Gene Autry and the secularization of Easter and Christmas

Most of you reading this won't know who Gene Autry was.
The Singing Cowboy.

Back in the late 40s and ealy 50s, he was a big deal. Not as cool as Roy Rogers, but close enough. He had a radio show and later a TV show. His horse's name was Champion and he had an assortment of sidekicks in the movies and small screen.
He was mild in manner, a straight shooter, every thing a red blooded American kid wanted to be.

But, he was a singer. He made kid songs we could sing along with. He took Jesus out of holidays and made reindeer and jelly beans what you looked forward to after suffering through a long boring church service (especially if it was in Latin.)

Here's how he sang about Easter:

https://youtu.be/DYY5jFnkX5g


Jelly beans for Tommy, colored eggs for sister Sue. There's an orchid for your Mommy and an Easter bonnet, too.

That was MY youth.
White gloves, light coat, new scratchy dress and hat with a fake flower or two on it.

And Mass. In Latin. That lasted forever, with the story of the crucifixion and resurrection that took about two hours.

Nicer to think about bunnies and chocolate.

Moving right along, he also took care of Christmas. He had a couple of Christmas songs...one about Santy Claus and the famous one about Rudolph.

https://youtu.be/X_OGX3jT2pA

I was a kid. It was the 50s. You went to church every Sunday. You went to catechism. You prayed, you went to confession after you were seven. You made communion religiously. God was always watching.

And then along came Gene Autry.

I don't know whether Roy Rogers, the King of the Cowboys, sang secular holiday songs, but I know Gene knocked 'em off regularly.

If kids don't know about Jesus suffering, about celebrating His life and not candy, of feeling sad on Good Friday and wearing new scratchy clothes, you have to blame Gene.

Please go to YouTube and check out these links. It was hard for me to get there.

Teeth

Went to the orthodontist yesterday. He was surprised the teeth hadn't moved more, because he had me on a fast track.

I would have asked what he meant by that, but my mouth was full of someone else's fingers and sharp metal spikes digging into my persona. flesh.

This morning, while applying more wax to the sharp stuff, I noticed that the front tooth that stuck out so much didn't seem to stick out so much.  The bands were replaced yesterday, teeth felt painful and still do, but it looked as if that one booger tooth might have moved back into line a little.

On the bottom, that one tooth that was sort of behind appears to be even more behind. Made me think of Nanny McPhee.

I'm too old for this shit.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xzJgH9KJEYo

Hometown memories

Recently, my hometown, the one where I grew up and went to school, made a Facebook group. I signed on, though most of the friends were from much later dates. I finished high school in 1967. Most of these folks, not all but some, were more in the late 80s class. I hardly know them, except perhaps by their maiden or last names, if at all.

But this morning I had a bad memory that I am compelled to write about. Somehow, the news today brought this person to mind.

It creeped me out.

There was a family who lived across the lake from where I lived. Many classmates lived on that side and we went to Pierce School together. It was torn down before they put up the plaque saying I had gone there....

I digress, as usual.

There was a parochial school in our town, and a good many kids went there. Because I didn't go there, I didn't really know too many kids who went there, unless I saw them at church or hanging around the playground in the summer.
There was one family, though, that I knew because my friend Sally knew them. For privacy sake, I will not use the last name, though I remember it.

There were three boys and a father...I'd see them at Mass every Sunday, marching in file. The father looked like a military man and the boys behaved in a Catholic school manner.
And there was a daughter.
I believe she was the youngest.
She toed the mark as well, but there was more to it.

She apparently was in control of the household. After all, she was a girl. 
Rumor had it that her mother died giving birth to her, but I am not sure.

This girl looked...how can I put it? Downtrodden.
A nest of dull hair, plain features, grim expression on her lips and face.

Now that I think of it, she always appeared to be wearing boys' clothing.

She was famous or infamous for riding around town, away from the western end where she lived, on a sturdy bicycle. Wearing a turned down Navy cap, baggy jackets, leather shoes.
Another rumor claimed she had a knife in her socks.

I never spoke to her. Never really saw her except for at church or riding away from her home.

All the descriptions above are true...the rumors and observations may not be. Who is there to contradict me?

I'll tell you one thing...I hope she is happy. Maybe two, three years younger than I am, so she's old enough to have grandchildren, if she ever had kids and that happily ever after stuff.
Thinking of what she may have gone through, based solely on her appearance and rumor, put me in mind of more of a horror story than anything else.

The world is ugly now. It was ugly back in the 50s. Ugly in the 60s. Even uglier in the 70s.
Those thoughts of what might have been her life may not be true in any way, but my 2019 mind can't help but wonder if she was wounded so severely that she never had a chance to bloom and be happy.

I wish I could find out.

Why oh why?

I really didn't think the madness would go on this long.

I really, really hoped that our nation would come together and oust the dangerous moron, but it hasn't.

Sometimes I read responses to news articles and the supporters are more vehement than I could ever expect a normal, thinking person to be.

It sickens me.

I have sworn off responding to any political messages on Face Book for the duration of Lent.

There are puppies and kitties and horsies with much better lives.

It has been a very long time since I've posted here. Sorry about that. But my life has become even more complicated than ever.

And, I have braces!!!!!

Here's the scene: People standing on the edge of a rocky high cliff, glorying at the scenery below.
Here's Irene, cringing. They're gonna fall off.

People trudging through the snow, or better yet, people on a ski lift, dangling there above the ground.

Children throwing snowballs at trucks. No, make that ice balls and smashing the windshield of the oncoming car. They run away through the foot deep snow.  What fun?
Nope.

Take it to another season.

Jumping in piles of leaves that they just raked through the whole yard.
Searching in mud through rows of orange pumpkins for just the right one. Feeling that first brisk wind tear through your too-light jacket.

Or, how about frying in the sun?
Diving into a freezing cold pool or ocean or lake?

None of these things are appealing to me.
I can watch scenery from a window. I don't want to ski. Last time I skated was okay, but my thighs got chilblains.

Shoveling snow is back breaking. I don't care if it looks like marshmallow, it is cold, wet and heavy. Oh, my back!

Don't talk to me about driving in snow or ice or fog!

I am not an outdoorsy person, unless there is a horse involved, and even that would take a mighty fantastic horse to get me outside.

Where does my brain wander?

Spent the first big holiday without Mom.
Spent it with husband's family as far away from Central New Jersey as I could get.

Two days in the new car there, two days back home.

In a way, I think it cleansed my soul, but something happened that also cleansed my digestive tract. I got sick. Really sick. Never leave the bathroom sick. Not because of the lovely Thanksgiving dinner, no, not that. I think it was coming on before we left home.

But...a sick stomach is dangerous.

It rained. Parts of NC and parts of VA were flooded. When we came home, we found that parts of NJ were flooded also.

All I can say is, Thank God it wasn't snow.

Thinking back on Thanksgiving

All of us in 6th grade Miss Clancy's class had to perform in the holiday assembly. She painted a beautiful autumnal backdrop and we liked up on risers in the front of the stage to sing along to Miss Titler's piano.

Swing the shining sickle, cut the ripened grain!
Flash it in the sunlight, swing it once again.
Tie the golden grainheads into shining sleeves, 
beautiful the colors of the autumn leaves.

Then we broke into the Pilgrim's Anthem:

The breaking waves dashed high, on the stern and rockbound coast.
The trees against the stormy sky, their giant branches tossed.

The heavy night hung dark, the trees and waters o'er, 
when a band of exiles moored their bark on the wild New England shore.

This was the fall of 1960. JFK had just been elected president. I had the best teacher in the school and it was going to be a good holiday.

Why were we singing songs with words that had to be explained to us? No idea what a sickle was nor a grainhead. We were singing songs from the turn of the 20th century.

I wonder if anyone but me remembers those stupid ancient songs!

I'm gonna try to look them up on Google, see if they are not just a figment of my imagination.