Innholdsfortegnelse for July/August 2024 i Good Old Days

I loved summer break from school, and I know you did too. I had been looking forward to reading your summer stories, and I was not disappointed. In this issue, we explore summer days spent fishing with family and friends, getting our hands dirty with gardening, and even some stories of harvesting and canning. Summertime was full of baseball games, family vacations, adventures and more. When I was growing up, my sister and I spent summers on our grandparents’ farm. We had two horses, one an Appaloosa and the other a Tennessee walking horse. We spent summer days riding them. My moms younger brother would help us make sure the horses were put back in the barn safely in the evenings, and sometimes he would give them treats. Join Kathy…

Climb, climb up Sunshine Mountain, heavenly breezes blow. Climb, climb up Sunshine Mountain, faces all aglow. I sang lustily and proudly as I went back and forth in my swing. It had been such a fine day, starting early when Peggy Shaw and I smashed our paper caps on a perfectly flat rock in the gully. Bang! We had caused our own explosions! “Happy Fourth of July!” we yelled. Did I know what that meant? Not really. It was 1947, and we lived in Anvil Points, a mining camp in western Colorado. I was only 4 years old—almost 5. All I knew for sure was that Daddy didn't have to go to work that day, and I would have fun all day long—even way past dark. My little dog, Pal, was…

My father was a white-collar professional who moved in all the society circles. Any job at home that needed to be done indoors or outdoors was contracted out. Our weekly summer vacation usually revolved around an exclusive resort, with a pool and all the amenities. A few that I remember were exclusive dude ranches. That sort of vacation was right up my alley, as I loved to ride horses. The summer of 1959 was totally different for both my dad and me. Dad s brother, one of my cousins and a neighbor of my uncle all loved to fish. They invited us to join them, and it was an experience! We rode in the first day to see beautiful rustic cabins by a glacier-fed lake—and horses in the corral. On…

Milton Berle made his television debut way back in 1929, for an experimental scanning-wheel TV show in Chicago. Ever heard of that technology? That's because no one paid much attention to it; everyone in America was tuned to their radio shows. It would take 20 years for TV to become sophisticated enough to draw an audience. From 1934 to 1936, Milton Berle was heard on radio on The Rudy Vallee Hour, and from the late 1930s through the 1940s he attracted publicity as a regular on The Gillette Original Community Sing as well as many other radio programs. In 1948, he took on hosting a radio program on ABC called The Texaco Star Theater, which Berle called “the best radio show I ever did.” Hollywood came knocking in the 1940s,…

My father-in-law, Frank Fortlage, and I shared a special connection. We were both born on Oct. 17. When Frank was turning 56 and I was turning 23, he had an idea: “Let's celebrate our birthdays with a deepsea fishing trip to the Florida Keys.” We waited until December for our escape from Fremont, Ohio's, blustery cold in 1973. Franks travel plans included taking our wives, but our fishing excursion was going to be guys only. We took a morning flight out of Toledo to Miami. My mother-in-law was terrified of flying. She stared straight ahead, gripping the armrests of her seat, while Frank, Fran and I enjoyed our western omelets. After landing, we rented a Ford and headed south to the Keys. Islamorada was 75 miles away. We had reservations…

I grew up on a dairy farm in the Blue Hills of northern Wisconsin. In the 1950s, our farm was typical of the farms in our area. We milked about a dozen Holstein cows and farmed 120 acres of land. Much of our land was in pasture and woodlots. The crops we planted were oats (with alfalfa/timothy grass for hay the following year) and corn. We had good equipment for working our fields but certainly not new equipment and not the latest labor-saving models. Each August we'd harvest our oats. Dad would cut the oats with a binder. The binder would leave rows of oat bundles in the field. This is where I would get involved. My job was to stack the bundles into “shocks” for the threshing crew. I…

1. Annie Get Your Gun (1950)_______ 2. Oklahoma! (1955)_______ 3. The King and I (1956)_______ 4. Guys and Dolls (1955) _______ 5. Singin’ in the Rain (1952)_______ 6. Seven Brides for Seven Brothers (1954)_______ 7. An American in Paris (1951)_______ 8. Carmen Jones (1954)_______ A. Gene Kelly, Donald O'Connor and Debbie Reynolds B. Harry Belafonte and Dorothy Dandridge C. Gordon MacRae and Shirley Jones D. Betty Hutton and Howard Keel E. Jane Powell and Howard Keel F. Marlon Brando and Jean Simmons G. Deborah Kerr and Yul Brynner H. Gene Kelly and Leslie Caron Answers: 1-D; 2-C; 3-G; 4-F; 5-A; 6-E; 7-H; 8-B…

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. Did you have a creative side? What was your hobby? Did you build model cars or airplanes? Maybe you enjoyed quilting, sewing or knitting. What was your favorite creation? Do you have a memory of the fish that got away? What about the person who taught you to fish or what your favorite fishing hole was like? My daddy was…

Fishing was my family's go-to, inexpensive recreational sport. We spent many weekends at the lake casting our lines into the water. However, the act of actually fishing wasn't my idea of a wonderful weekend. In fact, I never actually fished. Oh sure, I liked riding in the boat and being with my family, but I preferred sitting quietly, taking in the aquatic sights and sounds, and reading my book. When my family fished from the shore, I laid a blanket under a nearby tree, reading a book or writing a story while filling my lungs with fresh air and taking in the sounds of nature. Back at home, I naturally didn't participate in gutting and cleaning the fish. The thought of even watching was enough to turn my stomach. When…

Do you remember… In 1951, Louis Armstrong and what other famous musician recorded the song Gone Fishin'? Find the answer on next page. FAMOUS QUOTE “Many men go fishing all of their lives without knowing that it is not the fish they are after” —Henry David Thoreau 1950s Baseball Players Can you match these 1950s baseball players to the teams they are most remembered playing for? 1. Willie Mays 2. Yogi Berra 3. Gil Hodges 4. Bob Feller 5. Ernie Banks 6. Hank Aaron 7. Richie Ashburn 8. Stan Musial A. Cleveland Indians B. St. Louis Cardinals C. Milwaukee/Atlanta Braves D. Philadelphia Phillies E. Brooklyn/Los Angeles Dodgers F. New York Yankees G. Chicago Cubs H. New York/San Francisco Giants Answers: 1-H; 2-F; 3-E; 4-A; 5-G; 6-C; 7-D; 8-B What Made Us Laugh “I'll never forget this spot, baby. Right here last spring, I caught…

The day was dark and gray with a storm brewing in the near distance. The low rumble of thunder could be heard as black clouds slowly drifted by. However, the storm didn't matter to us because my dad always said that the fish bite better when it's raining. On that day, it was true. As the cool rain soaked our clothes, and the fresh clear water dripped from our ears and noses, we caught a long stringer full of gray catfish. My dad sat in the clearing between two slightly leaning but strong and tall river birch trees. He had his long cane pole propped up lightly between the forks of a dry tree limb that he had stuck deeply into the muddy riverbank. The thin, almost clear, catgut fishing…

I was brought up in a small farming and coalmining community in Harlan County, Ky. My mother and my nephews and I worked our small mountain farm. When my dad wasn't at work in the coal mine or if the mines were on strike, he worked in the garden with us. My parents would always talk about the future and what it would bring. They would tell us, “Take care of this land, and it will take care of us now and in the future.” Those two old folks enjoyed taking care of the land as did others in our small community. They knew if they destroyed the land (environment), they would be destroying themselves and future generations. Sounds “green” to me. My dad didn't approve of laziness. He often…

My grandson said he didn't understand why I watched NASCAR races. “All the drivers do is make noise and turn left,” he said. However, listening to the roar of the engines for several hours causes my mind to quit just turning in circles for a while. I challenge anyone to be troubled while admiring the buff drivers and colorful cars. I wonder if other NASCAR fans watching the races at home stand in front of their televisions and place their hands over their hearts as I do, while the national anthem is played before the green flag is waved. I don't have a favorite driver anymore, although—heavens to Betsy!—there is now a woman on one of the pit crews, so I may tag the driver of her car. I always…

My father was an avid fisherman and hunter, and I followed in his footsteps. Growing up in the mountains and foothills of East Tennessee gave me the opportunity to do both. Each spring we would travel to Dandridge, Tenn., to fish for bass in the French Broad River. The spring I was 13 years old, I was allowed to meander off on my own, searching for the best fishing spots. As I moved down the riverbank, casting, I came upon a large bush blocking my path. Not wanting to backtrack and go around, I grabbed a limb to swing under to the other side. Unknowingly, I disturbed a nest of young birds. One of the fledglings fled the nest and fell into the water. Being softhearted, I could not permit…

It was always a treat when our family drove to South Bend, Ind., to visit Grandpa and Grandma Cline. We three kids were delighted. We got to see our grandparents, and we had the run of the property, which included a gigantic garden. Fruiting mulberry trees soon taught us to be cautious about where we stepped. We learned to treat the large rhubarb leaves on the back side of the barn with respect. But perhaps one of our greatest joys was the chore Grandpa assigned to us. He paid us a nickel for every potato bug we caught. For children in the mid-1960s who received a quarter a week for our allowance, this was a bonanza. What garden produce Grandma didn't cook fresh, she preserved. She filled the shelves in…

I grew up in a small community called Ellport, which is part of Ellwood City in northwestern Pennsylvania. Ellport is surrounded on three sides by the Connoquenessing Creek (named by the Lenape Indians of the area, Connoquenessing means “for a long way straight”). My parents’ house was close to the banks of the Connoquenessing, and a short distance upstream was the mouth of Slippery Rock Creek where it emptied into the Connoquenessing. A bridge we called First Bridge spanned the Connoquenessing. There was also a Second Bridge and a Third Bridge; these crossed Slippery Rock Creek. All three bridges were fairly close together. My cousin, John, lived on a hill overlooking the Second Bridge and Slippery Rock Creek. The Second Bridge was a favorite place for John and me to…

In the summer of 1968, we packed up our family station wagon to make our annual trek from the Chicago suburbs to the Smallbone's Maplewood Resort in Sister Lakes, Mich. Though it was a drive of only two and a half hours, our cries of “Are we there yet?” were still heard. The resort was owned by George Smallbone. His last name always made me laugh as he was a former college football star who stood about 7 feet tall and weighed over 300 pounds. Consisting of more than 30 cabins, the resort had been built by his grandfather, and George had grown up there. He was a jovial man and loved interacting with the guests as he roamed around. Families rented individual cabins, but meals were eaten collectively. Each…

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 tales 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 &…

On that Friday morning on July 4, 1952, our home was buzzing with activity. Food was cooking in the kitchen with both breakfast and dinner smells. My mother, Rachel, and my grandmother Bertha Workman were cooking what seemed like tons of delicious delights. The night before, Mom had baked her famous banana coconut cake, and I had made potato salad. Now I could smell that Grandma was frying chicken, and that a meatloaf had just been taken out of the oven of our coal-burning kitchen stove. As my siblings finished their quick breakfasts, I began getting the younger ones dressed in their picnic clothes. My sister Brenda and I waited until the last second to put on our new shorts outfits. Mom packed the food in boxes to keep anything…

Kelly Grade School during the 1950s was in the heart of Peoria Heights, Ill., just across from the Pabst Brewery and a block from the world s best hot dog store, called Velvet Freeze. The dogs were steamed, served with raw onions, yellow mustard and pickle relish, and topped with a secret meat sauce. All of this would be washed down with a large A&W root beer in a frosted mug. Life couldn't get better— unless you were playing scrub baseball. I grew up thinking that all boys played scrub, which to me meant a world of lob pitching, no teams, no scoring and no adult supervision. But the two best things about scrub baseball were, one, the number of players wasn't limited to nine—we often had six outfielders, seven…

SEND US YOUR PHOTOS! We invite you to share the pictures that reflect your happiest memories. Please include a brief but detailed description. Include an SASE if you would like your photo returned. Send to: Good Old Days, Picture This, 306 East Parr Road, Berne, IN 46711, or email Editor@GoodOldDaysMagazine.com.…

In 1962, “script-fixer” Sherwood Schwartz (producer and writer for shows like Gilligan's Island and The Brady Bunch) was asked to watch a pilot for a new TV sitcom. Its plot centered on a young newspaper reporter living in California and a Martian anthropologist who had crash-landed after a near-miss encounter with a military aircraft and was stuck on earth until he could repair his spacecraft. In a 2010 interview, Schwartz said, “To this day, that's the best pilot I ever saw.” He went on to say it was a perfect example of a fish-out-ofwater storyline, and if it was carried out right, the show, My Favorite Martian, would easily have a four- to five-year run. The fish-out-of-water premise has been used many times in movies and on TV. Many sitcoms…

It's amazing when I think back to how my fascination with gardening began when I was just 8 years of age, in the 1970s. The cheery sun was peeking over the horizon, and there was a nip in the air. It was a breezy Saturday in March. My father had spring fever and was out in the garage, making his list of necessary tools and supplies he would need for tending to the yard. Dad said I could ride with him downtown to visit Cookson's Hardware Store. Early morning Saturday trips to downtown Howard, Kan., were always an adventure. Once in a blue moon, I might catch sight of some of my good friends who lived out in the country and had come to town with their parents too. We…

FRIENDS on Facebook We asked our Facebook friends to name a 45-rpm record they played over and over again. Here are just a few: “Peggy Sue.” —Athleen D. “Last Date by Floyd Cramer.” — Gwen F. “I Wanna Hold Your Hand.” —Bill M. “Chances Are by Johnny Mathis” —Shirley S. “Rita Pavone, Just Once More/ Remember Me” —Timothy C. “Jilted by Teresa Brewer.” —Janice G. Oh, the memories we have! Your first time on a plane, where did you go? “Painted Desert/Petrified Forrest. My sister's husband was a park ranger there, and we flew out to see her.” —Donna A. “Newly married, we flew to England to meet my husband's family and friends.” —Marion T. “Atlanta to New Jersey. I was 9!” —Patricia D. “Israel and Switzerland in 1977.1 was…