Some of the things missing from my island were not there at
all, missing for many years. Isolation brings their long-term absence into
sharp relief.
There is a movie called “The Sterile Cuckoo” (1969) which I
have always had mixed feelings for. Liza Minelli is extraordinary but the
script alternates from zany to melodramatic too sharply for my tastes. Maybe
because the nine-year-old me wanted nothing to do with it, the film has never
made into my inner circle.
The theme song though is one of my favorites. “Come Saturday
Morning,” written by Fred Karlin and Dory Previn and recorded by The
Sandpipers, is light folk rock at best, approaching pop. The hook may be
catchy, but it is the lyrics that capture me: “Come Saturday Morning/ I’m going
away with my friends/ We’ll Saturday spend ‘til the end of the day.”
To most, this song is about romance and the excitement of young
love. To me, the song evokes the carefree time of waking up late, noshing
sugary cereal and spending hours in the company of cartoon friends on the
television. Grown ups may be running around in parks and falling in love. The
happy and hearty boy that I was immersed himself in the freedom of wasted time.
The characters that paraded (mindlessly, I must admit)
across my television were indeed my friends. I looked forward to Scooby Doo and
Bugs Bunny. I cheered for Penelope Pitstop and chuckled along with Muttley and
the other Wacky Racers. I even relished the less-than-classic animation of
shows like Frankie, Jr or the Way Way Outs or Spider-Man. Nothing cheered me
more than the advertisements in TV Guide which boasted of the New Fall Line-up
of Saturday Morning cartoons, as I welcomed back old favorites and dreamed
about what delights the new products might hold.
I wouldn’t dare watch any of these shows again, even if I
could find them. I have treated myself to listening to the themes from shows
like Milton the Monster or Kimba the White Lion (which I still know by heart),
but the thought of watching an episode or two stops me in my tracks. Either I
will recognize that they are pablum (as the rational part of my brain knew even
then) or the heartbreak of nostalgia will be too crushing.
One thing that the cartoons represented was consistency. The
titles would change, but every Saturday the feeling and the sounds and colors
would always be there. And they were all mine. My mother was tolerant enough to
let me have the television to myself. My brother and sister had no interest.
These were my moments, my friends, my world if only for a couple of hours. How
lovely would it be to have that certainty now.
The song finishes, “And then we’ll move on/ But we will
remember/ Long after Saturday’s gone.”
#NotesFromAnIsland #COVID19Essays #SaturdayMorningCartoons
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