Dear $$firstname$$,

Click for larger image.

As we say in our magazine, welcome to the good old days! The 1901 picture at right showing the Coney Island lifeguards in Brooklyn, New York comes from Ed Silverman of Wylie, Texas. His grandfather Jack Silverman, at age 18, was one of the lifeguards sitting with his arms folded—the one on the far left.

Says Ed, “The picture is a real turn-of-the-century classic showing a lifeguard demonstration, with the fashion for the onlookers at the beach including long dresses for the women and suits and hats for the men.”

Right you are, Ed. It should get our newsletter subscribers in the mood for nostalgia. Have a friend who enjoys the good old days? Feel free to forward this newsletter! If this newsletter was forwarded to you, please use this link to sign up for yourself. For now, we hope you enjoy the summer reading we’ve provided this month.

—The Folks at Reminisce

In this issue:

• Our Very Own Five-Star Resort
• Up on the Roof
• The Big-Game Hunt
• Poem: I Remember My Hometown
• Over the Back Fence
• Time Capsule Trivia
• A Thought to Remember

Our Very Own Five-Star Resort

By Susan Halverson
Iron River, Michigan

Time seemed slower in the 1950s and ’60s and life was so different from today. Growing up in the country in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula was like living at a five-star, four-season resort…at no cost!

Summer was full of sunny warm days just waiting to be filled with activities and memories. Mom’s 13 brothers and sisters would visit from Chicago with all my cousins in tow. Young and old would try a rousing game of croquet, with the colored balls sailing in all directions across our mowed lawn. Other times, Dad would set up our volleyball net between the house post and our spruce tree and the grass grew thinner through the summer with all the use it got from our competitions.

In the afternoon, we’d all pack into Dad’s old blue Ford pickup and take the short trip to Little Smokey Lake. Our family knew of a “secret second beach” that could only be reached by following a narrow, sandy path through the tangled blueberry brush. There we would hide in the bushes to change into our suits and plunge into the wonderful, soft, sandy-bottom water to reach the sunken log. If you swam out to your neck, you could stand on the smooth, slippery log and be out “way over your head!”

After our refreshing swim, it was time to try our luck fishing. Dad always carried along the gigantic bamboo poles with the oversized red-and-white bobbers and a coffee can of worms from Mom’s garden. We would carefully walk out onto a downed ash tree overhanging the water and cast a line. Sometimes we would get such a tug that we almost lost our balance. One afternoon, I caught a perch, but before I got it off the line, a monstrous Northern came by and ate it! I scolded that fish for stealing my supper!

If we caught a mess of perch or trout, Mom would fry them with flour and butter in a heavy, black, cast-iron pan. They were crisp and delicious with homemade, buttered rye bread.

As the sun started to set, it was time to go back home. After our restful journey, we were ready for more fun! Off to the homemade baseball diamond on our street we went. Mom was always shortstop and Dad the trusty catcher. I was just thankful to make it to first base!

After dark, we’d scramble to the basement and get Mason jars to catch lightning bugs. How they illuminated our yard! No solar lights or tiki torches back then.

Michigan rummy always ended the evening. We played with matches for betting, as Grandma didn’t allow “gambling” in the house.

When summer began to fade, and the leaves would start to turn colors, fall would bring the deer into our yard. They were so beautiful to watch. Weekends were spent on hayrides on Dad’s faded-red Farmall tractor.

In winter, we’d call the township waterman to flood the old baseball diamond into a skating rink. There was even a little warm-up shack on the premises with a potbelly stove. We’d spend hours pretending we were Olympic skaters and hockey stars and playing crack-the-whip.

When snow arrived, we’d bring out the toboggans. We had our choice of sliding down a giant curvy road or taking our chances down a huge hill complete with a big jump. We always ended the evening with a blazing bonfire complete with hot dogs, cocoa, marshmallows and campfire songs.

At Christmastime, we’d go house-to-house caroling. Then we would snowshoe into the wood to chop down our favorite spruce to decorate.

Then we’d settle in and wait for spring and all her blooms. We’d walk down to the ravine with our inner tubes and ride the icy-cold current. On the way home, we’d pick the sweet-smelling Spring Beauties, Dutchmen’s Breaches and Trilliums to decorate our dinner table that night.

Each season came and went, and we never thought of going to a hotel for a weekend. Our fun was outdoors in our five-star paradise.

top

Barbara Wolf through the years-1950, 1961 and 2006.

Click for larger image.

Up on the Roof

By Barbara Wolf
Green Valley, Arizona

The roof of our apartment building was five stories above the street in Brooklyn, New York. To get there from our family’s apartment, I had to walk up two and a half double flights of stairs.

One resident on the fourth floor, an elderly gentleman, was quite nasty when he’d hear us run by. He’d loudly yell in his German accent, “You kids stay away from this floor or I’ll call the super,” meaning the building superintendent. The yelling scared me and I ran even faster.

The metal fire door at the top of the final flight of stairs was heavy to open, but the effort was worth it. Stepping out onto the roof immediately overcame my senses. A feeling of freedom, clean air and the distant muffled sounds of the busy city left me quiet and at peace.

Barbara Wolf through the years-1950, 1961 and 2006.

Click for larger image.

The view was another reason to visit the roof. To the north, the gold dome of Brooklyn College outshone the gray-domed Midwood High School. The other directions provided views of other residences, an occasional park and, in the early days, miles and miles of trees.

The roof on hot summer days meant oily smells and occasionally a soft, squishy feeling underfoot from the melting tar. We all were sure to clean our shoe soles before leaving our hideaway spot.

As children, we knew the roof was the place to be on Tuesday nights in the summertime. If we were good, had a cooperative parent and the sky was clear, 9 o’clock was the time to view the Coney Island fireworks. Up the flights of stairs parents and kids in pajamas would climb. We’d all “ooh” and “aah” as each firework appeared in the sky. The 15-minute show was the highlight of the week.

Barbara Wolf through the years-1950, 1961 and 2006.

Click for larger image.

When we got to our teen years, the blue, unobstructed sky brought serenity when viewed from a beach blanket and sunbathing became a summer priority. Many dreams of the future, of a different lifestyle, were shared with a friend on those warm afternoons.

The roof became our refuge for peace and quiet. It was a place to study for final exams, an oasis in times of confusion, frustration or parental reprimands.

There, we could be alone to hide, to think, to dream.

top

The Big-Game Hunt

By Lawrence Pfaffendorf
Kennan, Wisconsin

Click for larger image.

In 1943, when I was 9 and my brother Garey was 6, we had very creative minds when it came to playing games. Spurring our imagination at school was the Book of Knowledge, sort of an encyclopedia.

One day, we read about big-game hunters in Africa who hunted elephants, leopards and a really mean animal with a "hair-trigger” temper called a hippopotamus. We looked at the picture of the hippo and it just looked like an overgrown pig to us.

We certainly knew about mean pigs. Dad had a sow in our backyard. A chicken that made the mistake of crossing into the sow’s pen became her lunch. She even tried to devour the cats…and Dad. When Dad tried to feed her, he put a washtub over her head so she couldn’t bite him. And when she had piglets, she was twice as mean.

That night, we went to sleep talking about how mean these hippo/pigs must be and how we could be big-game hunters right here at home in northern Wisconsin, with our very own sow. We hatched a plan for the next morning.

We were up at the crack of dawn. After breakfast, we asked Mom to pack us a lunch, as we were going big-game hunting. She said to our dad, “Willie, aren’t our boys something, going big-game hunting up here in northern Wisconsin? I wonder what they’ll bring home, a giant rabbit?”

We just smiled innocently. “Here’s your lunch boys,” she said. “Don’t be too late for dinner, because I want to cook any fresh meat you get!”

Now, Mom and Dad had told us a number of times to stay away from the pigpen. But as far as we saw, the sow was so big and so slow, there was no danger; Mom and Dad were just being overprotective.

The pigpen was quite a way from the house behind some trees. We crept down to the trees with our dog, “Jip.” We snuck a look inside the pen. She was just lying there in the mud with five to six piglets running around. We had brought our slingshots with us, and we were pretty good marksmen. We had a pocketful of just the right-sized rocks, too.

We discussed several plans of strategy and finally decided on what we thought was the perfect one. Garey would sneak in, catch a piglet and run for the fence; then that dangerous hippo/sow would come running and I would shoot her.

Garey started into the pen. As he grabbed a little one and headed for the fence, the piglet let out a squeal and her mama took after him like a greyhound. He dropped the piglet and kept running for his life. The sow’s mouth was wide open and she was gaining ground on Garey.

I loaded my slingshot with a rock, let it fly at her hindquarters and wham! I got her! She squealed and turned around to see what had hit her. Our eyes met, and I started to run…and now she was after me!

I was able to get up onto the roof of the pig house. She went flying right into the wood fence, tore through it and kept going, looking for me. Luckily, she didn’t look up or I would have been in trouble. She looked around for a bit, then waddled back into her pen. After she was out of sight, I jumped off the pig house and we ran straight for home.

“Dad!” we yelled, “The old sow broke the fence!” He looked at us puzzled. “What in the world made her go mad?” he thought.

Of course, we didn’t offer any explanation. After dad went out back and secured the pen once again, he said, “That sow is just too dangerous to be around you boys; I think I have to sell her.”

So that was the end of our big-game hunting. Dad sold the sow to a neighbor for butchering. Who knew I’d end up saving my little brother’s life on our first…and last…expedition?

top

I Remember My Hometown

By Jim Del Torto
Solon, Ohio

Although we moved away from my hometown when I was a young man,
Thinking back on growing up there helps remind me of who I am.

I remember the sweet sounds of a little town…from an early morning’s rooster crow
To hearing the 5 o’clock whistle blow.

I remember walking to school in the morning…not taking a bus
Then walking home for lunch and back…and walking home again after school without making a fuss.

I remember Holy Rosary Church, with Father Burke and Father Kirk.
I remember the paper mill putting most of the town to work.

I remember playing all day…home for a quick supper and back out we ran,
Then into the dark we continued to play…hide and seek or kick the can.

I remember shooting marbles and flipping baseball cards.
I remember raiding gardens while cutting through neighbors’ backyards.

I remember stomachaches from eating crabapples before they were ripe.
I remember smoking corn silk tobacco from a corncob pipe.

I remember my first chew, which was also my last
Cause I swallowed it and cured myself of that habit fast.

I remember hiking up a hill to get spring water and filling our jugs..
I remember hiding when the neighbor ladies visited to avoid their kisses and hugs.

I remember not hiding when Rocco Manno came over…instead, standing in line
Waiting for him to reach into his pocket and give us each a dime.

I remember being warned you would get warts if you picked up a toad.
I remember piling onto the back of my uncle’s Model-T for a ride down “grassy road.”

I remember scrambling for home in a sudden rain.
I remember counting the railroad cars on a passing train.

I remember family trips by car and no time to misbehave,
With eyes so fixed on the roadside ahead, waiting to read about Burma-Shave.

I remember adolescent crushes that made you glow,
When getting lucky was putting your arm around her at the show.

I remember a little dab of Brylcreem, a wad of bubble gum,
And no need for a car as long as you had a thumb.

I remember wearing sideburns if you could grow them…I remember engineer boots.
I remember jumping into a favorite swimming hole in our birthday suits.

I remember opening day of deer season was an exception to the rule
For those of us old enough to hunt…who got away with skipping school.

I remember picking blackberries, blueberries, wild mushrooms and leeks.
I remember catching pollywogs and crayfish out of ponds and creeks.

I remember trading comic books.
I remember baiting fishing hooks.

I remember during winter before going to bed
Fetching a pail of coal from out in the shed.

I remember wearing galoshes, ear muffs and mittens.
I remember learning dogs had pups and cats had kittens.

I remember snow tires that were covered with chains
And in summer wearing dungarees that were covered with stains.

I remember when milk came in bottles with cream at the top.
I remember traveling east to find out they said soda for pop.

I remember washing machines with wringers
And washing boards that calloused fingers.

I remember struggling with a hand-push lawnmower
And no such thing as a snowblower.

I remember dialing a rotary phone and sharing a party line.
I remember watching my grandmother bake bread and my grandfather make wine.

I remember Sunday dinners were a continuous procession of family, food and friends,
A weekly ritual and special day that I didn’t want to end.

I remember friendships that were formed and frozen in time,
Friendships that will live forever in my mind.

I remember leaving doors unlocked to your house and your car.
I remember if you needed help, you didn’t have to look very far.

I remember cable rock, duck rock, the catfish pond and the dam
And so many other things from there that are part of who I am.

And though I left my hometown many years ago, it’s easy for anyone to see
That memory offers proof…my hometown never left me.

top

Over the Back Fence

By Robert Hilker
Vero Beach, Florida

My father was a small-town merchant in 1920s Paullina, Iowa and made up a clever advertising card about our town of 800 for his business, R.C. Hilker Home Appliances, which dealt in RCA products. The card read as follows:

“Paullina is an exceptionally rich little city; so rich, in fact, that every blade of grass has a green back, every bird has a bill, the chimneys have their drafts and the maids wash our front doors with gold dust. Every horse has a check, our rivers have two banks; even our streets are flushed and the lawns get the rakeoff. We use diamond tires on our cars. Every cloud has a silver lining, every flower has a cent, and when we take a five-dollar bill out of our pockets, we find it in creases. Trade at home and make Paullina a much richer and better city.”

At the bottom of the card was this little verse: “If your wife can’t sing, don’t divorce her; buy her an RCA Combination Phonograph and Radio and keep her for a pet.”

top

Time Capsule Trivia

Check out these historic tidbits as you try to guess which year they’re from. The answer is given below, but no peeking!

1. The Gemini VIII mission is the first of five manned space flights as U.S. astronauts prepare for a journey to the moon.
2. Cassius Clay changes his name to Muhammad Ali and successfully defends his world heavyweight boxing championship five times.
3. Almost half of the 11 million television sets sold are color sets. TV shows that debut include The Monkees, Batman and Daktari, but The Beverly Hillbillies still reigns over all shows.
4. The Beatles’ 13th album, Rubber Soul, becomes their ninth to go to No. 1 on the national charts.
5. Superb performances come from Elizabeth Taylor and Sandy Dennis in the hit movie Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, roles that later win them Oscars.

What was the year of a busy space race, a color-TV boom and the debut for the adventures of The Caped Crusader and Boy Wonder? The correct answer is 1966.

top

A Thought to Remember

A word to the wise is superfluous and a hundred words to the unwise are futile.

top