Posted tagged ‘Annie Oakley’

“If a man watches three football games in a row, he should be declared legally dead.”

May 31, 2016

Today is warm and humid and still damp from the rain of the last two days. Only the middle of the street is beginning to dry. Much of the pollen has been washed away. My car is red again. Today I’m getting what I need to open the deck for summer. That would be paint for the planters, more clay pots, flowers and herbs. With my pad and pen in hand, I have to go on the deck and make a list of what I need then it’s off to Agway.

This morning I watched The Lone Ranger. Much of it was filmed outside on dusty roads among hills lined with rocks. It wasn’t really all that bad for being 59 years old. Tonto may have butchered the English language, but he was an equal partner to Kemosabe. Adam 12 was next. It hasn’t aged as well as The Lone Ranger filled as it is with 1970. After that, I was done with classic television.

When I was a  kid, we had only a few channels to watch. Saturday mornings were filled  with cartoons and half hour shows like Rin Tin Tin, Buffalo Bill, Annie Oakley and Captain Midnight. I really liked Annie Oakley. She was a female sheriff, and that was a big deal to me. She wore what would later be called cullottes but the legs on hers were so wide they looked almost like a dress. Everything she wore was fringed. Captain Midnight was another favorite. I wanted my mother to buy me Ovaltine because that’s what Captain Midnight drank. She didn’t.

I remember well one of our TV’s, the one in the console, a huge cabinet for a small screen. It was against the wall near the window on the back wall of the living room. We’d sit close and watch until my mother made us move back to save our eyes. I know we had a color TV on the cape but the colors weren’t very bright. My father blamed cable, but it was just the TV getting old.

The TV I have now was the first HD set in the neighborhood. It caused quite the stir. Now everyone has HD. Mine is getting on in age as it is around 12, but it seems fine and the colors are still bright.

I like watching television, mostly at night. I have to be really bored to watch it in the daytime. Today I was bored.

“Hope combined with action is the only thing that will bring you contentment.”

July 17, 2014

The rain was light but steady when I went to bed. During the day it had gotten heavy at times, and I had a flooded floor in the kitchen when I got back from my errands as I had left the back door open. It took a mop. By afternoon the humidity was thick and stifling so I put on the air. The house felt wonderful and I slept until 10, unusual for me. I turned the air off this morning as the day is cooler and less humid than it has been. The sun is even breaking through and the day is getting lighter. I didn’t begrudge the rain. We needed it.

Once I wanted to be Annie Oakley, a horse riding sharp shooting cowgirl who also happened to be the sheriff. I didn’t realize it at the time but she wasn’t stereotypical which is what I think drew me to her. Many of my favorite characters were girls and women who were smart, brave and daring. I loved Lois Lane though I hated those tiny hats, the suits she wore and the purse she always carried. She was dogged in her pursuit of a story and the identity of Superman, and she never let being a woman stand in her way though she did end up being saved time and time again by Superman. TV in the 50’s had few strong women characters. Most, like June Cleaver, wore dresses, pearls and aprons and had dinner ready when their husbands came home from work. Alice Kramden managed to break out a bit. She wore the apron but she was never cowered by Ralph.

As I was growing up, I knew I’d go to college. No one in my family had, but I just knew I would. It was part of the plan I had hatched when I was young, as young as ten or eleven. I’d go to college then I’d travel the world. There was neither doubt nor hesitation in my mind.

When I graduated from college, my mother told that she and my father had never envisioned that one of their kids would go to college. They were both thrilled and proud that I had. Earlier, though, they weren’t so thrilled and proud when I had announced the next part of my plan, traveling the world. My father forbade me to accept the Peace Corps invitation to go to Ghana. I mean really, here I was twenty-one, a few months from graduating, and my father actually thought he could stop me from doing what I wanted. If I hadn’t been so angry, I would have laughed at the absurdity. I ignored him, and he knew I was going with or without his support so he begrudgingly accepted my decision and gave his support.

My life has worked out even better than I had envisioned. It has been so much more.

“One advantage of talking to yourself is that you know at least somebody’s listening.”

February 4, 2012

Saturday just isn’t as interesting as it used to be. When I was a kid, it was cartoons , Howdy Doody, Annie Oakley and all the rest day. It was eating cereal in front of the small, black and white TV set with the wooden doors. In college, it was recuperate from Friday night day. It was a day to do absolutely nothing until party time Saturday night, and there was always a party. When I was working, Saturday was errand day. It was ride around town, do some shopping to perk the soul and spirit, hit the grocery store and maybe meet friends later for a drink or two.

Since I retired, I can do all of my errands any day of the week. Saturday has slipped into being just like all the other days. Its only redeeming quality is the SyFy (silly darn spelling) channel which often shows really bad movies all day. I miss the old Saturday.

We’re back to the 40’s again while my sister in Colorado is buried under two plus feet of snow. Even the schools were closed on Friday, a most unusual event for Colorado. We have sun and blue skies and a bit of a breeze. All in all it’s a pretty nice day.

I called my sister yesterday so I could hear a human voice. My other sister called me. It was a banner day for conversation. Moe talked about the snow and how happy she was that they had shopped before the storm. Her street hadn’t been plowed since the morning, and it was late afternoon. Gracie in that much snow would be hidden, and her movements would resemble those of the giant worms in Tremors where all you saw was the ground rippling.

Today has been a mishmash. My mind is a potpourri of useless tidbits, of space fillers. It seems all the outloud talking I’ve been doing to myself is finally taking its toll. I even think I’ve started answering.

” It’s the way you ride the trail that counts.”

January 9, 2012

Winter is dropping by for a quick visit today: it will only be in the high 30’s. When I went to get the papers earlier, there wasn’t even the smallest breeze so it felt warmer than 36°. The 40’s will be back tomorrow and for the rest of the week. No January thaw this year. We haven’t the need for one.

I never once wanted to be a pirate or a swashbuckler. I was part of the cowboy-cowgirl generation. I wanted to ride a horse and shoot standing up on the saddle like Annie Oakley used to do. She was a hero of mine. Annie was a sheriff, and nobody seemed to mind she was a woman. They never offered to come to her rescue. Annie didn’t need it. It wasn’t until I was older I realized that Annie Oakley was an anomaly because all the other sheriffs were lawmen.

Dale Evans was also a bit of a hero even though she wasn’t a shooter. She and Buttermilk rode the west together with Roy and Trigger. Dale on Buttermilk could jump fences and ride like the wind, and she had the best outfits with all that fringe hanging from the sleeves, and she wore those really fancy leather gloves. Annie wore more utilitarian clothes: a plain skirt, a blouse and usually a vest. She also wore a holster and a gun. After all, Annie Oakley did have bad guys to catch.

I went horseback riding a few times, and I fell off a few times. It was a long way to the ground. I liked the sound the leather saddle made, sort of a creaking sound as I rode on it, and I liked the view from the saddle where I envisioned tumbleweeds and cacti and chasing bandits who had robbed the stagecoach, but I never did get the hang of riding quickly. I was a slow rider better suited for the pony section where you ride in a circle. I figured I wasn’t destined to be the new Annie Oakley.

I also wanted to be Nancy Drew or Trixie Belden. Their towns had mysteries all the time, and they always solved them. My town had none. The local paper had a section about the police calls in town, and I got to read how so and so called because she had heard loud noises in her neighborhood or because someone’s dog was barking too long in the night. Big deal! We had no missing precious paintings or lurking strangers. We just had noisy dogs.


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