”As we turn down the light each night… May we have some little memory to mark the day.”
The morning is damp and ugly. It is cloudy and will stay cloudy all day. It is 44° now and won’t get much higher. I have a few errands, and that’s about it on my to do list.
When I was a kid, Saturday was the best day of the week. I spent the morning sitting on the floor in front of the TV risking blindness, cereal bowl in hand, always Rice Krispies and watching my favorite programs. Most of the shows were westerns. I remember them all. I have never had a dog as well trained as Rin Tin Tin, familiarly known as Rinty. Annie Oakley was a woman sheriff, a novelty. She did great stunts on her horse. Sky King flew a plane, another novelty. I loved Captain Midnight, the first science fiction program I remember watching. The Lone Ranger was one of my favorites. I thought his theme song was exciting and perfect as Silver seemed to gallop to the sound. I didn’t know it was The William Tell Overture until I was much older. Even now I still call it the Lone Ranger’s theme song. Roy and Dale ended their program singing Happy Trails to You. I still know all the words. I think one of my memory drawers must be overflowing with the memories of those long ago shows. I remember the horses most of all: Silver, Scout, Champion, Buttercup, Trigger and Tornado, Zorro’s horse, all sit in one corner of that memory drawer.
Saturday night’s dinner was a New England universal. We ate hot dogs, baked beans and brown bread. The brown bread was canned and had ridges from the can. My mother fried the brown bread and slathered it with butter. She bought canned beans, B&M baked beans, and doctored them a bit. Saturday night was bath night. What I remember most is my sisters screaming. My mother tortured them when she combed out the snarls after they got their hair washed. Back then there was no anti-snarl product. That screaming was also a Saturday ritual.
Sometimes now, when I get to the kitchen, I forget why I’m there. I guess there isn’t much room left in my memory drawers for any more memories, even one from the den to the kitchen.
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keepthecoffeecoming.blog 
March 15, 2025 at 11:54 pm
Hi Kat,
Yesterday the wind was blowing with steady speeds of 35 MPH with gusts up to 50. The sky was brown with the dust blowing in from west Texas. Not quite a Ha boob, but dusty.
I remember every TV program that you mentioned, especially Sky King.
My father had a friend who lived in Kansas City. This guy was a most interesting person. His name was Bill Magedson. He was a private pilot, drove a Mercedes Benz 190 sports car, and he played the Hammond organ as his many hobbies and interests. I would visit my father in the summer and spend a couple of weeks traveling with him as he sold goods to retailers. I was about 16 and my father was traveling through Oklahoma, Kansas City and St. Louis. After spending an evening with Bill at his home in Kansas City, we drove the next day to St. Louis.
After dinner one evening my father drove us to Lambert Field and Bill took us flying in a Piper Apache twin engine airplane. Bill was a member of the St. Louis flying club. Once at altitude, he gave me the airplane. I had been reading books on how to fly, but there was nothing like having the flight controls in my hands and feet for the first time.
On the way back to our hotel, I told my father, “If I ever wanted to be a pilot, I now realize how much I want to fly for a living”. Luckily, my dream came true. I was very lucky.