This is a frustrating, maddening, and joyous
mixture of history, values, and imagery,
some true, some mythic, often irresistible.
It was America, in success and failure,
was it not, laughing and battered and crying,
who, in 1969, landed two men on the moon,
twelve years after the shock of Sputnik.
Yet, how many people and performers
still entered venues and bathrooms
through specially marked doors?
While growing up we were influenced
by the various family sitcoms of the time,
wishing our family was like that TV family.
Of the many programs on 1950s television,
I couldn’t say if one was more true than another;
each had its charm, but the Donna Reed show
was emblematic for all the family sitcoms.
Sadly, excepting Amos n’ Andy, whiteness prevailed.
Looming was nuclear apocalypse, but what
did we understand about that?
It was of such monstrous proportions and
destructive power too terrifying to imagine
that we just didn’t give it much thought.
My mother put two gallons of water and
come crackers under the sink, just in case.
I asked her, Just in case of what?
After a month or so, she took it all out.
In the midst of this we loved and married.
My wife and I graduated from college
and had great careers.
We raised two wonderful children,
owned a nice house on a quiet urban street.
The kids moved on as they were restless to do.
We got divorced; the world didn’t end.
Not exactly a Rockwell painting
or dreams unfulfilled.
We simply did the best we could
to make life worth living.
From: Searching For Donna Reed,
Norman Rockwell, & The American Dream
Unpub. MS #4 of 5
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