Bowties Have Always Been Cool

You never forget your first Doctor.

Mine was Tom Baker. I remember so vividly laughing hysterically each time his 6 foot scarf would get caught in the doors of the tardis as it began to disappear making its warooo waroo sound.

Perhaps I lost you at Tom Baker.

Let me back track a bit.

Most kids my age; that is those who spent ages 0-9 in the 80’s, spent their Saturday mornings watching cartoons. Don’t get me wrong, I had my share of Punky Brewster, Mr. Rogers and My Little Pony episodes, but my brother and I grew up mainly to the viewings of old science fiction movies, Rogers and Hammerstein musicals, (I had every song from The Sound of Music memorized by age 6), old Hammer Horror films and one of my all time personal favorites, Doctor Who.

I was too young to really take in the stories of each episode but what I do remember most is sitting on the couch between my brother and my daddy, awaiting the classic music that marked the beginning of a new episode.

My dad video taped every episode that aired, old and new. This was before the time of dvd, dvr, blueray, ect. Back then, we had what were called VCRs and my dad would meticulously cut the commercials, magically knowing when the show was going to break. This was a rare talent indeed and something my brother Pat and I have always admired in him.

He worked nights so he would sleep during the day. Pat and I would often sneak into his comic book closet full of hidden treasures, knowing where he hid the key and that he easily slept through anything. (We soon learned that this was also a good time to ask him for anything. 9 times out of 10, he would say yes in his sleepless stupor.)
Among his painted monster figurines, comics and novels was a shelf designated only for Doctor Who tapes, all in chronological order. We would select a small few and spend the entire day watching episode after episode while building forts out of couch cushions and rolling around on the floor with the left over popcorn kernels from our afternoon snacks.

We then would re-create the scenes via running around outside, building fake bombs that we had only mere seconds to get away from before them blowing us to pieces. I was always the doctor’s companion (Ace was my favorite) and Pat would reluctantly play the Doctor. (He always wanted to be the evil/crazy timelord villain, The Master, but I would beg him not to because he scared me with his maniacal laughing.)

Maniacal laugh. Maniacal laugh.  

We would always be on a mission and “find” the bomb hidden in a secret tomb (our garage). The makings of it consisted of an old battery sitting on a chair from my play kitchen table and chairs set. Ironically, the bomb would detonate the moment we stepped into the garage, I mean tomb, and we would then have only 30 seconds to run from there to the hill at the end of our yard. We would dramatically run in slow motion, me singing at the top of my lungs “The hills are alive with the sound of music”. (I was dramatic, even as a small 6 year old...) We would then roll down the hill in a fit of giggles, ignoring all of the scrapes and bruises that were slowly forming on our skinny arms and legs.

We also had lasers.

These were the blue and orange elongated wheels off of one of Pat’s old toy trucks.

Lasers are cool. Never doubt the validity in that.

One could never deny our since of imagination inspired by new worlds, future settings, and dalek invasions. One minute we could be sitting in our living room in 1987, the next we were stuck in another dimension, trying to avoid catastrophe.

These are some of my fondest memories.

Thank you  Doctor Who for allowing my Daddy, brother and I to live along with you in your adventures. I know we will always remain being 3 of your most faithful companions who have followed you throughout the years.

"You can spend the rest of your life with me. But I can't spend the rest of mine with you. I have to live on, alone. That's the curse of the Timelords."