Saturday morning, What a great day of the week. Early life, no school, day off, used to mean sleeping in late, then a bowl of Wheaties, and around noon, heading to the old Ohio Theater in Dayton, Ohio, and for a nominal amount, westerns all afternoon. Tim Holt, Gene Autry, Johnnie Mack Brown, all the good old cowboys.
In those days, I wasn't too old, but allowed to walk a number of blocks, to downtown Dayton, see the movies and walk home, with no worries. How times change. I don't remember ever hearing the speech about "strangers," I just knew not to do it, and I don't recall any incidents ever happening. I think perhaps in those days we instinctively knew what was right or wrong.
Saturday morning at The Citadel meant SMI, Saturday Morning Inspection. Generally spent Friday night getting ready, a lot of polishing, moping, sweeping, arranging, re-arranging and bleaching the wood floor so it was good and white. Inspection and then to the Parade Ground for a Saturday Review, I think it was called. We marched, anyway, the whole Corp of Cadets. It was spectacular, and good training, at the same time.
Saturday morning in the Navy, I don't think meant much. Maybe an inspection or two, but at sea, just another day aboard the old USS William Mitchell, TAP114. She is no longer with us, sold for scrap, probably shaving with her now.
I guess, in reality, the early Saturday's had the most significant meanings, and it meant staying up late on Friday night. As I am typing this I am listening to music from the 40's and 50's, on the TV. Ironic, we now have a dish (another story there, if you are planning on getting one, get in touch with me first, A Day that will go Down in Infamy, the day we got ......... "the Dish" - but that is for another time) many channels, but I prefer the music ones. Amazing how Artie Shaw can take me back to that time in my life. Benny Goodman is now transporting me back. Memories are great things.
