It happens to everyone now and then: you dream about someone you haven’t seen in years, and the next day you bump into that person on the street. Or you have a sudden taste for bouillabaisse, and your sister calls to tell you a new French bistro just opened nearby. And, for just a minute, you wonder whether you might — just possibly — have second sight.

The truth is, you probably don’t. I’m sure I don’t. And I know there are such things as true coincidences. But sometimes, something that is undoubtedly just that — a coincidence — can feel a little eerie. And that’s what happened to me yesterday.

This past weekend, I was looking for something different to watch on TV — something light and cheerful — and I stumbled across one of my favorite old TV sitcoms: Cheers. I watched a couple of episodes, beginning with the very first one, and found myself back in the 1980s with Sam and Diane and Coach and Carla and Norm and Cliff. And for the next three days, I watched a couple of episodes each day, thoroughly enjoying the feeling of being back in those years when life seemed lighter.

And yesterday, when I heard the ring tone of a news report hitting my phone, and I saw that George Wendt — who played Norm on Cheers — had passed away, for that one brief moment I thought, just maybe . . .

Nah! . . . Who am I kidding? I’m not psychic.

But I did feel a little strange . . . and terribly sad. Because 40 years ago, those characters were almost real to me, and to a lot of people. Along with the casts of The Golden Girls, M*A*S*H, Hogan’s Heroes, Murphy Brown, Newhart, and a raft of others, those people were as familiar to us as our own, real-life friends. They weren’t the villains, serial killers, or psychotics of today’s films; they were good people, fallible but decent, and we wanted to be part of their improbable, fictitious lives.

Quite simply, they made us smile, and feel good. And that is something that has become all too rare today.

So, here’s to you, George Wendt. I’m sure that somewhere in that great barroom in the sky there’s a bar stool and a draft waiting for you . . . and everyone will know your name.

R.I.P., Norm.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
5/21/25