You were Clarabell once, before my time, Bob Keesham; I know that much. But I didn't knew your name was Kangaroo because of your big pockets until about five minutes ago.
You, Mr. Moose, Bunny Rabbit, Mr. Greenjeans, Dancing Bear and even good 'ol Manfred were like part of my family.
You liked books. I remember that. And music. And animals. And terrible, horrible jokes.
You are a big part of me, Captain Kangaroo. I will miss you.
And I will always look up for the ping-pong balls when somebody tells me a knock-knock joke.
* At least, until I pass on. Then he'll have to fight his way out of my aortic chamber or suffer the consequence of my burial or cremation, or help find me a sublet in somebody else's heart.
** Completely unrelated: m-w.com has changed their format. I feel like cat in a room in which all the furniture has been moved around. You'll find me under the couch.
** Even less related: Peanuts Hey-ya (via