Whittling Away with Dick Brooks - Getting Older

I admit to getting older but I’m still waiting for the getting wiser part to kick in.  I often ponder about the many things I’ve seen come and go.  I find that I’m pondering more frequently as time goes by, it’s an activity that doesn’t make me perspire and frequently ends in a refreshing little nap. A gentleman spoke to a group I belong to recently.  His topic was old time radio.  He did a great job and has provided fuel for quite a few ponder sessions.  In the long ago days before television, the most advanced piece of technology in our house was the Philco radio that occupied a place of honor on the counter in the dining room.  Seven or eight pounds of glowing vacuum tubes, it brought the outside world into our old farmhouse.  We had a record payer which provided music but depended on the records you had in your collection.  The radio had variety, you never knew what was coming on next.  News, local, national and world wide right into your house without waiting for the newspaper to be delivered and provided entertainment for all.  Mom was a faithful fan of The Breakfast Club, a variety type show which came on after Dad had gone to work and we children had been herded onto the school bus.  The show catered to the Moms of America who were all cleaning up from breakfast and planning the day’s chores.  Dad enjoyed the Friday Night Fights, boxing being the only sport he followed.  I would sit and listen with him, feeling grown up to be sharing this with him.  I did like the theme music and sang along at the top of my voice, “To look sharp and be on the ball---“.  I was a big fan of “Bobby Benson and the Riders of the B bar B”.  4:30 would find me parked in front of the Philco, riding the range with Bobby who was my age but leading an adventurous life on the range, whatever that was.  Then everything changed, Wild Bill, my best friend, got a television set.  He would invite my brothers and me over on Saturday to watch wrestling.  It was much more exciting than listening to boxing on the radio.  You could see these guys, they were bigger than life even on the ten inch screen and put on a great show.  There was even an element of real danger.  Wild Bill’s Mom got really into wrestling and would holler and yell at the screen and God help the child that came within her range as she yelled and flailed around.  A few months later, we got off the school bus and to our delight discovered the television set that had appeared in our living room.  It was a Fada, with about a ten inch screen mounted in a cabinet not much smaller than the school bus we had recently departed from.  Its picture tube glowed in glorious black and white and we were in love instantly.  We got one station, it came from Montreal.  It started broadcasting at 10:00 in the morning and stopped at 10:00 in the evening.  There would be an hour of English programing and then an hour of programing in French.  The 4:00 program was children’s puppet show in French but we didn’t mind, we were watching TV.  I deserted Bobby Benson and the radio, something that I still get an occasional flash of guilt about.  I now have a seemingly endless choice of channels on a screen bigger than the cabinet of our first TV.  I watched wrestling last week in memory of those long ago days but without Mrs. Trushaw yelling and throwing a head lock on me, it just wasn’t as much fun as I remembered it.

Thought for the week—People who are crazy enough to think they can change the world are the ones who do.

Until next week, may you and yours be happy and well

Whittle12124@yahoo.com