It Used to be 1950

de bene esse: literally, of well-being, morally acceptable but subject to future validation or exception

                             1950's version of an E-Mail

Before the days of Dylan or dawn of Camelot,
lived a race of innocents in the land of chic Culottes

Teenagers longed for love, and romance de rigueur
then Eddie Fisher married Liz and he's been missing ever since

We danced to 'Little Darlin,' and sang to 'Stagger Lee'
And cried for Buddy Holly in maddened star gazing

The girls wore earrings then and three was one too many,
Only boys wore flat-top cuts ... except for Jean McKinney

In our wildest dreams did we expect to see lipstick

on Boy George as he sang Karma Chameleon

We fell for Frankie Avalon and loved Annette too,

                                        and movies filmed once spared us pesky B-rate remakes

We had no Star Trek 5 nor Psycho 2 and 3

                                                           Nor Rocky to Rambo filmed in series

Miss Kitty had a heart of gold, and Chester had a limp,
                                   And Reagan was a Democrat whose co-star was a chimp

We had a Mr. Wizard but there was no Mr. T,
                                                           and Oprah was a baby who could not speak
                                              We had our heroes and thought they'd never go,
                                                  At least not Bobby Darin or Marilyn Monroe

Youth was still eternal, and life was yet to be,
                                                 Elvis lived forever in Graceland infamy

We'd never seen a rock band that was Grateful to be Dead,

                                Airplanes weren't named Jefferson and Zeppelins were not led

And Beatles lived in gardens then and Monkees hung in trees,
                                          Madonna was Mary in the land of man redeemed

We had never heard of microwaves or telephones in cars,
                              Babies may have been bottle-fed but never grown in jars

Pumping iron got the wrinkles out and 'gay' meant fancy-free

the dorms were never coed in refined society

   

We hadn't seen enough of jets to talk about the lag,

                                  And microchips were what was left at the bottom of the bag

Hardware was a box of nails and bytes came from a flea,

                                   And rocket ships were fiction in the land of make believe

T-Birds came with portholes and side shows were for freaks,
                                    Bathing suits came big enough to cover both your cheeks

We had no Crest with fluoride, we had no Hill Street Blues,

There was no patterned pantyhose or Lipton herbal brews

There were no golden arches, no Perrier to chill,
                                And fish were not called Wanda, and cats were not called Bill

 Middle-aged was 35 and old was forty-three,

                                    And ancient were our parents in the land that used to be.