Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
During fermentation,
Yeast organisms
Consume sugars &
Produce alcohol, i.e.,
Yeast eats sugar &
***** alcohol.
Makes you want to go
Right out and get drunk,
Don’t it?
Donut?
Doh!
David Nelson Apr 2010
What kind of Animal(goes woof,woof)

When we were growing up, I bet all of us had a favorite TV show,
and one of the things these shows for younger kids had I know,
was a song of some sort that would make us laugh and smile,
It was always some silly little ditty, just think back a while,    
you had the Flintstones with their Yabba dabba doo,
Captain Kangaroo and Mr Greenjeans and Mr Clock too,
now I don't know all the shows, or the songs that you sang,
just trying to make you think, make a bell go clang,
my favorite was from the Howdy Doody show,
guess that makes me really old I know,  
they would sing this song about animals, for little tykes, 1st grade,
trying to identify, by the sounds that they made,
like the title of this poem What kind of animal goes, woof woof,
the kids would respond a dog of course, you goof,
and on and on through all of the chickens and ducks,
bet the smile on your face is worth a thousand bucks.

Gomer Lepoet...
softcomponent Mar 2014
I

Testing that nuclear feeling pulsating through my ventricles, a pain sour at top of my genitals in the area above the ***** dr's call the pelvis
it hurts for no such reasons; mysterious numbness to the pain as it aches and yet it is only a suppressed fear of cancer, the dr checked my prostate jamming finger in ******* n twisting like a diamond fairy-- perhaps nicer not jammed in my ******, but this is 'the nature of the examination'

nature, nurture, I am suffocating myself in her addicted presence, regardless of how much I may love her she was cuddled next to me last night before slipping into a gasp-snore sleep and the ****** intrusive evil thought came to me-- wat if i took this lighter and singed her hair or her skin and fer sakes I scared myself, the same way I scare myself after watching documentaries on serial killers and wondering, so wondering, 'that could be me- the killer- torchering stray cats with infected syringe, binding its legs with an unwound coat-hanger and tossing it off a bridge-- and then years later I pick-up a hitch-hiker and ******* him against his will, slit his throat to keep him bound in the loss-progress of forgotten history'

this 10 mg escitalopram oxalate / i cannot tell if it is working / but my head is a pill and the dr agreed to prescribe me .5 mg xanax n maybe this is why i feel close to losing the mind in burn-ache-scare-myself-away /

II

I got a blood-test the other day, my way of praying to science to ask its all benevolence if I, perhaps, have ***, AIDS, chlamydia, godknowswat

immediately afterwards, I went home and read 3 articles on the Russian intervention in the Crimea as if it were my insanity civic doody

cracked-open my budget and calculated my debt to be somewhere in the $2,400 range n felt trapt and angry and unreal as if high-school is when time stopped and ever since I waste my life / spending it on money / money it on spending ******* /

i go to work, feel dead or mad already, as if 20 yrs is too late for me and it'll be one hell of a trip when I realize I've made it to 21, let alone 30

let alone 30

let alone *30


III

last night i begged her for ***, a remorseless evil pulsing thru my veins and no compassion save for some manipulative control of a dark-force--

she was sleeping, sleepy, woke up, i deliberately watched **** with the volume high to keep her up and guilty

she called me *pathetic
and it only hurt becuz I believed her and knew it

it spunnn outta control and into other vortextual matters of an unexpressed zeitgeist diatribe and she went as insane as me, threw my coconut oil at the wall in my bedroom when i insisted i sleep on the couch muttering to herself i feel like dying like killing myself like ending, if u *******, how can u ******* when u know i feel like this it makes no sense and it hurts and i call her one great-big-guilt-trip-lookin-pretty she insists on a slam-slouch next to the door and says i wanna listen to you ******* and i will i don't care we are both now in the grip of an evil cabin fever trapped in each others soulz and i become eviler as she becomes eviler, we look like madmen women to one another going tangent after tangent and in some sick sense realizing how petty and empty we must be to feel so petty and empty and expressive of a dark chill within us each a hot ember of hopeless cold firing the spot-team responsible for motivation and direction due to budget cuts of the soul

and by god i hate myself, and by god at times i hate her the same and the world but only as reflection to that dark chill within us

an empty chatterbox

IV

i wake up, write this poem, refuse to pop a xanax pill today and feel a gritty dirt rubbing thru my hert hertz heart

better, it's better, i love her

and yet there is that dark chill within us

an empty chatterbox
Francie Lynch Mar 2017
Intro:         C      G7        C       G7         E7           D7          G7
   C                      G7
Shine away your bluesies,
   C                                                         G7
Why don't you shine, start with your shoesies;
   E7                           Am7                       C7
Shine each place up, make it look like new,
   D7                                           G7
Shine your face up, I want to see you wear a smile or two.

      C                             G7
Cause my skin's light creamy,
       C                                    G7
Just because my eyes are greeny;
     E7                 Am7                          C7
Just because I lack some shade of brown,
    D7                                                  F7­
Don't stop me from funking down when I funk uptown... Funk!

C                       G7
Cause I dig rap music,
E7                               Am7                C7
With jazz and blues I boogie all the time;
  F                                 Cdim
Just because I jive to Reggae,
  C                          A7        D7            G7
T­hat's the reason, Baby, why they call me...

C                                 G7
*****,  watches ice hockey,
  C                            G7
******, he likes to copy.
  E7                          Am7                          ­C7
I'm Caucasian, the abbreviation won't do,
D7                              G7
Drop the name tags, see me the way you want me seeing you.

   C                               G7
Why don't you shine, your these and thoseies,
   E7                                            Am7       C7
You'll find everything's gonna turn out fine;

  F                            Cdim.    C
Folks will shine up to ya, everybody's
                                       A7
gonna howdy-doody do ya;
  D7                     G7                C
You'll make the whole world shine.

      C                                            G7
So,­ clap your hands, shout Hallelujah,
     E7                             Am7                   C7
You'll find everyone's much the same inside;
    F                      Cdim
You know we all share blame,
C                                                         ­           A7
Don't “Howdy-doody Whitey” cause that ain't my name,
D7                           G7                 C
And we'll turn the world colour blind.
"Shine" is an old Louis Armstrong song. I used two of the original verses, and added several of my own, and re-named it, "Shine On."
This is an edit and repost. The chords are for the uke, but should work on any instrument. This song is anti-racist, anti-prejudice, and anti-bigotry.
Brent Kincaid Aug 2017
I don’t want to play in your yard
I don’t want you to play in mine.
I know this is going to make you angry
For me that will work out just fine.
You don’t know how to play with others
And don’t know how to have any fun.
If ever there was a big doody brain
Look in a mirror because you are one.

If we don’t play the game so you win
You want to pout and whine to us all.
Too many times you have thrown big tantrums
And when you left you tried to take the ball.
Or you threw it so far away we had to run
To get it and bring it back to the game.
Every time we tried to give you a chance
Everything turned out exactly the same.

You don’t know how to play with others
And don’t know how to have any fun.
If ever there was a big doody brain
Look in a mirror because you are one.

We all believe your parents are the reason
You can’t handle the way life really is.
You’re fine as long as you are winning
You crow and brag you’re an amazing ****.
That’s not what happens in the real world;
Things do not always go your way.
So, now you have to deal with the facts.
None of us care to ask you to play.

I don’t want to play in your yard
I don’t want you to play in mine.
I know this is going to make you angry
For me that will work out fine.
Damian Acosta Jan 2014
[Note: Not one of Subject B's 17,891 journal entries found
     mention anything about Why Time itself had stopped.
              
Refer to Subject X's Archival Journal: Chapter 16
      Science of an Improbability (pages 356- 387) for further research]*

  _________________­
                                                                ­                                           
                     ­                                                                 ­                                   February 14th, 1955

Dear Dr. Einstein,
        
           What's up Doc? I decided it's Valentine's Day. Unequivocally! And it's a Saturday! Saturdays are my absolute relative favorite. Always have been, I think...
          See, up until "yesterday" I thought it might have been almost a year since the whole time thing. I look older, that's for sure. Measured myself up on the kitchen notches and I'm just about as tall as Derrick was when he was 13-- which isn't much, we're a short family. Dad topped-off at 5' 7" and was super lucky to find my mom. She was 5' 7" as well but hated heels. Anyway, though, it could be less than a year. It gets really confusing with the sun always in the same spot, which is why I decided it's Valentine's Day. And it's Saturday!  I've already cut a picture of Howdy Doody and put it on the TV.
           Okay Doc, that's all. Just wanted to wish you a Happy Valentine's Day. Might move my bed up to the attic to get a better view of the everlasting day.

                                                               ­                                     Sincerely,
                 ­                                                                 ­             Robbie Wilson
to my good mate steve grigor

i know all i know is that he rode a big scooter and he was a writer

but he was a great writer, so much in facr he taught people how to write

you see steve wasn’t in the mood for staying in his body

he wanted to leave that body and enter in to another body

he was a nice man who enjoyed bowling and writing

and he used to drive his scooter all around the town

you see he taught me how to write and he taught me how to live life to the full

he probably enjoyed a beer or a coke

you see i liked saying hello to him when i saw him

and he said hi brian hows it going

i know steve grigor wasn’t this perfect little angel

but he was a man who taught us through his writing to have a joke about life

now i will give you a little jingle about his passing

it’s a shame it’s a shame it’s a shame

we lost a fine man in steve

it’s a shame it’s a shame it’s a shame

the man who teaches has passed away

i will miss him driving his scooter around this city

who knows he will probably go off to his next life with a lot of of creativity to give

this man was nice, you see he was very nice, but he had a load of body problems

and that is what killed him in the end, i will miss his howdy doody face

goodbye steve grigor
LD Goodwin Jun 2014
Black coffee
2 eggs looking at you
buttered Wonder bread
morning paper
horn rimmed glasses.
neatly pressed short sleeve summer shirt, with a Fruit of the Loom tank.
work trousers and oil resistant black shoes
Old Spice, and Brylcream
Howdy Doody in the background
the screen door slams
a white Ford Farlane 500 starts up and pulls away

awaiting the sound of the Ford
wash up for dinner
pork chops, sauerkraut
applesauce
green beans
evening paper
maybe the Flintstones or Dragnet, but always the Friday Night Fights
late night visits to the fridge for a sip of Malox.

My Father does not believe there is a heaven, or hell
he says when you die, you just die.
But I don't believe he ever knowingly lied to me.
He voted for George Wallace, but he also Voted for Barack Obama, twice.
He served in the Army during World War II, and still cooks hash brown potatoes every Tuesday night for his local American Legion, where he also plays poker and most of the time wins. When I asked him how to win at poker, he'd smile and say... "Luck." When I asked him how do I get some Luck, he said "count your cards."
He doesn't want a funeral, no music, no wake, no one to say anything about him. He wants to donate his body to science. And cremate the rest.
He says, "shut up and let people tell you who they are."
"Everybody is OK son , most don't know it though."
"Never count your money in public."
He has a small tin on the kitchen counter full of twist ties, hundreds of them.
There are shelves in the basement full of canned food and paper goods.
Depressionites are always ready for the next one.
When my Father and Mother go to their class reunion, they are the only ones left in their class.
I asked him what was the hardest thing about being 95, and both of them said, "all of our friends are gone, all of them."
My Father is 95 this year.

Happy Father's Day Dad

*Thank you for letting me ramble here, I feel so much better. I am ready to have my eggs and coffee now."
Harrogate, TN Father's Day 2014
Angie Sea Mar 2017
Rest enough for the both of us
I know you're in peace
you send some to me daily
I'll always remember your lessons
hustle with dignity
and grind for the life of me
be kind, give to charity
cuz good comes to the good
and a good soul's always the best to be
You were a brother then and are to this day
just because this world is where you were taken away
that'll never stop me from all the thanks that I'll say
You always knew how to motivate
me when I was down for the play
You were my doody, you'd hype till I stayed
I showed you my weaknesses and you'd say not today
today we'd fight and keep living stay not afraid
child's play compared to the light this life's gained

actions speak louder so I learned watching you
leading by example, always told me the truth
growing you showed and I knew, how to be greater
feel first, judge later
brother words are my savior
but you're the inspirator
can you tell I'm trying to recover to Recovery
grateful for every reason
to keep being the best of me
It's like a new discovery
I've never seen with such clarity
still going through changes
could never exercise what fame does
even if you weren't almost famous
priceless is all the exchanges, we'd
stay up all night finding something to believe
in, I'll never forget, not for an eternity
when you said you'd never regret believing in me.
always come from a place of love
M Vogel Aug 2023
(true story..)

Ah ****, Babe.
(Same message, copy/pasted..
and then sent to a whole different part of me;)
((but you and I both know it is all still part of the whole))

      so here goes..

I was built to run on  all eight cylinders.  8.
Within this world, more often than not,
I am left with no choice but to run on 3.. or 4..
Not my initial choice,  but due to what little
of someone that they (most everyone) present to me
they only bring spark to the measly three or four;

But every.. uh..  few once in a while(s)..
(Get it?)


Who you are, sparks all 8 within me,
and within that depth of interaction (connection)
you yourself (I am sure of it) would expect (hope for)
no less than all 8 from me..

(Let me get this out as subtlety as I can..)

   But suddenly, dear friend..
you want to *****-slap me down  into
a small wooden box that has only room

     for 2.. or 3..

((along with little ol 'freshly-emasculated("eunicated"?)) , me

Problem is.. what am I to do with those very potent
    and powerful last 5.. or 6?
Cause I swear you're the one that could be fully capable
of requiring from me, all 8.

I could swear you're that one.. At least I thought you were.
    hint// (I know you are..)
Hmmm.   You want me to fall asleep?
I have a bed for that.

3  bore the **** out of me.. be it through politics..
or even the everyday, Mundane. .
or whatever the mother-****.
I have not watched TV or seen a commercial in over 20 years.
Trump was prez for over 3 years before I even saw his wife.
It was at a Subway, and I asked a friend,

    "***.. who in the m-**** is that?"

Everyone got a good laugh.
Not as hard as me, because I never even heard
that Howdy-doody ******* Obama's voice  the whole time
  he was president.
Not that I care..  or like..   or don't like..

    but it is simple as this--


The world is going to turn as it sees fit.
The Beast will achieve its all-consuming end..
which is to dilute  into powerlessness,
(void of all rightfully-attainable Glory)
each and every soul-bearing  human
that it can possibly get its Rat-claws  in to.

You have people in your life that add to you
and not take away (steal from you),   Life?

      You don't need me.

You are all things Beautiful that I say,
but  **** your comfy,
palatable little box you want to zip me in to, Love.
You dream of a world filled with all 8,
but carve from it the emptiness of a measly 3.

(I love you, but have a super ****** way of showing it.)
We only live once in this body we have,
and at the end of our time here, the 'husk' falls off.

My whole reason for being down here is to
somehow get out into the light of day
the truth about who we truly are.

People want to focus on the husk?


We were built solely to Unfold into the Glory that awaits us..
(The Glory that is already in us, though in most.. still dimly-lit)
Because when the husk falls off.. well Kid..
All there is in Eternity..   is Relationship.

      The more Hearth-lit, one's Glory
      the greater the capacity for Relationship,
      which is all we will have left  at the end of all things.


   Cool part is..
the very Nature of Love Itself..  absolutely Craves it.


..Craves it, sweet Angel.
You are tremendously Gifted.. but sadly, we (you and I) are done.
I'm a ****.. I know.
I would much rather kiss you than ever hurt you.
I will be there for those (she) who needs me
until she stands up and truly beats my ***
for being the person that I am.

      She still needs me.
      So that is what I will do.

btw.. you are by far, one of the best I've ever seen.
Be glad that the world doesn't rotate around me

   .. or we would all be ******.

   Kisses to you, Sweet one. xoxox

Ya.
Red ******* rain  is coming down..

https://youtu.be/jPQ8S0rVjs0
I L- Y <3

I know I'm an *******  

                             **** me.

.
Charles Sturies May 2017
Don't you just love
to see the new polka dot
dresses
for young ladies
that are coming into fashion?
The reminds
me
of a clown in a polka dot outfit,
a female sports mascot dressed in
polka dot overalls,
Howdy Doody and the polka dots
of the freckles if his face,
a new sweetheart
and me imagining her in that
itsy bitsy yellow polka dot bikini,
a suave male friend dressed in
a satin bold polka dot shirt
that's earrings at the sleeve cuffs,
polka dots
On the wrapper of a new kind
of sucker and decorating the sucker itself
hell yeah the polkas themselves -
the sky's the limit!
Charles Sturies
Ken Pepiton Apr 2019
Startle response! Wake--

When danger is ante
cipated,0h
--0n
lego-h-overedge aver
age
verbage re sighin'

clinging vines from debunked strings and
threads twisted wit'em.

Assume, if ye may or plea or will as
ye wont, pray means ask.

That's all.
Here, wit'afewmisstook aitches and spaces:
here is what we got,

a fresh secret story, un concerning anything you
believed you believed of/from/about idea ifify ie able ity ness

Reason requires response, Will Robinson.
Hidden persuaded, almost,
but lost...

Really,
what sacrifice bought
young John Carson to sublimnal
top 0'the mind status,
for the first two tv
generations?

Who do you trust? Carson's tv game
show debut, aimed at after school,
junior high, latch key,
wait staff on swing shift or graveyard,
the entire set of doin' nuttin'
'round Tea, fancy goin'

head t' head wit' Mickey Mouse Club,
on all the UHF stations out west.

It's 1957, who do you trust?
Time's man o'the year,
The Hungarian Freedom Fighter Idea,
the first stiffed
equal-value re
belicose cold war victim
of the famine for the grammar
of kindness and good sense
associated with DNA,
little green apples, puppy dogs,the
straight up command to love them that hate ye,
enemies and other words for folk
who would just as soon **** you
as hear one more word
about peace.

VOG,
words were scrambled,
christic crypt vacuum
tube
signal to noise ratio, caliber calculater pro
jection on to the rerewall o'yeardamnedbrain,

VOG Cancel
Bozo. This ad will **** for us. We can own the
'earts and minds of every grammar 'ater ever.

Since Babel, since Eber 'is 'ebrew ef-
fective, fervent...strainer at jots and tittlishit
self.

This ad makes mistook rules po'man laughable,
punch'n'judy'ishit:

Whom
do you trust, the grammarian so like so many
Deweyish proguess
edumacated teachers, you had this teacher,

squint, wrinkle nose, tight jibbs
frameless wire rimmed specs, a greying bun,

flower print dress wit' the weest bit o'lace,
lipless snide corrector's face. A trope archetype,
heroes re
bel
on demand, that was the plan. It
started with

AN AD. Who do you trust? Black and white,
Here's Johnny standing under the billboard,
y'know,
for the show, standin' like *******, shoulders
shrugged, palms up, elbo's bent

(contenintal suit, note the skinny tie, why?)
Who do you trust? Innocent grin, wordless
"Who knows?" or "knew"?

Whodjewtrust, in 1957? Cronkite, nicht wahr?
See the USA in the USA

in yo' Chevrolet, ole!
Yew should try Ritalin, for pep.

Take Serutan tonight, and sleep, safe and restful,
sleep, sleep sleep

VOG (Scourby) and, remember Serutan is Natures,
spelled backwards. Cue the choir,

safe and restful, sleep, sleep fade away

----
Where were you in 1962? Off t'college,
watchin' Johnny of Johnnies,

Johhny Quest, Johnny Lighting, Johnny Carson on

Tonight, there's more...
after the news, the dayroom in the dorm,

this is whence the quips in the quad were to be
sharpened wit'

fashion able ible tips, to fit the Esquire *** Hef
uniform dress code of mutual hidden

persuadeds.

Some souls were spared the spread of the
original tv virus, VHF, couldn't penetrate
the canyon...never subjected
to Howdy Doody,
our brains were spared the
complexes planted via the sit
com cowboy war subplot
phase of novus ordo
secluremishitistcal
experiments in
alientated
mind control.
We lived in the desert, in a place

a lot like Oscar's Oasis,
a wordless Korean Cartoon
set in a desert much like mine. On Netflix, 2019.

I did not watch the mandated ten thousand hours,
even when the deadline for party affiliation

mental ascent was ex
tended, circa 1985, pre-
tending to be a measure of de
fencing public universities from the
effect of rock and roll,

since about 1964

with folk like Dylan and Baez and Hallelujah
Jubilee and Jambalaya on d'Baya,
Herb's brass on the Baja, where all the girls
work it,
like 'otel Kali phornia, sticky,

sweet, like a taste of Honey. Mr.Bond,
meet Miss
Galore. OH GOD, in the car from the speaker
she heard the idea the meaning

in the name, oh god, she squeezed my hand.

Honor Blackman plays that role, she whispered.

Trust me. It's a good plan. We got these kids!

Mom and dad just won the war, had six kids in five years,

Levittown di'n't work out, couldn't go home,
mixed marriage, from the war.

Things hap, cajun catholic wannabe aerospace engineer spy guy,
lands in Alamagordo and environs,
Summer 1944.

Here we are, Equinox, loosing season, 2019,

so some prayers were for real.

Red somthin'r'other butterflies are riding a rare breeze
from the south to the north through my
makepeace home. My peace I give,
he said,
all that passed is unexplored, take all the time

you can imagine.

My wife knows the names of those butterflies,
that's part o'm'peace. Knowin' she cares to remember
such improbably beautiful things;

soul possessed in patience, is she.

footnote 1: Despite Ciba’s efforts to market Ritalin as a ‘pep pill’, the stimulant failed to become a best-seller.  But that was not the end of Ritalin’s story.  As early as the 1930s, psychiatrists working at a children’s psychiatric institution in Rhode Island, USA had noticed that stimulant drugs could have a positive effect on the academic performance and behaviour of troubled children.  Although few psychiatrists took notice of these observations at the time, by the late 1950s, escalating concern about the educational abilities of American children during the height of the Cold War encouraged Ciba to consider a new application for their drug: underachieving schoolchildren.  They received approval from the American Food and Drug Administration (FDA) to market Ritalin to children in 1962 and, almost immediately, it became a best-selling drug (google it I didn't write the footnote pard but I forget where I got it.)
Forgive the flood, but my dear reader, I rode this wave when I noticed you on the page, in life's book. I did not know your name.
sandra wyllie Jan 2021
is Groundhog Day. I pop
out and see my shadow.  I crawl
back in my hole, bury myself
under the things I stole.

Every day
is Howdy Doody Day. I pack up
the rage and the pain, say goodbye
to my audience. Leave ‘em all
with a dance.

Every day
is April Fool's Day. I pick
apart myself, selling pieces
to men, painting their
piece golden.
Chapter 9:  Big Brothers, Big Sisters, Friendship & Mentoring

On the first day of school, every first grader was assigned a ‘big brother’ or ‘big sister’ from the 8th grade.  These were our designated guidance counselors and caretakers during the entire term of the first year.  This was something the 8th graders took seriously and a responsibility that not every 8th grader was given.  If you were lazy or irresponsible, this honor would go to someone else.  The care of these younger children was a serious matter, and you treated the 1st grader in your charge like your younger brother or younger sister at home.

You duties entailed number one, making sure that they had a safe way to get to school.  If both of their parents worked, a rarity, you would try, if it wasn’t too far, to meet them at their house and walk them to school.  Most students lived within walking distance. By today’s standards, the 30-minute walk many of us had would seem too far away.  Back then, the walk to and from school was one of the highlights of our day.

It was on these treks, back and forth, that you oftentimes experienced your greatest adventures.  You would try to find a new, and shorter, way each time and always different from the one you had taken the day before.  In reality, there was only one way home, but we dawdled and zig-zagged, and cut between different houses, so it always seemed like our navigation was different.  Every one of us fancied ourselves as Meriwether Lewis —blazing new trails for others to follow.

When walking home with one of our ‘charges,’ it was straight home by the quickest and safest route. In the morning, for safety, we tried to take the pathway that would have the least car traffic so our younger ‘brothers’ and ‘sisters’ would be safe and not afraid.

Once at school, we helped them put away their coats and get their desks in order.  We also asked them if they were having any trouble with their ABC’s or numbers. If they were, we would work on those things on our way to and from school.

Once ensuring their safety, our next most important job was to instill in them a knowledge of what would be happening over the next 8 years.  What better example could there be than 8th graders who were completing the journey, and in 9 short months would be graduating and heading off to the various high schools that served our area.

We reveled in the success of these younger charges, as they learned to read and eventually count as high as 100 before their first year would end. Often, they would paint us special pictures, depending on what we liked, and based on the stories we told them.  These became some of our most prized possessions, and over 50 years later, I still have mine prominently displayed.  

What we did, more than anything else with these little people, was share.  We shared our time, our laughter, and our concern for them, and were rewarded with love and admiration in return.  Yes love, the kind of love that needs no reason or explanation, one that is given freely and without asking, and a love once received that was so special that we couldn’t wait to give it back in return.

                                 It was a love we shared

We loved watching these little kids going through the same magical process that we did and hearing Sister Rita Marie tell the same stories, with the same inflection and emotion in her voice, as when she had told them to us so very long ago.  They also got to share, through the power of her instruction, the knowledge of what true value was in life.  She taught each one of them in a special way that was tailored for their own individual needs, emphasizing always that what was given away would come back 100 fold, and how to be a true friend.

We reinforced the same lessons to our young charges at recess and on the way home in the afternoon. We knew they would again hear the same things from their parents over dinner that evening (does anyone remember family dinners), and the chain of connection that we shared would only solidify and get stronger.

                        We Really Were ‘Parents In Absentia’

Like the relationship between parents and their children, the accomplishments of these little ones, and their occasional misdeeds, reflected on us.  We took great pride in their victories and we suffered with them when things didn’t go well.  They struggled, they learned, and they played together, all the while knowing they would never be alone.

               It All Worked Because We Were Willing To Share

This willingness to share didn’t happen by accident or osmosis. It was handed down, and then taught, in a system run by highly principled women who knew its intrinsic value and what it would ultimately mean for all of us.  

Whenever I meet another person who went to parochial school, or in most cases any public grammar school during the 1950’s, there is an instant kinship and connection.  After 15 minutes, we usually end up finishing each other’s sentences and marveling at how identical our upbringings were.  No matter how far removed our childhoods were geographically, it made no difference. The lessons the nuns taught were universal in their message and roadmaps to a better life.

What gets shared among young children today?  The desire for more of what they couldn’t get enough of yesterday — and will still yearn for tomorrow?  In the abject isolation of a destructive video game, or violent TV program, they withdraw further and further inside of themselves, missing much of the beauty that is only brought out by others. In the absence of cell phones, I-pads, and video games, we personally got to know each other, and in many, if not most cases, those friendships we made are still strong today. It takes another human being to bring out the best in you, and vice-versa.

              Not A Machine Or Unfeeling Scion Of Technology

The obesity of today’s younger generation is caused by inactivity and a series of lazy and uninformed choices. It is driven by a search for temporary comfort and gratification at the expense of their health and self-esteem.

I’m sure, looking back 50 years from now, we will have discovered that diseases like Obesity, Diabetes, Autism, ADHD, and Anxiety & Depression, were all at least partially caused by an inactive, poorly nourished, and degenerative lifestyle.  

We couldn’t build a bird house, assemble a scrapbook, or put together a model airplane without the glue or adhesive that held it all together.  We faced many challenges and obstacles on our journey toward 8th grade, but we encouraged each other, respected the rules, learned to laugh at ourselves, admonished the stragglers when needed, and most importantly — did it together.

The Glue We Had Was A Set Of Core Values That Proved Their Worth When Times Got Tough




Chapter 10: TV & The Messages It Held Inside

My generation, the Baby Boomers, was the first to be raised, at least in part, by television. The magical gray box held wonders beyond compare for a 5 year old fixated in its presence. You would marvel at the places it would take you, as it became your special nanny, while your parents were off tending to the chores in the ‘real world.’

Like all mediums of information, The T.V. was neither inherently good nor bad.  That depended on the intention of the programmers behind the camera. As young children, we experienced the final result, and in 1955 that result was almost always good.  The messages the T.V. brought were mainly those of accepted, time tested, family values, and our parents were comfortable and confident letting us watch by ourselves.

Back then, the message always ended with the good guy winning and the cowboy wearing the white hat saving the day.  The one’s wearing the black hats were always the villains, and implicitly we knew this when they first appeared on screen.  The good guy’s stuck together in our T.V. shows, and the bad guys were those who didn’t hold to the accepted social order (values) and wandered off in search of self-interest by breaking the law, creating havoc, and usually getting caught and then punished by shows end.  The message of these early shows reflected the shared values we had as a society and only served to reinforce what we were already being taught in school and at home.

I can remember my mother and father coming into the living room as I was watching re-runs of the ‘Our Gang Comedy’s’ from the 1930’s.  They were among my very favorites, and my parents would sit down with me and watch them too.  They would then relive all over again their childhoods during the Great Depression and tell me over and over how much that series meant to them when times were so tough.  The characters were called ‘The Little Rascals’ and had names like Alfalfa, Spanky, Porky and Buckwheat and always got into some kind of mischief.  They usually got caught, resulting in their acknowledging the errors of their ways, and learned a great lesson in the process. In many ways, they were as much a ‘morality tale’ as any told previously or since and a stark contrast to what the negative on-screen ‘entertainment’ provides for our kids today.

According to film historian Leonard Maltin, “Our Gang put boys, girls, whites, and blacks together in a group as equals.”  To be equal, we had to agree upon and share in what makes us that way.  Back then we had no problem doing that.  

                                             As equals  

‘Our Gang’ was comprised of some upper middleclass kids, but mainly poor and black kids all playing together. In playing and seeking out common goals, they set aside any petty or surface differences in their pursuit of adventure and fun.  They may have come from different economic or social circumstances, but they realized, when playing together, that that’s all that they were. The magic and the adventure of the task at hand superseded any variation in class, color, or social standing. They had much more important things to do than worry about petty differences and spent all of their time playing, planning, and conspiring as a group.

                        They Had More Important Things To Do!

The images on T.V. came to us in black and white, and the messages they carried inside were black and white too.  No confusion or embarrassment in trying to be ‘politically correct’ like today. Their messages were linked both spiritually and ethically to the ones we learned outside when the T.V. was turned off.

Shows like Lasssie, Rin Tin Tin, Gene Autry, The Lone Ranger, Howdy Doody, and then Superman, all came with a message that if the right choices were made, good would triumph over evil.  We felt better after watching these shows, and again our parents would often break away from what they were doing and watch them with us.

                            Another Thing We Shared Together!

With our decoder rings and coonskin caps, we cheered for our heroes on the 11 inch screen.  We knew that they might struggle for a while, but in the end would always win the day. They let us know that the same thing applied in our personal lives as well.  I remember going to see Gene Autry in Northeast Philadelphia when I was 8 years old. Gene Autry, along with Roy Rogers, were the biggest cowboy stars of my young generation. Gene had his horse Champion, and the Son Of Champion, with him at the outdoor demonstration.  

Gene took the time to walk the entire crowd and tried his best to talk to every child who stood outside the corral.  His questions to each kid were always the same … “Are you doing good in school?” and “Are you listening to your mom and dad?’  I left that day knowing that my on-screen hero was real, and the things that he told me, and encouraged me to do on his program, were things he believed in his heart.  I also knew he had served his country bravely during World War 2 when many stars in Hollywood hadn’t.  He represented the best of all the things, and we all wanted to be like him.

Our on-screen heroes also encouraged us to have piggy banks and to save our penny’s, explaining to us the magic of doing the right thing every day (saving) and how quickly it would add up.  They also reinforced that good things take time, and that immediate gratification was the imposter of the short-sighted. We filled our piggy banks by having paper routes and redeeming used soda bottles and didn’t ask our parents for the money, knowing that they hadn’t asked theirs.  

When that bank got so full, that it wouldn’t accept another dime, you  knew you were the wealthiest person in the world, or at least on Rockingham Road where I lived.  Your parents proudly accompanied you to the local bank where you had opened your first passbook savings account with your name on it (Mom and Dads too).  At birthdays, and holidays, you might have some relatives who wanted to ‘invest’ in your future success by making your passbook even heavier with the magic it contained.

Every kid in the 1950’s knew the story of ‘The Tortoise And The Hair,’ and understood that it was by continual effort, not just a grandstanding initial burst out of the starting blocks, that true progress was made.  It was the choice of putting aside the temptations of the present, and contributing to something larger and more important, that they taught us on T.V.  We all knew that the value in saving, and planning for the future, would override any temporal persuasion and allow us to eventually accomplish much bigger things.

                  Again, These Messages We Got From Our T.V.’s

Just think of the symbols and messages that exist on T.V. and in Video Games for kids today.  Violent action figures that continue to **** and maim, basing their success on how much damage they can do.  These violent messages reach children today at a young and impressionable age. Unless parents are conscientious and extremely vigilant, the young child is damaged severely before he or she is even given the chance to understand that the world can, and should, be a different and more uplifting place.

Occasionally, our T.V Shows would deal with tragedy and even death, but it was presented in a spirit of hope and renewal and a belief in the future.  I remember how I felt watching ‘Old Yeller’ when the dog was shot after contracting rabies while defending the boys from a wolf and had to be put down.  I was sad for days until it slowly started to sink in.  The message was that sometimes life isn’t fair, but we can be, and that doing the right thing in certain situations was the hardest thing of all.

                    And That Made It All The More Worth Doing!

Rin Tin Tin, a tan and black German Shepherd, was my personal favorite.  He was the troop mascot in a cavalry unit, and Rinty was always saving some trooper from an Indian attack or rescuing someone who was either lost or being held prisoner in the American West.  Rin Tin Tin embodied the moral message that the army and the settlers shared in common, and he proudly served to enforce these values when called upon by his master.
Rinty was both loyal and obedient, courageous and brave …traits we all tried to emulate in our everyday lives.  

He also knew the difference between right and wrong because that is what he had been taught.  We all loved and wanted to be like him and trained our own dogs to be at least partially as heroic and adventuresome as Rinty was.  As I got older, I always had German Shepherds as my personal dogs.  In real life, they share most of the qualities, and nobility of character, that Rin Tin Tin personified on screen.

In many ways, we love dogs so much because of the purity of their character.  They are totally loyal to their masters, and would in most cases die in the protection of those that they love. They often give up their own interests, in the pursuit of deferring to their masters, and want nothing more than to serve something, or someone, they see as bigger than themselves. They truly are man’s best friend!

                  And T.V. Portrayed Them Exactly That Way

Whether watching ‘Sky King,’ ‘Sgt Preston Of The Yukon,’ or ‘Daniel Boone,’ I never saw any cross-legged kid, sitting in front of the T.V., confused as to what the message was in the show he was watching. We all cheered together, laughed together, and cried together, based on the plot at hand because we all shared in the values within the message that was showing on screen.  The good guys were always good, and the bad guys always bad.  No matter how desperate the situation got in one of those shows, we always knew that good would win out in the end.  It was in this spirit, of sending a positive message of hope, that the T.V. shows during my childhood were at their best.

Imaging what a young person watching a show today, laced with *** and violence, must be thinking.  He or she can’t help but come away from that show diminished and in less control of themself than before. The only value in T.V. today is one shared by the parents.  Many parents today use television and I-pads to keep their kids occupied, and out of their ‘hair,’ while they check their emails and watch even more violent and sexually explicit programming thinking, in error, that they are spiritually immune from its negative effects.

If you have children of your own, and no parental controls on your T.V.’s, … then shame on you.  If you allow your children to watch T.V., play video games, or with I-pads, at their friend’s houses without the same controls, then I echo the sentiment.  Children grow up fast enough as it is without having the very core of their childhood ripped away from them by these violent and destructive electronic pariahs.  In many ways, T.V. — and its electronic counterparts — are the great progenitor of the downward moral spiral that we seem to be on.

My head is neither in the clouds nor do I live in a world of fantasy … in most ways I am a realist.  The realities of the world today I am all too familiar with, but I am unwilling to anoint them with unlimited power over our children in a capitulation that there is nothing we can do to fight back.

When young children, and teenagers, bring guns into our schools, with mass murders and suicides the result of their misguidance, what does this tell us about their state of mind and what they see when they look into the future?  As young children, we had heard the stories about Nagasaki and Hiroshima and the devastating results those two bombs caused.  We also knew they were dropped with a higher purpose, and in the end saved lives.  Invading Japan, which would have been the only other alternative, would have resulted in many more lives being lost on both sides.  We understood their purpose, and we also understood the difference between self-protection and preservation and wanton destruction and violence.

As horrible as it was to think about what those Japanese went through in Hiroshima and Nagasaki, we understood why it had to be done.  I don’t think anyone, including the confused and misguided young person with the gun in their hands, understands why someone enters a place of learning and starts indiscriminately shooting at everyone and in all directions.  A person like that can’t share the same value for human life that we all like to believe we share.  A person like that has had their moral barometer and compass shattered inside them. They are running sociopathically amok — devoid of any empathy for others — or sense of right and wrong.

People like this don’t just happen. They are created in an environment of abandonment, moral confusion, and despair. In many ways, the Columbine shootings were done by someone feeling even more helpless than his unfortunate victims did on that sad and tragic day.  

The television of today puts kids in these violent and destructive situations on screen.  If they are left unsupervised, the lines between fantasy and reality can easily become blurred, and over time these negative images pile up inside of them until one day the pressure becomes so great that they snap, hurting not only innocent victims, but themselves.  

Our TV programs in the 1950’s were an extension of our parents, our teachers, and our religious instructors.  They were a positive reinforcement and the best example of what the medium could be.  As has been said many times … “Art is a reflection of the society of its time,” and our time (in the 1950’s) was reflected in the most positive and uplifting light by the things that we watched.

What eventually happened to TV is what happened to our society in general.  By not sharing the same value systems that created those great programs, we’ve allowed our world to become polarized and divided with our heels dug in. In our misguided defense of what is politically correct, we have allowed the perpetrators of wrong to sit equally, and sometimes as overlord, at the table with those who are trying to do the right thing.  

To make matters worse, through misguided legislators and organizations like the ACLU, we pass laws and give legal rights to the creators of this violent and perverted programming.  As the famous comic strip character ‘Pogo’ said in the 1950’s …
    
                   “We Have Met The Enemy — And He Is Us!”
sandra wyllie Jul 2023
running rivers.
and flowing chocolate streams.
I cried Rocky Mountains
eating quarts of rocky road ice-cream.
Cried after my mother beat me,
leaving welts on my lily soft behind.
And when I bought the house
all the papers I signed.
I cried in my martini.
Cried in my tight leopard-skinned pants.
Walking the beach in my striped string bikini.
At my howdy doody wedding
during the father-daughter dance.
I cried pushing out my son.
And again, at age four when the paramedics
raced him out the door on a black leather stretcher.
And as I was ***** willow *****
by a  amniotic Freudian letcher.
I cried after his beating,
when I saw his black eye.
There hasn't been a day
that my eyes been dried.
Robert Oliva Aug 19
CAN’T COUNT FOXES IN THE TREES
Except for the T-shirt with the bull’s-eye in the middle of the chest, she usually didn’t give me gifts, but I digress, Let’s do what’s best as these are  phrases of purpose proving that streams of conscious fail , as  they just get you near, inexact lasers  red dots absent , but the soapbox is sincere

So though short  of certain clever, we should not now or never , abandon or fear it’s true  intent. An exotic condiment , a fresh cut freestyle edge is nourishment To stir our souls , This creative domain must remain
To  dilute cliche’, to strain mundane until the conversational melody is such that we need not explain.

We  could mold sophisticates into words that may somehow rebirth as lyrics. but we’ll go back to that another time, but first, why did I fear it? When I was in the forest that time, when she attempted a simple  rhyme , it did remind of that Spinner’s  song that’s upside down like howdy doody your clowns too , they’re all laughing at you and why were they even there and  didn’t say or stay in the middle of the road? I didn’t have no time to count the foxes hidden in the trees today and she didn’t have no time to be a decent person,  and the random gifts didn’t give me any lift.

That  was just her way of hinting that she was going away, like howdy do,  your clowns too? I don’t want them laughing at you. I don’t care if you’re on the side or in the ditch there’s no middle there’s no road, but  Phillippe  said how could I let you get away,  I had hope she’s going to stay. I’m feeling that if she loves  or leaves I wont even lift a finger, I don’t think I’ll even think or grieve ,  maybe not even linger when  noticing  she wont be sitting next to me at the ball game.  

Smirking now and not wondering how this before never empty seat shouts intimacy subtracted and belated , Yeah, this ends not complicated,  just simple cause and effect, with quick pause to collect , Sharing out loud  a dialect between me and  my companioned voice of mind , because my sanity is going to wake as  them or they or she intakes These  lyrics.  I hope they’re fair, but admitting something anyway ,I’m a little scared to share and the end will be and bring us somewhere.

Put a little jazz riff to it , I’m thinking she oughta put a little musica to it , and I’ll abet and let, so she  can visit if she insists. Will there  be a view that’s crowned most fun to see? Probably she won’t tell me. With or without  her screams and silken sheets, that or not  that , this episode will be complete
BobbyO
Robert Oliva Nov 14
SHE POINTED TO FOXES IN THE TREES
Except for the T-shirt with the bull’s-eye in the middle of the chest, she usually didn’t give me gifts, but I digress, Let’s do what’s best as these are  phrases of purpose proving that my streams of conscious fail , as  they fail to get me near, but this  soapbox is sincere

So though short  of certain clever, not now or never , Should I fear true  content , abandoning our love her planned intent. Love is An exotic condiment , with its fresh cut edge as nourishment. A Freestyle journey To stir our souls , Freedom within this creative domain must remain a sacred honest endeavor To  dilute cliche’, to strain mundane until the conversational melody is such that we need not explain.

We  could mold sophisticates into words that may somehow rebirth as lyrics. but we’ll go back to that another time, but first, why did I fear it? When I was in the forest that time, when she attempted a simple  rhyme , it did remind of that Spinner’s  song that’s upside down like howdy doody your clowns too , they’re all laughing at you and why were they even there and  didn’t say or stay in the middle of the road? I didn’t have no time to count the foxes hidden in the trees today and she didn’t have no time to be a decent person,  and the random gifts didn’t give me any lift.

That  was just her way of hinting that she was going away, like howdy do,  your clowns too? I don’t want them laughing at you. I don’t care if you’re on the side or in the ditch there’s no middle there’s no road when she left she left my mind on overload
Bobby O
And I’m still confused

— The End —