I have a thing for Thursdays. I like them fine. As a small kid, my dad was paid on Thursdays. That meant getting dressed up and going to TOWN! First we went to the local fabric store for a pattern and material for a dress for mom or me, or my little sister, then on to the dimestores, Duckwalls and Woolworths for a toy or two. I remember a little tin firetruck vividly. Then we, Mom and me, (my sibs had to stay with Grandma and Grandpa because they were TOO LITTLE) would saunter down to Gates Drug, settle into a red vinyl booth and split a chicken salad sandwich with chips. If we were really flush, Mom would order two-- count them two!-- 400s to sip. What is a 400? Chocolate milk on ice! Then, if we had a little coinage to spare I could ride the mechanical horsie in front of Woolworths.
On the rare occasions when Mom had to take my sibs to town instead of me, I got to stay with my Grandpa to work in the garden and then watch Nat King Cole on the newfangled TV--our house was still radio only. Best of all Thursday was Hop a Long Cassidy day. He came on right after lunch. He was a little fuzzier than in the comics but still Hoppy.
In the past 64 years I have had some bad Thursdays but not enough to put me off the day. --s6