What should Saturdays feel like? I always think of Saturdays the way they were when I was a kid.
Saturday morning cartoons were like the second act to Science Fiction Theater that came on Friday night after the late news. Quick Draw McGraw, Adam Ant, Wally Gator, The Thunderbirds, The Jetsons, and best of all, Looney Toons! Elmer Fudd, Daffy, Sylvester, Foghorn Leghorn (I still laugh when I see him beat the dog’s butt with a stick,) Porky Pig, I never liked Tweety much, and of course Road Runner and Wiley Coyote.
When I got older, Saturdays were the day I had to clean the office and burn the trash. When we had a family of our own, Saturday was pancakes day. The kids still tease me about my pancake suit, which was matching sweatpants and shirt.
When I was a church pastor I didn’t like Saturdays because it meant Sunday was next. I can’t explain it, so I won’t try.
Should Saturdays feel like they feel now that we’re retired? A surprise? Oh, it’s Saturday? When did that happen?
Are Saturdays the reward of the week? It seems like if that were the case the reward would be Friday, not Saturday, because Saturday is sort of the crank-up day for the new week.
It used to be, for the legalist religious folks anyway, that Saturday was the day they did everything they weren’t allowed to do on Sunday, like buy bread, fill the car with gas, eat in a restaurant, play sports, or mow the lawn. No, I’m not kidding.
What should Saturdays feel like, though?
I don’t have an answer. I thought maybe you would. Let me know if you do.