I think I was so fortunate to be born when I was....1943. I got to experience, in my opinion, the best decades at just the right times in my life: the innocence of the 40's and 50's, the excitement and the major changes of the 60's and 70's. (The 80's and on I'm not crazy about because I think from then on it all went downhill.)
I don't recall too much of the 40's myself, but I love movies from that era...Turner Classic Movies is one of my favorite channels; I love the clothing...it's so classy and elegant, and in every movie the female lead changes her gorgeous dresses and gowns several times. They always managed to be sexy without being crass. Less was definitely more...and in the love scenes they left something to the imagination, which is so much more exciting than the movies now which shove it all right in your face.
The 50's were wonderful! I lived in the Midwest then and am so very grateful that I did. I grew up, I feel, in the best place at the best time, when you were safe, and you could trust your neighbor, and you didn't have to stay in your house as a child because you didn't have to be afraid of everything and everyone. On Halloween, for example, we trick-or-treated from 5:00 until 10:00 and filled pillow cases with candy. There were no apples with razor blades; we didn't have to worry about poisoned candy or crazy people driving around trying to abduct us.
TV was a new thing in the 50's. We didn't get one until, I believe, I was ten or eleven...so, that would have been in 1953 or 1954. We had only three channels and they were in black and white. "Howdy Doody" was one of the programs I remember best. (Before we got the TV, I remember my dad, sister and I gathering around the radio and listening to such fun programs.....remember "What evil lurks in the hearts of men....the Shadow knows"?....I think that was Mystery Theatre, but I'm not sure.)
We did not sit in front of the TV all day long every day. (I feel sorry for kids who sit there all day playing video games and watching mindless, brain-rotting crap. They are living in a virtual reality world instead of experiencing real life. How sad!) We were too busy playing outside; breathing fresh air, feeling the sun on our faces, or dancing around in the rain. We were building forts in the woods at the end of our street...those woods went on forever; a child's paradise! We caught little garden snakes and brought them home to keep for a day or so before we let them go back out into the woods. We gathered clay from the banks of the stream that meandered through those woods and made little gifts for our parents. We learned about trees and rocks and woodland animals from experiencing them first hand. We caught lightening bugs in jars on Summer nights and put them in our rooms to watch as we fell asleep. (Poor things...we'd put grass in the jar to "feed" them, sprinkled drops of water on the grass, and punched holes in the tops of the jars for air..and didn't understand why they were not alive in the morning.)
In the Winter we would explore the wonderland of the woods where we'd find rabbit dens and follow animal footprints that we were convinced were bear prints. (They weren't.) And we'd run our sleds up and down our dead end street for countless hours. We had so much snow where I lived that I could literally go out on my parents' balcony that was on the second floor off their bedroom and jump into snowdrifts! (Gave my mother some frightening moments as she saw me fly by the livingroom window! Ha!)
We were out of the house playing from the time we got home from school until dinner time, and from morning until dinner time on weekends. The rule in our home, and most of the homes I knew, was you'd better be home for dinner because that was family time where we all sat down together at the table. It was non-negotiable; you'd BETTER be home by then! (I'm convinced that a lot of our kids' problems now stem from the disconnection of the family because everyone eats at different times in front of the TV..or in the car....instead of around a table where you can catch up with what's going on in the family each evening.)
Then, after dark, by the light of the streetlights, we played "kick the can" and hide and seek until it was time to come in, get bathed, into our pajamas and maybe watch a program or two on TV, and then get to bed. We had a regular bedtime...and that was non-negotiable, too. None of this bouncing off walls at all hours of the night until the kids FEEL like going to bed, or falling asleep wherever they land when they finally become exhausted.
We went to school each day feeling rested and with a good breakfast (and a shot of cod liver oil) in our bellies so that we were able to learn properly. No junk food.
I loved walking home from school. There were fields along the way home that contained the most wonderful blackberry and raspberry bushes that were full of fruit in early June just before we got out of school for the Summer. You don't see too many fields now...they are all built up with ugly housing tracts; houses with no character, no imagination and that all look the same.
There was also this old lady who lived on the route we took home and we kids used to stop in and visit with her at least twice a week. (We didn't want to be pests and go every day, but we would have liked to!) She was very heavy...kind and comfortable feeling, and her house always smelled like cookies. She always seemed glad to see us, and we loved her. On nice days we'd sit with her out on her screened-in front porch on comfortable padded chairs, drink Kool-aid, and watch the world go by. She had African Violets all over the house that she took great pride in showing us, and we were fascinated by how she could propagate them and make them multiply. She would often give us little cuttings that she had put into pots....they looked beautiful when she gave them to us, but, unfortunately, mine always met with an untimely death...I just didn't have her green thumb back then....but, I was only 9. She never asked me where the plants were that she gave me...she probably knew they didn't survive...but still, she gave me more. I still love African Violets, and I think of her whenever I see them.
I loved my childhood.
Then, in December of 1955, when I was twelve my parents dragged me kicking and screaming to Southern California and I hated it on sight. I'm not sure why they made the decision to leave our home to move there, but I never did get used to it and as soon as I could I came back to the Midwest.
It wasn't all bad, though; I did have some fun times while I lived there.
One of my favorite movies is "American Graffiti" because that was exactly how it was. I was a teenager in Southern California and we spent countless hours cruising the main drag of town, stopping in at A & W Root Beer stands where the carhops really were on skates. We hung out at the very FIRST McDonald's when you couldn't go inside; it was just a walk-up hamburger stand. How's that for history! We never thought they would be so big in the future; it was just a tiny stand then.
During the late 60's and 70's, we marched in the streets against the Viet Nam war....I never understood why some of the protesters were so cruel to the soldiers; calling them names like "baby killers" and "murderers"....those soldiers did not want to be there, either! Most were drafted and were there because they had to be. Many headed for Canada to avoid fighting a stupid, political war that never should have happened in the first place. (I may not have agreed with that choice, but I understood it.) When my friends and I marched in the streets in protest, we weren't mad at the soldiers; we just hated the senseless war and wanted those soldiers home.
And Flower Power was fun! We stuck those silly, flat, rounded-edged plastic flowers all over a friend's pick-up truck one beautiful, sunny Southern California afternoon. They came in Day-Glo colors of orange, red, blue, green, pink and yellow....(you can still buy them today in white to stick on the bottom of your bathtub or shower to keep you from slipping...but they aren't as much fun.)...and then we drove all over town to show off our handiwork.
After that, we danced in our driveway to the music of the Doors.
We would take huge watermelons to the beach, cut them open and eat them, and once we thought it was funny to spit the seeds all over the parking lot..We would have never dreamed of throwing paper or any other trash around; we had too much respect for the land..but we didn't think watermelon seeds were litter. The beach patrol thought differently and made us clean up every seed! Served us right!
We were very much into health foods, conservation, and recycling back in the 60's and 70's, and I like to think we were the influencing generation for that mindset of people today. "Mother Earth" magazine was our "bible".
I wish this world today still had the innocence of by-gone times...polite children, caring adults, less fear....but the reality is that those things are pretty much gone.
Too bad.
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Although I was born in 1956, it sure was a different world back then also. Our world today is sad. You have to beat it into your children or grandchildren's heads - DO NOT TALK TO STRANGER'S. Now isn't that just sad?
We did so many things as kids that were just plain fun. Played with all the neighborhood kids, played at the local schoolyard, went skating, swimming in the creek, playing dress up, putting on plays for our parents, play ball. shoot hoops out by the barn, etc. Good wholesome fun.
My Mother was a single Mom and worked a full time job. But, she always insisted that I be in by a certain time and we sat down to dinner together (although, I have to admit, she was a terrible cook).
Until we moved to the city, we never ever locked a door or took the keys out of the cars. No need too. You trusted your neighbors and friends.
I remember as a little girl growing up, my Uncle would pull out an antique sleigh and hook up three ropes to it. One for each of us little kids. He would tie our sleds on the ropes and gear up the horses to pull the sleigh and us kids on the sleds up and down the country roads. It was a blast! After we got a litle older, he would do the same thing, but on a tractor so we could "go a little faster" he told us.
My Uncle was a wonderful man. He never had children of his own, so we were the "kids" he never had (my two boy cousins and myself). On Christmas Eve, all the adults would herd us kids into the kitchen and close the door. My Uncle would actually climb up on the roof the house and stomp around ringing bells and saying "ho, ho, ho". We were very young at the time and didn't know it was our Uncle up there - we thought it was Santa Claus. Meanwhile, someone would slip out of the kitchen while we were looking up at the ceiling to hear Santa and his reindeers and all the bells. They would then put out all the gifts under the tree in the family room of this lovely old farmhouse. After my Uncle would come in out of the freezing cold from the rooftop, they would open the kitchen door and we would storm into the family room to see if we had been "bad or good" to see if Santa left us gifts. It was a wonderful time to grow up in. This tradition went on to our next generations when we had our own children. Although, after my Uncle was very old, it was always someone else climbing up onto the roof. I will never forget the first Christmas that my daughter and I were in my home state for the holidays. She was probably 6 yrs old and still "believed" in Santa. She was in shock when she heard the ritual going on. She jumped around like a crazy child! She kept saying "I knew there was a real Santa Claus. I knew it, I just did". By that time, our family had grown to an enormous size. We all had children and some of them had grandchildren. It took the poor person up on the roof a long, long time to keep stomping around, ringing bells and yelling "ho, ho, ho" because there were so many gifts to put under the tree. As our Aunts and Uncles passed away, the tradition died. I guess no fool wanted to get up on the roof anymore - ha ha!
But, all in all, my childhood was so full of joy and adventure. So many memories to pass on to my own grandchildren.
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