The original Swanson’s TV dinners, was there ever a better way to enjoy a meal? With three or four compartments of ultimate joy. My favorite was fried chicken, mixed peas, corn, carrots, mashed potatoes, and whatever the dessert resembled (apples, I think.)

Not one lump in the potatoes. The aluminum flavor enhancing the taste of everything.

And, of course, there was only one way to enjoy them: eating on TV trays in front of the black & white TV on a Friday night, starting with the news at 6 and then classics like Hogan’s Heroes and Get Smart.

Nothing, absolutely nothing, in the current fast-food culinary world can match the delight of such a repast. Drive-up food handed out windows pales against the flavorful memories of such meals.

I miss them so much. Even the anticipation as they were heated in our pre-microwave world added to the pleasure.

Their demise is a testament to our shortsightedness. Their replacement with stuff that actually looks like food robbing generations of the experience that accompanies reading the package to address the uncertainty of what you were eating. The mystery was the best part.

And then we compounded it with another mortal sin, we did away with album covers.

One of the other downsides of our modern world is the demise of album covers. No longer can one thumb through the latest releases of music captivated by the imagination of artists illustrating the music of the giants, Simon and Garfunkel, Chicago, Led Zeppelin, Joni Mitchell, the Beatles, and others.

Everything from the subtlety of the Beatles White Album, which let the music speak for itself, to the images of a peaceful gathering of humanity on the Woodstock Album were the illustrations of a generation.

I still recall the secret delight of playing the “Gimme an F” chant by Country Joe McDonald quietly in my room, steps away from my parents, and thinking I was pulling off a protest of my own right under their nose.

Ah, memories of youth.

The original Swanson’s TV dinners, was there ever a better way to enjoy a meal?

Joe Broadmeadow

Music is better with the illustrations of album covers to enhance the experience. When I play the music of my youth, the musical notes echo in my memory along with the images of the original moment I tore off the plastic wrapping, lifted the vinyl album from the sleeve, placed it on the turntable, and let the music envelop me as I examined the cover.

I still see those albums tossed into a dumpster a few years back as first CDs and then downloadable music took over the world. Mea Culpa for abandoning those old friends in the interest of space.

I appreciate that I can hold a device capable of storing every album I ever owned in little digital 1s and 0s available at my beck and call. And I know the wave of technology is a tsunami. But I miss the album covers stacked in a row on my shelf.

And I really miss those ultimate moments when I took my TV dinner to my room and read a book while enjoying the height of culinary accomplishments and listening to what became the soundtrack of my life. Even if I did it quietly…

“Gimme an F!”

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