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- May 2, 2004
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Riding with the Lone Ranger and Tonto.
I grew up, in the fifties, when children were comfortable with three channels on TV.
The Lone Ranger and his sidekick Tonto came into our living room on Saturday mornings at nine oclock. I would have my twin six-shooters, strapped to my waist, my white cowboy hat, atop my head. The big pillows, on the overstuffed couch, tossed to the floor, giving me access to my fine horse: Blaze; in reality, the right side, arm rest of the overstuffed couch. My mother would forgive me this transgression. She understood, I couldnt ride along, without a horse.
As the three of us rode our horses, around the Wild West, saving damsels in distress, apprehending the lawless and making sure that all children had enough to eat, I took heart in the knowledge that I was on the side of good. There was never any doubt. The good guys wore white hats, the bad ones wore black. I wore a white hat, which made me a good guy. It was all so easy, back then.
Every one wore a hat in the fifties, even the ladies wore them. You could tell a great deal about someones character, by the hat that was on their head.
Hardly anyone wears a hat these days, which makes it really hard to tell if they are good guys or bad. Its even hard to tell by what they do or say; if they are people you can respect. It seems everyone has a way of justifying their actions, no matter what they are.
I learned three things from the Lone Ranger; dont consort with people you dont respect, always fulfill your obligations, no matter the personnel cost and be just and courageous as you live your life.
As I go about my daily routine, now, with the cell phone ringing, my beeper, beeping, letting me know I am needed, the Blackberry telling me which way is North; On the long ride home; I think back and wish I could, once again, climb on the arm of that overstuffed couch and ride with the Lone Ranger and Tonto.
It was all so very simple, Fred
Musings of a die hard romantic
I grew up, in the fifties, when children were comfortable with three channels on TV.
The Lone Ranger and his sidekick Tonto came into our living room on Saturday mornings at nine oclock. I would have my twin six-shooters, strapped to my waist, my white cowboy hat, atop my head. The big pillows, on the overstuffed couch, tossed to the floor, giving me access to my fine horse: Blaze; in reality, the right side, arm rest of the overstuffed couch. My mother would forgive me this transgression. She understood, I couldnt ride along, without a horse.
As the three of us rode our horses, around the Wild West, saving damsels in distress, apprehending the lawless and making sure that all children had enough to eat, I took heart in the knowledge that I was on the side of good. There was never any doubt. The good guys wore white hats, the bad ones wore black. I wore a white hat, which made me a good guy. It was all so easy, back then.
Every one wore a hat in the fifties, even the ladies wore them. You could tell a great deal about someones character, by the hat that was on their head.
Hardly anyone wears a hat these days, which makes it really hard to tell if they are good guys or bad. Its even hard to tell by what they do or say; if they are people you can respect. It seems everyone has a way of justifying their actions, no matter what they are.
I learned three things from the Lone Ranger; dont consort with people you dont respect, always fulfill your obligations, no matter the personnel cost and be just and courageous as you live your life.
As I go about my daily routine, now, with the cell phone ringing, my beeper, beeping, letting me know I am needed, the Blackberry telling me which way is North; On the long ride home; I think back and wish I could, once again, climb on the arm of that overstuffed couch and ride with the Lone Ranger and Tonto.
It was all so very simple, Fred
Musings of a die hard romantic
