Do you strive after perfection but instead, find that your life is full of unwanted clutter? And imperfections?
Does your computer desk and your kitchen look like a recent Tsunami hit it? Do you fear that a Python will crawl up through your toilet and bite you on your ass? Is your love life down there along with the Python? If so, cheer up. I have good news for you!
Clutter and imperfections are in! Neatness is out!
The world is a messy place and so is living. Allow your life to be a reflection of that without giving way to the hopelessness of a life that's far less than perfect. A world that is neat and perfect is available to us only after we die, when there will be no unpaid bills, and where Martha Stewart won't weep at your lack of simple good house-keeping skills. It's where a ding on your beautiful new car won't send you spiraling into a fit of depression and where you won't even notice or even care, that you were the only one in your group of so-called friends who wasn't invited to that Christmas party. And where is seems others use you as their favorite object for put-downs.
Don't despair about that misspelling or typo that you noticed right after you hit the 'send' button. And if your family is less than perfect and looks like the exact opposite of the Osmond family. Or even worse, if no one in your family could care less about that last time when you were hit by a Mack truck?
Remember: Neatness and perfection are out. Life is a mess and for the brief period you have on earth, embrace that messiness, savor in the abundance of life's variety and imperfections.
Let the no-see-ums (much like mosquitoes), the sharks and the 'jaws' of the animal kingdom continue in their own pursuit of happiness.
Be happy and enjoy the mess.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
As time goes by.
It's still the same old story, a fight for love and glory...as time goes by.
Last year I turned 80. And I'm proud of it! I feel like a survivor who's had many close calls, been down and out, and still, through sheer determination I managed to pull myself back up. And I like to think that I'm a better person for it. I might not look as pretty as I did when I was in my twenties and thirties but I sure do know a lot more. I consider it a fair trade off. It beats me why anyone would want to hide one's years.
And so, the days dwindle down and one becomes more aware than ever, that there's less time left, something that younger people seem to take for granted and rarely question. But that's OK! Enjoy those years. Dance and be merry and enjoy the dramatics of one's voyage through a sea of change. The good and the bad.
As one nears the end of the journey and the days "dwindle down to a precious few", one now looks longingly to go back and relive as many memories as possible. Most of the people are now gone through either death or just losing touch, but most memories are pleasant. Of course, there are some things we'd rather forget, but they're all important and they go into making us who we are today. Everything that is now, was meant to be.
What have I learned that I would like to pass on to others? We all have to find our own path but some paths are heavily traveled and the same for all of us. One is that nothing lasts forever. And that change is the one constant. Another is that when something unpleasant happens, we must try to make the best of it, live with it, deal with it, and try to learn from what happened. It might be difficult at the time to understand this emotionally, but eventually one does realize this. It couldn't have been different.
And in other words it's another way of saying that if it doesn't kill you, it will make you stronger.
I've found, after wasting so many years and searching in all the wrong places, that the one we should love and cherish, is oneself and from that love one can love everything else. It's only then when we love and respect ourself that we can love and respect others. Forgiveness and compassion start from within.
I've learned that many other people are so frustrated and angry, and even though they may have reason to feel so, they should not take it out on other innocent people or innocent animals. And in turning this around, it's important to realize that even though it's directed at us personally or even at us as a nation, we should not feel any lesser for it. We should try to find common ground and not be torn apart by differences, because we are more alike than different.
Eventually all truth has a way of coming to the surface. It's all a matter of being patient and knowing what you did was not out of hate but out of love.
The world has undergone an enormous amount of change since I was a child. Life seems to be going faster and faster and we seem to have a harder and harder time to just keep up. So much of what seemed to have been a safe world, is now becoming less safe and more unpredictable. Destruction that is now being done in the name of patriotisn is to me, impossible to accept for anyone with a conscience. We are really all one, and anything that hurts any living life is hurting all of us, and is nothing but a mass suicide.
I have enough faith that eventually there will come a turning point and as a united global people we will call out and insist that "enough is enough".
So look on the positive side, the glass that is half full, and follow your dreams while enjoying the miracle of all life, because no one really knows for sure if this is all there is, or if we as individuals might continue to live on, even if in a different form.
One other thing, we are all put here on earth for a reason. Some call it a "calling". It's for us to search until we find it. And when you do, everything else seems to just fall into place. We will then understand the reason why we are here.
Last year I turned 80. And I'm proud of it! I feel like a survivor who's had many close calls, been down and out, and still, through sheer determination I managed to pull myself back up. And I like to think that I'm a better person for it. I might not look as pretty as I did when I was in my twenties and thirties but I sure do know a lot more. I consider it a fair trade off. It beats me why anyone would want to hide one's years.
And so, the days dwindle down and one becomes more aware than ever, that there's less time left, something that younger people seem to take for granted and rarely question. But that's OK! Enjoy those years. Dance and be merry and enjoy the dramatics of one's voyage through a sea of change. The good and the bad.
As one nears the end of the journey and the days "dwindle down to a precious few", one now looks longingly to go back and relive as many memories as possible. Most of the people are now gone through either death or just losing touch, but most memories are pleasant. Of course, there are some things we'd rather forget, but they're all important and they go into making us who we are today. Everything that is now, was meant to be.
What have I learned that I would like to pass on to others? We all have to find our own path but some paths are heavily traveled and the same for all of us. One is that nothing lasts forever. And that change is the one constant. Another is that when something unpleasant happens, we must try to make the best of it, live with it, deal with it, and try to learn from what happened. It might be difficult at the time to understand this emotionally, but eventually one does realize this. It couldn't have been different.
And in other words it's another way of saying that if it doesn't kill you, it will make you stronger.
I've found, after wasting so many years and searching in all the wrong places, that the one we should love and cherish, is oneself and from that love one can love everything else. It's only then when we love and respect ourself that we can love and respect others. Forgiveness and compassion start from within.
I've learned that many other people are so frustrated and angry, and even though they may have reason to feel so, they should not take it out on other innocent people or innocent animals. And in turning this around, it's important to realize that even though it's directed at us personally or even at us as a nation, we should not feel any lesser for it. We should try to find common ground and not be torn apart by differences, because we are more alike than different.
Eventually all truth has a way of coming to the surface. It's all a matter of being patient and knowing what you did was not out of hate but out of love.
The world has undergone an enormous amount of change since I was a child. Life seems to be going faster and faster and we seem to have a harder and harder time to just keep up. So much of what seemed to have been a safe world, is now becoming less safe and more unpredictable. Destruction that is now being done in the name of patriotisn is to me, impossible to accept for anyone with a conscience. We are really all one, and anything that hurts any living life is hurting all of us, and is nothing but a mass suicide.
I have enough faith that eventually there will come a turning point and as a united global people we will call out and insist that "enough is enough".
So look on the positive side, the glass that is half full, and follow your dreams while enjoying the miracle of all life, because no one really knows for sure if this is all there is, or if we as individuals might continue to live on, even if in a different form.
One other thing, we are all put here on earth for a reason. Some call it a "calling". It's for us to search until we find it. And when you do, everything else seems to just fall into place. We will then understand the reason why we are here.
Monday, January 14, 2008
East Village, New York 1960-1970
My memories of the East Village in the '60's are still so vivid and so firmly fixed in my subconscious that they have become a large part of my dreams at night. I find myself walking down familiar streets searching for the places that I had known, trying to find my love from long ago.
1963
Marilyn Monroe was no longer with us, she had died the year before, but she was still larger than life. The Kennedy's, a most charismatic and handsome couple were in the White House as we entered into the brief era that was later to become known as Camelot. The Beatles had just come over from England and were about to explode upon the American scene. The Beatniks were now being replaced by the next new wave who were being called the Hippies. The mood was one of energy and excitement. Jack and Jackie Kennedy were setting the mood and the fashion of this period. Jackie Kennedy, had the White House redecorated, and we were able to see by way of TV, the class and the elegance with which it was done. We were experiencing a rebirth of glamour and optimism along with a lively sense of humor and joy. And it was spreading around the nation, sweeping the rest of the world along with it.
It was a little before this time that I had been living in Greenwich Village. But with the rising rents, many of the artists and writers were looking to the area across town. The East Village was becoming the place to live and work.
1900's
The East Village was part of the Lower East Side, which at the turn of the century was a thriving new home for the immigrants who were pouring over from Russia, Poland, Italy, Ireland and China. The largely Jewish community was coming over to escape the pograms in Russia, and were moving into the packed tenements around Delancy Street. It was a crowded and bustling life and we can still see some remnants of those days around Orchard Street. The adults along with the many children and women worked in the many industrial buildings that dotted the area around Canal Street and up towards 14th Street. They worked and sacrificed toward their vision of the American dream. And many were able, by sheer hard work and education to escape the ghettos and branch out to the out lying areas of the Bronx and Brooklyn. Some scattered off to other parts of the country. A special few, who by enormous effort and the determination to better their economic position in life, moved to the next level towards that American dream and to such places as Scarsdale and Greenwich, Ct. which were then the growing bedroom communities in the exclusive suburbs.
In the 1960's, a few of the third generation of these earlier immigrants, feeling secure in their newly inherited wealth and position, were returning to the East Village, the same place that their grandparents had struggled to escape.
The "Loft".
The Loft was located on Avenue B and 11th Street. It was a block down Avenue B from "Stanley's" which was on 12th. Stanley's was the waterhole and social meeting place for the older locals, mostly Polish, during the day, and at night for the many young artists and hippies. The Loft was located in one of those original turn-of -the-century manufacturing buildings that used the available underpaid workers who worked in a sweatshop environment. But, now, instead of producing an assembly line of off-the-rack garments, there was the production of large ambitious pieces of art for the exclusive Madison Avenue galleries and which were selling for top dollars. Now, instead of the sounds of sewing machines grinding away, there were the sounds of classical music, hammers, saws, and the smell of turpentine. The Loft was on the top floor of the three story building. When one entered, there was a rickety, worn flight of wooden stairs to the second floor. The entire second floor was a workshop and when the door was open, one could look in and see pieces of sculpture that resembled huge tires and balloons but were made of cement and were painted a flat white and then sanded till the large round shapes appears velvety smooth. Big was in. This was the cutting edge of the art movement - led by Andy Warhol and his immense canvasses of POP art.
The Loft was on the top floor and was rented to a sculptor whose grandparents had come over from Norway. And like many with a Nordic background, he loved working in wood. He carved massive pieces of wood made to resemble giant chains and blown-up puzzle pieces. He not only loved working in wood but his huge work area was also the home of some interesting people. A new type of art in human form that gathered together. There were parties and fun in those days, and possibly for most of us who lived then. Or so it seems when looking back.
Stanley's Bar
Stanley's, when I first arrived on the scene had become the social center of the thriving art community of the East Village. Several years prior Stanley had bought the old corner bar, and his first customer's were the older Polish people from the neighborhood which included his own son and wife. They made up most of the regulars in the beginning. The new wave of residents began coming out during the evening and would often stay till closing, which I remember was at 3 AM. I can still hear in my mind, Stanley calling out, "Time gentlemen, time". At which the bar would quiet down and all the harsh lights would come back on. Those who were still left would gradually leave, reluctantly going back into the harsh, cold reality of the night.
The name 'Stanley's' took time to take hold. I don't think the bar was ever officially named and I don't remember ever seeing any sign on the outside of the building. The name had been shortened from the original long Polish name that most of us couldn't pronouce - we did know that it ended in "ski". And so Stanley's with it's rather quiet, home-like, laid-back and friendly atmosphere soon attracted the new arrivals, most of whom were originally from England and Ireland who found the atmosphere much like back home. And so this group of artists, writers, teachers, Hippies and lost souls along with other non-conformists made up the better part of Stanley's extended family.
Stanley, himself, was a rather fatherly and charismatic personality. When I first arrived and was feeling rather a bit shy about going into a bar on my own, Stanley made sure that I would feel comfortable. After that, I would never feel uncomfortable especially as I got to know the many personalities - and they got to know me. It was like coming home every time I went there.
Besides, Stanley being such a truly caring human being, he was also known for his uncanny business sense. he had taken a run-down old landmark and was in the process of restoring it to it to it's former glory. The center piece of which was a beautiful mahogany back bar and counter. At the bottom of the bar there was a brass rail step. The old floor from the turn of the 20th century was made up of small hexagonal tiles. And it had been said that Theodore Roosevelt may have been one of the bar's original earlier patrons. Next to the wall in the middle of the bar was the juke box that played the music of Bob Dylan, Barbara Streisand, Frank Sinatra, all the Doo Wop and of course, the very early Beatles...
These were the days, my friend, I thought would never end...
One of my favorite memories of that time was when the bar's regulars were having a rather lively discussion about Stanley's business skill, and someone with a flare for the dramatic raised his beer mug for a toast, "If Stanley were to try to buy back Manhattan Island, he would probably offer $23 rather than the $24 that the Dutch paid...being that it was used".
The Grave Diggers
Several of those who lived, off and on, in the loft decided to form a group of "construction workers". They called themselves the 'Grave Diggers' after Bill Graves who had come up with the original idea. The English tradition of using the last name for a person carried over to the East Village, or possibly it was a standard tradition in the armed services. And so the 'Grave Diggers' was born and assignments were coming in from as far south as Chinatown, where they installed air-conditioning units, to as far north as 14th Street where they were constructing another bar to give Stanley a little competition. Actually their first job came from Stanley himself, who decided to open a restaurant under the bar. Where? Yes, under his bar.
And so, the name had a special meaning. It was a massive project, but the results were breath-taking. The restaurant when it was finally finished, had several Gothic arches with the original red brick exposed and the walls also were left with the beauty of the raw brick. It gave the feeling of a monastery. But the last stroke of genius came from the females. They gave the restaurant the finishing touches with red checkered table cloths, and candles in black iron-wrought candle holders. The result was an ambience of a medieval and a romantic time. Some of the huge wooden sculptures, now called "woody goodies", were brought down from the loft and blended very well with the old medieval style. It was a lovely and unusual place to go to and the word spread quickly.
Actually the cellar restaurant didn't last very long. Unfortunately the novelty soon wore off and it wasn't exactly the place to bring a date who had claustrophobia. It soon came, unannounced that a wonderful era was soon to end.
Stanley died suddenly, after a brief illness. And the bar closed. The glue that had kept the group together was gone.
A few years later, the bar was dismantled and sold to Macy's, a famous department store in mid-Manhattan. The new Macy's bar was located in the sub-basement and became a trendy place to go for beer and hamburgers, much like PJ Clarke's in the fashionable upper Eastside. Meantime what was left of the orginal Stanley's bar, was stripped bare and became a motorcyle club. And still later, when I went back to revisit the old neigborhood, the motorcycle club was gone and in it's place was a Bodega, a small Spanish speaking local grocery store.
There's just one bit of macabre humor that I'd like to share. When my dear friend died recently after a long illness, I was asked what his occupation had been. I told the person who was to make out the death certificate that he had been a construction worker and had worked for a group called the grave diggers. The final result was that 'grave digger' was listed as his occupation. I think that he would have found that hilarious.
These were the times, my friend, I thought would never end.
Time gentlemen, Time!
It was during that time when I lived in the East Village that I met the person that I would share many years with. He recently passed on, but in my dreams I often return to those days and those places where we met. Most of those who lived there then are now gone, but maybe in some way it all does still exist, even if it's only in my dreams.
1963
Marilyn Monroe was no longer with us, she had died the year before, but she was still larger than life. The Kennedy's, a most charismatic and handsome couple were in the White House as we entered into the brief era that was later to become known as Camelot. The Beatles had just come over from England and were about to explode upon the American scene. The Beatniks were now being replaced by the next new wave who were being called the Hippies. The mood was one of energy and excitement. Jack and Jackie Kennedy were setting the mood and the fashion of this period. Jackie Kennedy, had the White House redecorated, and we were able to see by way of TV, the class and the elegance with which it was done. We were experiencing a rebirth of glamour and optimism along with a lively sense of humor and joy. And it was spreading around the nation, sweeping the rest of the world along with it.
It was a little before this time that I had been living in Greenwich Village. But with the rising rents, many of the artists and writers were looking to the area across town. The East Village was becoming the place to live and work.
1900's
The East Village was part of the Lower East Side, which at the turn of the century was a thriving new home for the immigrants who were pouring over from Russia, Poland, Italy, Ireland and China. The largely Jewish community was coming over to escape the pograms in Russia, and were moving into the packed tenements around Delancy Street. It was a crowded and bustling life and we can still see some remnants of those days around Orchard Street. The adults along with the many children and women worked in the many industrial buildings that dotted the area around Canal Street and up towards 14th Street. They worked and sacrificed toward their vision of the American dream. And many were able, by sheer hard work and education to escape the ghettos and branch out to the out lying areas of the Bronx and Brooklyn. Some scattered off to other parts of the country. A special few, who by enormous effort and the determination to better their economic position in life, moved to the next level towards that American dream and to such places as Scarsdale and Greenwich, Ct. which were then the growing bedroom communities in the exclusive suburbs.
In the 1960's, a few of the third generation of these earlier immigrants, feeling secure in their newly inherited wealth and position, were returning to the East Village, the same place that their grandparents had struggled to escape.
The "Loft".
The Loft was located on Avenue B and 11th Street. It was a block down Avenue B from "Stanley's" which was on 12th. Stanley's was the waterhole and social meeting place for the older locals, mostly Polish, during the day, and at night for the many young artists and hippies. The Loft was located in one of those original turn-of -the-century manufacturing buildings that used the available underpaid workers who worked in a sweatshop environment. But, now, instead of producing an assembly line of off-the-rack garments, there was the production of large ambitious pieces of art for the exclusive Madison Avenue galleries and which were selling for top dollars. Now, instead of the sounds of sewing machines grinding away, there were the sounds of classical music, hammers, saws, and the smell of turpentine. The Loft was on the top floor of the three story building. When one entered, there was a rickety, worn flight of wooden stairs to the second floor. The entire second floor was a workshop and when the door was open, one could look in and see pieces of sculpture that resembled huge tires and balloons but were made of cement and were painted a flat white and then sanded till the large round shapes appears velvety smooth. Big was in. This was the cutting edge of the art movement - led by Andy Warhol and his immense canvasses of POP art.
The Loft was on the top floor and was rented to a sculptor whose grandparents had come over from Norway. And like many with a Nordic background, he loved working in wood. He carved massive pieces of wood made to resemble giant chains and blown-up puzzle pieces. He not only loved working in wood but his huge work area was also the home of some interesting people. A new type of art in human form that gathered together. There were parties and fun in those days, and possibly for most of us who lived then. Or so it seems when looking back.
Stanley's Bar
Stanley's, when I first arrived on the scene had become the social center of the thriving art community of the East Village. Several years prior Stanley had bought the old corner bar, and his first customer's were the older Polish people from the neighborhood which included his own son and wife. They made up most of the regulars in the beginning. The new wave of residents began coming out during the evening and would often stay till closing, which I remember was at 3 AM. I can still hear in my mind, Stanley calling out, "Time gentlemen, time". At which the bar would quiet down and all the harsh lights would come back on. Those who were still left would gradually leave, reluctantly going back into the harsh, cold reality of the night.
The name 'Stanley's' took time to take hold. I don't think the bar was ever officially named and I don't remember ever seeing any sign on the outside of the building. The name had been shortened from the original long Polish name that most of us couldn't pronouce - we did know that it ended in "ski". And so Stanley's with it's rather quiet, home-like, laid-back and friendly atmosphere soon attracted the new arrivals, most of whom were originally from England and Ireland who found the atmosphere much like back home. And so this group of artists, writers, teachers, Hippies and lost souls along with other non-conformists made up the better part of Stanley's extended family.
Stanley, himself, was a rather fatherly and charismatic personality. When I first arrived and was feeling rather a bit shy about going into a bar on my own, Stanley made sure that I would feel comfortable. After that, I would never feel uncomfortable especially as I got to know the many personalities - and they got to know me. It was like coming home every time I went there.
Besides, Stanley being such a truly caring human being, he was also known for his uncanny business sense. he had taken a run-down old landmark and was in the process of restoring it to it to it's former glory. The center piece of which was a beautiful mahogany back bar and counter. At the bottom of the bar there was a brass rail step. The old floor from the turn of the 20th century was made up of small hexagonal tiles. And it had been said that Theodore Roosevelt may have been one of the bar's original earlier patrons. Next to the wall in the middle of the bar was the juke box that played the music of Bob Dylan, Barbara Streisand, Frank Sinatra, all the Doo Wop and of course, the very early Beatles...
These were the days, my friend, I thought would never end...
One of my favorite memories of that time was when the bar's regulars were having a rather lively discussion about Stanley's business skill, and someone with a flare for the dramatic raised his beer mug for a toast, "If Stanley were to try to buy back Manhattan Island, he would probably offer $23 rather than the $24 that the Dutch paid...being that it was used".
The Grave Diggers
Several of those who lived, off and on, in the loft decided to form a group of "construction workers". They called themselves the 'Grave Diggers' after Bill Graves who had come up with the original idea. The English tradition of using the last name for a person carried over to the East Village, or possibly it was a standard tradition in the armed services. And so the 'Grave Diggers' was born and assignments were coming in from as far south as Chinatown, where they installed air-conditioning units, to as far north as 14th Street where they were constructing another bar to give Stanley a little competition. Actually their first job came from Stanley himself, who decided to open a restaurant under the bar. Where? Yes, under his bar.
And so, the name had a special meaning. It was a massive project, but the results were breath-taking. The restaurant when it was finally finished, had several Gothic arches with the original red brick exposed and the walls also were left with the beauty of the raw brick. It gave the feeling of a monastery. But the last stroke of genius came from the females. They gave the restaurant the finishing touches with red checkered table cloths, and candles in black iron-wrought candle holders. The result was an ambience of a medieval and a romantic time. Some of the huge wooden sculptures, now called "woody goodies", were brought down from the loft and blended very well with the old medieval style. It was a lovely and unusual place to go to and the word spread quickly.
Actually the cellar restaurant didn't last very long. Unfortunately the novelty soon wore off and it wasn't exactly the place to bring a date who had claustrophobia. It soon came, unannounced that a wonderful era was soon to end.
Stanley died suddenly, after a brief illness. And the bar closed. The glue that had kept the group together was gone.
A few years later, the bar was dismantled and sold to Macy's, a famous department store in mid-Manhattan. The new Macy's bar was located in the sub-basement and became a trendy place to go for beer and hamburgers, much like PJ Clarke's in the fashionable upper Eastside. Meantime what was left of the orginal Stanley's bar, was stripped bare and became a motorcyle club. And still later, when I went back to revisit the old neigborhood, the motorcycle club was gone and in it's place was a Bodega, a small Spanish speaking local grocery store.
There's just one bit of macabre humor that I'd like to share. When my dear friend died recently after a long illness, I was asked what his occupation had been. I told the person who was to make out the death certificate that he had been a construction worker and had worked for a group called the grave diggers. The final result was that 'grave digger' was listed as his occupation. I think that he would have found that hilarious.
These were the times, my friend, I thought would never end.
Time gentlemen, Time!
It was during that time when I lived in the East Village that I met the person that I would share many years with. He recently passed on, but in my dreams I often return to those days and those places where we met. Most of those who lived there then are now gone, but maybe in some way it all does still exist, even if it's only in my dreams.
Saturday, January 12, 2008
A Stroll Down Memory Lane
The thrill of finding a double yolk egg. Grinding your own meat or potatoes on the grinder that was set up on the kitchen table. The red and white checkered "oil cloth".
Jello and six delicious flavors. Jack Benny. Bread boxes. Shelling peas. Cleaning stringbeans. Peeling apples. The orange juice squeezer and the strainer. A glass of orange juice and a tablespoon of Cod Liver Oil before going to school in the morning.
The Dairy Store , one barrel for the sweet butter and one barrel for the salted butter. The store clerk, taking the pencil kept behind his ear and tallying up the items on a brown paper bag - almost as fast as a modern day computer. 3 cents deposit on milk bottles that was refunded when they were brought back to the store. The milkman who delivered milk products right to your door according to the note tucked into a milk bottle listing the products you wanted.
Irons and ironing boards. Double kitchen sinks, the left side for washing the dishes and the right and larger side for washing clothes. The washboard. The outdoor clothes lines and the clothes pins for drying. The Chinese laundry (we called them the Chinks) for our sheets, pillow cases, shirts, towels and the men's shirts (with or without starch) in the collars. Early type washing machines with a separate "wringer", the clothes passing between the two roller that you hand cranked. Cloth diapers. The ladies wore "cloth rags" when they had the "curse".
Ice boxes with a pan underneath on the floor to catch the melting ice. Salt and pepper shakers. A sugar bowl that sat in the middle of the dining room table. A butter dish with the butter knife. A candy dish for the children in the living room.
A phone that was attached to a jack in the wall. And when you made a call, there was always a real person's voice on the other end and not a recording. Women who handled food had to wear a hair net. Everyone in the public swimming pool had to wear a bathing cap.
Girdles were for the extra belly fat. Garters and garter belts were to hold up your silk stockings. Often turning around, trying to keep the seams straight on the back of your legs. Open toe shoes. Shoe repair shops for new soles and heels. Electric hair perms with wires and curlers.that came straight down from the ceiling to which your hair was attached. Rollers and pin curls. Waves and most everyone's desire for curly hair. Just like Shirley Temple.
"Coupons" in the popular magazines for free samples of cold cream (usually Pond's) and other products. The yellow song sheets for the lyrics of the most popular songs. Sheet music stuffed into the piano bench. The fascination of player pianos that played all by themself. Victrolas and 78's. His Master's Voice.
The "I Cash Clothes" man yelling out as he came down the street. The truck with the merry-go-round that went from street to street. The Good Humor man and the "lucky stick". Movie theatres that looked like palaces. The newsreels, the cartoons, the two feature films and the noisy section for kids, especially on Saturdays. The ushers with white gloves and a flashlight. Toys. Metal toy soldiers for the boys and Shirley Temple dolls for the girls. Dolls with their own trunk and tiny hangers. Teddy Bears. Stamp collections. Airplane kits with balsa wood and glue. Playgrounds with monkey bars, see-saws and swings. Libraries. The Dewey Decimal System and the library card.
A string around a loose tooth and the other end of the string tied to a doorknob. The tooth fairy who would leave a dime under the pillow in exchange for the tooth. Roller skates and keys to tighten them to your shoe. Two wheel skates for the more advanced skaters. Wooden sleds. Swings that were tied to the limbs of trees. An old inner tire for swimming. Iodine for the many scrapes and bruises.
Ovaline. Hot chicken soup when you came down with a cold. My-T-Fine chocolate pudding with a glob of fleshly whipped heavy cream. Seltzer bottles delivered to your door.
Cars with the clutch from the floor with a round handle the size of a larger marble. Different color marbles. Tops with a string that you pulled that would make it spin. Blocks for learning the alphabet. Coloring books. Comic books that weren't funny with Superman or the Green Hornet on the cover. Jacks. Jack in the box, popcorn with a prize. Those in prison who, we were told, had only bread and water. So children, eat everything on your plate. Think of all those starving children in China.
Apartments with built in bookcases and sunken living rooms. Bay windows. The lucky apartment dwellers who had three to four "exposures" so as to keep cool in the summer. Sitting next to a fan on those very hot days of summer. Open fire hydrants. Apartment supers who hosed off the street in front of their building most every day. Ashcans, which were filled with ash and not garbage.
The New York World's Fair of 1941. The General Motor's exhibit of the world of tomorrow with super highways and the traffic running along smoothly. Super electrical applicances of refrigators and toasters. And all the beautiful and very happy people in this world of tomorrow.
Today is the world that once was tomorrow.
Jello and six delicious flavors. Jack Benny. Bread boxes. Shelling peas. Cleaning stringbeans. Peeling apples. The orange juice squeezer and the strainer. A glass of orange juice and a tablespoon of Cod Liver Oil before going to school in the morning.
The Dairy Store , one barrel for the sweet butter and one barrel for the salted butter. The store clerk, taking the pencil kept behind his ear and tallying up the items on a brown paper bag - almost as fast as a modern day computer. 3 cents deposit on milk bottles that was refunded when they were brought back to the store. The milkman who delivered milk products right to your door according to the note tucked into a milk bottle listing the products you wanted.
Irons and ironing boards. Double kitchen sinks, the left side for washing the dishes and the right and larger side for washing clothes. The washboard. The outdoor clothes lines and the clothes pins for drying. The Chinese laundry (we called them the Chinks) for our sheets, pillow cases, shirts, towels and the men's shirts (with or without starch) in the collars. Early type washing machines with a separate "wringer", the clothes passing between the two roller that you hand cranked. Cloth diapers. The ladies wore "cloth rags" when they had the "curse".
Ice boxes with a pan underneath on the floor to catch the melting ice. Salt and pepper shakers. A sugar bowl that sat in the middle of the dining room table. A butter dish with the butter knife. A candy dish for the children in the living room.
A phone that was attached to a jack in the wall. And when you made a call, there was always a real person's voice on the other end and not a recording. Women who handled food had to wear a hair net. Everyone in the public swimming pool had to wear a bathing cap.
Girdles were for the extra belly fat. Garters and garter belts were to hold up your silk stockings. Often turning around, trying to keep the seams straight on the back of your legs. Open toe shoes. Shoe repair shops for new soles and heels. Electric hair perms with wires and curlers.that came straight down from the ceiling to which your hair was attached. Rollers and pin curls. Waves and most everyone's desire for curly hair. Just like Shirley Temple.
"Coupons" in the popular magazines for free samples of cold cream (usually Pond's) and other products. The yellow song sheets for the lyrics of the most popular songs. Sheet music stuffed into the piano bench. The fascination of player pianos that played all by themself. Victrolas and 78's. His Master's Voice.
The "I Cash Clothes" man yelling out as he came down the street. The truck with the merry-go-round that went from street to street. The Good Humor man and the "lucky stick". Movie theatres that looked like palaces. The newsreels, the cartoons, the two feature films and the noisy section for kids, especially on Saturdays. The ushers with white gloves and a flashlight. Toys. Metal toy soldiers for the boys and Shirley Temple dolls for the girls. Dolls with their own trunk and tiny hangers. Teddy Bears. Stamp collections. Airplane kits with balsa wood and glue. Playgrounds with monkey bars, see-saws and swings. Libraries. The Dewey Decimal System and the library card.
A string around a loose tooth and the other end of the string tied to a doorknob. The tooth fairy who would leave a dime under the pillow in exchange for the tooth. Roller skates and keys to tighten them to your shoe. Two wheel skates for the more advanced skaters. Wooden sleds. Swings that were tied to the limbs of trees. An old inner tire for swimming. Iodine for the many scrapes and bruises.
Ovaline. Hot chicken soup when you came down with a cold. My-T-Fine chocolate pudding with a glob of fleshly whipped heavy cream. Seltzer bottles delivered to your door.
Cars with the clutch from the floor with a round handle the size of a larger marble. Different color marbles. Tops with a string that you pulled that would make it spin. Blocks for learning the alphabet. Coloring books. Comic books that weren't funny with Superman or the Green Hornet on the cover. Jacks. Jack in the box, popcorn with a prize. Those in prison who, we were told, had only bread and water. So children, eat everything on your plate. Think of all those starving children in China.
Apartments with built in bookcases and sunken living rooms. Bay windows. The lucky apartment dwellers who had three to four "exposures" so as to keep cool in the summer. Sitting next to a fan on those very hot days of summer. Open fire hydrants. Apartment supers who hosed off the street in front of their building most every day. Ashcans, which were filled with ash and not garbage.
The New York World's Fair of 1941. The General Motor's exhibit of the world of tomorrow with super highways and the traffic running along smoothly. Super electrical applicances of refrigators and toasters. And all the beautiful and very happy people in this world of tomorrow.
Today is the world that once was tomorrow.
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