I didn’t even realize Art Linkletter was still alive, and now he’s dead.

You young folks probably don’t even know who Art Linkletter was. But in his time, when I was a kid, he was a genuine phenomenon. On television and radio, in books, even in a couple movies, he combined personal charm and wit with a master pitchman’s instincts, to make himself one of the most recognized—and loved—personalities in America. He was like Oprah, except without pretension.

Born in Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan, he was abandoned by his natural parents when a few weeks old, and raised by an evangelical pastor, named Linkletter, and his wife. The family moved to California. He gravitated to radio, and from there to television. His popular quiz show, “People Are Funny,” made the transition to TV very successfully, and his afternoon TV program, “Art Linkletter’s House Party” became an institution, especially the segment where he interviewed young children, skillfully fishing for funny (but never humiliating) responses.

I know a fellow who told me he was once one of those kids. I was tremendously impressed.

This guy was everywhere in those days. He had two shows on TV. He had a radio show. He did guest appearances. He must have worked twenty hours a day.

In his later years, after the death of his daughter by suicide (a suicide he attributed to LSD use), Linkletter became an anti-drug activist. This, of course, made him a figure of fun to the left (because, after all, what’s funnier than a grieving father?).

I don’t know what his religious beliefs were. I saw an anti-drug film he did back around 1970, and in it he said that, in spite of being raised by a pastor, he’d never held any faith in religion until he’d observed the success of faith-based programs like Teen Challenge in dealing with drug addiction.

When I think back on the vacation days in the 1950s, when my brothers and I used to watch his programs, I remember a time that was kinder in many ways, a time when we all shared values and you could relax with the TV on, not worrying something would come on you didn’t want the kids to see. Art Linkletter outlived the world he belonged in. I miss them both.

OK, so I’m mowing my lawn tonight. The mower is sputtering off and on, threatening to die. I stop and rinse the air filter out in gasoline, and while I’m letting it dry I come in and check my e-mail. There’s a message from a Viking friend, the guy I drove out to Annandale with on Saturday (more on that below). The subject line says, “What Wrong With Your Lawnmower?”

I swear we didn’t discuss lawnmowers during our drive on Saturday. We did talk about Sea Foam gas treatment, which I had just put in the mower, but we hadn’t discussed mowers. I’m sure.

Pretty sure.

Anyway, it’s weird.

Our Viking group was asked to set up a display for a big Boy Scout event at a Scout camp in Annandale, Minnesota on Saturday. It’s about an hour away, so we got up early and drove out. The weather forecast called for a bright, hot day.

And it was. After the thunderstorm.

The pounding rain drove us under cover for most of the morning. When the skies finally cleared, we got heavy winds for a while. This is a perfect scenario for loosening the pegs that secure my sun shade, which you can see in the picture above. I kept pounding them back in with the poll of my Viking axe. I also had to do my second field repair on the canvas, with artificial sinew and a needle. Finally the winds died down, and I was able to sell a few books and try to ride herd on all the little boys who wanted to handle my swords. Also to have a different friend take the picture above, which I wanted so I could record my new Viking outfit. I made both the tunic and the trousers all by myself, and I’m relatively proud of them. The pants were the second pair I made. The first pair taught me what not to do on the second pair.

The tunic is about 50% better than the one I made last year, from the same light blue cloth. My only big complaint with it is that the facing is crooked. You’ll notice how it (the dark blue around the neck) is hanging crooked? That’s not a bug, it’s a feature. I don’t mean it’s how I intended it. I mean it’s how I sewed it. It’s not just hanging crooked. It’s always like that. (Last year’s shirt has the same problem.)

Still, I’m learning. And that’s about all you can ask for in these things.

Or so I’ve learned.