By Michael B. Wright
I remember when you could take your pets to Olan Mills for portraits.
I remember what hamburgers tasted like at small downtown grills prior to McDonald’s and other drive-thru chains.
I remember when you could while away a good 20 or 30 minutes with your best buds viewing live X-rays of your feet at the local Thom McAn shoe store.
I remember when some girls wore round rings on their blouses called “virgin pins.”
I remember inkwells in our school desks.
I remember when Thomas Tryon, horror author of “The Other” and “Harvest Home” portrayed Disney cowboy Texas John Slaughter.
Related: Wright Stuff: “I’m So Old That…” Part 1
I remember when Keith Richards was the best looking of The Rolling Stones.
I remember Big John and Sparky on the radio, as well as Rudy Kazootie.
I remember when “Smilin’ Ed” McConnell preceded Andy Devine as host of “the Buster Brown Show.”
I remember a TV cowboy series called “Shotgun Slade” which had jazz background music after the success of Peter Gunn.
I remember when the Ovaltine-sponsored “Captain Midnight” became “Jet Jackson” and whenever his new name was overdubbed, the lips still said “Captain Midnight” visually.
I remember Commando Cody’s jet-pack jacket duplicated decades later in the movie “Rocket Man” (not Elton John)
I remember when Diana Ross was humble.
I remember how we giggled during geography class upon hearing the name “Lake Titicaca.”
I remember when “Google” was something guys did with their eyes when triggered by attractive females.
I remember when we guys all wanted to be “Spin” and no one wanted to be “Marty.”
I remember when the phrase “git ‘er done!” was somehow funny!
I remember when sports cars were so rare in America that whenever a driver of one would pass another they would honk and wave at each other. Same with bikers, to a degree.
I remember when stand-up comics sat on stools.
I remember when Brenda Lee performed as “Little Brenda Lee.”
I remember when every magazine had Elvis Presley on the cover, the way they now have Taylor Swift.
I remember when “Knights of the Round Table” and Tarzan movies instilled in me a strong dread of quicksand.
I remember when the late, great, writer, director and actor John Cassavetes (Mia Farrow’s husband in “Rosemary’s Baby”) was in a Peter Gunn-type TV series called “Johnny Staccato.”
I remember what prompted the phrase “don’t drink the Kool-Aid.”
Mike doesn’t have enough material left for a Part III. If you’d like to contribute yours, send them to micwrighthamo@gmail.com. He may just share his commission with you.
