There were many television programs in the late 1960s and early 1970s that became part of the fabric which made up the lives of the children growing up during those times. Among the favorites were Sesame Street, Mr. Rogers, Captain Kangaroo and Romper Room. While today there are an abundance of children's programs from reality TV to cartoons to puppets and computer animation, back then the shoes were real; with real people, real issues, and real fun! One of the favorites of smaller children, sort of the Barney and Friends of yester-year, was the lovable Romper Room.

The small town in which I grew up had a local Romper Room at the TV station downtown, with a tall, pretty, model-like hostess named Miss Susan. From the time I was about three or four years old, I distinctly remember Miss Susan looking out of our television set and right into my innocent brown eyes. She told me how special I was and then she looked into her magic mirror and recited the names of several children she could see. I longed for her to say my name on TV. My name wasn't unusual, but neither was it very common. Of course, at the time I didn't know this; I simply waited for her to see ME.

When I turned five, my mother arranged for me to be on the Romper Room show for a week. Apparently children from around the area could sign up for a week on the show and the show would be taped and aired the next week. Sadly, this was back in the days before video recordings, so we didn't get to tape the show, but I was on the Romper Room show for those five weekdays. There were five of us on the show and each day we were told to bring something into the studio that would be discussed. One day our task was to bring in various types of shoes. I had a little shoe bag in which I kept my ballet and tap shoes for my dancing class. We put the ballet and tap shoes into the bag, as well as a pair of ski boots, hiking boots, and sandals. I arrived at Romper Room that day with more shoes than anyone else and Miss Susan was so pleased. The rest of the week was mostly a blur and I stared at the giant camera and wondered why it didn't feel the same way it felt when I watched it on TV.

At the end of the show each day, Miss Susan still looked into her magic mirror and recited the names. I wondered where the children were out there in TV land, and if she could really see them. I certainly couldn't. Her mirror really must have been magic.

The next week my mom and baby brother and I sat on the sofa and watched each morning as I was on Romper Room. We laughed about all the shoes and marveled that I was on TV. On the Friday of that week, the last day I was on the show, Miss Susan did something that somehow I had missed during the taping. She looked into her magic mirror and she said she saw ME. At first I thought I'd heard wrong, but my mom started cheering and I knew she had heard it too. Somehow, someway, Miss Susan had seen me in her Romper Room magic mirror. Ah, the magic of television!