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

Will today's reminiscence stir up the flames of controversy? I hope not, because I Remember JFK should be a comfortable place to slip off one's shoes and enjoy a little pleasant time-traveling.

My mother was a schoolteacher who was raised by a schoolteacher. She didn't tolerate anything but hard effort from me when it came to schoolwork.

She was also a firm believer in phonics. And she made certain that my kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Abels, would teach me phonics when I was five years old.

And teach me she did. Time passed by slowly when I was five, but it seems like she taught me the basics of phonics one morning, and by that afternoon I was reading LIFE magazine.

Though that is probably an exaggeration caused by less-than-perfect memory banks, the fact is that I, too, became a believer in phonics, even though it made the next couple of years in school a tad boring.

My mother was a schoolteacher. So was her mother. And both of them learned phonics as children. So it was fate that I, too, would learn the phonetical method of reading at a young age. Today's podcast is all about learning phonics in school in the 60's.

Perhaps the single biggest change in the lives of Boomers and their parents was the widespread introduction of the one-eyed monster, and its subsequent presence in the majority of homes in the US.

Along with the television came the necessary accompaniments to the electronic device itself. For instance, many a 50's or 60's home had a lamp perched on top of the idiot box designed to provide a pleasant ambient light to accompany one's viewing.

And in a large number of cases, the lamp took the form of a slinking cat.

Sometimes, the cat would simply be an ornament, with no capability of providing illumination.

But that doesn't change the fact that, for many Boomer kids, viewing the television included occasionally acknowledging the presence on top of the set of a feline protector of the dear investment that dad had made.

It is a special work of art indeed that is defined as timeless. Example: Botticelli's The Birth of Venus is a great work. However, it's da Vinci's Mona Lisa that continues to capture one's attention, as that mysterious, enigmatic smile forces us to try to deduce what was behind it. A timeless work of art touches us in a fresh manner each time we view it.

In the world of television, the birth of a timeless series took place on the Friday night of October 2, 1959. That was the first officially aired episode of The Twilight Zone.

Writer Rod Serling, who must have had the single most dramatic voice ever bestowed on an individual, had sold a teleplay to CBS in 1957. It took a year before the episode was shown on Desilu Playhouse. The Time Element was a smash, and Serling was given the go-ahead to produce a series that followed the same premise of a weekly presentation of a dramatic short story.

The Twilight Zone defined what constitutes a timeless TV series. This podcast covers the classic show, whose episodes were frequently written by Rod Serling himself.

I first heard Born to Run on WLS sometime in 1975. It was a decent song, but didn't really stand out above the other stuff I was into. Then, a couple of years later, I heard Thunder Road. My interest was piqued.

A little later, I began reading Rolling Stone magazine. Springsteen released Darkness on the Edge of Town in 1978, and in reviewing the album, a 1974 quote from RS critic Jon Landau, when he had just seen his first live show by the Boss, was cited:

"I saw my rock and roll past flash before my eyes. I saw something else: I saw rock and roll's future and its name is Bruce Springsteen."

I liked Landau's reviews, and that statement made a deep impression on me. Thus, I began avidly listening to Springsteen. Sadly, it seemed like all of my buddies were into FM radio then, which consisted largely of Styx, Foreigner, and disco. Popular music was certainly in the midst of an overall talent recession in '78 and '79, IMHO.

Anyhow, I became a major fan of the Boss, and still am today. Not all of his albums have been brilliant, but enough have that I add every new one to my collection, which even includes some vinyl and digital bootlegs.

So when I arrived home from work last Monday and my wife surprised me with tickets to his Tulsa April 7th concert, well, you can imagine my reaction.

I have been fortunate enough to catch Springsteen twice, in 1981 and last week. What follows is a review of the experiences. Savvy Boomers may want to follow the Boss's example in living so as to avoid any trace of ever getting old.

I went to hear the Boss play on April 7. This podcast consists of my review of the event, and also a comparison to the concert of his that I attended in Memphis back in 1981.

Once upon a time, circa 1965, teen idols arose and began dominating the daydreams of young ladies. The media industry picked up on this, and began covering the newsstands with brightly colored magazines with titles such as 16, Tiger Beat, and FaVE.

These periodicals were a source of great consternation to young males, who considered the adoring photographs and articles which paid homage to young male heartthrobs as the height of silliness. Magazines were more properly devoted to august subjects such as hot rods and Alfred E. Neuman.

The teen mags would feature pinups, which would adorn the rooms of the sisters of my buddies. These pinups were often the earliest cause of eye-rolling in the male populace, such reactions being provoked at the tender age of five of six, in many cases.

But they are a memory for all of us, whether we scarfed up the magazines themselves and snuck them into class, or whether we simply acknowledged their presence on the magazine racks, as we dug past them for the more socially significant CARtoons.

Remember all of those teen magazines that used to grace the magazine rack at the corner grocery store? Whatever happened to them? Check out this podcast to relive the days when 16 Magazine reigned supreme.

When you were a kid in the 50's, 60's, or early 70's, and you had a thirst, odds are a soda fountain was located somewhere close to your parched self.

Time was when soda fountains were part of the services offered at drug stores, dime stores, department stores, and other locations that might seem strange today.

In fact, it's nigh impossible to find soda fountains ANYWHERE nowadays.

Maybe your community is blessed enough to even have a classic soda fountain up and running somewhere, but the sight of a counter with revolving-topped-stools placed there for the customers' convenience was once a ubiquitous one, so much so that if you were in a strange town, and developed a thirst, you would look for a Rexall drug store.

The classic soda fountain had one or more tall soda water dispensers. The soda jerk received his proud moniker from his propensity for pulling back the handles of the dispensers, sometimes two or more at a time, in order to mix the soda water with the other delicious ingredients that would make up a perfect concoction that might cost a dime.

The year was 1962. Rock and roll music had been in existence for eight years, according to a 2004 Rolling Stone article which declared (quite controversially) that Elvis's 1954 recording That's All Right Mama was the first rock and roll song. Kids were cruising the boulevard in Modesto, and George Lucas was eleven years away from immortalizing the moment in American Graffiti. The British Invasion was a year away. So was the death of President Kennedy.

That year, boyhood friends Mick Jagger and Keith Richards decided to form a little band. They also invited multi-instrumentalist Brian Jones, pianist Ian Stewart, bassist Bill Wyman and drummer Charlie Watts.

They were looking for success, just like every garage band that has ever arisen from childhood friendships. And if forty-seven years of being what most consider to be the greatest rock and roll band in history is what you would term success, then I suppose they have done okay for themselves.

In order to try to put the Rolling Stones into perspective, let's look at a few entities that cause nods of admiration if they manage to last forty-seven years:

• A corporation.
• A professional sports franchise
• A tree
• An airline
• A building
• A newly-formed nation

So, what exactly are the odds that a rock and roll band could possibly approach five decades in longevity, particularly one that is known for putting the E in excess?

Pity America's youth prior to 1952.

They had to manufacture their own sick, irreverent, cutting-edge humor. Nowadays, the term for such is "politically incorrect."

But that year, a strange new comic book called MAD began to be published by EC Comics. EC would be infamous for pushing the envelope a bit too far for 1950's readership with their horror and science fiction lines, and causing the formation of the Comics Code Authority, which would ensure that kids would only have much blander fare to read for the foreseeable future.

MAD also horrified parents, of course. That was one of the biggest reasons that kids loved it. It specialized in lampooning, and would frequently offer sardonic "apologies" within story lines, begging people not to sue them.

It was great stuff from the get-go, and was also an instant success. Two years after its debut, MAD switched from comic book to magazine format. Those early MAD issues are among some of comicdom's most sought-after collectibles. But MAD, the magazine, would go on to be a huge influence on the Baby Boomer generation. It would also spawn its imitators.