THE LAND OF SANDRA DEELong ago and far away,
In a land that time forgot,
Before the days of Dylan
Or the dawn of Camelot.
There lived a race of innocents,
And they were you and me,
Long ago and far away
In the Land of Sandra Dee.
Oh, there was truth and goodness
In that land where we were born,
Where navels were for oranges,
And Peyton Place was porn.
For Ike was in the White House,
And Hoss was on TV,
And God was in his heaven
In the Land of Sandra Dee.
We learned to gut a muffler,
We washed our hair at dawn,
We spread our crinolines to dry
In circles on the lawn.
They all could hear us coming
All the way to Tennessee,
All starched and sprayed and rustlling
in the Land of Sandra Dee.
We longed for love and romance,
And waited for the prince,
Then Eddie Fisher married Liz,
And no one's seen him since.
We danced to "Little Darlin'",
And Sang to "Stagger Lee"
We cried for Buddy Holly
In the Land of Sandra Dee.
Only girls wore earrings then,
And three was one too many,
When only guys wore flat-top cuts,
Except for Jean McKinney.
And only in our wildest dreams
Did we expect to see
A boy named George with Lipstick
In the Land of Sandra Dee.
We fell for Frankie Avalon,
Annette as oh, so nice,
And when they made a movie,
They never made it twice.
We didn't have a Star Trek Five,
Or Psycho Two and Three,
Or Rocky-Rambo Twenty
In the Land of Sandra Dee.
Miss Kitty had a heart of gold,
And Chester had a limp,
And Reagan was a Democrat
Whose co-star was a chimp.
We had a Mr Wizard,
But not a Mr T,
And Oprah couldn't talk yet
In the Land of Sandra Dee.
We had our share of heroes,
We never thought they'd go,
At least not Bobby Darin,
Or Marilyn Monroe.
For youth was still eternal,
Our life was yet to be,
And Elvis was forever,
In the Land of Sandra Dee.
We'd never seen the rock band
That was Grateful to be Dead,
And Airplanes weren't named Jefferson,
And Zeppelins weren't Led.
Beatles lived in gardens then,
And Monkees in a tree,
And Madonna was a virgin
In the Land of Sandra Dee.
We'd never heard of Microwaves,
Or telephones in cars,
And babies might be bottle-fed,
But they sure weren't "grown" in jars.
Pumping iron got wrinkles out,
And "gay" meant fancy-free,
But dorms were never coed
In the Land of Sandra Dee.
We hadn't seen enough of jets
To talk about the lag,
And microchips were what was left
At the bottom of the bag.
Hardware was a box of nails,
And bytes came from a flea,
And our rocket ships were fiction
In the Land of Sandra Dee.
Buicks came with portholes,
And side show came with freaks,
And bathing suits came big enough
To cover both your cheeks.
Coke came just in bottles,
And skirts came to the knee,
As Castro came to power
In the Land of Sandra Dee.
We had no Crest with Fluoride,
We had no Hill Street Blues,
We all wore superstructure bras
Designed by Howard Hughes.
We had no patterned pantyhose
Or Lipton herbal tea
Or prime-time ads for condoms
In the Land of Sandra Dee.
There were no golden arches,
No Perriers to chill,
Our fish were not called Wanda,
And cats were not called Bill.
Middle-age was thirty-five
And old was forty-three,
And ancient were our parents
In the Land of Sandra Dee.
But all things have a season,
Or so we've heard them say,
And now instead of Maybelline
We swear by Retin-A.
And they send us invitations
To join AARP,
We've come a long way, baby,
From the Land of Sandra Dee.
So now we face a brave new world
In "slightly" larger jeans,
And we wonder why they're using
Smaller print in magazines.
We tell our children's children
of the way it used to be,
Long ago and far away
In the Land of Sandra Dee.
BY: Leland Waldrip
This email was cleaned by emailStripper, available for free from
http://www.papercut.biz/emailStripper.htm
Lyn and Chuck Pechuls ('64) at family gathering at Chuck's sister's property near Gonzales, TX
Jan, with her Mom and husband Bill
To the left, the picture is of Richard, Jan, Bill, Susan and Wes
Gloria and Danny's son, Kelly Gallagher. He's single, 24 and lives in Boynton Beach, Florida. He is a CAD tech for an architect.
Gloria's daughter, Allison, with her husband Todd and Allison's kids, Stephen, 16, Cole, 14, Mason, 10, Chase 7, and Makenna 6. They live in Jacksonville, Florida.
John Hines and Janet Francis Murillo (But will you still love me in the morning?)
Stan (Cal) Sumner and Janet Francis Murillo learning how to use an I-POD
Karen Poor Peck, John Hines, Janet Francis Murillo
Gloria Campbell Gallagher and Karen Poor Peck
Steve Burgoon, Mike Wysong, John Hines
Karen Poor Peck, Mike Wysong, Steve Burgoon
Janet Francis Murillo and her husband, Ray, with Mike
