How to Drink a Castor Oil Sandwich in 1949


I found this little 1949 booklet at the thrift store the other day.

Apparently, back in 1949, before Facebook was invented, people had to make friends with whomever (or whatever) they could scrape up.

Alright fine, but how hard up does a person have to be to count Pure Bicarbonate of Soda as one of their friends?

I’m talking to you people of 1949! What were you thinking making Bicarbonate of Soda your friend?  Hello?  . . . ok, fine don’t answer me.

I’ll make something up and say it’s true. That’s what you get for ignoring me!

Let’s start by pretending we live in 1949.  What else were you doing today anyway. (I mean besides pretending to be working).

As you know, the first thing to do when pretending anything is to rush over to Google and start asking a lot of unnecessary questions:

What was the cost of a first class stamp in 1949?   

Google says: $.03


Who was the President of the United States in 1949?

Google says: “Harry S. Truman”


Why did Newfoundland join the Canada Confederation?   

Google says: “You’re joking right?”

How do you write 1949 in Roman Numerals?  

Google says: “Get outta here kid, ya bother me.”

Well apparently Google got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. So let’s try to conjure up 1949 by using this picture from 1951 that I found in my baby book and subtracting 2 years from it in our minds.

Checking to see if limbs are operable
Me and Mom (I'm on the right)

As you can see from this picture of me and Mom, 1949 was rather bleak, stark and dark. On the upside, they did have doilies (one) and lamps (one) and a window (one).

And even though you don’t see any “friends” in this picture, I’ll bet you anything if you were to go into the kitchen, you would have found Mom’s besty, Pure Bicarbonate of Soda, relaxing on the kitchen shelf, at the ready for Mom should she suddenly need Dear ol’ Carby.

OK, now that our minds are firmly ensconced in 1949, let’s just pretend something came up, and we are going to need our new BFF, Dear ol’ Carby, to come to the rescue.

Let’s say we were in need of . . . oh I don’t know maybe a . . . CASTER OIL SANDWICH?

Apparently back in 1949, there was some weirdness going on. First, that a Caster Oil Sandwich was actually on any menu at all, and second, that  it was a sandwich  you were suppose to :“Drink while effervescing.” 

I don’t know about you, but I rarely effervesce when I drink sandwiches . . . but that’s just me.

What’s say we toddle back  over to Google, shall we?  And let’s ask Google why anybody would want to drink a Caster oil Sandwich:

Under what circumstances would someone drink a Caster oil Sandwich?

Google says: “Get outta here kid, you bother me!”

Fine be that way!

If you need me, I’ll be in the kitchen with Dear ol’ Carby preparing a Caster oil Sandwich for our new besty, Goog.

Eww!
Until next time . . . I love you

32 thoughts on “How to Drink a Castor Oil Sandwich in 1949

  1. And people say today’s society is all screwed up.

    PS. There’s a new cartoon on my blog today since I know they’re your favorite. Though nobody is drinking any sandwiches in it.

  2. You look quite serious in your picture from 1949-ish. I also like how your mom has you propped up like you are much older than you are. I also am admiring her 1949-ish couch with doily. Must have been all the rage.

    Doesn’t it seem like the WWII generation made lemonade out of lemons? In need of friends or a gourmet meal? Look no further than baking soda and.or castor oil (available in every household). Besties!

    • Haha! I think my mom who was 24 at that time was showing off my leaning abilities. People really were a lot less spoiled back then. They didn’t have all decor stores (apparently just doily stores). I think I see a pillow on the couch though — that couch was navy blue. Isn’t it lovely? That doilly really makes the room pop! but not in a good way!

  3. I have actually had Castor Oil in orange juice, and lived to tell the tale. I’d have preferred it on white bread, as it would have soaked up a hunk of that luscious flavor. And, by luscious I mean this is what I imagine poi spread on dried cow dung and served with a glass of pure jalapeno juice would taste like.

    • Haha! Addie! You are cracking me up! I think I was hungry enough once to eat poi spread on dried cow dung with a glass of pur jalapeño juice! Or maybe I’m hungry now because it really is not sounding all that bad. As long as the cow dung is dried. Very Very dried. Like sun dried tomatoes!

  4. Hi,
    Unbelievable what they tried to flog off to people back then, an oil sandwich, without the sandwich now I have heard it all. 😆
    I love that photo of you and your Mum, what a treasure to have. 🙂

    • Thanks Addie. I am lucky to have that photo of my mom and me. I love what you said – “flog off to people” I have never heard that expression before in my life. Now I’m going to have to start saying it every chance I get! Austrailians are so cool! 🙂

      • Believe it or not, I do try hard not to comment with Aussie slang. 😀
        But I just typed what I thought. I didn’t realize this saying was not used or known elsewhere, I’m glad you approve, you may be able to use it in one of your story’s. 😀

  5. Love the picture of you and your mom! Hard to believe, ‘Peanuts’ was just barely developed at this point. I think ‘Peanuts’ was already starting to make critical observations – you have that smart baby look on your face. Either that, or you had just finished your first castor oil sandwich?

  6. omG!! I can;t . stop. .laughing…
    The wonders of your mind woman!
    I can only aspire and hope that I can be like you Cyber Mom!! 🙂 lol…too funny. and I loved the pic of you and your mom..you were such a cute baby…
    Oh wow.. This is one of my all time favorites.. and I hate castor oil..
    LOVE IT!!! and YOU!

  7. I’d be willing to bet your mom found that baby at the thrift store. She just has that look… : )

    “I’m on the right…” Now that’s pure corn oil, but I’m still wiping away tears… : )

    You were tap dancing under that long gown, right? I can tell from that look of intense concentration. Either tap dancing or… no, no, mustn’t go there, I’m sure you were tap dancing… I hope… : P

    • Haha! Was I tap dancing? Probably because that’s why I was available at the thrift store when my mom came in looking for old cookbooks to buy but came home instead with a tap dancing baby! My dad still hasn’t thanked her enough . . . Either that or my dad still hasn’t forgiven her. I could never figure out which!! I love your comments Mark – I’m just crazy about them! Or just crazy — I can never figure out which.

  8. Oh man… it’s situations like this that make me feel relieved that I never had to experience it, eek! It all sounds like a weird form of torture! At least we now know that if the worst happens and we find ourselves in a situation where we are one of a few survivors after some horrific tragedy in the world… we’ll be just fine… so long as we have our faithful bicarb! But what happens when you finish a tub… does the old Bicarb get jealous when you go out and buy a new model that’s full of energy and stamina? Weird…! 🙂

    • HAHA! Mskatykins! I think you’ve have just described the beginning to a very cool dystopia novel about bicarbonate of soda! I could call it Soylent Bicarbonate of Soda! Oh I love it! It could open withe president of the United Sates deciding to implement Castor Oil Sandwich Eating in place of waterboarding! I think it has great potential! HA! 😀

          • Linda I was thinking of this post again the other day as I was reading ‘The Help’. There’s a line early on which says “I let her hold the can of cranberry. She smile at it like it an old friend.” And so, I guess it’s not just Bicarb that’s pally! 🙂

            • What a coincidence, Katykins! What are the odds of that! And I love the way you said “pally”. I’ve never heard it put quite like that before in my neck of the woods! 😀

              • I love coincidences, they are weird but make me feel a little bit more connected with the world. 🙂 Yeah, ironically, I can’t stand the word ‘pal’ but pally is alright, must be a Glaswegian thing. Now, if you’ll excuse me, there’s a block of cheddar just waiting to pass the time of day with me. 😉

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