A lifetime's worth of memories recalled.
Dear Johnny,
I wish I could think of something funny to write about your 90th birthday, but being 90 is a serious topic. I'm a few years younger than you, but not by much. Just think of the many changes we've seen in these years, which seem to have passed so quickly.
You and I lived through the Great Depression, and you survived the worst part of World War II. We also lived to see our country involved in the Korean and the Vietnam wars.
I think, however, the most important things that we have witnessed are the many changes that have occurred since we were born. I know these changes have been so gradual that I didn't seem to notice them until I took the time to look back on them.
We lived in a time when we still had ice boxes rather than refrigerators. Remember the card that was propped in the window to tell the iceman in his horse drawn cart that our family wanted 25, 50, 75 or 100 pounds of ice? The iceman had big tongs to lift the ice onto his leather covered back to deliver the block of ice into the house. Sometimes he'd chip off a sliver, and give to the kids who had gathered around his wagon.
Sometimes we'd drive to the Tote'm store to pick up ice, plop it on the rear running bumper of the car and drive home. The Tote-m store originated in our area of Texas. In 1946 the name was changed to 7-Eleven.
There were no super markets, but corner grocery stores where our moms would go each day to buy food. Stalks of bananas hung in the store, and the grocery man would lop off as many bananas as we wanted to buy. He used a sickle-like cutter that the government's Occupational Safety and Health Administration would ban in this day and age.
Some grocery stores would deliver the day's purchase made over the phone. Often times the groceries were put on a charge account, which meant writing up the charges in a small receipt book that was kept under the check-out counter of the store.
The total was tallied on a hand-operated adding machine, and if we paid in cash, our change was counted out to us. No computers to figure out the change. It was all brain power.
Soda pop cost a nickel, and could be bought in glass bottles with pop-off caps. On hot summer days we could dig deep down into cases full of chipped ice, and pull out a dripping, icy cold soda of our choice while our mom's shopped.
We still had phone numbers that were only five digits long. Yours was 4-7794. Mine was 2-9720. This proves my long term memory is still intact.
We walked or rode our bicycles to our neighborhood elementary school. Later when we had to ride a bus to high school, we would go downtown and buy a bus card at the city bus company's office. Each ride on the card averaged about five cents. There were no free yellow school busses.
We went to movies on Saturday mornings and could see a serial, the Movietone or Pathe news, a cartoon and then the movie. Sometimes there would be a double feature. We could sit there all day, and watch the movie as many times as we liked. Saturday children's matinees cost 10 cents.
You and Bickie taught me how to ride a bicycle. You would take turns holding the seat to keep me upright on a little red sidewalk two- wheeler, no training wheels. Off we'd go down the street. I can't remember the name of the street, but it was across from the George C. Clarke Elementary School where we once saw a dead horse lying on the playing field. How strange for me to remember that.
We learned to roller skate, and wore skate keys around our necks. We had skinned knees and bruised legs. The street or sidewalk was our roller rink.
Your Mom taught me drive. You, Josephine, and Bickie and I all learned to drive a stick shift as there were no automatic transmissions back then. I still drive a standard transmission car, a MiniCooper, but instead of three gears, I now have six gears plus reverse. Gasoline was cheap then. We could go into a station and ask the attendant to give us a dollar's worth of gas. I don't remember that there was any car insurance to be purchased for teen-aged drivers.
Your house was always filled with dogs, and cats, and even birds. Your mom once had a pet goat when you lived over on Gordon Street. I remember her dog Trixie, and later Thor, among others. I wanted Thor as my own dog, but my mom wouldn't let me have him, but I had the honor of naming him.
Many days I'd drive down with you or you mom to the Santa Fe Railroad yards to pick up your dad in his stripped overalls, carrying his black lunch pail after a day of working as a train engineer. That area of Fort Worth has changed, but there is still a train station there.
I never seemed to think of you without thinking of your siblings, and saying all three of your names as one, "Johnny-Bick-and Josephine," my three cousins with whom I spent a great deal of time in my early years. You always called my mother "Sister," instead of Aunt Lillian.
Time, distance and eventually the death of Bickie and Josephine have separated the four of us. But oh, those were some happy years.
I'm hoping you, too, can look back at all the good times we had and remember that our lives have been made up of many pleasant memories. Happy Birthday to you.
-- Betty Charles
Betty C. McCann, of Longmeadow, enjoys writing, reading and ballroom dancing.