By Melissa Ruggieri | Times-Dispatch

You didn't have to be Italian to appreciate "Everybody Loves Raymond."

But it helped.

You didn't have to be the product of a lovingly dysfunctional family helmed without argument -- by a meddling, manipulative, guilt-soaking mother.

But it helped.

Really, whether you were married or single, with or without children, a Yankee or a Southerner, it was never hard to find an element of "Raymond" that seemed ripped from your own brain. And after nine years of turning their stories -- our stories -- into classic sitcom fodder, Ray Romano and co-creator Phil Rosenthal are packing up Marie and Frank and Robert and Amy and Debra and Ray and sending them into more years of syndication and DVD releases.

Monday's half-hour series finale isn't coming with a "Frasier"-styled Big Decision ("will he leave Seattle for a woman?") or a weepy "Friends" breakup ("will Monica and Chandler really leave that apparently rent-free apartment and move to the suburbs?"). Nor will it strive for the absurd, like the deservedly maligned "Seinfeld" climax.

Nope, following an hour-long retrospective at 8 p.m. and the final episode at 9 p.m. Monday, "Raymond" will end with the unassuming, nebbishy charm that is its hallmark -- and most certainly, mama Marie (the incomparable Doris Roberts) will be front and center with a perfectly timed guilt-barb.

Despite its slow start in the dead-end time slot of Fridays, what always separated "Raymond" from myriad brain-dead comedies currently wasting network airspace was its normalcy and refusal to require its audience to suspend disbelief.

Ray Barone, a Long Island sportswriter, wasn't some overweight slob married to an unreasonably hot young chick (because that happens so often in real life). He was a gentle buffoon who loved his family, wanted to play golf and have sex with his pretty, age-appropriate wife. He shriveled in fear at a steely glare from said wife or his mother. In other words, he was a guy.

Debra, the stay-at-home, sharp-as-nails wife, was the antithesis of the dippy spouse who allows her pushy in-laws to run the household rather than upset her husband with a confrontation. Some of the series' most priceless scenes came whenever Debra played with acid-tongued perfection by Patricia Heaton -- was driven to sputtering bouts of anger and frustration, unable to fathom the fear instilled in Ray and brother Robert (Brad Garrett) by their mother.

That's when Italian viewers with Marie-like matriarchs gulped painfully at the reality of a simple sitcom.

What "Raymond" excelled at was putting its central couple in situations that anyone who ever experienced a relationship could watch with widened eyes, thinking, "Oh my God, that's me!"

Ray taping the Super Bowl game over his and Debra's wedding video; the suitcase that sat for weeks on the staircase, both spouses too stubborn to move it; the discussion of who in their lives they would want each other to marry if one of them died; Ray trying to understand Debra's crying jags and the mysteries of PMS.

Even as recently as a couple of weeks ago, Romano and Rosenthal churned out another instant classic -- Ray refusing sex from his wife sheerly to maintain "the power" of the upper hand.

It might sound mean or vindictive on paper, but the chemistry between Romano and Heaton his hangdog to her Rottweiler never failed to feel real, and no matter how vicious some of their fights, the threat of genuine marital discord (hello, "Mad About You") never surfaced.

But "Raymond" was more than the played-out story of a husband and wife and their three kids. The other familial bonds are what truly anchored the show.

Robert's incessant jealousy of his brother (hence the title) and need for motherly approval threaded its way through nearly every episode, with Garrett's stony expressions and bug-eyed rantings providing the foil to Raymond's humorous resignation. Finally marrying Robert off to the annoying and naive Amy (Rosenthal's wife, Monica Horan) smacked of Potential Spinoff Strategy, but thankfully, it appears that onetime rumor hasn't developed further.

Along with Amy, Marie's other half, Frank (Peter Boyle), was also always a bit too broadly drawn, slumped on the couch with his pants unbuttoned, muttering "Holy crap!" for a programmed laugh and ignoring his wife unless the prospect of lasagna loomed.

But together, Frank and Marie showcased an important, and rarely seen anymore, type of TV couple -- the kind who argue and snipe, yet understand the value and commitment of marriage. That is, as long as Marie got her way.

No wonder viewers chose the episode when Marie backed her car into the front of Ray and Debra's house as their favorite. For perhaps the first time, Marie was forced to admit a mistake... but not really. Because Marie, you see, is never wrong. Or controlling. Or nosy. God bless her.

With the sign-off of "Raymond" comes another sitcom headache -- this time for CBS rather than NBC. Since 2000, the show has remained in the Nielsen Top 10, averaging between 17 and 20 million viewers per week. Considering CBS' other "comedic" offerings include "Yes, Dear," "The King of Queens" (see "not requiring its audience to suspend disbelief," above) and "Still Standing," can you blame the network for throwing $2 million an episode at Romano just to keep him around this year?

Maybe not everybody loved "Raymond," but with its departure this week, it will soon become apparent just how many did.