are saying about me. My oldest is 36. Her response to the request to take the little quiz was, “Dad, I’m a doctor. I have an office to run and I am about to go surfing with my husband. Maybe another time.” My 33 year old daughter’s response was, “I have two little ones of my own, Dad, and at 7 and 4, they are a bit of a handful. This can wait, right?” My 27 year old son is currently incarcerated in North Carolina. He said, basically, “You are kidding, right?” My 26 year old has her masters degree and can't seen to find a job, so she's busy as a nanny and trying to get into grad school to get her PhD. She hasn't even seen the e-mail with the questions . My 17 year old is only home to sleep on school nights. Other than that, I’m am surprised she even remembers where we live, let alone sitting down long enough to answer questions like, What’s dad’s favorite food?” Its lobster, by the way, just in case she takes time to read this, I’d like her to know. I actually think I have an inkling of “what my kids are saying about me” and I’m sure it’s said with a semblance of respect. We have all had a terrific relationship over the years and I gave them the respect I wanted in return. They have always given it back and then some. And yet, I find myself sort of missing that period of innocence that comes from one so young, still in the beginning of their life’s discoveries. The awe with which they can watch a butterfly flit from flower to flower and answer questions like, “How do you know your mom loves you?” with “She cuts my apple, give me a bath, lets me watch TV, sings me a song and tells me I love you all day long.” Would I want to do it for a sixth time? Not on your life, but, if nothing else, the survey’s answers opened up a floodgate of memories of the amazing amount of innocent fun mine all were at that age. It’s a joy I will carry to my grave. So when my cousin’s wife asks her baby girl, “What is Mommy's favorite thing to do?” and she answers, “Drink coffee,” I say, sit down with her, have a cup of joe and savor the moment.

'SCUSE ME WHILE I KISS THIS GUY

One of the biggest misconceptions is that there is a bathroom on the right. We all know that the bathroom is usually on the left - well, sometimes the Ladies room is on the left and the Mens room is on the right, but, I digress - which is something I often do when I'm.....oops, sorry. We mishear song lyrics all the time and what we hear often fails to make sense while it totally ruins the image the poor songwriter was trying to project. Although, “there's a bathroom on the right” does more sense logically than “there's a bad moon on the rise.” How could John Fogarty have known if the moon was having a bad day? But, if he had to find a bathroom and it was on his right, he has a tangible argument. Mishearing lyrics goes back a long way for me. When I was 10 years old, I remember hearing a song on the radio from this controversial young singer named Elvis Presley. I swear to this day that what I heard was “I'm in love – Amawshika.” I had no idea what “amawshika” meant or was, but, by golly, that's what I heard and I was sticking to it......even though the title of the song was “All ShookUp.” Remember the Ray Charles song “Unchain My Heart” with that classic line - "Don't care if you do 'cause it's understood, you ain't got no money you dress in your boots?" In “Fire & Rain” - James Taylor complained that he “found my jeans in pieces on the ground” and made an editorial comment about the elements, calling them “obscene fire and obscene rain.” Who can forget how upset “the Reverend Blue Jeans” was when “Craklin' Rosie peed on the on the floor?” Even during the holidays we're not immune - “We wish you a Merry Christmas, now bring me some friggin' pudding” and the apparent English translation for “Feliz Navidad” which seems to be “Police nabbed your dad.” Poor pop....and during the holidays! Then there's my favorite, which epitomizes the oxymoron - “Peace on earth and mercy mild - Goddamn sinners reconciled.” If nothing else, it's a pretty powerful statement! Sometimes a misheard lyric can anger people. Animal lovers were aghast when they heard Freddy Mercury singing “kicking your cat all over the place.” At other times the lyrics can be just what the doctor ordered if you're having a bad day. Like Donald Fagan said - “The Cuervo Gold, the pine cone ruffian, make tonight a wonderful thing.” The tequila part is easy. Pick some up at your nearest schnapps shop. As for the pine cone ruffian – you could probably waste the whole evening trying to figure out what it is, let alone where to find one. The night being a wonderful thing concept has now been completely blown to smithereens. Even the impossible has been explored when Stevie Nicks sang, “Just like a one-winged dove......” It certainly invokes an interesting image of that poor dove flying around in circles. The issue effects all genres from Classic Rock - Leon Russell sang: “Like a rubber neck giraffe you look into my pants....Well baby you're just too blind to see – to Country – who can forget that Glen Campbell classic where he sang about a “wine stoned cowboy” - to Broadway – Remember that great lyric in “The Sound of Music,” “So long, farewell, our feet all say goodbye?” - to the standards, like when Dean Martin sang, “When the moon hits your eyes Like a big piece of pie......Have some more eggs.” The problem is undeniable and it's massive. We've been mishearing lyrics for as long as people have been writing them. So rather than take any more of your valuable time trying to understand this seemingly never ending malady, I'll just completely misquote The Jonas Brothers and say, “Until the next time you lick me in the eyes – I'll just say goodnight and goodbye!”