Saturday morning cartoons, cereal, and absolutely no adult supervision

Saturday morning was sacred. You woke up before dawn, crept downstairs, turned the TV on with the volume low, and poured yourself a mixing bowl of Cap’n Crunch or Froot Loops. No adult would appear for at least three hours.

The lineup was everything: Scooby-Doo, The Jetsons, Super Friends, Hong Kong Phooey, and Schoolhouse Rock between the shows. You learned what a conjunction was from a cartoon. You learned about the Constitution from a bill sitting on Capitol Hill. The educational content snuck in between the sugary cereal commercials and you didn’t even mind.

By eleven o’clock the cartoons stopped and they put on American Bandstand or some cooking show, which was your signal that the magic was over. You went outside, found whoever was around, and stayed out until dinner. But those first three hours? Those belonged to you and the television and nobody else.