Flipping though the pages of  the TV Guide yesterday brought back a lot of memories.  Here are some  things I haven’t thought about in years:

Smoking

When I was a little girl growing up in the 50’s and 60’s, my grandfather smoked Chesterfields and my mother smoked Salems and my dad smoked Camels.  Of course, everybody smoked everywhere.  In the house, in the car, before, during and after meals, in movie theaters, airplanes, buses and department stores and probably even at death-bed vigils.

Men used to hold cigarettes on the side of their mouths and smoke them hands free while they mowed the lawn or pumped gas. (It was the 50’s version of multi-tasking.)  If there wasn’t an ashtray people would just drop their cigarettes on the ground and step on them.

Drinking and Driving

When I was a kid I thought nothing of it when my dad would drive around with a can of beer between his legs. He drank Olympia beer.  I remember once when I was really little  going for a drive with my dad in the country.  He was driving with a can of beer between his legs, and his shotgun right beside him at the ready.  (I was also in the front seat.)  Every once in a while my dad would slow way down,  reach over,  grab his shotgun and then shoot at a pheasant from the car window.  This was a perfectly normal and natural part of everyday life. (He always missed by the way!)

Helmets and Seat belts

When I was growing up, the only people who wore helmets were human cannon balls. They were the only people to wear capes too now that I think about it.

And seat belts?  Forget about it!  When they started making cars with seat belts everyone totally ignored them or tucked them into the seat so they wouldn’t be in the way.  I don’t even think the astronauts wore seat belts. (Probably because it would have restricted their cigarette smoking.)

Cooking

When I was a kid the term fast food meant somebody dropped a watermelon down a hill and it was rolling too fast to catch it.  Of course, I lived in a small town of a thousand people and there certainly weren’t any fast food places in that town.

My mother cooked every meal everyday and on Sunday afternoon, she would fix a big Sunday dinner.  Of course, all the stores were closed on Sundays, so if she forgot to buy an ingredient, she would have to borrow it from the neighbors or make do without.

My mother kept a coffee can of bacon grease to cook with in the cupboard above the stove. I distinctly remember this because one time when she reached to get it down, she spilled it all over herself and the stove. Boy was she mad . . . I think it might have put out her cigarette!
Until next time Dear Readers . . . I love you