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Changing Our Ways for the Bays by John Tolmie
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hildren whose adolescence blossomed in the 70s and 80s collectively concur that alone-time with the TV was a cherished and coveted event. Parents usually slept in on the weekends, so Saturday morning cartoons were typically a sure bet. Occasionally, Mom and Dad would indulge in a few too many Friday night cocktails extending their respite. This gratuitous allotment of tube-time was devoted to Black Belt Theater or a rare Creature Double Feature. A definitive pecking order of who controlled what was watched was quite simple. Dads were at the top and kids were at the bottom. Without word or warning, fathers all possessed the uncanny ability to appear just as that final epic kung fu battle was about to commence. Bruce Lee was unceremoniously dismissed in ex-
change for eight hours of golf, golf talk, golf claps, and golfing commercials. The “go outside and play” command soon followed as the young’uns begrudgingly set off to find entertainment outdoors until dusk. Sunset was the universal Bat-Signal that supper was nigh as families congregated at the dinner table for some quality time together.
The excited conversation about what was going to be watched after the dishes were done was the predominant subject most evenings. Real People was the universal choice, or That’s Incredible at a close second, with nature shows landing in a comfy third place. Marty Stauffer's Wild America was a solid pick alongside the old guy who narrated
