THANK YOU, HUGH
Just the other day on TV, I saw you enjoying life in the company of three women, on a trip to Europe. That is when the thought occurred to me, that I was remiss in my duty, to give credit where credit is due. So I composed this letter to offer up thanks, indeed a long overdue thanks. I am in my 50’s, and like most men of my age group, you stood out our hero in youth. You may not have realized it then or now, but you taught us a whole lot. Take for instance the importance of independence. It was like this. When the opportunity came about to tag along for a free meal out with the parents, which was seldom afforded due to middle class wages of our parents’ generation, many of us chose to stay home. Why? Well with mom and dad off to dinner, it was an opportune time to raid dad’s closet or drawer, to secretly take advantage of that stash of Playboy magazines hidden away. And being home alone, it allowed us to gain our independence. So to this, we thank you. I speak for many similar situated juveniles during our growing up years. I do believe that every house on Clarner Street – an Irish mixed with English mixed with German mixed with French mixed with Italian and for the most part a Roman Catholic neighborhood located in Pawtucket, Rhode Island – each held a secret stash of Playboys. Dads around here were salt of the earth type true Americans, war veterans, hard working millwrights, so the Playboy possession must have been something of an icon indicating success. Finding the prized magazine was what went on when the parents went away. And that independence took on an overwhelming exercise in “freedom at last” when the parents went off for a weekend getaway, and we could prove to them that we could go it alone. Passing the grade for self-independence followed that “baby step” routine. At first it was scary, home alone. But finding the magazine stash occupied our interests away from any doomsday thoughts. Like thinking and worrying that the house was going to burn down! The magazine became our guiding strength to obtain success with being independent. There was a mystique of strength that emanated about while in possession of the magazine. It was something truly heroic and truly American. Hey, the magazine to us youngsters held more power then the next in line amendment. Let us face the facts, it was an exercise in the 1st Amendment as it was an exercise in the right to privacy. Really, if when home alone one of the boys of the family was negligent with say the cook stove and soon the house was filled with smoke, what was more important to save, the shotguns or the magazines? Lets face the facts again, the guns were just cold metal monsters. On the other hand, the Playboy magazines were worth their weight in gold. So that comfort level to stay home alone grew, it went from hours to days - it polished our independence. A stack of magazines required a whole lot of study time. So days away parents meant days of freedom with dad’s stash. Hey, the longer the time away the better. But we always dreaded the problem of making sure the magazines were put back in proper order, as if dad may have been setting a trap! And then there was the realization that moms back then were stay at home moms, so who was really setting the trap? Bottom line, moms knew about the magazines. And now I believe that it was not a trap set for punishment, but one that proved coming of age. The Playboy magazine meant much more then “girly” pictures. It had deep routes in adult development. And earlier on in our youths, as swamp rats hanging out down at the Red Devil Mill on the Ten Mile River, it was the magazine that gained our interest to hang out where big wharf rats liked to hang out. See, this was where locals threw away household trash, including used magazines. So we became scavengers for the goods, of most interest the discarded Playboy magazines. Shelters, more like shrines, would be built to hide and protect our precious treasure chest. And we would defend our territory at any cost. I bet today, that those shrines forgotten still hold secure the goods! It was like the first thing that was recycled. So that is why you were a hero to many American youth. You taught us to exercise and enjoy independence and to defend what was rightfully ours. You made us not afraid of our Constitutional rights. You were a man ahead of your times because your magazines promoted recycling efforts. And in reality, your magazines were much more. You were the person to promote openly the greatest art of the Creator, that of a women. And with that, attention to finding his artwork in the greatest of all museums, all around us, no admission necessary. At the same time, you promoted an intellectual forum, for things important to society. In my case, I did learn to enjoy the writings. From a kids standpoint, very complicated but worthwhile to at least make an attempt to understand it all. See, during my youth, I was not a very good reader. Which meant I was a terrible writer so came horrible report card grades. Bottom line, “the little train that could” was boring reading. So I suffered with grammar and English. But through attempts to read the articles, even though not totally understood, it fostered within me a skill that has allowed the writing spirit within me to come alive. To date, I have authored 13 books. I realize now that the magazine may have planted that seed within me. So I am sorry that it took so long to say thanks, but maybe because you were part of the guiding light of life for many youth and we are now successful, maybe your influence keeps us driving towards perfection of life. Just too busy to look back at how we got to where we are, and who along the way helped out. You surely have achieved the highest of goals, we are followers, still. So even though for most of us it was our own dad that won first line hero honors, put aside nepotism and there is only one other hero, Hugh. If anybody deserves the “Man of the Universe” award, it is Hugh. I hope someday soon, somebody produces a movie that goes back to small town America and discovers just what kind of positive influence you were on thousands of young men, pointing us in the direction of independence and showing us many other statesmen like attributes. So we thank you, Hugh!
Just the other day on TV, I saw you enjoying life in the company of three women, on a trip to Europe. That is when the thought occurred to me, that I was remiss in my duty, to give credit where credit is due. So I composed this letter to offer up thanks, indeed a long overdue thanks. I am in my 50’s, and like most men of my age group, you stood out our hero in youth. You may not have realized it then or now, but you taught us a whole lot. Take for instance the importance of independence. It was like this. When the opportunity came about to tag along for a free meal out with the parents, which was seldom afforded due to middle class wages of our parents’ generation, many of us chose to stay home. Why? Well with mom and dad off to dinner, it was an opportune time to raid dad’s closet or drawer, to secretly take advantage of that stash of Playboy magazines hidden away. And being home alone, it allowed us to gain our independence. So to this, we thank you. I speak for many similar situated juveniles during our growing up years. I do believe that every house on Clarner Street – an Irish mixed with English mixed with German mixed with French mixed with Italian and for the most part a Roman Catholic neighborhood located in Pawtucket, Rhode Island – each held a secret stash of Playboys. Dads around here were salt of the earth type true Americans, war veterans, hard working millwrights, so the Playboy possession must have been something of an icon indicating success. Finding the prized magazine was what went on when the parents went away. And that independence took on an overwhelming exercise in “freedom at last” when the parents went off for a weekend getaway, and we could prove to them that we could go it alone. Passing the grade for self-independence followed that “baby step” routine. At first it was scary, home alone. But finding the magazine stash occupied our interests away from any doomsday thoughts. Like thinking and worrying that the house was going to burn down! The magazine became our guiding strength to obtain success with being independent. There was a mystique of strength that emanated about while in possession of the magazine. It was something truly heroic and truly American. Hey, the magazine to us youngsters held more power then the next in line amendment. Let us face the facts, it was an exercise in the 1st Amendment as it was an exercise in the right to privacy. Really, if when home alone one of the boys of the family was negligent with say the cook stove and soon the house was filled with smoke, what was more important to save, the shotguns or the magazines? Lets face the facts again, the guns were just cold metal monsters. On the other hand, the Playboy magazines were worth their weight in gold. So that comfort level to stay home alone grew, it went from hours to days - it polished our independence. A stack of magazines required a whole lot of study time. So days away parents meant days of freedom with dad’s stash. Hey, the longer the time away the better. But we always dreaded the problem of making sure the magazines were put back in proper order, as if dad may have been setting a trap! And then there was the realization that moms back then were stay at home moms, so who was really setting the trap? Bottom line, moms knew about the magazines. And now I believe that it was not a trap set for punishment, but one that proved coming of age. The Playboy magazine meant much more then “girly” pictures. It had deep routes in adult development. And earlier on in our youths, as swamp rats hanging out down at the Red Devil Mill on the Ten Mile River, it was the magazine that gained our interest to hang out where big wharf rats liked to hang out. See, this was where locals threw away household trash, including used magazines. So we became scavengers for the goods, of most interest the discarded Playboy magazines. Shelters, more like shrines, would be built to hide and protect our precious treasure chest. And we would defend our territory at any cost. I bet today, that those shrines forgotten still hold secure the goods! It was like the first thing that was recycled. So that is why you were a hero to many American youth. You taught us to exercise and enjoy independence and to defend what was rightfully ours. You made us not afraid of our Constitutional rights. You were a man ahead of your times because your magazines promoted recycling efforts. And in reality, your magazines were much more. You were the person to promote openly the greatest art of the Creator, that of a women. And with that, attention to finding his artwork in the greatest of all museums, all around us, no admission necessary. At the same time, you promoted an intellectual forum, for things important to society. In my case, I did learn to enjoy the writings. From a kids standpoint, very complicated but worthwhile to at least make an attempt to understand it all. See, during my youth, I was not a very good reader. Which meant I was a terrible writer so came horrible report card grades. Bottom line, “the little train that could” was boring reading. So I suffered with grammar and English. But through attempts to read the articles, even though not totally understood, it fostered within me a skill that has allowed the writing spirit within me to come alive. To date, I have authored 13 books. I realize now that the magazine may have planted that seed within me. So I am sorry that it took so long to say thanks, but maybe because you were part of the guiding light of life for many youth and we are now successful, maybe your influence keeps us driving towards perfection of life. Just too busy to look back at how we got to where we are, and who along the way helped out. You surely have achieved the highest of goals, we are followers, still. So even though for most of us it was our own dad that won first line hero honors, put aside nepotism and there is only one other hero, Hugh. If anybody deserves the “Man of the Universe” award, it is Hugh. I hope someday soon, somebody produces a movie that goes back to small town America and discovers just what kind of positive influence you were on thousands of young men, pointing us in the direction of independence and showing us many other statesmen like attributes. So we thank you, Hugh!
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1 comment:
Your blog is unreadable. Congratulations.
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