POP CULTURE CHRONICLES
Welcome to the Bat Cave
Clutter is in the Eye of the Beholder
By Mike Olszewski
Let me put this out there: I do not apologize for the memorabilia I have collected over the years. They reflect my life and preserve memories, and while some might call my collection clutter, I can proudly say that each piece represents a time or event that is meaningful to me.
I don’t hoard or keep everything I come across, but l think we can all look back at a time when we wished we hadn’t thrown something out. After the holidays, we look ahead to spring cleaning; the annual purge where so much finds its way to secondhand shops or the curb. My advice: Proceed with caution.
If It’s Good Enough for Batman…
When I was growing up, there was a hardware store on the corner with stuff piled up everywhere; the owner knew where even the most obscure items were. Can you do that? Likely not, but here’s my solution—remember the Bat Cave.
Back in the mid-’60s when pop culture exploded as Boomers came of age, the “Batman” TV series was the original must-see TV. For me, it provided a template for retirement.
When Adam West’s character was in his secret lair, you may have noticed that everything had a sign in large letters. “Bat This” and “Bat That,” and probably a “Bat Commode,” all plainly labeled for quick access. Each character had his own fireman’s pole to the cave, each marked in bold lettering. Batman taught me the art of organization.
We’re in Florida most of the year now. There are very few basements, and you wouldn’t want one because, with the humidity, you’d be living on top of a petri dish. As a result, most people turn their garages into mini-warehouses, including yours truly.
Neatly lined shelves with tightly sealed tubs are marked with easy-to-read signs in large letters listing their contents, leaving plenty of room for our car. The only rule is, I’m banned from doing that “Na na, na-na” (16 in all) Batman theme when we pull out of the garage.
Oh, and that hardware store I mentioned was next door to a bar, or what used to be called a beer joint. It was thick with cigarette smoke and the smell of stale beer, usually with the racket of a bowling machine and a TV that was drowned out by the jukebox.
Most neighborhoods had three or four, and many had live music, too. Over the years, smoking bans and tougher DUI laws thinned out the crowds and gave way to micro-breweries where one glass now costs what you used to pay for a 12-pack.
The same happened in Florida, but as we continue to explore the state, we recently came upon one of the last of the old-time places with plenty of cheap beer featuring one of the top bands in this area. They’re a hard-rocking bunch of what I suspect are retirees playing Black Sabbath, Billy Idol and other Southern Rock selections. They’re talented, for sure, but what struck me was the name, the greatest name ever for a Boomer-era band. They call themselves…Metal Mucil.
Boomer Trivia: Last issue, we asked which Ohio-born performer reportedly turned down an offer to sing the final song at the Woodstock festival. It was Cincinnati’s Roy Rogers, who was asked to sing “Happy Trails,” but that honor went instead to Jimi Hendrix, who closed the show as its headliner.
For next time, I left a clue in the article above. Name the Cleveland-born actor who played a character also known as Oswald Cobblepot.
