Are these really The Good Old Days? Each morning when Bill and I get up, ME TV is on with “Leave It to Beaver.” It starts at 7 a.m. and has two shows until Perry Mason at 8. I watch all of them, and think, “Those were the good ole days.” I worship at the shrine of Perry Mason religiously. He is my hero. Good looking and good cooking. Paul Drake and Perry’s secretary, Della Street, were there, too, and they dressed so beautifully. Unless you were going to ride a horse, no blue jeans were seen. Those were the days when cars took up two parking spaces, and you could die if you fell on their fins in back. When you lit up your unfiltered cigarette, you tossed it—and the pack it came in—out the window. The world was an ash tray. And then there was good food. A hamburger and fries were 35 cents, but it only came with a 6-ounce drink of real Coca Cola, so you had three. There was one car, that the father took and, one phone that you answered, “Hello, yea, yea. Thanks.” And you hung up. When and if you ever watched television, the lineup was: the fights, that included boxing and wrestling, soap operas with live organ music, and 50 different Westerns, so you could shoot ‘em up on all three channels. Yes, there were only three and you had to walk across the room to change them, unless you had a little brother or sister you could bully into doing it. The good news was that on Saturday morning there were three or four hours of cartoons. I learned to appreciate classical music from them. “Kill the wabbitt,” with Elmer Fudd was a favorite. But…

If you think Beaver and his life was a precious time from the 50s, think again or stop reading. I did not get to see Beaver in the 50s since I was a child his age. Now, I am an adult, I look at the show and say, “That Beaver is the dumbest, most stubborn kid ever. He never learns.” I know, I know the writers made him do it, but they are then the stupidest. This morning after Fred Rutherford, the obnoxious co-worker to Ward Cleaver sends a Meerschaum pipe as a gift from Germany. Larry Mondello talks Beaver into smoking it. First, they try coffee and then left-over cigarettes from Mondello’s ash trays. They got sick and blamed Wally. Finally Beaver confessed. Did his father trim the seat of his pants with a stick? Nooooooooooo. He said he was sorry and that was that. Two episodes later he and his brilliant buddies that always call him a chicken, see a road sign billboard. It is a cup of soup that shoots out smoke. Beaver climbs the billboard to see if there is real soup in there and gets stuck. The fire department must come and get him down. At 12, does he not know any better? Was he paddled with a fire hose? Noooooo! Get the picture. God help me trying to learn from the 50s.

If those were the good ole days, what will they say about the 2020 and 2021? Yes, I remember when there were school buildings with cafeterias and gyms. Of course, you had to pick up your food from a drive through line at the school. The teachers never got older because they ran the same video of math, English and history over and over on the computer. You had no problem dating since you could hit a dating site over the computer or online with your phone. Dancing and working out was safe and you could wear your mask and try to hold up your best video game while trying to collect “bit” coins. Frozen food was the style of cooking and anyone could learn with a microwave. The 50s had TV dinners, and we still love that feeling of opening a bag of stuff, and eating it from the bag it cooks in. Oh, that was a time of perfect meals. No need to worry about keeping your job, the restaurants closed. Your government check goes right into your bank account. You don’t have to ever learn to drive. Stay home. Pray for a shot. It might come, someday. These are The Good Old Days. Roaring Mouse, looking for the remote. Out.