Soul Thumping

Mah Na Mah Na: The Generation X Theme Song - Captain Kangaroo and the Muppets

Hurray, the song is my head and even an exorcism won't make it leave.  When the new Muppet movie came out a few weeks ago, Poseidon and I and our pals went to see it and we had amazing fun!  Nearly every member of the audience was a Gen Xer, and very few children (except for the woman who thought is was appropriate to bring an infant into a movie theater).  We laughed and sang as we spent an hour and some change with our old furry friends, the Muppets.  My favorite part?  The obligatory singing of the Mah Na Mah Na song of course!

I ransacked my brain (and didn't clean up afterwards) to remember where I first heard the Mah Na Mah Na song, and I don't think it was the Muppet Show on television, I believe, though I could be wrong, I heard in on Captain Kangaroo TV show.  I vaguely remember some round balls that "danced" or flung themselves around to the beat of the Mah Na Mah Na song.  It seems as though it was a semi-regular skit on Captain Kangaroo.

I tried to find a clip of the Captain Kangaroo version on Youtube, but no success.  If anyone finds a clip of the Mah Na Mah Na à la the Captain, please let me know, will ya?

Now I'm swimming in a great warm wave of nostalgia thinking about the Captain Kangaroo show.  He brought us so many memorable characters (Mr. Moose, Bunny Rabbit, Mr. Green Jeans).  The Captain also brought us Simon in the land of chalk drawings (I'm humming those lyrics now in my head...not out loud), Grandfather clock, ping pong balls!  I'm so excited I can only do this:

 

 

And this:

 

 

--Fortuitous Observer

Generation X - Our Favorite TV Christmas Specials

I think I've posted this every year for the past few years.  It's a link to an article I wrote for Associated Content (now Yahoo Voices).  A great list of TV Christmas specials we (Generation X) enjoyed as kids and still do today (Ok, at least I do)!

Take a Stroll Through the Winter Wonderland of TV Specials from Christmases Past!

 

--Fortuitous Observer

My Christmas After Discovering Santa Does Not Exist - The 1979 Barbie Van and the Tissue Incident

"Santa isn't real, it's your parents who buy you Christmas presents!"  This came from my best friend's sister the summer before I turned 8 in the late 1970s.  I thought she was being spiteful because we had cracked an egg over her head (it was hollow...the egg, not her head) which made her angry so she decided to spill the beans.

Telling a firm Santa believer that the benevolent jolly man in the red suit does not exist is the worst thing one could possibly do, at least it was to this Generation Xer at the time.  I mean, we spent our youth during the Cold War, thinking we were going to be nuked at any second, so belief in something magical was more than a respite from harsh reality, it was a necessary tool in our arsenal of coping skills.

When I went home crying to my mother after hearing the shocking news about Saint Nick, she explained that Santa didn't really exist, and my twin sister and I shouldn't tell our younger brother yet, but it was still ok to believe in Santa if we wanted.  Awesome, that is all I needed to hear.  I could, if I so choose, still believe.  I chose to believe.

That summer we moved and because we were upset over the move, we felt we were going to be "compensated" with better Christmas gifts that year.  My sister and I wanted more than anything to be the proud owners of the humongous Barbie Star Traveler Van that Christmas.  Even though the awful truth of Santa's "non"-existence had settled in, I still wanted to believe.

The problem:  I obsessed (truly, obsessed, worried, stressed, puked, etc.) about Santa not being able to find us since we had moved, and someone else would get our Barbie van!  I was anxious and crying that Christmas Eve at my grandparent's house and couldn't enjoy myself, until my aunt Marsha asked me what was wrong and I told her my fear of Santa not finding us.

Being the awesome aunt that she was (still is), she told me we would write a note to Santa, and set it on top of the flames in the fireplace, the heat from the flames would lift it to the sky and Santa would find us.  What a topnotch plan, or so I thought.

Aunt Marsha couldn't find any writing paper, but she found a tissue.  She wrote a beautiful note, giving Santa our new address.  I was so excited I probably peed my pants.  We took the note to the fireplace, she carefully set it atop the flames to be carried to the sky, but instead that piece of light-weight tissue disintegrated before my very eyes.  OH MY GOD!  NO!  Doomed.

I'll skip the melodramatic episode that followed, because the story has a happy ending.  My sister and I did get our Barbie Star Traveler van.  It was waiting for us at home that night.  Santa had seen Aunt Marsha's tissue note after all.  The part that makes me smile is that I've moved several times over the last 20 years, but you know what?  That mythical magical man in the red coat and funny hat always manages to find me.  I'm glad I haven't stopped believing.

 

Check out the original Mattel 1979 commercial for the Barbie Star Traveller!

 

 

--Fortuitous Observer

 

Ooh-la-la. A Generation Xer's Trip Down Holiday Decoration Memory Lane

As a child (I am a Gen Xer), my grandparents and my mother would bundle us up in December, throw us in the car, and drive around to look at neighborhood Christmas lights.  Each time we saw a house we particularly thought special, we all repeated the phrase "ooh-la-la!"  I don't know why, but it was a tradition.  I catch myself still doing this; however, I usually say it in my head, not out loud.

There was rarely anything spectacular about these displays of my youth, usually consisting of blue, and sometimes multi-colored lights adorning the gutter of a home, or a sparsely draped tree in a front yard.  Nothing that would warrant an enthusiastic "ooh-la-la" from the peanut gallery.  I mean, we saw nothing elaborate like gigantic 9 feet tall snow men or a Santa Claus hydraulically popping up and down from an inflatable chimney belting out, "Ho, Ho, Ho!"  that one sees (and unfortunately hears) proudly displayed on lawns today.

No, the childhood holidays of Generation Xers were much different.  Simple, serene lights twinkling in the distance (and I grew up in rural West Virginia, so when I say distance, I mean it) against a dark night sky was enough for us.  Chilly evenings driving around in a car oohing and ahhing at the subtlety.  No garish, obnoxious snow globe balloons taking up three blocks...oh my God, I have now become my mother.

 

Found these "vintage" Christmas lights on ebay

 

--Fortuitous Observer

 

What Generation X Watched Monday Night on TV in 1984

Today some of my coworkers were discussing current television shows running on the major networks and cable and for a minute I was so overwhelmed with the show titles folks were spewing that my head began to throb.  Egads.

How is it possible to keep up with every show on all networks, and cable?  I haven't seen a TV guide in years (do they still print those things?), and the only show I know is House on Monday night and sometimes I can't even remember if it is on at 8pm or 9pm.  Seriously.  Am I the only Xer who doesn't keep up with TV because I'm, well, too tired to keep it straight (and underwhelmed by the offerings)?  I can't be!

Now, imagine if you will, Generation X, the year is 1984 (just a random year I've selected, no real significance).  ABC, CBS, and NBC.  That was it, until FOX was added to the mix in 1986.  I knew what was on the idiot box (television for those youngsters out there) every morning/afternoon/evening and the times.  I was a walking TV Guide.

Now there are so many cable channels in the fray, and I believe I've simply thrown in the towel.  I don't want to know what is on because my short-term memory isn't what is used to be and I have too many important things to remember, like eating, sleeping, walking, breathing, etc.  There is no room in my head for such trivial data at this point.

So, welcome to a cold, grey Monday evening.  What is on TV tonight you ask?  I have no idea (except House is on at some point tonight, I think), but I can tell you what was on Monday night in the fall of 1984 (thanks to Al Gore's invention of the Internet).  Here it is Generation X...what we watching on Monday night in 1984.  I'm Larry, this is my brother Darryl, and this is my other brother Darryl. 

MONDAY NIGHT LINEUP - 1984

ABC - 8pm Call to Glory; 8:30pm ABC NFL Monday Night Football

CBS - 8pm Scarecrow and Mrs. King; 9pm Kate & Allie; 9:30pm Newhart; 10pm Cagney & Lacey

NBC - 8pm TVs Bloopers & Practical Jokes; 9pm NBC Monday Night at the Movies

 

--Fortuitous Observer

I Remember When...My First Run-in With Law Enforcement...I was 8

Now that I'm a Gen Xer in my 40s, I feel increasingly compelled to reminisce about my childhood (evident in my past few posts), and to confess a few things, get some things off my chest.  No, I'm not dying or anything (that I know of).  It seems I've even started my own serial subject within my posts, the "I Remember When..." saga, this being the second installment of my admissions.  De-cluttering the soul if you will.

This story ends with my sister and I being grounded for a month, but no one was harmed (physically) so I can go forth in good conscience.  My first experience with "the law" was at the tender young age of 7 or 8.  My sister, our best friend, and myself (I will later refer to us as the Three Scientists, because we wanted to be scientists at that time...we even had a science lab and everything...that is all a story for another time) were not overly fond of our neighbor, Mr. Carter (I'll use his real name because he is probably dead...not just because he was already "old" but he was also, I believe, an alcoholic, and generally odious).

We didn't like Mr. Carter because he had threatened to knock down our tree houses, and sometimes he did, and for 8 year old girls, that was enough to secure a number one spot on our drop-dead list right there.  He used to stash his bottles of cheap liquor in the woods behind my friend's house and sneak off in the trees to partake of said stashed bottles so his wife wouldn't see him drinking.  We knew he did this often, but on one particular day when we were playing near the edge of the woods, he pointed a stick (I really don't know what it was, so I'm going with stick) at us and yelled something inaudible as he sat on a pile of rocks slugging back his favorite potable.  Unfortunately for him, we were in a mood appropriately precocious.

The three of us ran to my friend's house and told her big sister that Mr. Carter pointed a gun at us (I know, it isn't all that creative, but we were only 7, and despite our advanced devious nature, we were still learning).  She was in a panic and called the town sheriff (it was a really small town).  Within minutes, two police cars arrived on "the scene" and questioned Mr. Carter.  My parents came outside (as well as every other neighbor on the street) and my dad was talking to Mr. Carter and the officers.  I wasn't sure what was being said, but after many minutes ticked by, it was obvious the police were making no arrests, and given our antipathy toward Mr. Carter, I believe it was assumed by all logical thinking adults that the Three Scientists had "made the whole thing up."

At least that is what my parents thought, because, as I said starting off...my sister and I were grounded for a solid month for this business.  The Three Scientists were not allowed to play together, though we did sit on the fences around our yards and tossed a basketball back and forth and talked.  By "talked" I mean plotted.  Being separated by grounding just gave us one more reason to dislike Old Man Carter, which made the police chapter the first of many missions carried out against the old sot, though none of them landed us in juvenile facilities...only because we didn't get caught.

 

--Fortuitous "On the Lam" Observer

 

A Gen-Xer's Delima: Atari or Wait for a Nuclear Bomb?

A few weeks ago I posted some inaniloquent musings about things I miss (mostly from my childhood in the 80s), and my Generation X nostalgia crept in again this morning with flashbacks of everything "80s" like television shows, games, friends, playing outside, nukes, and of course our Atari system.

Growing up as an Xer during the Cold War was such an anxious time (at least for me) because the threat of nuclear annihilation lingered constantly in the back of the mind, like that musty smell in an attic that no amount of mothballs can shake (I honestly prefer the musty smell to the mothball smell).  I remember riding my bike one evening and the sky looked strange, purple and dark grey, and I thought, "Oh, know, the bomb has been released and I'm going to die."

Doom and gloom were always present in me, so when Atari came along, and my parents decided to buy the system for us, it was something new and wildly exciting that took my mind off exploding into a million radiated bits.

My parents (like many parents at that time) were worried that we would no longer want to play outside and that we would become zombies, addicted to this new fangled machine with it's hideous graphics (I'll be honest, we didn't find those graphics hideous at the time because we had nothing to compare them to, except Pong, and hands down, Atari graphics were much better), replete with sound effects.

It turns out, our parents didn't need to worry about coercing us into video gaming rehab or force us to go outside and get some fresh air.  We wanted to be outdoors.  Sure, trying to figure out the new Raiders of the Lost Ark game or improve our Missile Command skills was fun stuff, but after a while, the outside world called our names, boredom with the Atari system would set in and we would be jonesing (now there is a lost but not forgotten 80s term for you) to get outside and pass the football around, or build a tree house, or dig in the dirt.

Being in the outdoors seemed less scary after playing indoors with the Atari, though I'm not sure why.  The foreboding war still loomed in the background as before, but perhaps my desire to "live" or my bravery intensified after experiencing being shot at by space creatures, dodging barrels hurled at me by King Kong, or swinging over a pit in the jungle to escape deadly scorpions?  Game Over.

 

--Fortuitous Observer

Generation X Halloween Specials

Summer has passed (or on her last leg anyway), so this sun bunny has to switch gears and cozy up to autumn now.  It's ok, I can do it.  At 42, I don't trick-or-treat anymore (no one wants to see that), but I still love halloween in all its macabre glory, and nothing says feel-good frights like curling up with some popcorn and watching those great animated TV halloween specials!

Two or three years ago, I wrote an online article about the halloween TV specials that our generation grew up with in the 70s and 80s.  Rather than re-write the article, I will just point you to the link...here it is:  Top Halloween Specials for Nostalgic Generation Xers!  Enjoy, Gen Xers (and everyone else)!

P.S.  I think my favorite is still Witch's Night Out.

 

--Fortuitous "Spooky" Observer

I Saw Something Yesterday as Elusive as the Unicorn...a Teenager Mowing the Lawn

That's right folks.  I saw it with my own eyes on my way home yesterday.  At the time, I was inclined to think I had gone mad, but when I mentioned what I had seen to Poseidon, he confirmed that he saw this rare phenomenon as well:  a teenager actually mowing her parent's lawn (yes, I said "her"), and I'm not talking a riding lawn mower with a cushy seat, I'm talking plain old-fashioned push mower.  I just don't see that these days so I was quite impressed.

For many of us Gen-Xers, growing up in suburbia meant we were assigned chores.  Manual labor if you will.  My sister and brother and I shared the duty of mowing not only our yard, but my grandparent's yard.  My dad was a carpenter and would build things and sell them like plant stands, vegetable bins, magazine racks, clocks, etc., and we got paid for sanding and staining the wood before he assembled his masterpieces.  Manual labor.

I may have resented it at the time (Wait...may have?  Of course I did, I was a teenager), but I learned some valuable lessons.  I can't think of any right now, but I know I learned something.

 

--Fortuitous Observer

 

Things I Miss - A Gen Xers Nostalgic Sob Story on a Wednesday Night

Atari - not because I really want to play an Atari game now, but it represented a slow technological time, when versions of new things didn't have a "dot" in them and it was years in between new releases, not days.  I remember when the Raiders of the Lost Ark game came out for Atari, and you had to call a number to get secret tips on how to play the game.

School House Rocks - on Saturday mornings.  Now it's so retro 80s...it wasn't retro when I grew up in the 80s.

Captain Kangaroo - Mr. Green Jeans and the rabbit, and the clock, and the moose...such a comfort now to think about them.  Remember when MTV first aired and the Captain began "updating" by showing snippets of videos?  Oh, and "Now you know my name is Simon, and the things I draw come true."  I've actually blogged about Simon in the past.

Playing outside - until well after dark and my parents didn't worry about me

Rocky Horror Picture Show - in high school, on Saturday nights at the midnight movie, and my parents didn't worry about me.

Renting - I love my house and my little piece of land, but I miss calling someone else when things were broken...now I have to figure out how to fix things all by myself, or more often than not, pay someone else to fix them because I'm not capable of doing it all alone.

Thinking I'm invincible - Now that I'm 42, and I'm feeling old because I had to buy reading glasses, my muscles and joints ache, I had to have my gallbladder removed, and the worst thing...I get sick on carnival rides.  Seriously, I used to make fun of my mom because she would get nauseous on carnival rides...now, I want to puke when I even see a "Tilt-O-Whirl."

 

--Fortuitous Observer