Saturday, May 1, 2021

Egad! I'm Old

 There's nothing unique about being seventy-five. Some people get there and some don't. It's the luck of the draw. When I was twenty-five we lived in Ottumwa, Iowa across the alley from a kindly lady named Mrs. Fiedler. She was in her eighties. Anyway, one day we were chatting and she said, "My mind tells me I'm your age but my body says otherwise." I am now Mrs. Fiedler.

Yesterday I began thinking of my youth and I came to the realization that the year I was born, 1946, was only nineteen years after the first 'talkie movie' was made. It, the movie, wouldn't make it in today's society. It was called The Jazz Singer starring Al Jolsen who sang his songs in blackface. Regardless, nineteen years in the big scheme of life isn't all that big of a deal. 

My oldest grandson is now sixteen. He was born only five years after 9/11. To him, I'm sure, that has as much meaning as does WWII to me. We know about both conflagrations but it's impossible to relate.

We had television in our home around 1952. There were three channels not counting test pattern. WOI-TV out of Ames, Iowa showed programs intemittently. There'd be a cooking show on for fifteen minutes then dead nothing. After awhile a cartoon would come on. A few years later we had the original ABC, NBC and CBS. On Saturday's there would be the baseball game of the week. Dizzy Dean and Buddy Blattner did the play by play. One game one day a week. It doesn't seem possible. Money rules and the the popularity of sports and television exploded in a few short years. In the 50's there were only four college post-season football bowl games; Cotton, Orange, Rose and Sugar. Southern teams dominated the airwaves. There weren't many Black football players on teams in those days. Iowa had one named Calvin Jones. He was my hero. As I recall, and I'm going by memory, former Iowa Hawkeye coach, Hayden Fry who was coaching at Southern Methodist, was the first southern coach to recruit a Black play whose name was Jerry Levias and this was in 1964. It seems ages ago. My how the times have changed.

Our grandchildren aren't much interested about our lives back then. They will be, just as I was, after we've met our demise. Can it be true that when we made phone calls we gave the number to an operator, that we had party lines of three or four whereby others could listen to your conversations? I suppose old bitties did this but folks were polite in those days.

When I was in fourth grade and learned the Palmer method of writing we we allowed to buy ink pens. There was a handle on the side of the pen. A bottle of ink sat in a slot on our desk. We pulled the pen handle and it sucked up the ink inside a bladder located inside the pen. When ballpoints hit the scene we thought we'd died and gone to heaven. One way or another, with the old pens, our hands became ink stained either on purpose or we were too stupid to figure out how to pull the handle correctly.

As a kid I, age ten or so, I owned to pair of pants, two shirts and Keds, two pair of socks and one pair of 'Sunday Shoes'. That's about it for outside gear. For dress up one of the shirts was ironed.

When I was six I'll never forget the day my dad said he was going to buy a new car. We drove a green Studebaker. I went downtown with him and he looked around a bought a brand new---Studebaker. Talk about disappointment! If you don't know Studebaker's in the early 50's looked like bullets and were very boring to a six year old.

Youngsters will find this inconceivable that on Sunday all the downtown stores were closed, shut down, in observance of the Sabbath. Friday nights the stores were open but the radios were always tuned to KWBG 1590 playing the Boone High Toreador athletic events done by Mo Kelly. He's still with us and a legend in not only Boone but the State of Iowa. Two years ago the town finally acknowledge him by having a 'Mo Kelly Day'. If you were recognized on the radio or in the paper(he was the town sportswriter) by Mo it was like being noticed by The Almighty.

In Boone, Iowa we had two restaurants of choice. One was McCaskey's and the other the Bon Appetit'. Being the rubes that we were everyone called it Appetite and they thought they were correct. The only thing French in that place were the fries.

As for fast food there wasn't any. Well, where did we go for food when were hungry? This is an easy answer. We went home or to a friend's house. People only went to restaurants on special occasions; weddings, funerals and someone's birthday.

One of the big thrills of my life as a kid was riding the train. The Chicago & Northwestern ran smack dab through town. At the time there were eight or ten passenger trains a day giving all the opportunity to get away. In addition, four blocks north were the tracks  the Ft. Dodge, Des Moines & Southern RR. It had a passenger car called an interurban that looked like a rolling street car. It ran from Ft. Dodge, 50 miles north of Boone to Des Moines 50 miles to the south. It was great for daily travel for shopping or as a get away. There was a rod extending from the top of the car to an electrical wire extending the entire route. 

as a college kid I got a job as a brakeman on that RR line. One of my claims to fame took place at midnight as I was switching out freight cars in town. For some unknown reason known only to God and my Guardian Angel who was snoozing on the job I threw a wrong switch and put a couple of cars on the ground. And, no, I wasn't fired.

These are memories I could tell my grandchildren. If I did it now they'd act interested out of courtesy. If I game them $10 they might feign attention longer before coming up with a ruse to 'get outta there'. I understand this and it's okay. 

Growing up post-WWII in this great country was the best. I long for those days.



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