"Holy Saturday"

"What Saturday used to mean to me means to me."

Another mostly real life story,...Once upon a Time.

Reading comics doing chores. The basic Norman Rockwell fantasy. Which in this case was real. Traditions used to be important. One could tell the time of year by them. Even the time of week.

Saturday Movie Matinees for kids. Once an iron tradition.

I was a solitary lad. Some few pals, but mostly on my own. It was in this state I went to the movies. 'Back in the day each 'hood had a movie house. These in them gleeful long ago days of "duck, and cover" segregation, and the .10 cent comic books. Ours was the "Carroll Theatre". It died the usual death of these beloved places as a porn grind house in the grim 1970's.

A moment.

I'm thinking of our dog "Brownie", and a half remembered cat named "Tippy". Them, and the rabbit we somehow ended up with. She was kept in a wire box under the back porch, and one day was found dead. I'd imagine of a broken lonely heart.

She wasn't given a name I remember, and no one I can recall played with her...she was just there. So died. She has haunted me to this day.

But I digress into unresolved mysteries.

To the movies, and their place in my kidhood. It was a thing we did an experience that we had for ourselves...it was ours not our parents not the nuns just ours. Those brutal, and arbitrary authorities ceded it to us. You can just beat a dog so much, and they turn on you.

So on Saturday they didn't beat us.

We were free to wander to dream of other worlds free to imagine escape. Even free to have what should be the birthright of every kid, but ain't. We were free for one day to have fun. Going to the movies. Wandering around having the weird adventures we should have been having 24/7 365. This through our whole childhoods. ...but were forbidden to.

The next day,... On Sunday we were sent to be indoctrinated into false heartless cosmologies. ...Religions. On Monday the beatings resumed.

'But Saturday our Holy Saturday.

Well I recall watching a profoundly deranged holy film called the "Atomic Submarine". It started out with hundreds of ships mysteriously sinking all over the place, but especially around the North Pole...this back when it had ice.

The good guys that is the United States fucking Navy sends in one of their brand new Atomic Bleeping Submarines...hence the title, to deal with shit. One thing leads to another, and the Navy guys find a giant UFO hanging out under the ice!

Intermission or where the Theater makes their real money.

Oh the prices. A hot dawg with a coke .25 cents. When it went to thirty it was like the Great Depression again. We had to hit up our folks for an extra five cents...a hard negotiation! Anyway loaded with candies dead meat drowned in plastic mustard, and bubbly sugar water we were ready for anything them space Alien bastards could dish out!

Well the flick grinds into action, and we gets a good gander at the Alien boss.
Good grief!
He looked like a deep fried rubber ducky! ...with gravy.
The space maniac immediately starts melting sailors...the black one first of course. Yep that tentacled ham sandwich had the traditional heat ray going like crazy. He even takes out two other subs...both British. Some sort of message there...I think.
Of course in the end the smart yanks figures everything out, and sends them Aliens packing.

They try to escape by taking off to get back to "Planet X". This so they can tell their guys how weak stupid, and over taxed everybody on Earth is. That, and they better get over here pronto to wipe us out before we wise up, and come knocking on their crib. Youbetcha that we blows them fried duckies to hell!

Anyway after having a swell time watching that film classic. Drinking several gallons of soda pop, and ten pounds of candy off to home I go to tell my mom that the Earth is safe.

I told my dad too,...he was much relived.

My dad was a kindly neat guy that loved us almost as much as he loved the electric train layout he constructed to my mother's horror in the basement that he also finished. Not with that pine-board crap. Which as most know are just roach, and mouse motels in waiting.

Rather he being strong smart, and cool smoothed off all the walls with plaster, and re-cemented the floors installed panel lighting built a giant railway system that was the second home to all the kids on the block, and got us ice cream when the damned truck finally came.

He was a good guy, and an island of calm in my otherwise hellish childhood.

Holy Saturday.