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Going Home Again with ‘Rocky & Bullwinkle; 45th High School Reunion
Boomer’s Journal
By Tom Amselm
On lazy Sunday afternoons in the fall when I was a kid, we used to lie on the living room floor and watch football. This was in the early 1960s, and the Cardinals had just come to town from Chicago. So after the game came a show that was what one would call “an acquired taste”, kind of like “30 Rock” is today. You either loved it or hated it. I’m talking about “The Rocky and Bullwinkle Show.”
As many in the Boomer Generation can recall, the characters were as long on zaniness as they were short in brainpower. The lead characters were Rocky the Flying Squirrel and his dimly-witted sidekick, Bullwinkle J. Moose.
Since we were then living in the era of what was known as “The Cold War” pitting democracy against communism, it was fair game to satirize the Russians with the bumbling spy characters of Boris Gudanov and Natasha Fatale as they followed the dictates of Fearless Leader.
We had the simple-minded Royal Canadian Mountie Dudley Do-Right and his gal-pal, Sweet Nell, who weekly ended up being tied to the railroad tracks by the dastardly Snidely Whiplash. And my faves were Mr. Peabody, who was inexplicably a genius dog, and his pet boy Sherman. Their schtick was to go back in time in, what else, “The Way-Back Machine”. The plan was to teach history to young viewers, but they always distorted the story for satire’s sake, so I don’t know how much teaching took place, really.
Well, I took a couple of rides in “The Way-Back Machine” these past few months. One was to attend an annual golf outing in memorial to the father of a pal from my UMSL days. It’s been going on for over 25 years now, and I’ve probably made half of them. Last year I even won the trophy which used be presented for the best score, but by the time it got to me, it had become an acknowledgement of “showing up”, as in the tournament committee saying “who hasn’t won this thing yet, so let’s make up a great score for him.”
The most valuable moments of an event like this come not in the playing, but in the gathering. The stories we’ve all heard many times before are still funny, if even more embellished. And befitting our “advancing ages”, there is more talk of medications and surgeries than there were when we were strapping athletes of yore. Right. So also it was at my 45th high school reunion.
It started with a Mass in the school chapel, taking me back to the gift of daily Mass that the Jesuits offered to a young man as part of his formation during the most difficult time in his life, his teens. Then, in true Catholic fashion, it was off to the bar, where I saw some guys who I hadn’t seen in at least 40 years, and others who I didn’t hang with back then, but have recently gotten to know better. And it was all good.
All good. Somehow, after a bit of discernment, the faces roll back to those younger days. We are, all of us, physically changed. Some more than others, alas, with less hair for a few and more girth for others. Or both. And some, sadly, have left us. But as we gathered, as we laughed, as we reconnected at both events, I was taken by the deep affection I had for these men. They were part of my youth, my coming-of-age. And it was powerfully good to know that, even if slightly, even if just occasionally, they are also part of my life today.
They say you can never go home again, and essentially that is true. But with the help of good old Mr. Peabody and his invention, you can make a visit now and then.
I recommend it. (Tom welcomes comments at tjanselm@sbcglobal.net. Check out his book “You’re Never Too Old For Space Camp” at booklocker.com)
