Saturdays in the 70’s:

1. Dust. And that meant every last figurine that sat in the front window and every speck of wood in the house.
2. Sweep the front porch and the sidewalk all the way to the curb.
3. Vacuum the gold shag, and then rake it for beauty.
4. Strip the beds.
5. Gather the laundry.
6. Hang the wet wash on the clothesline overflowing from the flimsy laundry basket.
7. Practice the piano and organ.
8. Do the dishes.
9. Wash the windows.
10. Clean the bathrooms.
11. Straighten up and clean our bedroom.
12. Clean the aquarium and the rabbit hutches.
13. Water the plants and flowers in the flower beds.
14. Mow
15. Fold the laundry and put it all away.
16. Iron, and that means handkerchiefs and pillowcases, too.
17. Take the weekly Saturday night bath for church the next morning.
18. And after all that, it’s time for Lawrence Welk, Hee-Haw, and The Carol Burnett Show.

I am certain I am missing 15 other things on the list.

While all of my friends were riding bikes and exploring in the back alley and beyond, or going to the drug store for candy, or taking it easy and walking to Snack Haven for lunch, my sister and I were stuck at home with a cranky Mom who had rules. Nothing else happened on Saturdays until THE LIST was completed to her satisfaction.

I have vivid memories of the anticipation of Mom taking a basket of wet undergarments outside to the line – they took longer to hang since there were so many – and as soon as that back door banged shut, Angela and I would sneak a quick peek at the forbidden American Bandstand or Soul Train while Mom was out of earshot. It was an added bonus when she had to go downtown to the station for something, or to Bunny’s to get her hair fixed – we might be able to sneak in a whole show of prohibited music!

It was the best day ever when we were allowed to walk to the station on a Saturday afternoon to see Daddy. That meant a Coke from the machine, playing with the lift lever, jumping on the bell hose at the gas pumps, and not getting into trouble for making the cash register drawer open.

And a sigh of relief from housework.

It was a life of torture growing up, I tell ya.

Maybe that is why Saturdays have been sacred to me in this season of life. I find myself wanting to protect my Saturdays from lists, from busyness. I want Saturdays to be fun, to be days of exploring and riding bikes and taking it easy with a walk to a leisurely lunch.  I don’t want to be a “cranky Mom” with things that have to get done. I don’t want to dread Saturdays.

I am grateful that I grew up in the 70’s.

I am grateful that we had a TV to sneak peeks of the forbidden dancing but were also able to watch Wide World of Sports when Mom was in a good mood, and of course, Hee Haw.

I am grateful that Mom was a disciplinarian and didn’t let us run the streets all willy-nilly. We might not have become productive members of society…

I am grateful that Dad didn’t mind his children hanging out and messing things up.

I am grateful that Mom and Dad taught me the value of hard work and making lists.

But I am grateful that I appreciate a lazy Saturday to enjoy and explore and relax…feelin’ groovy.