I Remember JFK: A Baby Boomer's Pleasant Reminiscing Spot

First of all, my DSL internet connection is dying fast. Next Friday, I get on cable, along with screaming 15 MB speed. but in the meantime, since working on the web under present conditions is pure torture, today's column will be it for Boomer memories this week. Things should be back to normal by next Monday.

One of the reasons that we Boomers are so tough and resilient despite the various curve balls that life throws at us is because we had to endure multiple rounds of epidemic ailments when we were kids. These diseases were expected, even welcomed, as rites of passage that provided evidence that we were, indeed, growing up.

The goods news about mumps, chicken pox, and rubella measles was that once we went through the agony, that was it. We were provided with lifetime protection against future infections by our wondrous immune systems. So we knew, as we sat there in agony from itching, fever, and overall pain that once it was over, it was OVER!

But that didn't provide any short-term relief. No, the only solace we received was that at least we were getting out of school. The very unlucky among us got infected in the summer. There was absolutely no good news about that.

Rumors of only one nostalgic journey this week are greatly exaggerated. My internet connection is doing much better, thank you.

The living room of the 1960's was a warm, friendly place. True, times had changed since our parents might have first purchased our modest homes fifteen of twenty years prior. Most living rooms in the US had a new center of attention: the television set. That one-eyed monster changed the purpose of the home's central location from a place of casual conversation, or possibly listening to the radio, to the spot where our parents unwound after a long day at work, accompanied by a cocktail, Walter Cronkite, a cigarette, and a TV dinner.

That piping hot little aluminum dish required special accommodation. It was certainly too hot to sit on one's lap.

Enter the aluminum folding TV tray.

Evidence exists that the TV tray actually preceded the TV dinner by a year. I traced the much-maligned meal back to possibly 1953. But In her book As Seen on TV: The Visual Culture of Everyday Life in the 1950s, author Karal Ann Marling states that national advertising for TV tray tables first appeared in 1952.

One of the most sacred rituals that I recall from my childhood was that of getting into the car and driving, sometimes over an hour, to a favorite restaurant. The delicious saturated-fat laden food was a particular delight to my parents, who could remember the very lean times of the Great Depression.

So perhaps once a month, we would pile into the Plymouth and head for locations like Chicken Annie's, or Wilder's, or the AQ Chicken House.

All three of these fine eateries are still around, I'm happy to say. Perhaps they have altered their menus to provide more health-conscious options, perhaps not. But they are still plugging away, providing unique cuisine that flies in the face of the plethora of generic chains that have become a part of our lives. And Boomers, that should make you smile. After all, if I can quickly come up with three examples of local eateries that have survived since the 60's, I'll bet you can too.

Orson Bean was born Dallas Frederick Burrows on July 22, 1928 in Burlington, Vermont. He had a cousin you may have heard of, Calvin Coolidge. But speaking from my own perspective, he is renowned for his quick comedic style and demonstrated on various episodes of the Johnny Carson Show which I viewed as a child.

The original Mr. Bean was a huge influence on this particular class cutup who continues to practice his craft as he very rapidly nears the half-century mark. But interestingly, while I have found much in the way of biographical information on Orson Bean the stage and film actor and panelist on To Tell the Truth, information on his Tonight Show appearances was practically nonexistent.

So today's I Remember JFK memory will recall the nights when I would light up like a Christmas tree, because (a) Orson Bean was on Carson and (b) it was either a summer night or a Friday, which meant that I could actually stay up and watch the funniest man in the world, apologies to Johnny himself.

Ready for a brain cell workout? How many flipsides can YOU recall?

While driving down the road the other day and listening to The Animals' Animalisms, the song "Cheating" came on. I hadn't heard that tune since I played it on a portable record player about 1970.

What I vividly remember is that "Cheating" was the flip side of my favorite song as a child: "House of the Rising Sun."

A seven-year-old kid was likely to play both sides of a record that his older brother only heard on the hit side. Such is the nature of a seven-year-old. Curiosity is high, a sense of what song is hot has not yet developed.

Add that to a slightly-better-than-normal memory and you get factoids like the Beatles' "Thank You Girl" was backed by "Do You Want to Know a Secret."

I guess I'll file this one under reviews. This column is about a couple of songs that share the philosophy of I Remember JFK, which is, of course, Boomer nostalgia ROCKS!

I know of two songs that fill the bill perfectly. There are probably more, I'm depending on you, the readers, to help me out here.

One of these songs, Old Days, was released in 1975. I was sixteen. However, I was already waxing nostalgic for the 60's. The song is definitely aimed at the elder members of the Boomer generation. But it's still a fun nostalgic trip for anyone who can remember JFK.

Kids of the Baby Boom was released in 1987 by the Bellamy Brothers. Calvin Klein on the underpants was a red hot item in that particular year. Many of us were new parents. My own daughter was a year old, and my son was "under development." And nothing changes your perspective on life like the experience of being a new father or mother. I wasn't too big a country fan at the time, but I went nuts for this song anyway. It really connected with me.

What follows are the lyrics to these songs, and a link to Songza, where you can hear either one of them (and about a million more) for free. Enjoy, before the human slime that run the RIAA shut it down.

It all began in 1936. That year, a book was published called Birds of the West Indies. Novelist Ian Fleming, living in Jamaica, was a birder himself, and he was impressed with the volume. He was also impressed with the name of the book's author: James Bond.

Fleming wrote a novel called Casino Royale in 1953, and gave the book's hero the name of the author of the birding book. In an interview with Reader's Digest, he explained:

"I wanted the simplest, dullest, plainest-sounding name I could find, and 'James Bond' was much better than something more interesting, like 'Peregrine Carruthers.' Exotic things would happen to and around him, but he would be a neutral figure — an anonymous, blunt instrument wielded by a government department."

Gotta agree with him there. Imagine hearing over and over again throughout 20+ films "Carruthers. Peregrine Carruthers."

Well, I Remember JFK has uncovered yet another conspiracy theory. Recall that we revealed that wing vent windows were surreptitiously phased out by auto air conditioning manufacturers. Well, faithful readers, we have blown the cover off of yet another cabal by those who sell equipment designed for artificial environmental cooling: the demise of the screen door.

The above paragraph is written tongue-in-cheekingly. Please, no nutcases need respond ;-)

When we were kids, wooden screen doors were everywhere. Moonwink Grocery in Miami, Oklahoma had one. It may have had a Rainbo Bread advertisement, advising all who would enter that it was GOOD bread. Or perhaps it was Bunny bread, a locally-baked rival.

But it was definitely there, providing a reassuring "thunk!" every time a customer walked in or out. It was a sound that I must have heard hundreds of times, and I would dearly love to return in time to hear it again.

But that's what our imaginations are for. So please, read on as I magically transport you to an era when we passed through screen doors many times a day in our travels.