Missing in Lights, Camera, Action

I was a broke teenager. I mean as far as spending money. Even my friends whose parents were wealthier than mine were usually broke.
Hollywood took note.
Looking at the top movies of the 1970’s, one realizes that the movie industry assumed pocketbooks worth pursuing belonged to:
-organized crime bosses ( ‘The Godfather’, ‘The Sting’, ‘Serpico’)
-those who believed any time period was better than the 1970’s ( ‘The Way We Were’, ‘Star Wars’ ‘Blazing Saddles’)
-those who in a few years would be lining up for Valium (‘One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest’, ‘Cries and Whispers’, ‘The Exorcist’)

Teen girls of the 21st century, imagine it. Movies of the 1970’s were not created to cater to an 11-17 demographic.
Teens appeared in ‘Carrie’, albeit usually soaked in blood.
There was a young teen in ‘Taxi Driver’ but she was engaged in a profession-that-shall-not-be-named.
I hear there were teenagers in ‘American Graffiti’ but that was on my parents’ taboo list.
The high school teens in ‘Grease’ not only looked old enough to vote, they looked old enough to run for President.

Thanks for nothing, Hollywood. Now that I actually have a little money I could spend on movies, you are aiming them all at girls who, less than a decade ago, were dressing up their Bratz dolls.

I watch movies and realize that Hollywood still assumes those of us who grew up in the 70’s are not worth pursuing.
We are missing in the movies. The few women my age who do show up onscreen are either forgettable, crazy, or trying desperately to prove they are tough, feisty, lusty broads.

I’m part of the forgotten generation, at least as far as movies are concerned.
TV Land in the 70’s, for whatever reason, liked my generation.
Teens appeared in ‘The Brady Bunch’, ‘The Partridge Family’ ‘The Waltons’, ‘Eight is Enough’  ‘Different  Strokes‘  and ‘Happy Days’. Not to mention the Osmonds popping up all over the place.

But these days TV follows the example of movies and I rarely see women my age who look or act like me.
And that is too bad. Women of my generation are pretty fabulous, and these days some of us even have pocketbooks worth pursuing.
It’s time to give us another look. 
I volunteer to star in the movie with David Cassidy.

Don't tell the Tea Party, but-

Sometimes The Prude shuffles off the coils of cowardice and takes a stance on a controversial issue.

Today, at great risk of offending those of you with a strong emotional opinion on the matter, she proclaims boldly:

Tea is lovelier in concept than on the palate.

It’s true.

The Prude does not approve of tea.

But not for lack of trying.

When she was a little Prude her parents had a tradition.

After Sunday afternoon nap and before Sunday evening church the family would gather around the table for tea and windmill cookies.

It was a lovely tradition and The Prude has fond memories of the table, the gathered family, and the cookies.

She hit Pre-teen Prude years and her best friend gave her a beautiful box of English Breakfast Tea.  Every time the fledgling Prude choked back a cup she would think of her friend.  She still thinks of what’s-her-name when she sees a box of E.B.T.

And then there was the song that made her swoon, just as she was hitting the ‘Maybe boys aren’t the spawn of maggots after all’ stage.

When ‘Toast and Marmalade for Tea” came on the little transistor radio Teen Prude held to her ear (oriented south towards WCFL- AM), her eyes would glaze over, a dreamy smile would play over her mouth and she would imagine herself serving David Cassidy toast and marmalade and tea. Just serving him. His gratitude would be enough.

No thank you David, every bit of marmalade and every drop of tea is for you alone.

All grown up Prude has tried at repeated intervals to like tea. She’s a sucker for pretty boxes and pretty names.

And she knows some teas are good for her.

Green tea, for example. She has tried it flavored with lemon, with mint, and after rubbing an ice cube across her tongue.

Did you know they pack the benefits of green tea in a little capsule now?

Toast and marmalade with David Cassidy might just work if served with a lozenge…

Quirks of the Cosmos: Why not?

You see things; and you say, 'Why?' But I dream things that never were; and I say, "Why not?"

George Bernard Shaw

Little Prudeling adapted this cosmic saying and made it her own personal whine.

She compared her wholesome Tammy doll, who just didn’t stack up, to all her cousin’s glamorous Barbie dolls.

“Why not?” she would wail. “Why can they have Barbies and not me?”

Pre-Teen Prudette  checked her mailbox for a solid year. She finally conceded that, while her friend had gotten a letter from David Cassidy, he was ignoring P.T. Prudette’s lengthy, witty and sparkling fan letter.

“Why not?” she grumbled. “Why did he answer Jane’s letter and not mine?”

Mid-Teen Prudezilla, ignoring her status as shyest wallflower in high school, would rail at her parents.

“Why not? Why can’t I date till I am 16?”

Why nots in college applied to everything from not having wealthy parents so she wouldn’t have to do work study, to being flabbergasted that she couldn’t have a rich and full social life AND a 4.0 grade point.

Little by little over the years God dumped such an abundance of blessings on her head that she has to struggle to the surface if she wants to whimper ‘Why not-

-   a cure for her father’s Alzheimer’s

-   constant and steady work for the self-employed

-   perfect unity in church

-   a warning that while mothers  THINK the umbilical cord is cut at birth, it actually stretches across time and space.’

These days she looks out the window at the cold May wind and rain, and pulls her sweatshirt tightly.  She wonders, “Why not warm and springlike yet?”

Then she looks at the photos of the devastation and heartbreak in Missouri, Alabama, Oklahoma, Japan.

And she has to ask, with a humble prayer,

“Why not me?”

THIS COULD BE THE PRUDE’S LAST POST

What do you think of that dramatic title? Did it make you want to open the link?

The Prude learned to do that from Tiger Beat magazine titles, like:

‘Teen Heart-throb David Cassidy May Never Walk Again’

Young Prude, hands shaking, would grab the magazine off the grocery store shelf, desperately searching for the article. What was wrong with David? Why hadn’t this story been on the front page of the Chicago Tribune? And could Young Prude get the address of the hospital he was in to tell him she would still marry him, even in a wheelchair?

Through a haze of tears she would finally find the article.

And discover that since David had learned the joys of riding his new motorcycle, he found walking dull and boring.

The grocery store clerk would still make The Prude fork over 50 cents of hard-earned babysitting money to pay for the soggy magazine she had sobbed over.

So why the dramatic title for this post?

Because The Prude woke up today, not with the Bee Gees or KC and the Sunshine Band songs floating through her head, but 3 of the only 4 jokes she can ever remember.

They are not very nice. You may call them objectionable. You may want to shield your children’s eyes.

You may even legitimately say these jokes stink.

The Prude will be shamed, lose her Prude Points, her Prude reputation,

and maybe even banned from posting.

But she can’t help it.

If she doesn’t share these jokes she won’t be able to exorcise them from her brain and it won’t be able to complete a single thought. Especially if she starts singing the jokes to the tune of ‘I Will Survive’.

So here are 3 of the 4 jokes in The Prude’s repertoire.

Forgive me.

Q. What is brown and sits in an army barracks?

A. Gomer’s Pile

Q. What is brown and sits in the woods?

A. Winnie’s Pooh

Q. What is brown and sits on a piano bench?

A. Beethoven’s Last Movement.

There you have it. And you didn't even have to pay 50 cents.

The Prude’s brain is now free to think of an idea for tomorrow’s post.

If, that is, she hasn’t been banished from Prudeland forever.