I’m at the stage of my life where people are lucky I get dressed at all. Golf/polo shirt, jeans, underwear (of course), socks and my compression sleeve, and shoes. A jacket or hoodie if it’s cool out or in the house. I have the requisite one suit, which I don’t wear because there’s no reason to. About the only place I’d wear it is in my casket, and I’m going to be cremated, so there’s really no need.
Boy, that got morbid all of a sudden, didn’t it?
We’ve always been casual. The older we get, the more casual we become. Mom, on the other hand, was always dressed nicely. She and Dad went out a lot on Saturday nights, and this was back in the ’60’s, so Dad was in a suit and Mom was in a dress. I’m sure I’d be the same if it were the ’60’s, but it’s a different world. We don’t go out on Saturday nights, anyway. When Mom was getting ready to go out, the house smelled like Joy perfume and Aqua Net hair spray, which is a combo you wouldn’t think would smell that good, but somehow it worked when Mom did it.
Saturday nights in the old neighborhood, when I was in grammar school, weren’t all that exciting. Jackie Gleason and Get Smart were on, then some sort of Movie of the Week. A lot of them were Westerns. We’d have to go to bed after the movie, although that rarely meant I was going to sleep: I’d usually stay up until midnight listening to Art Roberts on WLS. When the weather was nice enough that I could have my window open, I would listen to the band playing a couple of blocks away at the almost-weekly dance that the Teen Club at church would have on Saturday nights. I couldn’t hear much more than the bass and drums. Dad had a cousin that played bass in the band, so I could hear him really clearly.
Now we spend Saturday nights watching Columbo reruns. We’ve seen all of them so many times, all we have to know is who the villain is to know the entire plot and cast is. It’s nowhere near as boring as it sounds.
Okay, sometimes it is…
Stream of Consciousness Saturday is brought to you each week by Linda Hill and this station. Now a word from Schmidt’s Beer. Be sure to vote for Miss Schmidt’s Phillies before July 15. Get a ballot at Veterans Stadium or wherever Schmidt’s beer is sold!
Of course, this is a very old commercial. Veterans Stadium doesn’t even exist anymore.
By the way, the title of this post is the name of an African folk song that means “Everybody Loves Saturday Night.”