Heavens to Murgatroyd!

just to share from a vet friend on Facebook


Do you recognize the word Murgatroyd? - Heavens to Murgatroyd! Lost Words from our childhood: Words gone as fast as the buggy whip! Sad really! How many of these do you remember? In fact, didn't some pink kitty always utter the above phrase and slobber while he was at it?

The other day, a not so elderly (65) lady said something to her son about driving a Jalopy and he looked at her quizzically and said what the heck is a Jalopy? He had never heard of the word jalopy! She knew she was old but not that old.

Well, I hope you are Hunky Dory after you read this and chuckle - by Richard Lederer.

About a month ago, I illuminated some old expressions that have become obsolete because of the inexorable march of technology. These phrases included 'Don't touch that dial,' 'Carbon copy,' 'You sound like a broken record' and 'Hung out to dry.'

Back in the olden days we had a lot of moxie. We'd put on our best bib and tucker to straighten up and fly right - Heavens to Betsy! Gee whillikers! Jumping Jehoshaphat! Holy moley! We were in like Flynn and living the life of Riley and even a regular guy couldn’t accuse us of being a knucklehead, a nincompoop or a pill. Not for all the tea in China!

Back in the olden days, life used to be swell but when's the last time anything was swell? Swell has gone the way of beehives, pageboys and the D.A., spats, knickers, fedoras, poodle skirts, saddle shoes and pedal pushers. Oh, my aching back. Kilroy was here but he isn't anymore.

We wake up from what surely has been just a short nap and before we can say, well I'll be a monkey's uncle! This is a fine kettle of fish! We discover that the words we grew up with, the words that seemed omnipresent as oxygen have vanished with scarcely a notice from our tongues and our pens and our keyboards.

Poof, go the words of our youth, the words we've left behind. We blink and they're gone. Where have all those phrases gone?

Long gone: Pshaw. The milkman did it. Hey! It's your nickel. Don't forget to pull the chain. Knee high to a grasshopper. Well, Fiddlesticks! Going like sixty. I'll see you in the funny papers. Don't take any wooden nickels. Heavens to Murgatroyd!

It turns out there are more of these lost words and expressions than Carter has liver pills. This can be disturbing stuff! We of a certain age have been blessed to live in changing times.

For a child each new word is like a shiny toy, a toy that has no age. We at the other end of the chronological arc have the advantage of remembering there are words that once did not exist and there were words that once strutted their hour upon the earthly stage and now are heard no more, except in our collective memory. It's one of the greatest advantages of aging.

See ya later, alligator!


Hamburger Heaven

by Ronald Wallace

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Tonight we find them again,
parked under the stars
(no one ever
eats inside in Heaven),
beeping the tired carhop
with her pageboy and mascara
for a paper boat of French fries
drenched in sauce,
a smashed hamburger baptized
with spices.
They’re sixteen and in love;
the night is hot,
sweet and tangy on their tongues.
Why do we stop?
They’re in Heaven, after all,
listening to the fry cook
in the kitchen
with his savory benedictions,
the AM radio playing
“Love Me Tender,” “Peggy Sue,”
unperturbed by the future with its
franchises and malls, its
conglomerates and information
highways. Is there something
we would tell them?
Here in Hamburger Heaven where
the nights go on forever,
where desire’s resurrected
and every hunger’s filled?
Wait! Do we call out?
But now they’ve seen us
close behind them with our
fervent “Thou Shalt Nots,”
our longings glaring in
the rearview mirror.
And they’ve turned on
the ignition
and they’ve floored it
and are gone.

'Hamburger Heaven' by Ronald Wallace from For a Limited Time Only. © University of Pittsburgh Press, 2008. Reprinted by permission. (buy now)

The Writer's Almanac for March 14, 2017



© 2017 3D Divine Deadbeat Dad---Alleged - 3/14/17

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