Birthdays in Tuvalu

[southernlady]

So do I...I'm turning over a new speed limit sign this year!

 

[shann]

I totally remember the foot xray things-- my brother and I would fight over it!

Happiest of birthdays- having one is always better than the alternative

 

[Spiky Bugger]

Happy Birthday!

I have to admit this, every time I see the words Spiky Bugger I visualize some kid aiming a Spiky Booger to their mouth, then I get this gag reflex that is horrible.

It's Kirmy's fault.

 

[joanlaptods]

Happy Birthday, have a great year!

 

[ginger]

Happy birthday Spikey, hope it's a year filled with tons of blessings

 

[Munchkin]

Thank you, thank you!

I'm about the same age as television and Israel. My mom was the ONLY mom on the block...probably for blocks around...who had a car. (My father was an exec for a company called Studebaker...it folded but we always had a new, free, "company car," which meant that the older car we actually owned was Mom's.) Oh, and to be able to drive, you had to drive "a stick shift" or you didn't know how to drive.

When I was little, the really good shoe stores had X-ray machines so you could see how your foot bones fit in the shoe. You would stand there and wiggle your constantly irradiated toes while your mom got your sibling(s) shoes fitted. We should be called The Toe Cancer Generation.

I remember that washing machines had wringers, that clothes went from that machine to the clothesline. I remember leaky tuna sandwiches because wax paper was all we had to put sandwiches in...no baggies, no ziploc. I wore black and white saddle oxfords to schools most of my life and even on (what passes for) cold days in southern California, girls wore dresses, skirts or stayed home. Owning a refrigerator involved defrosting a refrigerator.

You got orange juice by squeezing an orange or by dealing with those little frozen cylinders of concentrated oj.

I remember that girls took a Home Ec track (cooking and sewing classes), a Business Track (which meant typing and shorthand), or a College Prep track. One summer I needed additional random credits and I signed up to take the Drafting class. I was the ONLY girl in the class. I never created ONE single "drawing" because the teacher always scooted me over, sat at my desk, used my drafting machine and did my work for me. I guess he figured girls were not cut out for such things. I got a B.

I remember, in 1965, asking my boss at the bank why the two young men I was training were making more money than I was...and being told that it was because they were men and had...or would have...families to support. I made a sarcastic comment, but went to work. An hour later, I was called to see the boss and figured I was about to learn what getting fired felt like. Instead, I got a pay raise. I was stunned and told my cousin, an attorney, about it and he said that the 1964 Civil Rights Act was why. I mentioned that I wasn't "colored" (that was the appropriate term at the time) and my cousin reminded me that women were covered by that new law. Amazing.

After that the "Help Wanted Men" and "Help Wanted Women" areas of the classified ads became Help Wanted.

One day I went to work (at a jail/courthouse) and noticed that a sheriff's bus with newspapers over the windows had just pulled in mid-afternoon. There WAS only one bus with newspapers on the windows at that was the Charles Manson/Manson Family jury bus. I ran into the office where I worked, argued to take a half-hour off (knowing thatthe courtroom would be locked down once court was in session), ran to the elevators, entered the courtroom and got locked in. Charlie and the girls entered, eventually got thrown out--they always did for disruptive behavior--and the death penalties (later determined to be unconstitutional) were handed down. The unincarcerated Manson Family members --including Squeeky Fromme who later tried to assassinate President Ford--had promised to set themselves on fire if it was a guilty verdict. It WAS a guilty verdict, and I smoked at the time, so I ran down to the corner right outside the building to see if they needed to borrow my lighter...but they didn't...and I went back to work.

And that's pretty much how it feels to be 67-damned years old!

Great post!!!!!