Rob Wood's Blog - Posts Tagged "1950s"
Mort the Karate Pig
Today I posted the podcast of Chapter Five…Poets Club and I did so in the shadow of some bitter-sweet memories, with heavy emphasis on the “bitter” part. I’m not sure that I have yet come to grips with my beloved Mort the Karate Pig being selected by my father as the guest of honor at the Poets Club Luau and Pig Roast. I really liked that pig even if he did only have three good legs. Mort was exceptionally friendly for a pig, and in the end, I guess being easy to catch was his downfall.
I learned a valuable lesson that day: Don’t get too attached to ranch animals that have the potential to end up on the family dinner table. I suspect most kids today don’t find themselves faced with that kind of dilemma. I know my grandchildren darned sure won’t eat anything that didn’t come wrapped in cellophane and has a bar-code on it. They’re quite capable of summoning the authorities on their iPhones if they suspected someone of taking a chicken to the chopping block much less dispatching a doe eyed swine. Oh well, that was the way of life at Rancho Roberto in the 1950s. I miss it…sometimes!
I learned a valuable lesson that day: Don’t get too attached to ranch animals that have the potential to end up on the family dinner table. I suspect most kids today don’t find themselves faced with that kind of dilemma. I know my grandchildren darned sure won’t eat anything that didn’t come wrapped in cellophane and has a bar-code on it. They’re quite capable of summoning the authorities on their iPhones if they suspected someone of taking a chicken to the chopping block much less dispatching a doe eyed swine. Oh well, that was the way of life at Rancho Roberto in the 1950s. I miss it…sometimes!
A Blast from The Past
I was going through a box of old pictures the other day looking for some 1950s photos to post in the photo album on my website. I came across something very interesting and rather thought provoking I. This relic had somehow survived the years and had been salvaged from my grade school wallet. It was an official Civil Defense Preparedness card. Wow, that unshackled some serious flashbacks. The headline on the card read: When The Warning Sounds A Steady Blast of 3 to 5 Minutes This Means Attack Probable-Take Action As Directed By Local Government. Now…that’s a statement that will get the attention of a pre-pubescent young man and keep him up at night wondering, Exactly who and what is the Local Government? Is the city council, the mayor or the governor is charge? I’ve only got three minutes to decide.
The second glaring headline on the card: Warbling Tone or Short Blasts For 3 Minutes Means Attack Imminent-Take Cover Immediately In Best Available Shelter, seems a little confusing and certainly is presented in the wrong order for optimum survival opportunities. If you made it through three minutes of steady blast and weren’t glow-in-the- dark ash, why should it take another 3 minutes of warbling, short, ear-piercing blasts to convince you that your ass was grass? Why postpone things for another 3 minutes by turning it over to the local government, when no local government in the history of mankind has accomplished anything in 3 minutes? I like the sound of taking cover a hell of a lot better than relying on a bunch of clowns arguing over who’s in charge.
I had all but forgotten my recurrent childhood dreams of Nikita Khrushchev’s chubby index finger reaching for the large red button that would launch a torrent of Soviet death comets. This subject was number one on the hit parade of hot topics of conversation at school, home and sometimes even at Sunday school in the 1950s.
Maybe things today aren’t quite as out of control as we think they are?
RW
The second glaring headline on the card: Warbling Tone or Short Blasts For 3 Minutes Means Attack Imminent-Take Cover Immediately In Best Available Shelter, seems a little confusing and certainly is presented in the wrong order for optimum survival opportunities. If you made it through three minutes of steady blast and weren’t glow-in-the- dark ash, why should it take another 3 minutes of warbling, short, ear-piercing blasts to convince you that your ass was grass? Why postpone things for another 3 minutes by turning it over to the local government, when no local government in the history of mankind has accomplished anything in 3 minutes? I like the sound of taking cover a hell of a lot better than relying on a bunch of clowns arguing over who’s in charge.
I had all but forgotten my recurrent childhood dreams of Nikita Khrushchev’s chubby index finger reaching for the large red button that would launch a torrent of Soviet death comets. This subject was number one on the hit parade of hot topics of conversation at school, home and sometimes even at Sunday school in the 1950s.
Maybe things today aren’t quite as out of control as we think they are?
RW
