“Saturday mornings whisper of endless possibilities, a blank canvas waiting for the colors of your day.”
The morning is dark, damp and cloudy. The usual weekend rain is predicted for tonight. I have errands today. If this were summer, I’d never leave the house. Tourists fill the roads on ugly days.
Saturday has always been my favorite day of the week. When I was a kid, Saturday mornings started with TV and Rice Krispies. I’d sit on the rug too close to the TV for my mother’s comfort and eat my cereal. I had favorite shows. I remember Andy’s Gang with Andy Devine. I knew Andy Devine because he had been Jingles, Wild Bill Hickok’s buddy, “Wild Bill, wait for me.” I remember Froggy, a sort of evil magic frog, “Plunk your magic twanger, Froggy.” He’d appear in a cloud of smoke. I was enchanted. Midnight was the black cat, of course he was. I think my love for science fiction made Captain Midnight a favorite. He had a sidekick whose name was Mudd with 2 d’s. The sponsor was Ovaltine. I used to beg my mother to buy Ovaltine so I could send away a box top for a decoder. I never got one. Sky King was an original. He was a rancher who spent more time in his plane, the Songbird, than on his horse.
The rest of Saturday was an adventure day. I’d wander either by foot or on my bike. I had no set plans. I just sort of let the day happen. Saturday night was out of my control. It was the same menu every week, the same TV shows and always a bath.
As I got older, I explored less. Saturday was a fun day. During high school, my friends and I would often spend the day or the evening together. I remember playing miniature golf in the warm months and tobogganing in the cold. We bowled. I was a horrible bowler. Sometimes we went to the movies, inside or outside depending on the time of year. Saturday supper was whatever we were in the mood to eat.
Since my retirement, every day has been a Saturday without the hot dogs, beans or brown bread, and I can’t remember the last time I took a bath.
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