Just saying my year of birth should be enough to alert everyone that “this guy is OLD!” 1948. Are you kidding me right now? That’s just 3 years after World War II ended. 1948 was the year Babe Ruth died. Harry Truman got elected President that year, for God’s sake! White Castles were only 5 cents a piece back then, blah, blah, blah. Okay Geezer-man, we get the picture, you’re old! So very old!
Yes, I’m old enough to remember that for the first 5 years of my life our evening entertainment was sitting in the living room listening to the radio. That radio was in a cabinet 3 feet high, and only broadcast AM stations. FM was just starting to become a thing in the 40’s.
My father went to work every day in a suit, with a Fedora on his head. For those of you who don’t know what a Fedora is, it’s a small furry animal, primarily inhabiting tropical rain forests around the Equator. For those of you that already knew what a Fedora was, I’ve now established a universal truth – you can’t believe everything you read, certainly not the pablum I’m spoon feeding you.
I have reached the age where I can spout nostalgic memories about “The Good Old Days.” And so, I shall.
I was raised in a traditional Jewish household, which has always surprised me because my family’s Italian. I was still in diapers when the neighbors alerted my mother that I had climbed out the window of my bedroom and was running down the street. “Mrs. Cassell, your son has escaped again, and by the way, why he is still wearing diapers, he’s 10 years old?” (a little suspension of disbelief will enhance your enjoyment of this nonsense).
Times were tough back then. I grew up in the Delmar Loop on Heman Avenue. I can remember walking 8 miles a day to school. Delmar Harvard was only 2 blocks away, but I had a lousy sense of direction.
My parents were loving, but strange people. On my 12th birthday they asked me, “Son, what do you want for your birthday.” I replied, “I wanna watch” – so they let me! (that joke is on time-delay, so you’ll get it in about a half hour).
I was a wild kid, and in retrospect, not a very nice one. I think I was a budding racist because for fun, I would run into the Chinese laundry on Kingsland and yell, “No tickee no washee.” Then the owner would grab a large knife and chase me down the street. Dumb kid!
We had a lot of characters in the neighborhood. There was a shoe shine parlor called “Fatman’s.” Each day when I passed it, I would yell “Hey, Fatman!” and Fatman would answer, “Hey, Skinnyman!”
I meant no offense in either case. I was just a dumb kid born well before Political Correctness came in fashion. I’m sorry to all my Asian friends, all my friends in the laundry industry, and all my fat friends who shine shoes for a living.
The neighbors had a pool going as to whether I would survive past my 12th birthday. I did all kind of hair-brain things back then. I remember my buddy Harold and I found a 22 bullet in a vacant lot. We took it back to the apartment, and positioned it on one of the steps so it was pointing away from us. Then we lit a fire under it. A few minutes later it exploded with us standing just inches from it. It’s a miracle one of us didn’t get shot!
Other stunts including jumping off the garage roof with an open umbrella. Well, Felix the Cat did that in his cartoon. In theory, it should have worked for me like it did for Felix, and allowed me to gently float to the ground. Instead, the umbrella turned inside out and I plummeted to the ground. Fortunately, I did that stunt on the backyard side of the lot, where the garage roof was only about 8 feet above the ground. Another near escape from death.
I remember other things like getting my first kiss in the balcony of the Varsity Theater. It only cost me $12 because I talked the hooker I was with into giving me a student discount (I refer to the part of this story that suggest not believing everything you read).
I remember when things on my body that moved were still fully functional. I remember sleeping 10 hours or more, in contrast to now, when a “good night’s sleep” is about 5 hours for me.
I remember TV dinners in little tins, and later enjoying similar meals on airplanes.
I also remember a time when you could be best friends with someone from another political party, and you could discuss your various positions without any rancor or hate.
Yep, I’m old enough to remember “The Good Old Days.”
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