When I was a kid, we did not have cable T.V., so we only got five channels on a sunny day when we adjusted our bow tie reception-thingie just right. We didn’t subscribe to any magazines except
Reader’s Digest, which I never read, and various Focus on the Family publications. My friends were not rich. And I lived in the Midwest, about as far from any ocean as possible.
Translation: We did not get the Disney Channel, our magazines never had ads for theme parks of any kind, very few of my friends ever took a vacation to Disney Land or Disney World, and we lived much too far away for billboards for these attractions to reach us.
But I still grew up knowing that an essential part of childhood was wanting to go to Disney World.
Before I actually visited myself for the first time when I was sixteen, I had a vague impression of what Disney World was. Those huge Dumbos flying in the air, and enormous teacups spinning you until you got sick. Little kids grinning as they hugged Mickey and various other impersonators. Overpriced souvenirs. Fireworks. A giant castle in the background.
Now, that may not seem like a detailed impression, but think about it for a second: I had virtually no contact with any kind of Disney advertisements, and yet I was able to construct a fairly accurate picture of what Disney World was like.