THE GOOD OLD DAYS…

What is the problem with wooden spoons?

I turned 8 in 1979 – we certainly had it far better back then than we ever realized. I’m sure every generation feels the same about their days of youth but even more so today to me at least – where today right is wrong, white is bad, wokeness and liberal insanity is over the top

We do have to remember that these memories are mostly of childhood. The good old days probably weren’t as good for adults. My old man was out of work for two years during the first Arab oil embargo and we ate Mac and cheese 5 days a week until he came into the kitchen one day and wiped everything from the kitchen table onto the floor like Jesus throwing the moneychangers out of the temple. I don’t remember what we ate after that, but I know mom tried to sneak horse meat into our lunches and kept trying to pass off powdered milk as real milk.

I might be a tad older than some of you here. I was a WWII war baby growing up in the latter 40s, the 50s and the early 60s. Mom was a stay-at-home mom and dad was a wage earner. We weren’t poor, but we certainly weren’t rich. We had a 12-party line telephone without a rotary dial. No TV and only a radio next to the supper table where we (dad, mom, little sister and me) would listen to the tales of Sergeant Preston of the Yukon, Boston Blackie, Sky King, Tonto and the Lone Ranger and the Shadow.

After supper sis and I would clear the table and we’d take turns washing and drying the dishes (by hand as electric dishwashers had not yet been invented). We had an Ice Box, not a refrigerator. The ice man came once a week and the milk man came about every 3rd day and placed bottled milk on the front porch. The quart bottles had a cardboard tab insert in the neck and there were always several inches of cream in the bottle neck, and sis and I would fight over that tasty pure cream for our morning rice crispy cereal.

We never tasted real butter. We ate Oleo smeared on our bread and toast – it came as a white chunk of fat with a packet of yellow powder that mom would mix with the lard which made the spread yellow. Mom washed everyone’s clothes in a wash tub with a ribbed metal scrub rack. The water and soap were squeezed out in a wringer operated manually by a crank handle.

There was no kindergarten then. We all just started 1st grade. Miss Olsen was my 1st grade teacher, and oh my was she young and beautiful. I fell in love with her and even at 6-years-old I fanitized having sex with her. I had her again in 3rd grade … she drove me nuts. I can still see her face and her beauty to this day. We all walked to school. Kidnapping only happened in the big cities and to the Lindbergs. When I was 8-years old I got a one speed Schwinn bicycle for Christmas which I rode to school and threw newspapers into yards on my afternoon and Sunday paper route. Nobody locked up their bikes in those days, and man, if you had empty paper route bags slung and wrapped up around your bicycle handle bars you were King, a working man.

When I was 10 my appendix ruptured and I almost died, but mom and dad rushed me to the hospital just in time. In those days anesthesia was Ether and administered by way of a face and nose mask which the anesthesiologist held and crammed against your face. That my friends is a horrible way to get sedated – will never forget it.

At age 12 I lost my cherry to the neighbor girl who was 11. Well she certainly wasn’t Miss Olsen, but she seduced me while we were playing Doctor and Nurse … I had nothing to do with it. Mom somehow got wind of it and boy was I scolded and promised I’d never do it again. Mom never told dad because she knew that he would have beat the living snot out of me. But, then again, maybe he would have shook my hand instead.

Just a glimpse of my Good Old Days. Sure do enjoy this post Keep it up Admin.