Sunday Mornings as a Child (in the β€˜70s πŸ˜‰)

Unlike the more recent Saturdays of My Life, I used to rise very early. It would be a terrible waste to sleep through Saturday cartoons, so an internal alarm clock woke me earlier than my electric one did on school days. Though I remember numerous arguments with siblings regarding TV content on my family’s one TV, we managed a delicate truce on Saturdays. Chalk it up to a shared love of programming. Cartoons brought out our best qualities: I was willing to endure my brother’s monster shows because I knew one of my favorite shows would come next: Lassie’s Rescue Rangers, Road Runner, or my all-time favorite, Scooby Do. Those mornings were memory-making moments in time for us. We never bothered to change out of our crumpled nightgowns or pajamas, nor did we waste time running a brush through our hair. Waking adults only led to parental demands that we leave the den and come into the kitchen for breakfast, so we usually tip-toed down the stairs as quietly as possible. Breakfast, when it could no longer be avoided, usually involved a quick meal of slurped-down cereal. The boxes themselves were more interesting those days, but best of all, they often contained “toys” – cheap items that usually couldn’t be “played with,” but which were the source of many fights over ownership nonetheless. I have a special place in my heart for those long mornings that, unfortunately, became afternoons. β€œAfternoons” began when the TV programming switched from cartoons to sports, and fathers replaced children on the couches.

2011

2 thoughts on “Sunday Mornings as a Child (in the β€˜70s πŸ˜‰)

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