Archive for the ‘Memories & Milestones’ Category
Start Thinking About . . .
. . . resolutions for the New Year.
Last year, at a brief transcendental rite involving writing a word of resolve on a small white stone, I chose “Listen.”
This year’s feels like it’s going to be a bit more complicated but haven’t picked one yet. So, maybe more later.
How Times Have Changed . . .
. . . really hit my tablemate during his Christmas Day dinner with family.
When he was growing up, he faked his age as under 11 until he was 16 so he could ride trains and buses on a child’s fare.
During his festival visit with the relatives, he heard his 14-year-old grandson brag about getting his driver’s license so he could drive his family’s car by faking his age as 16.
Nostalgia to Now
By Tom Morrow
When you reach that momentous eighth set of 10-year periods you figure it’s okay to doze off in front of the TV set. Speaking of which, do you remember when it took at least two to three minutes for the TV to warm up. How many of you sat watching the test pattern before the day’s programming began? Or watched the Air Force fly-bys as the “Star Spangled Banner” was played to end the day’s programming.
In Middle-West America, Dad always left the keys to the family car in the ignition and some family homes were never locked. Everything America seemed to change after President John F. Kennedy was assassinated and we went to war in Vietnam.
Where I grew up, nobody owned a purebred dog.
A quarter was a decent weekly allowance and Mom wore nylons that came in two pieces. You got your windshield cleaned, oil checked, and gas pumped, without asking … all for free every time you filled up. If you bought premium (also known as “Ethel”) you got your floor boards swept out with a small whisk broom. If your tires needed a check, you didn’t pay for any pumped air. And sometime you got trading stamps.
Laundry detergent had free glasses, dishes or towels included inside the box.
At school, being sent to the principal’s office was nothing compared to the fate that awaited you at home. Teachers kept kids back a grade if they were failing.
We played softball with no adults around to help with the rules of the game.
Most of us kids were in fear for our lives, but it wasn’t because of drive-by shootings, drugs, or gangs. It was for fear of getting polio or the Russians dropping “the bomb.”
Decisions were made by going “eeny-meeny-miney-moe.’ Consumables from the drug store came without safety caps and hermetic seals because no one had yet tried to poison a perfect stranger.
Home milk delivery was in glass bottles with cardboard stoppers, newsreels were shown before the movie, and telephone numbers had a word prefix…(Blackburn 5-2857).
Didn’t it feel good to recall those days?
I’m 87 Years Old Today . . .
. . . and it’s been a marvelous trip.
No one has been luckier than I starting with having parents who were simply giving, friends galore who were worth more than I realized at the time, a family that supported me through my errors, a career that allowed me to learn something new every day, and genes that have supported my health over the several rocky decades I traveled.
This day, and every other day of the year, is one to be thankful for and to be enjoyed to build more memories.
And thank you to everyone who helped me get here.
There is no Word for . . .
. . someone who loses a child.
But the word widow or widower
for someone who has lost a spouse
has no real definition because it has no ending.
Mother’s Advice . . .
. . . was among the topics covered during my weekly phone chat with brother Lou.
I recalled ma’s admonition, “You can’t swim in there, it’s too deep.”
He dredged up, “You can’t go swimming in the rain, you’ll get wet.”
Talking with Cris on her birthday yesterday …
… burst a balloon of memories like the hole left in our home when she went off to graduate school, toddler tumbling on the living-room floor with her two younger brothers, a fun and proud Detroit Vanguard Theater afternoon ruined by an officiousCanadiancustomsofficer (all one word), and abruptly stopping laughing and giggling when she realized she’d taken her first steps on her own in a small apartment we rented in another galaxy.
There were more but that’s how they started.
Scary Day …
… yesterday . Bev had terrible time trying to breathe early in morning but improved as the day progressed. Calling for more shots of morphine. The hot-and-humid monsoon weather isn’t helping. Plan to discuss steps-to-come with hospice and long-term-care insurance folks in next few days.
Interesting to note she’s monitoring her own progress in this blog — so, if anyone has a response, they can do so here and she’ll see it.
Mike called before his trip: he’s flying to Toronto tomorrow for Lou’s b’day Thursday, Scaglione tribe picnic Saturday in Hamilton and gathering at Lou’s place next Sunday. Then it’s train to Windsor and final-day with a long-time friend in Ann Arbor the day before he leaves and gets back to Detroit airport two weeks from now. Lou called and he’s getting ready for the visit and the weekend activity. He and Jean are sked to be here in a month. We’re both looking forward to that, Bev much more so to chats with Jean and Lou.
Mature Life Features 