Bea Arthur, thank you for being a friend

I was just a few years out of diapers when "The Golden Girls" debuted on NBC back in September 1985. And though I probably wasn't watching the show that first couple seasons, I definitely discovered it long before its final bow in 1992. And I know I'm not alone.

In fact, I'd go so far as to say that "The Golden Girls" was a quiet phenomenon for a whole generation of kids my age... meat head jock types, nerdy book worms, gay boys, straight girls... as an adult, those four old ladies in Miami --  whom, everyone seems to agree, were nothing short of awesome -- have come up in random conversation -- at work, at the bar, in my college dorm room -- countless times.

And no doubt many of you can recall the Summer-Anna "Which Golden Girl are you?" scene on the pop-culture soaked "The O.C.", which reflected said phenomenon.

As a kid, I clearly remember spending Saturday nights at home, excited to watch the NBC line up that "The Golden Girls" shared with sitcoms like "Amen" and "Empty Nest." There were several other series that lived in those Saturday time slots, but "Golden Girls" was the star. And for me, the brightest beam was always Bea Arthur.

Her co-stars, Betty White, Rue McClanahan and Estelle Getty, were all comic geniuses in their own right, but Bea Arthur's Dorothy was the slam dunk of funny as far as I was concerned. Rose and Blanche would set Dorothy up real good, but it was Bea's spot on, dead pan, dry delivery of the punch lines that had me laughing more often than not.

The character of Dorothy isn't as easy to, well, characterize as the rest. She wasn't the dumb one or the slutty one or the verging-on-senile one. No, instead, I think Dorothy's thing was that she told the truth. And she did it well. She was the voice of reason, and yet still responsible for so much of the show's comedy... a testament, I think, to Bea Arthur's skills.  

I don't know, when I woke up today, went to check my email and saw the news that she'd passed on, it was almost hard to believe. Not sure why. She was 86. She lived a long and full life, I'm sure. But for some reason, it's difficult to picture her anywhere but in that pastel-colored Florida living room, astute and strong, calling her friends and family out, saying what everyone else is thinking, but with a flair and hilarity no one else could pull off quite like her.

Thank God for reruns and DVDs and all those good things. Bea Arthur won't be forgotten. Rest in peace, Pussycat.