Nostalgia

My daughter-in-law forwarded the cutest thing to me this morning.  It was the ‘over 30′ crowd telling the young uns’ of today how easy they have it and what it was like in 1980.  I’m waaaaay over 30, so my memories go back a bit farther.  I started writing, reminiscing about the way I remembered things, life in the ’60s.  Below is the reply that I sent my daughter-in-law…

____________________

Since I’m waaaay over 30, I could also add that when you dialed the phone, it was a rotary dial and you had to have patience.

Doing laundry amounted to rolling out Grandma’s wringer washer and rinse tub in the dark dungeon corner of her cement basement. Laundry was a long drawn out process that took most of Monday to accomplish– We didn’t have a dryer either, I was the ‘hanger upper’; and I have some neat memories of some beautiful mornings outside, the smell of “Tide” in my nose.

When we stopped to get gas in my Grandma’s ’57 Chevy (which we named ‘Widget’), we sat there in spoiled bliss while a man came out to fill the tank.  He also checked the oil and washed our windows while we were waiting on the gas.

There was no such thing as color tv– the world, as we saw it, was black and white and shades of gray.  Sunday nights were a tv dinner night on Grandma’s flowered tv trays– we sat there eating while we watched “The Wonderful World of Disney” and then “Bonanza”– it was a big night, I had a crush on Little Joe.  We appreciated the fact that something good was on tv because there was no cable and a total of three channels to choose from, unless the weather was stormy, and then there were only two channels.

Makeup was easier to buy– not so many choices– Maybelline and Cover Girl were the going thing.  There was one fancy one called ‘Revlon’, but it was too high priced.

Sunday dinners at Great-Grandma Smith’s (aka, Lu Raine, or “Renie”)– when you stepped into her kitchen, you were struck by the most wonderful scent– corn cobs burning in her big old white wood cook-stove.  You could smell the fresh butchered chicken roasting and lots of yummy pots simmering on the top.  We kids liked to watch when she lifted one of the lids and loaded some more cobs into the fire box.

The toilet facility at Grandma’s house was a small building to the west of the driveway– but there was plenty of toilet paper and the spiders in their webs would keep you company– this bathroom was also ringed by tall clumps of brightly blooming hollyhocks, so in spring and summer you could hear the bees buzzing.  If you were going to be sitting there for any length of time, you could open the door which looked out onto a pasture, and you could watch the sporadic traffic passing by on Highway 30.

There were no CDs or eight track tapes– we listened to music on records on grandma’s record player.  It looked like a long wooden coffee table until you slid the door on top open, and there– voila’– was a record player inside.  I felt all grown up when she allowed me to put the record on, swing the little arm over to hold it in place and flip the switch…then you got to watch the record drop onto the spinning platform and the arm with the needle in it would swing over and settle on the edge of the record…’music’, there ya’ go!

I don’t view any of these things as setbacks or hardships, compared to what is available to us today. Instead, I view these memories as something wonderful– ‘the good ole’ days’– and if given the chance, I’d love to go back for a brief visit!

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