Mighty Mouse saves the day

It’s Saturday morning as I write this, approaching 7:00. I’ve already been up several hours. This is my favorite part of the day, setting the stage for whatever else happens. If it’s gone well, as it usually does, my heart is at peace and my mind awake. My body is as ready as it can be for the challenges of the day. And I’m hungry.

I think back to the Saturday mornings of my childhood. That was one of the happiest parts of the week, but entirely different from what my mornings are like now. Saturday mornings meant—Saturday morning cartoon time! My parents exercised strict control over our family’s big, boxy, black-n-white TV set. They decided what we would all watch together in the evenings, mostly comedies like “The Honeymooners,” “I Love Lucy,” or “The Jack Benny Show.” We liked being together and we kids learned to laugh at the same jokes my dad laughed at. But TV time was strictly limited.

Saturday morning was the blessed exception. Beginning at 7:00, Tommy, Becky, and I, still in our pajamas, would sit on the floor in front of the Big Box. Mom would turn it on and the marathon would begin. Mickey Mouse, Goofy, Daffy Duck, Tom and Jerry, Popeye the Sailor Man, Betty Boop, and a score of others entertained us, made us howl with laughter, passed on to us some of our culture’s precious values. For several wonder-filled hours.

The variety was good, but I had my favorites. The following poem tells about one of them:

Saving the Day

‘Here I am to save the day,’
means that Mighty Mouse is on the way!

Every Saturday morning
Mighty Mouse saved the day,
even though the day
didn’t know it needed saving.
We three kids sat on the rug
in front of the old black ‘n white
TV, cartoon-happy.
We grinned in wonder
at the Mouse’s amazing feats.
Not at all like the grinning Mickey
or the simpering Minnie,
Mighty Mouse swooped down
from the sky, his puffed out
chest and hero suit a sure sign
help was coming.
Time and time again Mighty
saved the day, rescuing it
from the clutches of night
and from all that was dark
in the world of animals
and little kids.
This minuscule
but valiant rodent
let us know that justice
would prevail,
although at nine-years-old,
I didn’t know what that meant.
But he did, indeed,
save my day.
Every Saturday morning
at 8:00 am.

I’ve always loved movies. Occasionally our parents took us three kids out for a drive-in movie night. We saw all the Walt Disney movies. Enchanting. In the adult years when we lived in Bolivia, movies were a thing of the past, partly because of the legalistic nature of the churches we were working with. (We made an exception when “The Gods Must Be Crazy” came to town.)

Since then, things have changed for the better. There came the time when we purchased a video player. A few years later it became a DVD player. Now, of course, we stream movies directly through the internet. We have to discipline ourselves not to overdo what we’d previously been starved for. (Actually, I had felt the lack, not Hal. Movies were not part of his growing-up years.)

And now we’re retired. If I wanted, I could completely indulge. I’ve got the time. And sometimes, I do indulge, especially if I let myself get hooked into a good series, like “Madam Secretary” on Netflix. I confess I’ve watched “Downton Abbey” several times.

But there’s something inside me that checks this indulgence. I’m not sure I’d like the person I might turn into if I watched too many movies—overweight, flabby muscles, lazy brain. Am I exaggerating? Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad?

It’s not so much that as it is there are better ways to spend my time. Even though I stay seated to read a book, my brain stays engaged. I could also walk outside under the trees, visit a friend, join an exercise class, play in the garden, write a poem, etc., etc. You know the list. But it’s true. It’s good to be reminded.

Not that I’ll give up movies. No need for such an extreme reaction. A good movie relaxes me, makes me laugh, and can even give me something to think about. But I’m determined not to let characters portrayed on the screen become my chief form of relaxation, laughter, or food for thought. People do that for me. Real right-here-in-the-flesh people. Actual life lived rather than watched.

I need more than Mighty Mouse to save my days.

Notice: What I’m about to say now has nothing to do with movies or Mighty Mouse. But I just have to announce that yesterday I met my brand-new great-granddaughter, Ariah Hope Burgi. Very little at just under five lbs., but heathy and growing. Such a miracle. Life just goes on and on. Welcome to the family, little girl. We love you already.