1950s  version of an  E-Mail

Long ago and  far away, in a land that time forgot,
Before  the days of Dylan, or the dawn of Camelot.
There  lived a race of innocents, and they were you and me,

For Ike was in  the White House in that land where we were born,
Where  navels were for oranges, and Peyton Place was porn.

We learned  to gut a muffler, we washed our hair at dawn,
We  spread our crinolines to dry in circles on the lawn..

We  longed for love and romance, and waited for our Prince,
And  Eddie Fisher married Liz , and no one's seen him since.

We danced to  'Little Darlin,' and sang to 'Stagger Lee'
And  cried for Buddy Holly in the Land That Made  Me, Me.

Only girls wore  earrings then, and 3 was one too many,
And  only boys wore flat-top cuts, except for Jean  McKinney.

And only in  our wildest dreams did we expect to see
A  boy named George with Lipstick, in the Land That Made  Me, Me.

We fell for  Frankie Avalon, Annette was oh, so nice,
And  when they made a movie, they never made it twice..

We didn't have  a Star Trek Five, or Psycho Two and Three,
Or  Rocky-Rambo Twenty in the Land That Made Me, Me.

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 not a Mr. T,
And  Oprah couldn't talk yet, in the Land That Made  Me, Me.
We  had our share of heroes, we never thought they'd go,
At  least not Bobby Darin, or Marilyn Monroe.

For youth was  still eternal, and life was yet to be,
And  Elvis was forever in the Land That Made  Me, Me.

We'd never  seen the rock band that was Grateful to be Dead,
And  Airplanes weren't named Jefferson, and Zeppelins were not  Led.

And Beatles  lived in gardens then, and Monkees lived in trees,
Madonna  was Mary in the Land That Made Me, Me.

We'd never  heard of microwaves, or telephones in cars,
And  babies might be bottle-fed, but they were not grown in  jars.

And pumping  iron got wrinkles out, and 'gay' meant fancy-free,
And  dorms were never co-ed in the Land That Made Me,  Me.

We hadn't seen  enough of jets to talk about the lag,
And  microchips were what was left at the bottom of the bag.

And hardware  was a box of nails, and bytes came from a flea,
And  rocket ships were fiction in the Land That Made  Me, Me.

Buicks came  with portholes, and side shows came with freaks,
And  bathing suits came big enough to cover both your  cheeks.

And Coke came  just in bottles, and skirts below the knee,
And  Castro came to power near the Land That Made  Me, Me.

We had no  Crest with fluoride, we had no Hill Street Blues,
We  had no patterned pantyhose or Lipton herbal tea
Or  prime-time ads for those dysfunctions in the Land That Made  Me, Me.

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

And  middle-aged was 35 and old was fifty-three,
And  ancient were our parents in the Land That Made  Me, Me.

But all things  have a season, or so we've heard them say,
And  now instead of Maybelline we swear by Retin-A.
They  send us invitations to join AARP,
We've  come a long way, baby, from the Land That Made Me, Me.

So now we face  a brave new world in slightly larger jeans,
And  wonder why they're using smaller print in magazines.
And  we tell our children's children of the way it used to  be,
Long  ago and far away in the Land That Made Me, Me.

If you didn't  grow up in the fifties,
you missed the greatest time in  history