So Long, Bob.

As a child, I remember spending mornings at my grandmother's house, watching a dark-haired Bob Barker introduce games and fabulous cash and prizes. I don't remember any one show, but I remember my surroundings -- Granny's ugly shag carpet, the smell of her Cambridge cigarettes stinking up the house, the yellow walls, the dusty furniture, and the gigantic portrait of an unnamed matador that hung over her two easy chairs in the living room. That living room never changed, and for a long time, TPIR was a part of that living room.

Like that living room, TPIR barely changed in 30 years.

Johnny Olson was the announcer when I was a kid. There has never been a game show announcer like him. No one could say "Come on down!" like Johnny Olson (follow the link and understand).

Rod Roddy followed after Olson's death in 1985. He was flamboyant and funny, but he was no Johnny Olson. He had big shoes to fill. Roddy died in 2003. Gen-Y folks will identify him more readily and probably prefer him. He is, after all, the one they know.

Rich Fields took over after Roddy's death. I haven't watched the show much since Roddy died. However, maybe once a month or so, I'd turn on to see how Bob Barker was doing. He'd gotten frail, but he kept going. He could still give that big damn wheel a spin.

I bring up the announcers to illustrate Barker's longevity. The guy outlasted two announcers, and at 83, is going out on his own terms. Talk about an achievement.

Frankly, TPIR will never be the show I grew up watching. The yodeling mountain climber, the punchwall, the big wheel, the showcase -- these are morning staples. Taking Bob Barker out changes each event at its core.

You can't tell me that the putting game will be the same without Bob Barker trying his hand before the contestant's putt.

Female contestants who run up on stage will kiss another guy on the cheek, and if they bid closely enough, they'll reach into another guy's coat pocket to pull out a $100 bill. Men will shake hands with another guy, and possibly hug another guy if they win, say, a boat.

That's not right.

I've marveled at how little "The Price Is Right" has changed over the years. The sets are virtually the same as they were when I was a child. The beauties are different, Barker's hair is grayer, and the products are modern, but the music, the sets, and the premise are all the same. It's like looking through a wormhole to the 1970s.

My grandmother worked at Kmart then. For some reason, TPIR, Kmart, and Grandma are all linked. Hey, I was little. Hush.

For a show that has changed so little in my life, the departure of Bob Barker should be (and is) earthshattering to me. No longer can I turn on TPIR and see the same face. It won't feel right -- like the first time a divorced parent introduces you to the New Boyfriend or New Girlfriend. The pairing won't match, and will take some time.

In a way, this is another vestige of my time spent with Granny. When she died, all I had left were memories, mostly of childhood, and those things like TPIR that outlasted her are now fading away.

However, I suppose like Leno taking over for Carson or O'Brien taking over for Letterman, this will be a huge change that I get used to in time. As George Harrison sang, "All things must pass."

It is bittersweet to see Bob Barker retire, as I'm just selfish enough to want him to host the damned show forever so I can hang on to those memories of Granny a little clearer, but everyone's time comes, and certainly, at 83, he's earned his rest.

Certainly, those memories of Granny won't fade completely. Every time I hear the music or the sound of the yodeler or even the dingdingding of the bells on contestants' row, I'll be right back in that dim, smoky living room, right there with her, for a second or two. That's just enough.

I'll bid a bunch of money and she'll bid a dollar. She'll win. Nothing ever changes.

So long, Bob, and thanks for everything.