Innholdsfortegnelse for May/June 2024 i Good Old Days

Aren’t we lucky to have grown up in the Good Old Days, when we played outside for hours at a time, knew everyone in the neighborhood, and made memories? I say, yes, we are! In this issue, we visit the neighborhoods we called home. Where we knew every face and name, and had adventures with friends and celebrations with neighbors. In the following pages, our readers also share stories of their moms and dads: how they met and married, lived their lives and made us who we are today, enabling us to enjoy our own milestones—graduations, going to college, marriages and so forth. Join Kathy as she talks live about Good Old Days on Hollywood360Radio.com on Saturday, April 27, and Saturday, June 22,2024. Reading these stories brings back my memories,…

“Mommy, my school is going to celebrate May Day!” I was so excited. May Day was familiar, and not many things were anymore. My whole life had changed when we left a remote mining camp in Colorado for a suburb of New York City located in New Jersey. The year was 1952, and I was a third-grader attending my third school since October. My father had an important new job that was— hush!—“top secret,” and he traveled much of the time. Instead of the many friends I had had back home in Colorado, my mother and little brother, Tommy, were my only companions. It was hard making friends when we moved so much, but finding housing was difficult for men who weren’t deemed healthy enough to serve in the Korean…

When I was growing up in the 1950s and early 1960s in Niagara Falls, N.Y., I visited my aunt Nan and uncle Carl almost every weekend. That’s how I came to meet my future husband, Dennis. His family lived across the street from my aunt and uncle, and he was a frequent visitor there. We went out a few times, and he would meet me at the bus where I was dropped off. Other than that, he pretty much ignored me for the next few years. Still, for my part, I was smitten. Unemployment was rampant in Niagara Falls. I had a brother who lived in Charleston, S.C, so in 1963 I left New York. He and his wife let me live with them while I looked for work. When…

Finding a Mother’s Day card for my mom, Dorothy Mellstrom, was always difficult. I would venture to say about 98 percent of the cards I found at the store were sweet and sentimental and not at all what my mother would have appreciated. Born at home in the country in 1916 to my Irish grandmother when Grandma was 42 years old, my mom was the last of six children, one of whom died at age 3 of spinal meningitis. So, Grandma, like many women of her time, learned to “take her licks” and not complain, even though her heart was breaking. My mother followed suit. In 1937, she married my dad, who was also the youngest of six. He had been orphaned at age 4 and was raised by an…

Ramps are also known as ramson, wild leek and wild garlic. They are a North American species of wild onion or garlic and are regarded as an early spring vegetable and have a pungent, garlic-like odor and a very pronounced onion flavor. In Appalachia, ramps are most commonly prepared with potatoes fried in bacon fat. They can also be pickled or used in soups, beans and scrambled eggs. The year was 1928. My dad, Quentin, was 10 years old. Early spring had arrived in West Virginia, and he was so excited to go up in the mountains to search for one of his favorite foods, ramps. He arose early and took off with his best friend. They searched for hours until finally they found the biggest cluster of ramps they…

Over 70 years ago, in August 1951, my new husband and I were greatly surprised when a well-kept secret unfolded one night in the small town of New Windsor, Md. Kenny, my husband-to-be, had been drafted into the Army, initially spending six months in the states before he was sent overseas. Since this was during the Korean War, we expected he would be sent to Korea (fortunately, his destination turned out to be France instead of Korea). We decided to get married before he was deployed overseas. We had a very small wedding, followed by the family in attendance gathering for a meal. After a short honeymoon in beautiful old Atlantic City, N J., we spent a few days at my husband’s family farm near New Windsor before he had…

The two 70-year-old “youngsters” in the back seat of our car were driving my husband, Mike, crazy. “Go this way” ... “No, this way is faster!” my mother and her sister, Agnes, urged him. Years ago now, we were all en route from Havertown, Pa., to West Philadelphia on a trip down memory lane—a special gift to Mom for Mother’s Day. She always spoke of her old house, number 3709, located on a street in Powelton Village where the Shallow family lived from the early 1900s until 1957. Their home had gorgeous Battenburg lace curtain panels hanging from the 11-foot ceilings to the floor in the parlor. My grandmother’s homemade pies and breads, which she made daily during the Depression years, sustained her eight growing children, visitors and friends, while…

Each issue on this page, we will feature a question that will be sure to prompt a flood of heartwarming memories. Send your 100-words-or-less responses ASAP to Editor@GoodOldDaysMagazine.com or to Good Old Days Q&A, 306 East Parr Road, Berne, IN 46711, and your response could be featured in a future issue! Photos to accompany your story are welcomed and encouraged! Please include an SASE if you want your photo returned. What was your favorite dance fad? Did you take dance lessons or learn from a family member, friends or TV? What were school dances like? Did your neighborhood have a community feel? Did everyone watch out for each other? Was there a bridge dub or book club? Did you have neighborhood celebrations? My 1941 west side Indianapolis neighborhood was filled…

Have you ever wondered who the writers and photographers in Good Old Days magazine are? They’re people just like you who enjoy reading and sharing sweet memories of the past. You can be part of this magazine too! Send us your heartfelt true stories along with photos that add colorful support to your tale from yesteryear. We enjoy reading all of them, even though we don’t have space to use them all. Your story has the best chance of publication if it fits the seasonal and editorial themes we need, is interesting and well written, and highlights a specific experience that will strike a chord with readers who were growing up between 1935 and 1970. Stories 500-1,000 words in length are preferred. We accept shorter stories for our Bits &…

In 1912, Edgar Rice Burroughs wrote his first Tarzan story, which was titled Tarzan of the Apes. His creation was among the earliest literary properties to make the transition from print to radio in the early 1930s. The story of a child raised among the apes to become the vine-swinging hero of the jungle was adapted as a radio serial with the same title as Burroughs’ first book. GOOD OLD DAYS on the RADIO The program was prerecorded on 16-inch transcription discs and was syndicated nationwide. In California, Signal Oil and Gas Company was the program’s sponsor. The company attributed its early success in radio advertising to the popularity of the “Lord of the Jungle.” Adapting the plots from Burroughs’ novels, the series’ episodes involved gold thieves, uranium hunters, ivory…

A trail wound past our red-plank house in the 1950s. To get across, you had to ford Hyatt Mill Creek, which sometimes flooded out of its banks during rainstorms. That was before the state of North Carolina paved the trail and named it Swaims Road. Back then, a white-block church stood on a hill and overlooked the community. Mama and Daddy had helped to build Pine Grove Baptist Church in 1952. They mixed mortar on site to help build the chapel. This little country church was the heartbeat of our neighborhood. Folks flocked there to attend revivals, singalongs and “dinners on the grounds.” We kids tried to behave in church, but sometimes we just failed. Aunt Mary kept a keen eye on us and reported any shenanigans to our parents.…

On June 5, 1972, my dad went into business for himself as a heating and airconditioning repairman. After forming the Scanlan Company, Dad worked out of our rural home in south-central Ohio. Initially, his office was downstairs in our unfinished basement. I can still see him sitting at his antique desk next to the furnace, with shelves of Mom’s canned goods to his left and wet long underwear hanging to his right. A few years later, he moved his office upstairs to the end of our dining room table. In addition to raising seven boys and one girl, Mom also served as Dad’s secretary, bookkeeper, dispatcher, accountant and answering service. Now, if you will (or if you can), please recall the old Carol Burnett Show. In its ninth season, 1975-1976,…

• All manuscripts should be typed with the author’s name, address, phone number, email address and word count of the submission in the upper corner. • Please enclose a self-addressed stamped envelope (SASE) if you want your material acknowledged and/or returned. • Good, clear, interesting photographs are always a plus. Please send photocopies with your submission if possible, or note that photos are available. Send your submissions to: Good Old Days Submissions, 306 East Parr Road, Berne, IN 46711. We also accept submissions via email at Editor@GoodOldDaysMagazine.com. Please be patient in awaiting a response. We receive hundreds of submissions every month!…

World War II had been over for a few years, and the soldiers and sailors had returned home. They wished to get on to the next phase of their lives—getting married and raising a family. Servicemen married their sweethearts in droves, often after short periods of romancing. And with marriages, of course, came baby carriages. The economy was surging. Men found jobs in the steel mills, rubber plants, aluminum foundries, and so forth. There was land out there beyond the borders of the urban grind. The newly built suburbs blossomed. Many took off to the greater Cleveland area, to smaller cities like Euclid, Westlake, Bedford and Parma. In 1948, my parents’ fledgling family of four moved from near West 25th Street/Pearl Road to Forest Avenue in Parma, Ohio. Our neighborhood…

Joanne and I met back in 1958, when I was in the Air Force, stationed at Castle Air Force Base in Merced, Calif. I would drive down to my home in San Diego every few weeks to visit my family in Ocean Beach. During one of my visits, a neighbor girl who lived several houses down the street dropped by to visit my sister while I was trying out a Hula-Hoop. She had long black hair and a nice figure, and I wondered if she would go out with me on a date. Well, the short of the story is that she accepted, which resulted in a 10-month relationship that grew during my visits to San Diego. In 1959, I asked her to marry me. We were wed just before…

My wedding at the Methodist church on Fulton Street in Wauseon, Ohio, in 1958, was a big event. We were a well-known family in town because my father was a car dealer. Dad valued education, working long hours to send his three daughters to college. As it turned out, I was the only one to graduate. I spent two years as a chemistry major at DePauw University in Greencastle, Ind., starting in 1953. I realized my only career choice at that point was to become a chemistry teacher. I had always wanted to be a doctor, but women seldom entered medicine in those days. I decided to study pharmacy as a compromise between chemistry and medicine. I transferred to the University of Michigan. After three years, I earned a bachelor…

During the 1950s, we lived on a dead-end street in Salem, N.H. We were lucky to have many playmates between the ages of 10 and 13. Our “gang” included Patty, Mickey, Brenda, Dale, Sandy and Gordon. (Our names seem old-fashioned now compared with today’s unique ones like Dallas, Shayna, Troy, Sierra, Jared, Jonah and Jessica—which happen to be the names of my great-nieces and -nephews.) Depending on which house had the best space or equipment, we kids would gather to play basketball, volleyball, badminton or other outdoor activities appropriate for the season. Other times, we would find whoever was available for card or board games or just hang out and talk. With such an active bunch of kids, we had our share of mishaps, such as cuts, bruises and beestings.…

I believe there are people that you meet throughout your life who affect the way you view the world. Pete the Milkman was one of those people for me. When I was a kid, my dad worked for CurtissWright. They built airplane parts. My dad started there after World War II and stayed until he was forced to retire at age 65. He often worked second or third shift. Dad was one of those guys who never missed a day of work. His was the kind of job that back then allowed you to raise a family, own a small house and have one car. We were what you might call middle class. About once a month, we would go out as a family and have dinner at the local…

When we moved onto Sparks Street in our Burbank, Calif., neighborhood in the mid-1940s, our side of the street was paved. The other side was dirt. There were mostly girls on our block. My best friend, Joan, lived down the street on the same side as me. Our younger sisters of the same age were also friends—mine Charlene, hers Barbara— and Joan and Barbara’s little sister was Shirley. Up the street, also on the same side as me, was Anne Marie, who was Catholic. Charlene and I went to Mass with her and her daddy when our daddy was out of town. Another family with girls lived farther up from Anne Marie, on the dirt side of the street, but I don’t remember their names. Marilou lived catty-corner from us.…

GOOD ◆OLD◆ DAYS® We asked our Facebook friends this question: When you were a kid, did your mom stay home or go outside the home to work? “My mom stayed home, but she worked hard taking care of us. She even carried in firewood so Dad didn’t have to after a 12-hour workday.” —Cheryl “My mom stayed home and did lots of great cooking, grew gardens, and canned veggies. But then she got crippling arthritis and was limited. She still did a lot even after that. When I was in 11th grade, she got a job setting type for the Dundee newspaper each weekday. She worked there until she retired.” —Jean This month on the Good Old Days Facebook page, people are sharing all sorts of wonderful memories. See some…