Boomer Journey…

Despite the age posted on our driver’s licenses, thank goodness for the era in which we grew up. I am talking about the sweet simple memories from our youth and the humble vinyl record.

For some reason unclear to me, there was a warm and cozy feeling that went with a lighted dial, the smell of vacuum tubes, and the glow of a pilot light at floor level when we were listening to music.

It was a reassuring experience I cannot explain.

We’d place a stack of 45s on the turntable, gently turn the reject knob, listen to them flop one at a time, wait for the crackle of a stylus on vinyl, and feel raw emotion for the music we craved.

It was such a rush of euphoria.

Seems 33 1/3rd LPs sounded better than the 45s. It was like they recorded a different version of the song on 45s than we heard on the LPs. It is challenging to define what was different. All I know is they just sounded different.

There’s a certain comfort in playing records than there is in CDs or MP3. Something so familiar and comforting. Perhaps it’s a reminder of our youthful innocence – what we didn’t know about the world around us then.

Playing records was our “social media” in the middle of the 20th century. We gathered as friends and listened to our favorite music. My sisters were big “Monkees” fans thanks to the great success of their spoof rock group TV show and those very first music videos. Seems like The Monkees invented the music video did they not?

My younger sister crushed on Davy Jones. She had Davy Jones posters all over her bedroom walls. It was a big deal when The Monkees came to Baltimore to perform in concert. My sisters went to The Monkees concert while my parents and I went to see “Grand Prix” starring James Garner.

Two different worlds.

My big sister was so taken with The Beatles in the early 1960s. I remember the Sunday night when they debuted on The Ed Sullivan Show early in 1964. I have to admit, I love early Beatles more than I do what came later when it was time to change their image. It was their harmony as a young rock group and how it made us feel when we donned the “Hard Days Night” album.

Even more remarkable is how vinyl records are affecting young people today. They think vinyl records are kind of cool and are lining up to buy them in numbers even if they don’t have a record player. They count on boomer parents and grandparents to still have at least one around. They want to play records yet know very little about how to stack and play them. If they are not careful – which they are often not – they always manage to break your classic record changer by forcing the tone arm instead of waiting for the mechanicals to set the vinyl.

Darned kids…

When I think of great morning television as a child, I can’t help but think of “The Captain” and “The Best To You Each Morning…” from Kellogg’s of Battle Creek – Captain Kangaroo’s sponsor for generations. When we think of Kellogg’s, we think of The Captain – and vice versa – which was successful marketing.

It worked.

Captain Kangaroo (actor Bob Keeshan) made us feel safe, wanted, and loved. He was America’s grandfather and most terrific morning friend. He hosted a cast of characters who made us feel the same way. They each taught us about what was important.

Aside from, perhaps, Fred Rogers, there was never a better mentor for kids. Rogers always taught us right from wrong and spoke to us with the innocence of a child.

Children’s television was all about education and morals. It was our conscience. It was all about consequences if you did wrong and kudos when you did right. There was such a sweet innocence in the Treasure House, The Neighborhood, and morning television.

Local television stations had children’s TV personalities. In Washington, D.C., we had Ranger Hal (Hal Shaw) in the mornings with the same kind of message. Ranger Hal was true law and order who made us feel good about it. There was also Captain Tugg (actor and announcer Lee Reynolds) in the afternoons, who hosted the Popeye/Three Stooges show right after school and before dinner. Each of these programs made us laugh and they also taught us something important – doing the right thing. Captain Tugg always told us not to try the antics of the Three Stooges.

These locally-produced television shows were intended for child audiences with unique local hosts and focused themes. Seems most were Metromedia stations (now FOX). This concept was post-war at the dawn of television in the mornings before school. It was so successful from a commercial standpoint that it continued well into the 1970s. Captain Kangaroo survived well into the 1980s until even PBS cut this show from its schedule.

Children’s television was all but dead.

These shows were typically Western themed, which were very popular at the time; captains, skippers, commodores (viewer fascination with maritime); jungle explorers, astronauts (the space race), clowns (Bozo), sheriff/deputy/trooper and cops (Mr. Policeman is our friend…), hobos and tramps, railroad engineers, magicians, and more. They hosted popular children’s cartoons and stories.

What these shows did for boomers as children was programming we could relate to. These hosts made us laugh. They would stage pratfalls, things all of us did. Falling over a table or walking into a wall. They would stumble over their words and get into word play. It was all so very entertaining to where we felt like we knew the host and cast of characters personally. When the bad guys stormed onto the set, we were rooting for our heroes.

The reality of children’s television was opportunity – millions of baby boomers born from 1946-64. Millions of kids who wanted breakfast cereals with the toy surprise inside, toy commercials (especially at Christmastime), theme parks (The Wonderful World of Disney), candies and cookies and delicious cakes, and more. It was all about the generous profits that went with children who would hound the parents for whatever was being promoted on television.

At age four, I wanted REMCO’s Whirlybird helicopter and I wanted it bad. My parent’s searched high and low for this fabulous toy and could never find it. Christmas Morning, I couldn’t understand why Santa didn’t bring what I’d asked for. I got a Lionel train set mounted on a plywood board instead. Not bad considering what was available at the time. My desire for the Whirlybird came from what I saw on television.

Mission accomplished for Madison Avenue and Wall Street. Boomer babies kept the economy rolling thanks to children’s television. Yet, we always knew where The Captain’s heart was.

Boomers love the original muscle cars of the 1960s – the GTO, Chevelle SS, Mustang Mach 1 and BOSS, ‘Cuda and Challenger, Corvette, the more unusual Buick GSX and Olds 4-4-2, and the wild and crazy AMX two-seater rocket ship.

We love the “rumpity-rump-rump!!!” sound of a hot cam and throaty dual exhaust tips – laying down rubber and being downright bad ass.

It was the youthful energy of the 1960s that got our motor running – heading down the highway and looking for adventure. At times, we found more adventure than we had anticipated. We’d fire our mills and turn on the music – the best music in modern American history. It was the music the world wanted to hear – genuine American rock and roll pop music. We didn’t need subwoofers – just a pair of stereo speakers and a lot of power beneath the bonnet.

There had never been anything like it at the time and there hasn’t been anything like it since.

This is why we love the fast-quick rides of our youth.

Today’s muscle cars – the Shelby Mustangs, Dodge Challenger Hellcats, and Camaro SS just aren’t the same trip. They’re more advanced and certainly faster than what you had on showroom floors in the 1960s. What Detroit offers us today is brutally more faster than the classics. However, we’re just not as in touch with the road as we were 50+ years ago when the road was ours and all we had was an AM Radio and “The Doors” blasting from a lone monaural speaker.

And air conditioning? Only wimps had air-conditioned cars. And in a muscle car? Forget it. Air conditioning and other power accessories would rob you of all-important tire-barking horsepower. Automatic transmissions were also for the lame. If you had a Chevelle SS with a four-speed transmission, nothing equaled the thrill of leaning on it hard in first gear and hearing gear whine. Banging second and barking the tires. Slamming third and feeling the momentum. Slipping it into fourth and profiling in front of store windows downtown where you could watch yourself go by.

Oh yeah…lookin’ real fine…

Owning a new muscle car in the 1960s was a real ego trip because few others in town could compare. You became the envy of all your buddies who wanted one. You had a new muscle car if you had a good paying job and could afford one or you had parents who spoiled you rotten. I recall one friend with a new Dodge 340 Demon and the characteristic heat riser rattle Chrysler vehicles were known for. He had the throaty 340 Six-Pack – bad ass power by anyone’s standards.

Another friend had a new Chevelle SS with a 396. It romped hard and it got him down the road. His calling card was the roar of the Chevy big-block with a pair of Thrush mufflers and a lumpy cam.

We romanticize these hot American classics, but were they all they were cracked up to be? When it comes to styling, nothing Detroit has built since the 1970s can compare. Classic American muscle cars beat the pants off modern muscle cars in styling alone. They were sexy and they fit right into the sexual revolution. Few things beat the 1970-74 ‘Cuda and Challenger for raw sex appeal. They had the best looking bucket seats ever done with their tapered backs you could ease into.

They rocked in every respect and I wanted one – bad…

Isn’t that just the way it was at the time? For sure for sure…

If you’re seeking comfort, convenience, and all the features of a modern muscle car, go buy a Mustang GT, Challenger R/T, or Camaro SS and saddle up for the smooth, quiet ride to work. However, if genuine American mid-century style is your goal, invest in a classic muscle car for the weekend getaway and that occasional work commute. You can count on a thumbs up from those who appreciate the styling and good looks who wish they were you.

Oh, how we love to rag on young people. However, young people don’t understand us any better than we understand them. Much as we did with our parents a half century ago, they are just as determined not to follow the same protocol we have. They see us as dated and out of style. They aren’t going to chase the same ideals and beliefs.

I get it…

There couldn’t have been a larger generation gap than Baby Boomers and the Greatest Generation. Record smashing and “Rock and Roll has got to go!” The McCarthy era. They were decidedly different than we were and still are. They grew up in a different time altogether.

We are more attuned to young people today than our parents were to us. Baby Boomers don’t have issues with long hair and tattoos. We will sit there privately in our homes and inhale weed much as young people still do in 2023. Boomers find themselves listening to today’s music and young people have developed an addiction to the music of our time not to mention a new-found love of vinyl records and turntables. They like hip hugger jeans and bellbottoms.

“For Sure…For Sure…”

Young people like the classic muscle cars of our time too. Our 15-year-old son wants to drive the ’67 Mustang in the garage – the car I’ve owned since my youth. I used to “profile” in front of store windows cruising downtown much as he probably will later on. Young people like the essence of “cool” much as we did in our youth. We still like doing that today hoping no one notices.

As much as we rag on young people today about our differences, we have more in common than we will admit. Perhaps the focus should be on what we do have in common.

How do you say “so long” to one of the greatest vocalists of all time? It is 4 a.m. on July 22nd and I still haven’t figured how to bid this man farewell. He has been gone scarcely 24 hours. I just can’t do it. I think I will pop one of his LPs on the turntable for another round.

I need to hear his voice.

Born Anthony Dominick Benedetto August 3, 1926 in Long Island City, Tony Bennett grew up in the Astoria section of Queens, New York. By age 10 he was a proven singer with an intoxicating velvet throat.

He was so good he was paid as a singing waiter at Italian restaurants around the city. As he came of age, Bennett attended the School of Industrial Art learning his craft and honing his God-given talent.

Like most struggling young performers at the time, Bennett refined his technique in nightclubs around New York and New Jersey developing his own unique style. He wowed audiences everywhere.

Of course, there would be enormous challenges. In 1944, he entered the U.S. Army Infantry and served toward the end of World War II. By 1945, he was involved in some of the fiercest fighting of the war in Europe to supplement the heavy losses of the Battle of the Bulge. That he survived the intense fighting that ensued can be considered no less than remarkable. At the end of the war, he was involved in the liberation of the Kaufering concentration camp – a witness to the horrible atrocities of the war.

Bennett was then assigned to the Special Services band unit there to entertain American troops. He performed with talent he would come to know for decades. When he came home, he studied at the American Theatre Wing where he was taught the “bel canto” singing discipline – a technique he would practice for the rest of his life.

Despite his great talent, Bennett struggled. In 1949, he got his first big break in Greenwich Village, opening for Pearl Bailey. By good luck or fortune, he became acquainted with Bob Hope as a result of his association with Bailey. His career skyrocketed from there. Bennett signed on with Columbia Records and the only way was up.

Whenever I hear Tony Bennett, it takes me back to childhood in the 1960s with his records on the Hi-Fi and the energy he shared to the atmosphere and audiences everywhere. His voice, coupled with the work of great instrumentalists, got my adrenaline flowing. I loved his work and grew to appreciate the way he evolved in the decades to follow. He never lifted.

Bennett got criticism for sticking with tried and proven music. However, this approach worked well for him and he continued to pack houses and cut records. His style never really went out of style. It is no less than remarkable today he wows audiences ranging from The Greatest Generation to Boomers, to the very young.

Despite his struggles with Alzheimer’s, the decline of his health, and his inevitable passage into the great beyond, we can enjoy video footage and audio recordings of his work and enjoy the cool.

Godspeed, Tony – thanks for a great wealth of musical memories we can continue to enjoy for generations to come.

Do you remember long hot steamy sticky summer days and the oppressive feel of a warm and humid evening playing kickball as the streetlights came on? Sometimes, the parents would let us play until we were enveloped in darkness.

I remember that too.

The evening air would be as dense as molasses and the heat would wrap us in clammy sweat. A nice wrap up to the day was to soak in a hot tub with Mr. Bubble. We’d get out of the tub and the cool air felt so good along with the feel of clean pajamas and fresh bed linens.

I grew up in the Mid-Atlantic. I live in California and – honestly – I am missing the rumble of thunder and the cheap thrill of a summer storm. There was such great anticipation on a warm summer evening with the distant rumble of thunder as it intensified and grew closer.

Where I lived in Maryland was hilly and wooded. You could never see the storms approaching – but you could hear them. The sound was ominous – with concussive thunderclaps indicating cloud-to-ground lightning strikes and the anticipation associated with thunderstorms. It was the thrill of the approaching threat. It made you want to hunker down and curl up.

As a child, lightning was a huge mystery to me. It lasted but a nanosecond with a startling flash and it was gone – followed by the hypersonic demeanor of thunder. The lag between a lightning flash and the thunder always baffled me, especially at eight years old when we were out there in the street in a game of kickball and had to come inside. I was one a kid who wanted to be outside in a thunderstorm to actually see lightning instead of the flash and thunderclap from our living room.

My mother and grandmother grew up in the foothills of Virginia’s Blue Ridge Mountains where the lightning could be quite intense at times. My grandmother told horrifying stories of close lightning strikes and the dangers of lightning storms “up home” in Virginia’s hill country. Both were terrified of the lightning instead of enjoying the thrilling phenomenon of thunder and lightning.

As the storms approached, my mother would round us up and get us inside to sit on the foam rubber couch to “protect us from the lightning.” She didn’t understand lightning. She perceived the foam rubber sleeper sofa would protect us. However, that’s not how lightning works. It’s like that age old myth you are safer in a car due to the rubber tires.

The old rubber tire theory has never been true.

Motor vehicles are hit by lightning all the time. Vehicles are struck and the tires blow from the intense heat of lightning traveling from the rim around the rubber to the pavement. The vehicle’s electronics are typically fried from the intense power surge. Because you are seated in a steel cage, you tend to be safer from the lightning than you would be otherwise.

Another popular misconception is you are safe inside during an electrical storm. That has never been true either. Lightning – which is static electricity – will always find its path – including right through your home to ground or from ground. Unless you are in a steel frame building, there’s always some risk of being struck by lightning. They tell you to stay away from windows, which is a good idea because it reduces your chance of being the victim of a lightning strike. However, the power of a lightning strike knows few limits. It can pass through anything.

I say these things not to alarm you, but to dissolve those old myths shared with us as children and to take you back to a warm summer evening playing kickball or hide and go seek. Hide and go seek was evening better in the darkness of dusk – that is unless you had a weak moment and started laughing.

I’ve been living in Los Angeles for nearly 30 years. I’ve been all over this vast metropolis – from the high desert to San Diego. Los Angeles is unlike any place I have ever lived. It is vibrant, exciting, and one hot mess from the sea to the mountains to the deserts.

Los Angeles is no longer the eutopia it used to be. Core issue here is – too many people discovered this place in the post-war years and have come to So’ Cal’ in an effort to escape the very elements they’ve brought with them. Southern California has also become the epicenter for uncontrolled immigration and out of control homelessness. As a result, crime has spiraled out of control. It has become too expensive to live here hence the growing homeless population.

What has happened here was inevitable.

When I was growing up in Washington, D.C., Los Angeles was a faraway place we saw on television and in the movies. Friends of mine and their families were packing up and moving out of the heat and humidity and cold dampness of the mid-Atlantic and make new lives on the West Coast. People flocked to California for jobs, better pay, a perfect climate, fresh communities, and quality education.

This is the way it was 50-60 years ago.

People loved Southern California for its balmy climate, the ocean, the mountains, and the excitement of the entertainment capital. Contrary to popular belief, there are not celebrities on every street corner though I’ve seen a few in three decades.

LA was never an easy adjustment for a guy like me.

I am an East Coast boy and always will be.

The sharp contrast between East Coast and West Coast becomes very apparent when you move to Los Angeles and observe your surroundings. Most apparent are the people. Because Los Angeles is big on entertainment – narcissism is the first thing you notice….“Hellllloooo?!” Though Washington, D.C. and Los Angeles are a continent apart, they’re very much alike. D.C. is an entertainment capital but for an entirely different reason – politics and enormous egos.

New York can also be considered narcissistic. It is, after all, “The Big Apple” – New York – “HEY, I”M STANDIN’ HERE!!!” However, I love New Yorkers for their abundant character. When you have a friend in New York – you have a genuine friend in New York. Though hard edged, New Yorkers will embrace you given a chance. The same can be said about Boston where everyone knows your name.

There are many ironies that encompass East Coast and West Coast. The more different they are – the more they tend to be the same. The masses came to Los Angeles a half-century to escape the perceived oppressiveness of the Midwest and the East. And now – the masses are flocking to Mid-America and the East to escape the things they despise most about California.

Go figure…

As baby boomers segue into the twilight, we’re finding ourselves in a vastly different world than the one in which we grew up. Despite the great advances in technology and being able to order goods online and have them in 24 hours, there’s a certain euphoria that goes with the thrill of an in-store buying experience.

Touching. Smelling. Taking it all in. Carrying it to the checkout and being greeted with a smile. Or…ordering something mail order out of the SEARS catalog and watching for the mail carrier.

Do you remember that?

I certainly do…

I think of SEARS, Montgomery Ward, W.T. Grant, Woolworth’s, S.S. Kresge, Hecht’s, Mervyn’s, Famous-Barr, and a host of other retail giants that are gone today.

The thrill of waiting…the anticipation…is gone…

We’ve suffered the unfortunate loss of great retail names never to return. SEARS is easily the greatest American retail tragedy considering the potential it had and what it might have been given leadership with vision and an interest in the greater good.

SEARS invented mail order buying more than 100 years ago. This is what gave SEARS the edge over Amazon decades ago. SEARS already had the home court advantage because it knew the turf and how to dominate the market.

SEARS made it easier for those living in rural communities to get what they needed without having to drive to the city. In fact, there was a euphoria that went with waiting a couple of weeks for a mail order purchase to arrive. You had to wait – and the anticipation was enormous. As a kid, it was like waiting for Christmas Morning. Raw anticipation was good – and it taught us to be patient and how to wait.

We don’t know how to wait patiently anymore.

Amazon Prime gets it to you yesterday. What’s not to like about that – right? I can tell you…this is not a good thing despite our obsession with immediate gratification these days. This approach to retail has inspired us to be impatient – unwilling to wait.

It has become a form of addiction.

We want what we want when we want!

This is not a good thing either. Why? Because, long term, retailers we’ve come to know will be gone due to tough competition and Amazon will be the sole survivor along with Walmart. It will swiftly become a “Don’t like our lousy service? Too bad…” Bedford Falls becomes Potterville and the buying public, long accustomed to getting it now, becomes royally screwed. This is the time to become independent and be willing to wait.

Best we prepare for coming monopoly and return to the old- fashioned approach to retail buying and be willing to wait. Blow the dust off your car’s dashboard, or your favorite catalog, and try buying the way we all remember.

I don’t know about you, but it seems we eat a lot of fast food today. When I was a kid, fast food was a rare treat – not a matter of habit. For us, it was McDonald’s or Washington, D.C.’s very own “Little Tavern Hamburgers,” which were on a par with White Castles in the Midwest.

Because I was a kid, I hated Little Tavern burgers because they were laced with onions, which any kid knows, are not from this planet. Few kids will eat them. I always had to scrape the onions off yet the onion flavor remained. Sometimes, the ol’ man would bring home burgers from the Club 602 on his way home from work on a Friday – which were on a par with good bowling alley cuisine.

What made McDonald’s America’s favorite in those days were the basics of fast food – burgers, fries, and a shake all for under a buck – food the average American family could afford. Such is not the way of McDonald’s today. For a family of four, for example, a trip to McDonald’s or any other fast food joint is at least $40 – unheard of a half century ago. In the 1960s, $40 was a grocery bill.

McDonald’s and Burger King grew way beyond their original intended markets and have taken a lot for granted in the years since, with menus so involved today it is an exhausting read at best. It takes a logistics manager to even begin to understand any of it.

This really isn’t having it your way.

The best fast food bargain out there remains Southern California born “In-N-Out Burger” – which is catching on across the country as people flee California for more affordable lifestyles in places like Tennessee, Texas, and Georgia. In-N-Out Burger never forgot what it is in business for. It never left its core consumer group – people who want a simple burger, fries, and a drink for under $10 – and that’s in the wake of significant recent inflationary price increases.

McDonald’s, Burger King and the other big guns are always conducting consumer product testing – products that come and go for “a limited time only…” You get used to a product and suddenly it is gone. Well, who the heck wants that? Certainly not me. I am a creature of habit. I have a hard enough time breaking in a new toilet seat let alone seeing a favorite vanish from the food menu.

In-N-Out as well as other regional burger chains, never abandoned their core market. Another good example is Sonic drive-ins, which was born in the American heartland. Sonic never abandoned its core customer – people who want a simple menu that’s easy to navigate. Dairy Queen is another terrific example of how to treat the consumer. It continues to offer a simple menu and there’s always plenty to choose from.

What baby boomers enjoyed long ago is something young people miss out on today because they’ve never lived it. What made our treks to drive-ins and fast food establishments was the rare nature of these terrific outings. They didn’t happen very often and, when they did, they were thrilling instead of us thinking of it as an entitlement.

Have you ever wondered whatever happened to simple conversation – without the use of a cell phone or some other form of electronics? I am as guilty of it as the next person. Someone texts you with the words, “Call Me…” and you’re thinking “What?! Call You?!” This is how bad it has become. We have time to do a lengthy text, but no time to talk?

This constant, tiresome obsession with cellular communication instead of the fine art of time-proven good conversation. Well – personally – I’ve had enough of it – and doing a lot of soul searching as this is written. It is time to make constructive changes in my personal life because texting, messaging, and emailing as a matter of habit just isn’t a healthy lifestyle.

You’re never really with anyone because they’re constantly consumed with their cell phone. You’re in a restaurant with a friend or sitting at home with family member and it’s like you’re not even there. They’re so engrossed with this handheld device to the point to where you get up and leave the room and they don’t even notice you are gone.

This preoccupation with cell phones and electronic devices is an acute form of sociological mental illness. You see it everywhere. Televisions, cell phones, tablets, and other forms of electronics consume attention to where we aren’t even connected anymore. That’s exactly what the puppeteers want – electronic brainwashing because it works so well.

For a society so connected – we are so very disconnected.

Remember when Blackberry pagers were known as “Crackberries?” The cell phone has become an unhealthy form of emotional addiction. It divides people much as social media has. We have all kinds of courage to be rude and insulting on a keyboard – that is until we meet the person face to face. Then, we’re falling all over ourselves apologizing – however, the damage is done.

What to do about this if you’re on the outside or so obsessed with cell phone communication that you can’t put yours down? You’re going to have to go at it cold turkey and begin the withdrawal process by putting yours down. Leave it in the next room or hidden in your car. Encourage those around you to put theirs down too. Good luck on that one because the addiction is deep.

It has become so absurd to where if you don’t respond immediately, the sender goes off the deep end emotionally. Forget explaining to them the days when you would leave a message to expect to wait for a response. We want that response right now. Consider the days when you’d write a letter (I miss getting letters) and it could be weeks before you’d see a response.

I often wonder…what did we do before we had cell phones, tablets, and laptops? We walked down the street or picked up the landline.