Nothing To Hang On To

When I was a child growing up in Columbia, Tennessee Saturdays were

magical times. I would, after lunch, go back with my father to town. If I needed a

haircut he would give me a dollar and I would go get the haircut - my father called

it "getting your ears lowered" - and, then, with the money that was left over I

would go to the movie, buy popcorn and a box of Mild Duds. I could do all of that

for a dollar. I think I had a nickel left over. Amazing.

You could spend your whole afternoon in the movie theater. Saturday was the

day of the double feature - and more. There was a mystery or detective movie, a

cowboy movie with someone like Roy Rogers or Gene Autry. If you've never

seen one of those movies, they were amazing. The hero would be in a desperate

rush to save someone from impending disaster but would still have the time to

stop and sing a song about it. And all the guys with him seemed to be able to pull

guitars out of nowhere and join him. Then there was the cartoon. After that and

most important came the serial.

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