People often ask me if ever get tired of writing about politics? Well I don't actually tire of writing about the greatest mystery of human behavior, the political, I simply need a break from it once in awhile. So with that as a plan I thought I'd take the time to write about another side of the human experience, which in so many ways is equally important. I am speaking of course of the human need to reminisce about the past.

Based upon the scientific data gathered to date, we humans are the only earthbound species that can commit to memory our racial and cultural history. Naturally, that memory capability includes the history each of us personally experienced.

Back in 1992, Stephanie Coontz, a liberal college professor published a book entitled: "The Way We Never Were: American Families and the Nostalgia Trap." A major part of her work in this well researched book, was aimed at disqualifying what she called the 'American Myth' of the Donna Reed/ Ozzie and Harriet Nelson touted lifestyle of the late 1940' to early 1960's. It never existed she claimed.

To be completely honest I have to grant some limited disqualification to the way we tend to remember that era, but I completely disagree with her general conclusion. First of all that 'myth' was constructed around White families, which clearly did not include my family (Black and Colombian). And of the White families who would qualify, I seriously doubt if the wives came down to make morning breakfast wearing their prom dresses and a string of pearls as, Ms. Reed and Ms. Nelson made a habit of doing on TV.

However, what the esteemed professor failed to recognize (because she didn't live in that era), was that we never believed many people actually lived such a lifestyle. Instead, we regarded the portrayed Middle Class White household as an 'ideal', a template, for the family state we wanted to achieve - be we Black, White, dark beige or whatever color.

So at that time, we crafted our family structure toward that renowned dream state of the American Lifestyle - regardless of where we lived. And as we toiled at their jobs and daily lives, we held dearly to the dream: someday, we were going to live like the Nelson's and the Reed's, in a split level two car garaged home in the suburbs with two perfect children. That vision, with some variation, was the primary American Dream.

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times."

(From Charles Dickens' novel "A Tale of Two Cities.")

Any society is no more or less than its children, for they reflect the past and the future. And the best that we can do for our children, other than housing, feeding and educating them, is to afford them the space and time to be - just children. And for the most part, that is what my generation's parents and society did. We can do multiplication in our heads, spell, write script and, most important, read proficiently. I think most would agree those accomplishments were meaningful and not too shoddy for a generation whose parents lived through the Great Depression.

To set the record straight from the deliberate social-agenda historical distortions of the sociologist, we did not live in ghettoes as some would like the present world to believe, we lived in - neighborhoods. And those of us who resided in city apartment buildings did not refer to them as tenements, instead we knew them as our - homes. These distinctions are important to fully understand the healthy state of our minds and families at the time - and the whole truth as it should be known.

I was born in 1939, and as the aptly descriptive opening of the famous Charles Dickens' novel, this time also was both the best and worst of times. It was just ten years after the Great Depression, and in Germany Adolph Hitler and his crew were about to begin a five year nightmare that would engulf the entire world.

From another prospective, at this same approximate time some of the world's best motion picture classics were being produced, and classic radio was just hitting its stride. In general, Americans felt good about themselves and the prospects for their futures and more importantly, their children's futures..

Discovering My Youth

My retentive memory began to take effect between late1942 and early 1943. My first cognitive memory was of a young neighbor lad named Rudy, of approximately the same age as myself, doing a run-skip imitation of a horsemen while shouting out something that sounded like ho, yo sliver. What's that I asked? And he said it was the Long Ranger. I was later to learn that what he meant was The Lone Ranger, and I had discovered - Radio.

It did not take very long for me to discover - as a kid - that more than music came from the radio, and a whole new world of excitement opened up for me. From then on I began to notice, with ever increasing frequency, everything around me. Most notably, I became conscious of - change.

Yes, I began to see that the world did not stand still, and tomorrow would be different from today and today from yesterday. And I began to understand the significance of the fact that, should I wish and protest as loudly and violently as I may, I still couldn't control any of the change except, possibly, in the space I stood in at that very moment. And as I was soon to learn adults who had to go out and earn a living, like my mom and dad, didn't have that privilege. But as a child that space was especially made for me, because you see - I was a kid.

Don't ever let anyone try to fool you into thinking aggressive commercialism is solely a thing of the present or recent past, for it was there in force in the far past. That's right, back in the 1930's to late 1940's the advertising world's sales juggernaut made its powerful debut during the Golden Age of Radio. And the target of choice back in those 'good ole' days' were - children.

We kids used to get 'premiums' ( little toys, miniature books, puzzles and prizes) inside boxes of breakfast cereals we begged our mothers to purchase, and they were usually tied to some comic book or radio adventure hero for kids. In fact, that was the reason the Lone Ranger concept came into being.

These 'buy-me's' were packed inside the cereal boxes in cellophane packages that were blown up with air. So it took awhile before the moms began to notice that the voluminous 'toy packs' displaced a lot of the - supposedly - contained cereals. Added to the fact that sometimes we had to collect box tops to buy a particular offered toy or gadget: for example by sending in two box tops and twenty five cents.

Keeping in mind, that twenty five cents was usually a kid's weekly allowance, the profits began to really add up for the cereal companies. Think about that for a moment: one million kids mailing in a quarter would come to two hundred fifty thousand dollars - and you know there were more than one million kids in the country at the time.

In time parents and educators complained about the open exploitation of children, and a few compromises were made by the manufacturers. For every box top offer, approximately three freebies were given in the cereal boxes - without the large cellophane packages. In the end, we kids came out ahead on this one.

Box Top Adventure Came By Mail

I was raised in New York City's borough of Manhattan in the famed district known as Harlem. And between the ages of 4 to 10, I knew the postman's schedule as well as he did. In those days the mail was delivered three times a weekday and once on Saturday.

That's right, we received mail three times a day and I made it my mission to try and be there for every delivery by the mailman. What made me such a diligent 'mail-watcher' was my need to get my anxious kid hands on the constant deluge of incoming breakfast cereal premiums and membership offers that I'd sent away for.

I belonged to an ever growing list of very important organizations. For instance, I was a Dick Tracy Crime Stopper, a J. Edgar Hoover Junior G-Man, a member of Captain Midnight's Secret Squadron, and one of counter spy David Harding's most trusted agents. Hey, I had the badges and certificates to prove it, and I took them all seriously. All of us kids did.

In fact, only once did I question a premium offer, and that concerned the - Lone Ranger Atomic Bomb ring. Let's think about that for a minute. Of what possible connection could a fictional character out of the 19th century old west possibly have with a 20th century atomic weapon? We kids couldn't figure it out either - but we all got one. For kids, these were times to savor.

I would venture to guess that, judged by today's ultra rapid maturation through childhood, such youthful goings on must seem silly and boring to today's kids, if not downright ridiculous. But in those bygone days kids were truly kids.

We were 'little people' who formed lasting neighborhood friendships that seemed to transcend cultural, ethnic and racial differences - often despite the protest of our parents and adult family members. When we constructed friendships back in those days, we formed a bond by sharing just about everything material we had: comic books, toys, candy and childhood secrets. And for six hours a day, five days a week, we experienced a 'kid community' by going to the neighborhood school, which in those times, second only to one's home, was the safest place a kid could be. It really was!

The Golden Age of Radio

All of the youthful diversions I mentioned were made possible by the advent of a sort of 'magic carpet' of the airwaves, - Radio. That classic medium, rightfully described as "The Theater of the Mind", now referred to as Old Time Radio (OTR), by most accounts saw its heyday between the years 1929 to 1949.

That's right folks, radio's golden age was essentially limited to two decades. As television entered homes in the early 1950's, radio as the main source of electronic public communication began its rapid descent. By 1954-1960, the time of the birth of Rock and Roll", OTR (with the noted exception of a few programs) was for all intents and purposes deceased.

I remember with great sadness searching for the radio listings in the newspapers every day, and noting that the columns were becoming smaller and smaller, while the TV listings grew ever larger. Then one day, like the neighborhood iceman - they simply disappeared and were no more. It was that damn ' time and change thing' again.

What OTR gave us as children of the era, was the ability to exercise and explore the limits of our imagination. That meant long before the learned prejudices of our parents and neighbors could set in, we saw the world of people as they really were - real people in imaginary roles. And having that freedom we learned to accept them, via 'mind images', not as society portrayed them, but as we 'visually heard and viewed' them in our amazing imaginations.

"The Green Hornet" had his trusty aide, Kato, a Japanese American (until Pearl Harbor attack and he magically became Philippino). "The Lone Ranger' was partnered with his 'faithful Indian companion', Tonto. There was also "Life with Luigi" about the comic trials and tribulations of an Italian immigrant studying for American citizenship - the legal way. And of course there was the "Goldberg's.'

Also, we could not leave out the comedy show, Amos and Andy. Despite the uproar about them today, back then they were regarded as just very funny Negro guys with equally funny friends and family: the likes of which we saw in our neighborhoods every day.

I have no doubt that many of the actors who portrayed these character roles, may well have borne personal racial, cultural, and social prejudice and pains of their own: and I state this with particular reference to the Black actors. After all, these talented people were not hatched in a laboratory or delivered to earth in flying saucers by aliens. After all, these talented people were not hatched in a laboratory or delivered to earth in flying saucers by aliens.

These faceless actors too had parents and families where those prejudices were ingrained through the generations. But on radio, we couldn't see human faults or sense feelings or racial color, only the magnificence of the characters they played. In other words, the medium of radio allowed us to celebrate our differences. After all, our greatest strength as a nation was the ability to laugh at ourselves.

Electric Trains, Model Airplane Engines and Chemistry Sets

We lived in dangerous times for kids back then: danger was all around us, but we weren't aware to what extent. This of course was long before the Occupational Safety and Health Act (OSHA) came into being, when we rode our bicycles and roller skated without safety helmets.

Again, think about it. We kids back then had electric trains that operated on real electricity - not batteries. We had to plug the operating transformer into a wall socket - and it got worse. When I was a kid, up until they made the big conversion, that wall socket delivered Direct Current (DC), not the safer Alternating Current (AC) we have now. A zap from AC would, in most instances, simply knock you back. The same from DC could and often did kill the hapless victim.

By the way, we also had model airplanes with mini combustion engines attached to high-speed very sharp propellers, and priming the engine could be a very tricky and sometimes hazardous affair. From time to time a finger or two was sliced open, and many a screaming, bleeding kid was rushed to the hospital to be patched up. Still, a few days later, there he was back in the park with his friends with the same model airplane with its powerful mini engine. But having been the painful recipient of the 'learning by doing process', this time he was a lot more wiser and careful.

Then there was my ChemCraft Chemistry set; from the Porter Chemical Company of Hagerstown Maryland. You see, up until I was about 4, I'd become so impressed by the doctor who made house calls (they did you know), that all I wanted to be was a doctor. Always at the top of my gift list was a doctor's set. Yes, I wore them out that quickly.

That was until my older sister, Jaunita, encountered some difficulty finding one for my fifth birthday, so in desperation she purchased for me a chemistry set. I wasn't too crazy about this 'thing' at first, and it sat unused for almost a month. Then on a sick day at home from school, with virtually nothing to do, in desperation I took to - the set. I was hooked! I'd found Nirvana and my mother's home, kept scrupulously clean at all times, never quite smelled the same again. Like it or not, she had a budding young scientist on her hands.

There are many people walking around today who are lucky to be alive. I would have been a terrible doctor - it just wasn't me. Quite simply, I had no talent for it. But 27 years after opening that chemistry set, I was employed at a company in Long Island City as a chemical technician, enrolled in night college, and my life's work and destiny took flight. I would eventually become - a chemist.

As to chemistry sets in today's world? Well no sane manufacturer will even think about producing a chemistry set, and company lawyers won't let the insane ones think about them either. In our litigious OSHA-fied society, they'd be crazy to do so. Such a product would be a lawsuit in a box - waiting to happen.

So like for so many of my generation, the times were good for me. I didn't electrocute myself with my electric train, or cut off the tip of my finger starting my Glo-engine model plane, nor did I blind or blow up myself with my beloved chemistry set. Was my generation just lucky? No! We were instead - very fortunate.

Saturday Mornings at the Politically Incorrect Sexist Movies

At the beginning of the movie industry in this country, Saturday mornings were a dead time. This was because most Americans were busy earning a living, or not, depending on which end of the Great Depression they happened to be. Movies, if one could afford to see one every so often, was an adult indulgence taken advantage of on occasional evenings and weekend nights.

Therefore, in the quest to profitably fill up this dead time in movie houses, someone got the idea of developing a special time for kids with a heavy dose of the fare they liked best. So was born what was to become a staple of children well into the late 1960's: as concept, Saturday Morning at the Movies, was born.

For about three to four hours each Saturday, my parents got rid of me to a place they could trust - the movies. But just to clear up any misunderstanding of what filled our heads from this joyful experience, let it be known that there was not a hint of the 'politically correct' in anything we viewed on the movie screen.

In these inexpensively made B-films. westerns and serials, men were men and women were girls, and the girls (heroines) were always knocked unconscious at the beginning of the fight scene - usually by tripping over their own feet and hitting their heads. In the westerns the good guys wore white hats or rode white horses, and the bad guys wore a lot of black.

At the end of the western films of my day, the bad guys always lost - period. And with the exception of the horses used in westerns, the detective and general adventure movies applied the same bad guy discipline little variation. And rest assured, there was none of today's psychological analyzing of the bad guy's motives, childhood background, talk of rehabilitation or Miranda Rights. In these 'morality plays' the bad guys were captured by the good guys and sent off to long prison terms, or they were simply shot dead on the spot by the good guys if they resisted - period.

Sometimes I think to myself that it was absolutely amazing that we came through all of this violence and constant moral bombardment. But we made the trip to adulthood without the intrusive presence of psychiatrists, psychologists, sociologists and politically correct overseers looking over our shoulders. So in spite of these lacking components of our upbringing, we went on to become the mentally sound and stable people we see in the bathroom mirror each morning.

Think about all of that gunplay and the fist-fights we lived through on the screen, the overt violence of Heckle and Jeckle and Tom and Jerry cartoons, or listening to Gangbusters on radio. Yet despite this abundance of violence acted out before our impressive young eyes, ears and minds, the vast majority of us never had the slightest urge to actually kill anyone except in wartime combat for our country. Incredible, isn't it?

Television: The New Kid On the Block

With the advent of the 'alien' refrigerator and the mystery of 'did that light go off when the door closed', I was barely able to withstand the loss of our family icebox and our street's iceman. The icebox had been a trusted 'after school' snack friend, and the iceman an icon of neighborhood stability. When both faded away it did shake my world a bit; it was that change thing again.

Please don't get me wrong, I loved early television. The problem I had with it, however, was that this new medium didn't constructively tweak my kid's imagination the way radio did. But I did enjoy Captain Video, Tom Corbet Space Cadet, Sky King America's favorite Flying Cowboy ( and only flying cowboy), Wild Bill Hickcock, Captain Midnight, Gene Autry, Roy Rogers and especially "The Adventures of Superman."

The stories I heard on radio sent me in my dreams to a world of thrills or imagined adventures - and occasionally a terror or two like listening to "The Shadow" often did. The point being they made a lasting impact, but most of the shows I saw on television left my child's imagination bankrupt. No dreams or nightmares ever emanated from what I viewed. This important point should have been an early warning sign to parents and educators alike. Unfortunately, it wasn't.

My generation was reared by our families and the extended familial environment of our neighborhoods. The generations after us would be reared by the perpetual baby sitter - the television set. Look at the difference: back then we had no Columbines or teenage suicides, and the explanation should be as clear as the picture on your HD - TV.

Yes, There Was A Dark Side

I would be the last to say that everything during my generation's Golden Era was great. In fact, some of it was quite nasty, sordid and at times, despicably horrifying. Thousands of Black people were lynched in the south, Jewish people were discouraged or restricted from entry to certain hotels and other commercial establishments. There was also the murder of 14 year old Emmett Till in Money, Mississippi, where the White perpetrators were set free at trial. Also of note up until 1969, in 17 states, laws remained on the books preventing Whites and Blacks from marrying. And of personal emotional impact to me, the Ku Klux Klan and a racist city mayor prevented me and my friends from seeing actor George Reeves of "Superman" TV fame, when he appeared live at New Jersey's famous Palisades Amusement Park. No, the 1940's and 50's wasn't fun all of the time - even for kids. But we got through it despite the occasional run-in with a resident evil within our society.

...But We Survived Didn't We?

So here we are, like it or not, back to politics - as if we ever left that arena. Everything in America nowadays is politics. There is no escaping it. Yes we did survive the trials and tribulations of the times and - we are no longer kids, but now the 'older generation' - which is supposed to be the wiser one. And that earned burden carry's with it a responsibility. But far more important, we also did something else. We survived ourselves.

We made it to the moon and "We The People" went on to invent television and the VCR. And at the same time, we envisioned a future for our children and ourselves that rest assured .....didn't look anything like what's out there now. But look at what we've accomplished, for as sad as it was on the occasions of two space shuttle disasters, both crews were racial and gender integrated.

Now we are looking at the real possibility of either the first Black or first woman president of the United States of America. And as a cruel fate would have it, they have both arrived at their first best destines - at the same moment. Then again maybe it was not by chance alone, but as a test - a test of us.

In of 2006, I attended my high school's 50th reunion, and there remade contact with all of the other survivors from my class and time. Considering what we'd all been through I though we looked none the worse for the supposed wear of time. But I did, however, take note of something telling. Just about everyone remarked the same thing at one time or another, in some fashion during the evening: "I never thought I'd accomplish as much as I did."

So what about this social and presidential primary 'clash' of two valid firsts? Think about it. If either one wins the Democratic primary, without a humiliating forced capitulation of the other, taking into account what each represents in their own right of color and gender - we all win and America takes one giant step forward.

Well I for one would like to feel that since our generation has accomplished so much, we should lend our accumulated wisdom to the 'younger generation'; mainly to help them over this seemingly impossible sociopolitical bump in the road.

What I am trying to say is that we of the 'older generation', should contribute to the solution, and not be part of the problem. The first step, painful as it may be to some, is to let go of long held subconsciously buried quests for revenge of past wrongs, or contemporary misconceptions and long held suspicions.

The task is not impossible if we put our collective minds and hearts to it. That's what Americans are good at - accomplishing the impossible. For after all was said and done we made it to the moon - didn't we?

Your comments - The voices of our readers

Well, thank you for bringing back some old and happy memories. Being an Independent, no primaries for me. I have worked for both parties in the past, and have found that the "backroom" politics still survives. What we need in this country is a shorter election cycle. This election has been going on since the last Presidential election. And I am bored with it. Mrs. Clinton, Mr. Obama, and Mr. McCain were elected as Senators. As they seem to be on the 'campaign trail' 24/7, when do they represent their various states in the U.S. Senate, for which they were elected. In reading the Sunday paper, I find that Mrs. Clinton is absent on many occasions, when crucial votes for New York State are needed to be addressed. Maybe it would be better, if you want to run for the Presidency, you should resign your seat in Government. Maybe make it a law, the above 3 will be on the campaign trail and will probably miss the vote. D. Martin, Niagara Falls, NY "Both deserving, but only one Prize. Which one?" Both for dogcatcher. Clinton is a national disgrace. Peter Dukoski, Palm Harbor, FL Totally delightful... a breath of fresh air. Nostalgia is always good for the soul. And liked how you built up to showing all of us how we grew up to respect differences mindful of the "American Dream". Yes, there will be a winner for the Dems....despite the media monopoly of our minds! Norma P, Atlanta, GA Dear CI, I was absolutely delighted that you wrote this editorial just the way you did. You made an excellent transition from the old to the new. That's something that's been missing in this crazy primary season. Older people are being made to feel that their generation does not matter.  I am a retired schoolteacher in her late 60s, and I have been a Republican all of my life.  But I plan to vote for Mrs Clinton in the November election if she makes it. I don't feel that Mr. Obama and his young and well heeled followers understand anything about the needs of the older generation, or even cares about them. If Mrs. Clinton does not make it, Mr. McCain will have my vote. B. Lawson, Orlando, FL