Tuesday, August 25, 2015



           I remember the bologna of my childhood,
           And the bread that we cut with a knife,
           When the children helped with the housework,
           And the men went to work not the wife.

           The cheese never needed a fridge,
           And the bread was so crusty and hot,
           The children were seldom unhappy
           And the wife was content with her lot.

           I remember the milk from the bottle,
           With the yummy cream on the top,
           Our dinner came hot from the oven,
           And not from a freezer or shop.

           The kids were a lot more contented,
           They didn't need money for  kicks,
           Just a game with their friends in the road,
           And sometimes the Saturday flicks.

           I remember the shop on the corner,
           Where cookies for pennies were  sold
           Do you think I'm a bit too nostalgic?
           Or is it....I'm just getting  old?

           Bathing was done in a wash tub,
           With plenty of rich foamy suds
           But the ironing seemed never ending
           As Mama pressed everyone's 'duds'.

           I remember the slap on my backside,
           And the taste of soap if I swore
           Anorexia and diets weren't heard of
           And we hadn't much choice what we wore.

           Do you think that bruised our ego?
           Or our initiative was destroyed?
           We ate what was put on the table
           And I think life was better enjoyed.

           Author, Unknown


Toad said...

Lots of this Is true. We had a bathtub, and a washer, and dryer, but that was It. OH how I wish I could do all of that again. We didn't have TV until the 50s, we certainly NEVER had Air Conditioning, and even fans were not plentiful, and If we wanted to go somewhere, we WALKED. It truly was a "Wonderful Life"

I remember walking from our house on Grange near 21st, St. all the way to what was Shorecrest shopping center, on 3 Mile and Erie St. It was a Sunday, because I had my special WOOL pants on. I don't remember how I got home, but by the time I got to Shorecrest, my INNER THIGHS were burned to death from the Wool rubbing on them. I never walked that far again, and I NEVER wore WOOL again. I can still see those gray wool pants.

kkdither said...

Cute. I came in on the tail end of that generation. I do remember wool coats, though. We had to hang them up outside to air out after they came back from the dry cleaners. Those were some toxic chemicals back then! My grandma had a wringer washer. I remember her sprinkling clothes before ironing, and running sheets through the mangle. I can still smell it.

OrbsCorbs said...

My mom had a wringer washer and a mangle, too. Did most homes have mangles?

kkdither said...

That is the only reference I have. My grandma had a very large, beautiful old home. She rented out to 5 or 6 roomers. I remember on Saturdays, the residents would take their sheets off and place them in the halls. She washed all of them, hung them out and then ran them through the mangle, folded them and returned to their doorstep. She was the hardest working woman I have ever met. I really admired her. Her home also had a player piano that we were allowed to use. It took rolls of sheet music with holes that you placed inside. You pumped the pedals at the base, and it played beautiful music, as you watched the keys press themselves down. Most of her roomers were elderly people who loved the company of myself and my siblings. In the summer, I'd spend weeks with her. Good memories.