Dueling Memories: The Land That Time Forgot

Introduction

This charming bit of doggerel, with some excellent thoughts and rhymes, showed up in my mailbox the other day. A retired Military Lifer pal of mine forwarded it, and I got a huge kick out of it, even agreed with some of it ... except for some of the assumptions about the values and virtues of America in days gone by.

So, Warrior Poet that I truly am, I just had to write a response. My buddy, a stone Libertarian, loved it and asked to share it with his mailing list, so I figured it was only fair to share it with y'all. Enjoy.

Boots Dorfman
Bon Vivant, Warrior-Poet, Ph.D., B.M.O.C., S.O.B., Q.E.D.

In the Land of Sandra Dee

Author Unknown, but if it was you, please contact me. I'd love to buy you an indecent number of beers and discuss at length the validity or non- of Nietzsche's personal survival code, "Das, das uns nicht tötet, bildet uns nur lustiger."*

Long ago and far away,
In a land that time forgot,
Before the days of Dylan
Or the dawn of Camelot.

There lived a race of innocents,
And they were you and me,
Long ago and far away
In the Land of Sandra Dee.

Oh, there was truth and goodness
In that land where we were born,
Where navels were for oranges,
And Peyton Place was porn.

For Ike was in the White House,
And Hoss was on TV,
And God was in his heaven
In the Land of Sandra Dee.

We learned to gut a muffler,
We washed our hair at dawn,
We spread our crinolines to dry
In circles on the lawn...

And they could hear us coming
All the way to Tennessee,
All starched and sprayed and rumbling
I the Land of Sandra Dee.

We longed for love and romance,
And waited for the Prince,
And Eddie Fisher married Liz,
And no one's seen him since.

We danced to "Little Darlin'",
And sang to "Stagger Lee"
And cried for Buddy Holly
In the Land of Sandra Dee.

Only girls wore earrings then,
And three was one too many,
And only boys wore flat-top cuts,
Except for Jean McKinney.

And only in our wildest dreams
Did we expect to see
A boy named George with lipstick
In the Land of Sandra Dee.

We fell for Frankie Avalon,
Annette was oh, so nice,
And when they made a movie,
They never made it twice.

We didn't have a Star Trek V,
Or Psycho II and III,
Or Rocky-Rambo XX
In the Land of Sandra Dee.

Miss Kitty had a heart of gold,
And Chester had a limp,
And Reagan was a Democrat
Whose co-star was a chimp.

We had a Mr. Wizard,
But not a Mr. T,
And Oprah couldn't talk yet
In the Land of Sandra Dee.

We had our share of heroes,
We never thought they'd go,
At least not Bobby Darin,
Or Marilyn Monroe.

For youth was still eternal,
And life was yet to be,
And Elvis was forever,
In the Land of Sandra Dee.

We'd never seen the rock band
That was Grateful to be Dead,
And Airplanes weren't named Jefferson,
And Zeppelins weren't Led.

And Beatles lived in gardens then,
And Monkees in a tree,
Madonna was a virgin
In the Land of Sandra Dee.

We'd never heard of Microwaves,
Or telephones in cars,
And babies might be bottle-fed,
But they weren't grown in jars.

And pumping iron got wrinkles out,
And "gay" meant fancy-free,
And dorms were never coed
In the Land of Sandra Dee.

We hadn't seen enough of jets
To talk about the lag,
And microchips were what was left at
The bottom of the bag.

And Hardware was a box of nails,
And bytes came from a flea,
And rocket ships were fiction
In the Land of Sandra Dee.

Buicks came with portholes,
And side shows came with freaks,
And bathing suits came big enough
To cover both your cheeks.

And Coke came just in bottles,
And skirts came to the knee,
And Castro came to power
In the Land of Sandra Dee.

We had no Crest with Fluoride,
We had no Hill Street Blues,
We all wore superstructure bras
Designed by Howard Hughes.

We had no patterned pantyhose
Or Lipton herbal tea
Or prime-time ads for condoms
In the Land of Sandra Dee.

There were no golden arches,
No Perriers to chill,
And fish were not called Wanda,
And cats were not called Bill.

And middle-aged was thirty-five
And old was forty-three,
And ancient were our parents
In the Land of Sandra Dee.

But all things have a season,
Or so we've heard them say,
And now instead of Maybelline
We swear by Retin-A.

And they send us invitations
To join AARP,
We've come a long way, baby,
From the Land of Sandra Dee.

So now we face a brave new world
In slightly larger jeans,
And wonder why they're using
Smaller print in magazines.

And we tell our children's children
Of the way it used to be,
Long ago and far away
In the Land of Sandra Dee.



* "That which does not kill us only makes us funnier." This belief was muttered by the philosopher-poet in his sleep and was reported to his biographers, inaccurately as it happens.