BORN IN 1951

A stand-up comedian claimed he could always spot an old woman trying to pass herself off as younger. The vaccine scar on her arm was a dead giveaway, he declared.  Apparently women born post 1960 do not have this. And neither do I, despite being born during the Harry S. Truman administration. My scar is on my right hip. It’s about the size of a dime and fades nicely into my skin.

My mother’s was quarter-sized and appeared branded into her flesh. You couldn’t miss it!  

I was too young to remember moving to Florida with my family in 1952. They were Detroit people. This was decades before it became Murder Capitol of the Country. We moved to the small coastal town of Stuart, known as the Sailfish Capitol of the World. A beach day was like going to the park around the block. Our Northern kin enjoyed the warm winters while visiting. 

During the 1950’s my childhood was wonderful. It felt like Christmas every day! But in 1960 it all transfigured into something dark, ugly, and suffocating. This happened right after we moved to the place on the river, the house that never felt like home. Nothing ever seemed to go right after that.

However, my early childhood was glorious and I will always remember it with fondness. Back then, there were lots of wide open green spaces filled with mystery and magic to explore. Corny things like weenie roasts and school plays were anticipated fun events! Not to mention, Captain Kangaroo, Farmer Greenjeans, Howdy Doody all played a significant part, too. Looming high above them was Walt Disney. He seemed a distant uncle, but at the same time more iconic than the President. His creations permeated nearly every area of my life!

TV sets were small and had antennas. The picture was in black & white and of the few channels received, half were snowy. On Saturday mornings I’d wake up before the rest of the family and race to get an early start on my cartoon shows. Often, I’d find a test pattern awaiting me. Westerns were more popular than ever! The nightly Huntley Brinkley Report which featured world news was only 15 minutes long! In the early 1960’s it was lengthened to a half hour.

Of course the cold war with the Soviet Union was ever present. The paranoid built fallout shelters. As a small child, there always existed a fear in the back of my mind that someday we would go to war with them and many of us would die. Had you told me then that at the age of 28 I would be visiting this horrible communist place and enjoying a fabulous time, I wouldn’t have been able to fathom such a thing!

The 1950’s were far from perfect, but it was still a great decade in my opinion. It was America’s Golden Era! Sure, it wasn’t wonderful for everyone. Even the Golden Age of Rome had slavery, among other terrible things. But it was better than anything that had come before.

Courtesies and conveniences once common are now antiquated.

Back then, no one pumped their own gas. Plus the attendant checked your oil & tires and even cleaned your windshield, too. Gasoline was cheap and so was food. A milkman delivered all your dairy needs right to your door. A refrigerator was still referred to as an ice box. Treatment by a doctor or dentist didn’t require a bank loan. Often a hospital stay could be paid straight from your wallet! A human being answered the phone every time you placed a call.

But telephone lines were shared with strangers. These were called party lines although there was nothing jolly about them. Others could listen in on your calls or slam the receiver down in the midst of your conversation. Sometimes they’d interrupt to inform you they needed to make a more important call. But there were NO TELEMARKETERS!

Drug stores all had lunch counters and ice cream sodas for 25 cents. Enjoying a $10 dinner in a restaurant was considered living high-on-the hog and only reserved for special occasions. Movies (both matinees & evening shows) were only a quarter to all of us under 12 years of age. Also there were the Drive-In movies, I went to only one. This is Florida and we preferred air conditioning because we didn’t have it at home back then.

Clean fun was not an oxymoron.  Humor had wit, not dirt!  Standards were high! People dressed nicer and looked better assembled in public. An average model was a size 10, the average woman a size 8. Clothes in the Junior section were cute and roomy instead of tight and revealing.  Divorce was uncommon. 

Mostly, wives were homemakers. If one worked outside the home, she was an object of pity; it meant she had married badly. -- Homemakers worked just as hard as career women, except that homemakers had far more freedom and control over their time than most career women do today. I don’t believe a homemaker holds any less prestige than a doctor or lawyer. In monetary terms, if one was paid for everything she did, her wages would be higher. I never knew a quiet and obedient stay-at-home wife! This is a false stereotype!

Spinsters were pitied even more than working wives. My father used to laugh about teasing his 25 year old secretary, calling her an old maid. Karma has a sense of humor, too! But Dad didn’t get the joke when his own daughter became one. Take it from a spinster, there is equally as much pressure to be part of a couple today!

People are every bit as judgmental nowadays about everything, only more hypocritical about it!

Change isn’t always progress, sometimes it’s just mutation and no good results from it. They say the world has lost its moral compass. It’s lost more than that!

I wish only the negative aspects of the 50’s had been discarded while the good ones remained.

I am just days away from turning 65, the official start of geezerdom. It is scary to think that my time on this planet is winding down and old age, sickness, and death are ahead of me. I can feel my body getting older in little ways. Plus I worry about the ever rising cost of health care. I’m exploring other countries in which to retire.

 A part of me feels that going off to the Third World is the modern equivalent of being set adrift on an ice flow as the Eskimos did with their elderly. In North America, aging is regarded as something shameful, as if you have a choice.

But I feel fortunate to have experienced a different reality from the way the world is now and blessed despite so much unhappiness.