Introduction
Growing up in the 1960s and 1970s, Sunday nights at my house were different from the other nights of the week. It was the only night of the week when my mother made pizza. It was the only night of the week when we could drink soda. It was the only night of the week when we could have candy for dessert. And it was the only night of the week when we were allowed to eat dinner in front of the television. And the only shows we ever watched were Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom and The Wonderful World of Disney. (Mom sent us to bed as soon as Bonanza started).
For almost the entirety of my childhood (1964 – 1980), The Wonderful World of Disney was the show that was always there, even as I grew from a lad of four to a young man of eighteen, and even as my family moved from the small towns and farms of rural Indiana to the coal and steel towns of West Virginia to the towering spires of the Motor City in Michigan. The only true anchors in that time were “pizza night”, as it came to be called in our family, and Disney.
Like all of us growing up at that time, The Wonderful World of Disney was an eye opener to our world. Peering through that spinning kaleidoscope that always served as background for the episode title, we caught our first glimpses of what it meant to be a kid, what it meant to travel, what it meant - to borrow a phrase from the lyrics of the opening credits - to be in “this world where we each play a part.” We learned about history. We learned about fantasy. We learned the magic of science, the glories of art, and the marvels of the earth, sea, and sky. We experienced the power of drama and the cleansing laughter of comedy. 2 We learned about faraway places and how they were populated by people like you and like me who had the same hopes and fears and joys and tears. And, more than anything, it taught us the miracle of imagination and how it can be harnessed and used to unite us all.
It taught me about life. It taught me how to be (and how not to be) an adult. It taught me the value of nature. I learned the ropes of friendship, romance, and how to make my way in the world. I learned to believe in the future. Most of all, it taught me how to dream.
So for the rest of this book I am inviting you over to my parents’ house to share Sunday nights with Walt. In our kitchen, my mother has her homemade pizza (your choice of cheese, pepperoni or sausage) set out buffet style on the top of the stove. My father has popped popcorn using his Mirro chrome popcorn popper (the only thing I remember my father ever cooking and the only night I can remember having popcorn outside of going to the movies). And our beverage selection, usually Coca-Cola, Pepsi-Cola, or 7Up, is setting on the kitchen table. Sometimes there would be Fresca or Tab or Dr. Pepper depending on what Flavor of the Month my sisters and I were into.
The weekend is almost over. Tomorrow morning, we will each be back to school or back to work. But for right now, we have tonight to travel and to dream. Fill up your Tupperware dinner plate and fill your plastic Tupperware glass and come downstairs with me to the family room. Grab a TV tray and take a seat (green sleeper sofa, blue butterfly chair, white bean bag chair, or brown recliner) as we all gather around my father’s 1964 RCA Color Victor television set, which to my 3 eyes still gave off the best color picture ever. Second helpings, refills and dessert can be had during the commercials. Now, quiet down! The NBC peacock is on to signal the start of the prime time TV line up. The show is about to start……… …and for the next sixty minutes the world truly will be a carousel of color.
For almost the entirety of my childhood (1964 – 1980), The Wonderful World of Disney was the show that was always there, even as I grew from a lad of four to a young man of eighteen, and even as my family moved from the small towns and farms of rural Indiana to the coal and steel towns of West Virginia to the towering spires of the Motor City in Michigan. The only true anchors in that time were “pizza night”, as it came to be called in our family, and Disney.
Like all of us growing up at that time, The Wonderful World of Disney was an eye opener to our world. Peering through that spinning kaleidoscope that always served as background for the episode title, we caught our first glimpses of what it meant to be a kid, what it meant to travel, what it meant - to borrow a phrase from the lyrics of the opening credits - to be in “this world where we each play a part.” We learned about history. We learned about fantasy. We learned the magic of science, the glories of art, and the marvels of the earth, sea, and sky. We experienced the power of drama and the cleansing laughter of comedy. 2 We learned about faraway places and how they were populated by people like you and like me who had the same hopes and fears and joys and tears. And, more than anything, it taught us the miracle of imagination and how it can be harnessed and used to unite us all.
It taught me about life. It taught me how to be (and how not to be) an adult. It taught me the value of nature. I learned the ropes of friendship, romance, and how to make my way in the world. I learned to believe in the future. Most of all, it taught me how to dream.
So for the rest of this book I am inviting you over to my parents’ house to share Sunday nights with Walt. In our kitchen, my mother has her homemade pizza (your choice of cheese, pepperoni or sausage) set out buffet style on the top of the stove. My father has popped popcorn using his Mirro chrome popcorn popper (the only thing I remember my father ever cooking and the only night I can remember having popcorn outside of going to the movies). And our beverage selection, usually Coca-Cola, Pepsi-Cola, or 7Up, is setting on the kitchen table. Sometimes there would be Fresca or Tab or Dr. Pepper depending on what Flavor of the Month my sisters and I were into.
The weekend is almost over. Tomorrow morning, we will each be back to school or back to work. But for right now, we have tonight to travel and to dream. Fill up your Tupperware dinner plate and fill your plastic Tupperware glass and come downstairs with me to the family room. Grab a TV tray and take a seat (green sleeper sofa, blue butterfly chair, white bean bag chair, or brown recliner) as we all gather around my father’s 1964 RCA Color Victor television set, which to my 3 eyes still gave off the best color picture ever. Second helpings, refills and dessert can be had during the commercials. Now, quiet down! The NBC peacock is on to signal the start of the prime time TV line up. The show is about to start……… …and for the next sixty minutes the world truly will be a carousel of color.
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