Power Rangers: A short memoir of my childhood

Mighty Morphin Power Rangers —*hums theme song.* In the afternoons, I twist the knob on the run-down TV, with an antenna that snapped and bent like a refrigerator door to channel 5, at 4:30pm —I can't recall exactly —at a day-care, in Bedford Stuyvesant. I couldn't get enough of the theme song. I sang it, fanatically, convinced a Power Ranger I was. I did learn I'd never make it as a singer then.

If you were around in the 1990's, you had to have been addicted to the boob tube. I don't know when I fell out of love with Power Rangers. The show has lost its zeal over the years. As a child, I tuned in everyday, in the afternoons. I'd be stuffed like a shoe full of sand with my entertainment.

Power Rangers wasn't what Coke to us kids was, all of us 7 and 8, but it is amusing.  "Costume wearing freaks!" My inner critic yells. Many have criticized the show for its violence, and these are freaks! I didn't carry my love far from my imagination. As much of a loner I felt I was, I was glued to the boob tube. My objective was to tune in, and those damn kids, always on a mission, some mission. Actually it's all bullshit.

My favorite is the Red Ranger, the original: Jason. Here is a confident guy, and he locked onto my imagination like a trolley car. Who is the leader of the Power Rangers? I thought. He must be a role model. Tubular. That's TV, and in reality, he's a prick.

Why did Tommy start out as the Green ranger, later reemerging  as the White ranger? My girlfriend has a three strikes rule. I have a rule: once an evil doer, always one. Although he turned out to be a sound fella and a capable leader.

To my glee, I eyed a new series on Netflix: Power Rangers Megaforce. If you have Netflix, check it out. It's as nostalgic as strange love. If you was to tell me I'd be writing about Power Rangers ten years ago, I'd think that strange.

It was 7 o'clock in the mourning. I had one foot in zombieland and the other in the land of the living and my father whipped up breakfast as he normally did. It'd smell well-done, but the bacon was always too crispy, crunchy even. Sometimes I'd nose dive in the stuff, sometimes I'd just sit there, anticipating a moment's chance to dump it. He had a silver mustache and every time he walked into a room, it'd light up like a cigar. He was enthralled by our toddler brigade, as if he was observing us. Whatever fascinated my brother, sister and I lit up his imagination. This was the Father of the Star Trek generation. My father and I played video games, yes we did.

We played the the Power Rangers the Movie video game on my Super Genesis and I remember the scene vividly. I lay on the bed and my dad picks up the controller. I knew I had a toxic mouth but what transpired next still lingers. It was a co-op game. We were playing a level, and I believe he died, failing the mission for us. "Are you stupid? " I asked.
Never call your daddy stupid, kids.

I figure one day I'd grow out of Power Rangers like I thought I'd grow out of a lot of things, but that's not the case.  One of my favorite quotes goes something like this: "Time surprises us too often by running out."

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