In the Seventies, Saturday morning cartoons were a heavenly childhood delight, transporting kids into another realm. That wasn’t me, though. I spent my Saturday mornings in hell, watching boring old Popcorn and Peanuts on CBC. It was the only television signal that reached the edges of the Canadian hinterland. So, you see, I was an involuntary member of the CBK’s (Country Bumpkin Kids), condemned to live life without a modern cartoon supplier, such as CTV and ITV. As much as I prayed for another channel to watch, the only station that came in with any clarity at all on our big, beautiful, two-hundred-pound television set was the CBC—the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation. I despised being a CBK. While I was confined to watching bad cartoons, the children in towns and cities all across the country were being entertained by shows like Scooby Doo, The Jetsons, The Flintstones, and Bugs Bunny. A lack of decent cartoons often meant I would choose to watch Grams and Gramps bicker rather than watching poker-faced Popcorn and Peanuts. Often, Grams would bribe me with donuts to go away. She was a generous woman. I spent so much time observing bickering matches that my pants became tight.

On rare cold, clear winter days, we could improve our television reception and get rid of CBC by adjusting the antenna on the roof and on the television set. We were able to acquire cartoons from other channels during these rare times. Unfortunately, this manipulation required an adult. So what did we do? We begged. On bended knees, my sisters and I fervently begged our Gramps to affix tin foil to the rabbit ears and climb a ladder to the rooftop to reposition the giant antenna. Our grandfather was heroic. Despite the cold and frosty slickness of the ladder, he donned his large winter coat and gloves and bravely ventured outside to rescue the cartoon day.

Gramps slowly turned the antenna; we hollered out the window to stop when Wile E. Coyote appeared. Here, I want to emphasize that whether it’s a cartoon coyote or a chubby grandpa, they both flail in the same manner when they fall, whether it’s from a roof or a cliff. After Gramps landed, I raced outside as fast as a roadrunner would to check on the poor old hero. Despite his disheveled appearance and the snow covering him, he stood up and seemed unharmed. At this point, I couldn’t resist the urge. I said, “Beep, beep?”

Despite the passage of time, I continue to have a fondness for cartoons. If I ever find myself feeling down or I have a sick day, I simply draw a cartoon of myself or watch one. No more CBK club for me. These days, I can dial up cartoons at any time of the day; even in the Canadian hinterlands. However, I do miss my grandparents bickering…and the donuts.

What was your favourite cartoon? Were you a CBK survivor, too?