Someone on Reddit posed the following question:

How Did Older Generations (I read that as Boomers and GenXers, mostly) Have Fun Before The Internet.

Over 9,000 Redditors responded and the following are some of the best, with some editorial comment.

“Waiting for the radio to play your favorite songs so you could record them took a big chunk of time.”

And how about making your own mix tapes…ON CASSETTES!! That you could play IN THE CAR!

“Mostly video games.”

It wasn’t my thing, but I knew a lot of people who were into Dungeons and Dragons back then.

“Being a latchkey kid gave me so much time with my parents’ records. If it weren’t for that time alone with Sam Cooke, I’d be clapping on the first beat like a neanderthal.”

Yep. Playing 45’s with one of those plastic adapter rings so they would fit on the little spindle.

“I have a hope chest full of bad poetry from when I was a teenager. I don’t know what to do with it! I’m genuinely afraid of anyone finding that shit after I die — and frankly, I don’t trust the dump.”

I’ve got some fiction somewhere that I thought the New Yorker would want to publish.

“Lie about where the Victoria’s Secret catalog is.”

Hmmm. Boys were perusing any number of catalogs in the late 50s.

“Hanging around outside with my best friend was pretty much what I did every day, and it was bliss. Yes, there were times when I was incredibly bored out of my mind, but it never lasted.”

And you could be gone all day without anyone freaking out about it.

“Sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll…without the sex and drugs. But definitely lots of rock ‘n’ roll. Also, riding bikes, camping, and summer jobs. I only saw my room when I was sleeping or it was raining outside.”

And our parents were quite happy to have us out of the house – for hours at a time. The closest we came to anything bordering on technology was a little transistor radio that you could sneak under the covers and listen to music from far away places or Jean Shepherd on WOR in Chicago.

Go back in time and I’m sure every boomer could come up with a list of activities that filled all our waking hours, and never once did we have to worry about whether we had WI-FI service.

Jay Harrison is a writer and creative consultant for DesignConcept. You can also visit his author page here. His newest mystery novel, Rio Puerco Demise is available on Amazon. His first mystery novel, Head Above Water, is also available on Amazon.

It would be hard to think of a more universal touchstone for baby boomers than the Howdy Doody Show. Say kids, what time is it? It’s Howdy Doody time!!!

There came a time when just about every local TV station had a kids show (the one I remember was Ranger Andy), but Howdy Doody got there first. And the show didn’t just entertain us boomers — it sold TV sets, cereal, lunch boxes and a lot of other products. Advertisers definitely took notice.

It all started with New York radio NBC affiliate WEAF, where Big Brother Bob Smith was the voice of a ranch hand on a show called The Triple B Ranch. He would greet the audience by saying “Oh, ho, ho, howdy doody.” Just the kind of nonsensical wordplay children love to hear, and love to repeat.

It was a short leap from there to the Howdy Doody Show and a whole cast of characters who lived in Doodyville. That named seemed rather benign when I was 7 or 8 years old, but in retrospect it sounds like a weird place to live. Buffalo Bob talked to the marionettes as if they were real, so even though we could see the strings on the puppets as plain as day, we began to think of them as real people. And what a collection of characters– Phineas T. Bluster with his flying eyebrows on separate strings, along with Flub-a-Dub and Dilly Dally. And the live characters were just as interesting. Chief Thunderthud of Kawabonga fame and Princess Summerfall Winterspring were pretty captivating. Clarabell Hornblow provided some of the slapstick and was played by Bob Keeshan, who most of you should remember later became Captain Kangaroo! He sprayed seltzer on everyone and we all laughed like the chuckleheads that we were.

I had forgotten that the show originally came on in the early evening, but I do remember that it came on just after Gabby Hayes. When the show came to an end in 1960, it was after airing 2,343 programs. It had its educational moments and teaching opportunities, but mostly I remember the slapstick, some goofy songs and the spraying seltzer, along with an unexplainable yearning for Princess Summerfall Winterspring (I began to think of her as pretty hot looking just as I hit puberty).

Who didn’t want to be in the Peanut Gallery bleachers when the Princess was in town? I guess when I was more interested in the Princess than the puppets, my Doodyville days were over, but I still remember them fondly.

Jay Harrison is a writer and creative consultant for DesignConcept. His mystery novel, Head Above Water, is available on Amazon and Kindle. You can also visit his author page here.

Just a few bars of Mr. Soul and I get instant flashback in the time machine to somewhere around 1967. My allegiances were split between the Motown Sound and the new music that was coming out of San Francisco. But Buffalo Springfield took everyone by surprise. They only made 3 studio albums before everyone went their separate ways…and don’t forget that Buffalo Springfield begat Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young, plus Poco, and then Loggins and Messina.

Despite the briefness of their time on the scene, they sure had a long lasting impact on musical genres. Neil Young, Stephen Stills and Richie Furay were all singers, songwriters and guitarists from the folk and country traditions, but they melded this background and their talents into a new kind of rock sound that no one had ever heard before. The Byrds, Flying Burrito Brothers, Jackson Browne and the Eagles all have acknowledged their debt to the band’s influences on their work.

Neil Young may have been the most interesting lyricist, but Stephen Stills played great guitar, and Furay had perhaps the most pleasing vocal sound. Maybe it was the timing of trying to break through at the same time the Beatles were dominating rock music, but for some reason people did not truly appreciate the Buffalo Springfield sound until the band broke up. It’s one of the few cases where a band got more airplay after their demise than in their prime. Still, they deserve the credit for practically inventing folk-rock and country-rock.

Going back to listen to some of their prime material, such as For What It’s Worth, Expecting to Fly, Bluebird and Kind Woman, you can foretell that everyone is going to go their separate ways, but it does not in any way diminish the pleasure you can get from listening to ground-breaking musicians like these.

There’s somethin’ happening here,
What it is ain’t exactly clear.
There’s a man with a gun over there,
Tellin’ me I gotta beware.
I think it’s time we stop,
Hey, what’s that sound,
Everybody look what’s going down.

For What It’s Worth, Stephen Stills, 1966

Jay Harrison is a writer and creative consultant for DesignConcept. His mystery novel, Head Above Water, is available on Amazon and Kindle. You can also visit his author page here.

 

In the early 80’s, I was playing with the Bernie Pearl Band and one night we opened for Smokey Wilson at The Music Machine out on Pico on Los Angeles’ Westside. Smokey was a real showman; he fronted a 7 piece band with a horn section and sported a powder blue 3-piece suit with a cowboy hat to match. He’d hit the stage after his band warmed up the audience with two or three tunes.

In those days, Smokey traveled in a trailer. At some point during Bernie’s set, my girlfriend Lynda took him out there for a little taste. I don’t know how much of our set he actually heard but when we came off, he told me he liked my playing and invited me to sit in for his set. We had a drink at the bar and he said, “once the band gets going you come up with me”. We had a couple more shots and I asked him what key the band would be in when we hit the stage. He put his hand on my shoulder and said, “Son, I play so many keys”.

As we walked toward the stage, I still didn’t know. We passed the horn section on the way to my spot and, in desperation, I asked them for the key. The trumpet man said “F#”. F#! A lot of harp players don’t carry a “B” harp which is what is needed for cross position in F#. Smokey strapped on his guitar, grabbed the mike, looked at me and said, “take one”. We’re in F# and he puts the spotlight on me right out of the gate. But the trumpet man saved my ass. If no trumpet man, I’m punked in front of a full house. I tore up that solo and Smokey ignored me until his final song. It was ok with me because fitting in with a solid horn section is one of my favorite things.

Smokey’s gone now, but he taught valuable lessons for harp players that night: be prepared for the flats and sharps, beware of a guitar slinger in a powder blue suit and always make nice with the horn section.

For the record, according to L.A. bass player Ron Battle, that trumpet player was, most likely, Joe Campbell. This many years later, thank you Joe. Smokey will never know.

Rick Smith is a musician and harp player (that’s a harmonica folks) from Helendale, California.

You left your pride in the horrors,
The desolate errors
— Giuseppe Ungaretti

See, evening’s shadow quickly turns to night,
and we are still hungry for love.

*

We are not fecund, not firm, our infirmities even more
bounteous, but we still fancy riding the wild horse!

*

Progress wreaks havoc with courtship,
our life stories reduced: “How I spend Friday nights,
My favorite movies, Six things I could never live without;”
I weep, no good can come of this.

*

Beware, you women, of images of shirtless men baring
bulky bellies, or missing the tops of their heads due
perhaps to a purposeful camera. Shun too the juveniles
sending come-hither messages, secretly wishing to marry
their mothers: No good can come of this.

*

Lo, here is a man with promise,
plan an hour meeting where others congregate;
I lament, I tire: the odds are slim,
and what purpose, this?

*

We are keen for company of a kindred spirit,
the full spray of love’s pleasures.
Pray, what does the Oracle say this day?
Go, see the illuminated screen, swipe right.

Joanne Brown is a strategic communications consultant, writer, and poet. Her corporate work can be found at joannebrown.com, and her poetry has been featured in Persimmon Tree and Evening Street Review.