hen I was young I used to sit in front of my parents’ black and white television set every Saturday morning to watch my favorite cowboy shows. I would get up an hour earlier in order to dress up in my favorite cowboy suit.
It consisted of an authentic Gene Autry red flannel cowboy shirt, `Have Gun Will Travel’ pants, which flared out in order to allow my `Gunsmoke’ cowboy boots to be put on easily and, of course, my white Roy Rogers cowboy hat. Around my waist I strapped my shiny white holster that held a shiny chrome cap-gun with a white plastic handle that I always kept clean and shiny. All good guys had guns that were clean and shiny.
Back then, color was not as important because you could tell the good guys from the bad guys by the hat they wore. If they wore a white hat they represented truth, justice and the American way. If they wore a black hat they represented the dregs of society, the kind of person you would never want to become. My life was pretty well set, in that I knew I would always be the guy wearing the white hat because my parents brought me up with the notion that good always overcame evil. When I reached my early teenage years it was still easy to differentiate between what was good and what was evil.