The wisdom in Saturday morning cartoons
- Mike Dewey: Life Lines
- December 23, 2023
- 378
I learned a lot on Saturday mornings when, as a kid, I’d settle down in front of a black-and-white television set with a bowl of Lucky Charms and watch cartoons, and I know I’m not alone.
When I break it down, these days, there were three main sources of wisdom I relied on to help me on my way down the road:
—Music on my transistor radio.
—TV shows.
—What happened in school.
That last one, though the most universal, is the most problematic since, as faithful readers will doubtless recall, I was raised Catholic.
The thorny part of that whole experience has to do with the notion we were right and everyone else was, if not mistaken, then on the wrong path, a parochial exceptionalism we embraced as a birthright, one that signified a belief that God was only on our side.
This, of course, was utter nonsense, which reminds me of a joke my then-girlfriend, soon-to-be fiancée and eventual wife still enjoys telling. Seems that Saint Peter was guiding a tour of heaven for new arrivals when, all of a sudden, he stopped and whispered, “Sssshh, please don’t say anything as we pass by this room — it’s full of Catholics, and they really believe they’re up here all alone.”
The point is it was told to her by a priest, visiting from Ireland.
Anyway, I don’t want to write about religion, though at this time of year, it’s an appropriate topic, what with Christmas Day looming.
No, this epistle has to begin with Saturday morning cartoons and how the wisdom they imparted helped shape such malleable minds.
First on that list is “The Adventures of Rocky and Bullwinkle.”
I didn’t know jack spit about the Cold War when I was a kid, though I was familiar with those ludicrous duck-and-cover films, as if hiding under your desk was going to neutralize killer radiation.
What helped me get a grip on the global battle between capitalism and communism were Boris Badenov and Natasha Fatale, perhaps the most compelling commie couple this side of the Rosenbergs.
They were devious and delusional, oftentimes plotting such outrageous gambits as stealing the world’s greatest artwork only to have Bullwinkle whitewash them, setting off a humorous chain reaction, one that even a child could understand and appreciate.
But there were other facets of “Rocky and Bullwinkle” that made it so memorable including “Fractured Fairy Tales,” “Dudley Do-Right” and a satiric look at Aesop’s Fables. It was, in my opinion, the apotheosis of all cartoon shows, with not even a close second.
I remember “The Flintstones,” which was an animated version of “The Honeymooners,” an influential ‘50s sitcom that launched so much of what followed, along with “The Jetsons,” whose theme song I can still recite word for word, though I wouldn’t dare sing it.
Mention must also be made of Tooter Turtle. Every week he would get into trouble, most of it being a case of the old wrong place, wrong time syndrome, and every week he’d contact his mentor back in the here-and-now: “Help me, Mr. Wizard!”
I think we’ve all invoked those four words at some point in life.
There’s something so comforting, so reliable about having someone on the other side of a lifeline, a place for pleas to land.
Here’s what Mr. Wizard always said, by way of reassurance:
“Drizzle, drazzle, druzzle, drome.
Time for this one to come home.”
Those two lines of verse, aimed at children whose biggest worry might have had something to do with too much homework or an overdue Confession, assuaged the doubts of millions, including me.
The very idea of going home, especially when it’s been such a long time coming, lies at the heart of why my wife and I have been unable — too much unpacking — to decorate for Christmas this year.
Big news … We’re moving. Should be back home quite soon.
Usually, by this time in December, our home positively glows with the spirit of the season. In addition to seven trees, all distinct and marvelous in their individuality, we display Charlie Brown characters — including Snoopy on his “flying” doghouse — and an array of characters from Dickens’ “A Christmas Carol,” with other spaces devoted to a Santa collection, snowmen that make music, and a nativity scene that features figurines from the set Mom and Dad used, housed in a stable from Bronner’s in Frankenmuth.
Every ornament on the big tree — to quote Rod Stewart — tells a story and around its base has always run an electric train set, one that has its origin in “The Polar Express,” bells and smoke and all.
But we’ve done our best, even as we pack up nearly 25 years of Carolina history, to make sure the season has its place one last time. At some point, amid all the chaos and uncertainty of boxing up stuff and preparing to leave this place behind, I’d like to take a walk in downtown New Bern and maybe see the Atlantic again.
It’d be too much to ask that it might snow on the beach, though I have seen that, and trust me, it’s something I won’t ever forget.
Mike Dewey can be reached at Carolinamiked@aol.com or 6211 Cardinal Drive, New Bern, NC 28560. He invites you to find him on Facebook, where the past, the present and the future still coexist.