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I'm so old I remember my mom literally sobbing on summer afternoons when she realized she forgot to take the milk, which was delivered that morning by a nice uniformed gentleman in a clean, marked dairy truck, out of the milkbox. We also had bread and eggs delivered. And sometimes groceries, which arrived at the house via a cute teenage neighborhood boy.
I'm so old I remember thinking that five minutes was an endless amount of time, because that's how long it took the TV to warm up in the mornings in order for me to watch Captain Kangaroo.
I remember gas being 24 cents a gallon, and being sent to the store with a dime to buy a loaf of bread. Mom would also send me to the store with a quarter to buy a pack of cigarettes. The store owner knew us, and also knew I'd have one sore 5-year-old behind if I didn't deliver the pack unopened.
We had a party line with our neighbors across the street. Fun listening.
Quote:
Originally Posted by delusianne
I remember my girlfriends and I going to the movies for about eighteen Friday nights in a row to see that cute blond guy in "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid."
(The other guy was too old)
That's because the other guy improved with age. Exponentially.
Some of you may know that I've been scanning photos and other items from my mothers albums. Here are two things that were mine when I was a little younger. BTW I am approaching 1300 scans!
Herb Shriner....The Shadow Knows....Party lines on the telephones....(your neighbors could eavesdrop on your conversations) Round metal tub bathes with heated water from the stove....reading comic books .. 10cents and trading them....candy bars for a nickle... Candidate Stevenson and his worn out shoe on the cover of Look...Snooky Lanson........never have gotten older....just as impatient with myself but MUCH more patient with people...and more discerning. Samortiz2@aol.com
I remember red Coca-Cola machines with the irresistible door - you'd pull the door open (it was always firmly tight) and grasp your bottle by its neck and pull it out through some metal grips.
I think those were little 6-ounce bottles, too! Maybe 8 oz.?
I remember red Coca-Cola machines with the irresistible door - you'd pull the door open (it was always firmly tight) and grasp your bottle by its neck and pull it out through some metal grips.
I think those were little 6-ounce bottles, too! Maybe 8 oz.?
That original Coke bottle (I loved those machines) was 6.5 ounces. That is why when Pepsi started bottling, their bottle was seven ounces ... and so the cola wars began!
I remember red Coca-Cola machines with the irresistible door - you'd pull the door open (it was always firmly tight) and grasp your bottle by its neck and pull it out through some metal grips.
I think those were little 6-ounce bottles, too! Maybe 8 oz.?
that was a 7 ounce Coke and on the bottom of the bottle they had the name of the state and city of the distributors.......CMTD, where those 6.5 ounce bottles,I must've been thinking about the Pepsi bottles,but the Coca-Cola bottles had the state and city in the bottom of the bottle..... I remember getting one that had Memphis, Tennessee on the bottom of it and I thought,WOW, that's where Elvis Presley lives....
I remember going to business school and besides studying typing and shorthand like a good girl should, I also studied the usage of a machine called a comptometer...
My dad went to what he called business school. Learned typing and book keeping and such. As a young man he worked in a paint store (Butler-Flynn in Washington DC). He could drive the truck, keep the books and sell paint in the store. When the depression came the store manager had to lay off two of his three employees. Dad got to stay because he could do all the jobs. That's a lesson he frequently expressed to me. Served me well in later years.
When Pearl Harbor happened dad was drafted and on one of his first days in boot camp, the sergeant had his draftees assembled and asked for "three men who can type." Dad was proud of his skill and threw his hand up. Then the sergeant took dad and two others and had them dig a 50yd long trench But dad said that he had learned one of the most valuable lessons about the Army in the first few days, _never_ volunteer for anything! And that lesson served him well.
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