Kermet Apio says farewell to comedic genius Dave Letterman.
—
In the summer of 1980 (I was 12) I started watching a morning show that was odd and fun, definitely not like anything on TV at that point. The show was called “The David Letterman Show” and it became a morning ritual for me that summer. One day he did a bit with comedic recipes, one of them being “Hudson River Jello,” basically Knox gelatin in a glass bowl with little toy cars and people and other things at the bottom. So funny. I decided to make Hudson River Jello. Back then kids would be left home alone a lot, which I know sounds bad, but we also sat in the front seat without seat belts, so you know, perspective. Anyway, an unsupervised kid who knew nothing about gelatin trying to make food comedy. Add to that the attention span of a caffeinated ferret and you know this won’t end well. Eventually I left to go outside and play with my friends because as I know now, making the comedy is a bit more work than watching it. My Mom came home to a kitchen strewn with gelatin powder and bowls with wet Hot Wheels, plastic soldiers, and other toys. And what still cracks me up is that she never for a second thought it might have been my sister who did it. As I begrudgingly cleaned the kitchen, I learned an important lesson: you have to clean up after your own comedy.
For my generation David Letterman has been a voice. He created something that wasn’t there. He pulled the camera farther back and found broader places for comedy. The show was about itself as much as it was about everything else. Absurd became normal, silly became clever, and convention became banal. He had the beautiful celebrities, but he also brought us people who were more like us. George Miller, Gerard Mulligan, Chris Elliot, Biff Henderson, Rupert Jee, etc. He was different than Carson but reverent of him. His bite and sarcasm perfectly blended with self deprication is a fine line that only he could achieve. I often say that he is a big influence on me, but the fact is that he is an influence for many comedians around my age. The comedians he would put on each had a unique voice and inspired those of us young comedians who were trying to find a voice. He presented new comedians and musicians as if we should know who they are.
As much as I’ve loved watching these farewell shows, each one is a reminder of the difficulty of change. I have watched so many of his shows that he is part of the ritual of my life. 11:35 has been spoken for since college. Accepting that he won’t be there will definitely take a while.
From the Hudson River Jello up until tomorrow night, he has redefined a genre, and done it with such class. Like many comics I have always wanted to be on The Late Show, not just because of the exposure and all that, but because I’ve always wanted to thank him. For the countless hours of entertainment, yes, but more importantly for lighting another path for potential comedians. For thinking outside the box on our behalf.
Regrets aside, I’ll say it here: Thank you, David Letterman. I hope your career has been as enjoyable to live as it was to watch.
They should have considered you for the chair, Kermet. Their loss. Actually all of ours. But you keep telling stories and we’ll keep listening, And laughing. And learning! You’re our voice, Brother K.