Innholdsfortegnelse for March/April 2025 i Good Old Days

Throughout the years, spring has probably meant different things to you at different times of your life. When you were young, springtime fun might have revolved around hunting colorful Easter eggs or flying a paper kite. As a teenager, spring might have meant meeting up with classmates at school dances or helping your mom and dad plant seeds in the garden. As adults, springtime often meant making repairs around the house or cleaning up the yard after winter. We’ve captured a bunch of these spring memories in this issue. Step back to Easters past and remember seeing baby chicks arriving at your local store and hunting for those last remaining Easter eggs. Relive warm-weather days with stories of handmade kites lofting high in the air or made-up games played with…

In the 1930s, the little town of Rochelle, Ill., celebrated Memorial Day with all kinds of activities in addition to the customary parade. There were baseball games, swimming races in Spring Lake, and so on, but one year, there was a kite-making-and-flying contest. Notices of the contest were all over town—in stores, on billboards, in the newspaper—with this attention-catching headline: “Go fly a kite!” This common expression usually means “Get out of here!” or “Mind your own business!” or “Quit bothering me!” But in this case, it meant there were going to be prizes for the biggest kite, the prettiest kite, the highest-flying kite, and the winners in several other categories. All the kites had to fly, no matter their other attributes, but the category I was interested in was…

Do you remember… What Amazonian land-and-sea creature seemed to burst right off the screen at moviegoers? Find the answer below. Famous Quote “For my part I know nothing with any certainty, but the sight of the stars makes me dream.” —Vincent van Gogh Advertising Flashback During World War II, planting a garden was patriotic! Tops at the Box Office in 1957 The Bridge on the River Kwai Sayonara Peyton Place Gunfight at the O.K. Corral A Farewell to Arms The Pride and the Passion Island in the Sun Jailhouse Rock I Was a Teenage Werewolf Do you remember… ANSWER The Gill-Man in Creature From the Black Lagoon. Filmed in 3-D, the Gill-Man appeared to leap off the screen in search of his next victim. Although shown in many theaters in…

1. Sgt. Joe Friday _________________________ 2. Ethel Mertz ___________________________ 3. Philip Boynton _________________________ 4. George Wilson _________________________ 5. Della Street ___________________________ 6. Doc Adams ___________________________ 7. Wally Cleaver __________________________ A. Perry Mason B. Gunsmoke C. Dragnet D. I Love Lucy E. Leave It to Beaver F. Dennis the Menace G. Our Miss Brooks Answers: 1-C; 2-D; 3-G; 4-F; 5-A; 6-B; 7-E…

A rain shower was a favorite event back in my Good Old Days. If there was no lightning, my parents would “turn us loose” outside. Charles, Von and I romped in the South Mississippi downpours. That was during the Great Depression in the 1930s. We had few toys but a wonderful childhood. When the rain stopped, we rushed to the red clay ditch that ran from up a hill on our roadside. It became a wonderful water slide as the rushing water had carved channels to ease our ups and downs. When the water slowed to a trickle, we went in to take off our clay-stained clothes—we were so tired but so happy! Our country neighbors probably called us “that wild Keys bunch.”…

I loved Easter when I was a child. I grew up in Brooklyn, N.Y., during the 1940s. Back then, Easter meant a week off from school. Easter was chocolate rabbits. Chocolate eggs. A sack of jelly beans. The pink ones were the prettiest. Some Easters, Mom bought me a new dress. Or a new spring coat. Always a size too big; money did not grow on trees. Clothes had to fit next year too. Ladies and girls—even little girls— wore hats to church on Easter Sunday. I wanted a hat with a veil. Mom said, “Wait till you’re older.” I was already waiting for a brother and a puppy. I eventually got the puppy and the veil. I never got the brother. Dyed eggs were an important part of our…

In March, we celebrate St. Patrick’s Day, so I thought I’d write about Michael Shayne, the redheaded (at least in the novels) Irish-American detective of books, film and radio. Through the 1940s, the hard-boiled private detective became a staple of American folklore, along with the frontiersman and the cowboy. This “type” usually had a capacity for hard liquor and cigarettes; an ability to recover from bullets, knife wounds and blows to the head; and a need for less than an hour’s sleep a night. Michael Shayne possessed those qualities to a degree that was superhuman. Based on novelist Brett Halliday’s private eye, the radio series that bore the detective’s name was first broadcast over the Mutual-Don Lee Network on selected West Coast stations for the original two years (1944–1946). When…

Ten of us children, including seven boys born consecutively, meant lots of laundry, heaps of it. Plus, back in the 1940s and located in the bustling shipbuilding center of Manitowoc, Wis., sleeping quarters were a precious commodity. Three of the bedrooms in our large framed house were rented out, and those monies were paid to the dentist for what Mother described as “million-dollar smiles”—a trade-off for laundering yet more piles of pillowcases and bedding. Doing laundry is one of the oldest domestic tasks, and at our house it was done several times a week. Preparation began the prior evening, gathering and sorting the work for the following day: light-color clothing in one pile, dark clothing in a second. Water had to be poured into the copper boiler positioned on the…

What more could you want for a colorful springtime table than these blossoming quilted mug rugs? Use them to protect your kitchen tabletop from your coffee mug or keep them on an end table for your nighttime cup of tea. They’re even great on your desk while you’re browsing online. With just a few simple quilting techniques, you can make this set of three mug rugs and brighten up any room in your home. The cheery flowers stand out against the white quilted background. GOOD OLD DAYS SPOTLIGHT The complete Quilted Garden Mug Rugs kit includes all the fabric needed for the top, binding and backing to make the three mug rugs, each measuring approximately 13 × 8½ inches. Sew a tulip, daisy and rose, each with its own quilting…

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 or on the Good Old Days magazine Facebook page! Photos to accompany your story are welcomed and encouraged! Please include an SASE if you want your photo returned. Did your family have a business that they lived above or work out of their home? Do you remember shopping at a family-run general store or vacation resort? What were your favorite springtime antics growing up? Do you have memories of playing in the rain or jumping puddles? One bygone springtime…

Just as “In the spring a young man’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love” (Alfred, Lord Tennyson), so in the Good Old Days, a homemaker’s mind turned to thoughts of spring cleaning. As a teen growing up in Bicknell, Ind., during the early 1950s, I knew my mother’s thoughts would soon lead in that direction, and I knew I would be included in the process of spring cleaning our home. My mother wasn’t any different from other women of her generation. When roses and peonies began blooming, Mom started to get spring-cleaning fever. It was an unwritten rule that the house had to be turned upside down to get rid of the dirt and dust that had collected during the winter. Most homeowners at that time warmed their houses…

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 from yesteryear, and be sure to include a photo. Although we may not be able to include all the stories, we enjoy reading every one of them. For the best chance at publication, your story should be interesting and well-written, fit the seasonal or editorial themes noted (see page 4 for upcoming themes), and highlight a specific event or experience that will strike a chord with readers growing up between 1940 and 1975. Main stories should be 500–1,000 words in length; shorter Bits & Pieces stories…

During the 1950s and ’60s, the arrival of Easter and the spring season created a flurry of activities for my family and, in their wake, a host of memories—colorfully dyed eggs, the Easter parade in the downtown square, cuddly inquisitive bunnies with their twitching noses and soft fur, Easter egg hunts in our backyard, the scent of Mother’s honeysuckle blooming, the smell of ham baking in the oven on Easter Sunday, and those adorable, peeping baby chicks. It’s a safe bet that most kids who grew up in the 1950s and ’60s received sweet little peeping chicks at Easter. As a promotional tool to bring women to their stores, local grocers offered free baby chicks to children when mothers shopped for groceries. My younger brother and I passed the grocery…

I spent my elementary years in the northern latitudes of Minnesota. I entered first grade in 1955. For young children in that time and place, there was ease and simplicity. Lakes and forests and fields covered the region of my early childhood. I recall outings when my father took our family for late afternoon drives on the blacktop roads. He would drive slowly along as we watched for the beautiful fowl of that area. The birds of field and forest would sometimes scurry out from their nesting places. We were especially on the lookout for quail and pheasant and partridge. My younger brother and I learned to identify those birds by their lovely plumage and colorings. For those family outings, my mother would pack a paper bag with fresh apples…

I was born in 1941 on a small dairy farm in the beautiful Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina. Although I was a girl and the only child to my loving parents, I was a bit tomboyish and wanted to be outside with my daddy most of the time. The dairy feed for the milk cows came in 50-pound fabric bags that measured about 24 by 38 inches and were printed in various designs. Going to the feed store with Daddy was a joy, for I could pick out which bag to get, and I knew how many it took for Mama to make a certain item. For instance, her pattern for a long-sleeved, floor-length, double-breasted housecoat with a scalloped collar and fitted waist required five feed sacks. It took…

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.…

We didn’t have a lot of money to buy toys when I was growing up in Iron River, Mich., in the 1940s and ’50s. Besides, the only local store that had toys was the J.J. Newberry dime store on Genesee Street in Iron River’s downtown area. We lived in the country and didn’t get to town often, so my older cousin, Ronnie, and I, along with other neighborhood kids, sometimes built our own toys. One handmade toy I remember was our telephone system. Ronnie and I used two clean Campbell Soup cans with a string attached to each of the cans to communicate across a distance, and it actually worked—provided we kept the string taut. Ronnie lived just up the hill from my house, about a 100 feet away, and…

March was and still is my favorite month of the year. Even now, I enjoy breathing in the crisp, clean air and watching the trees begin to blossom. The days grow longer and warmer; the birds chirp once again, heralding spring’s arrival. More important, though, March is “plantin’ season,” as my dad liked to call it. March was the month when he began to transform our backyard into a bountiful garden full of fresh fruits and vegetables. When plantin’ season began in 1961, Dad roused me from a deep sleep. “Today’s the day!” he said, his face beaming. “Put on your gardening clothes, grab your gear, and meet me in the backyard. It’s plantin’ season! Hurry now, time’s a-wastin’.” I quickly dressed in a pair of old denim jeans, a…

No one knew how big he would get or exactly how old he was— not the people at the pound nor the vet—but he was clearly still a puppy. In the spring of 1969, my father and brother were tasked by my mother to deposit a stray cat at the local pound. Those instructions did not include trading in the cat for a dog. We named him Jiff, after the peanut butter. He grew into a dandy, proud and confident dog, the canine mayor of our small town in upstate New York. He trotted the streets confidently in the time before leash laws, enjoyed pats on the head, and followed every kid who had a candy bar or a Popsicle. Everyone knew Jiff. My father was the proprietor of a…

I did not want to be tricked. The year 1968 was tricky enough without featuring me as the brunt of an April Fools’ Day prank. And I was gullible enough to fall victim to every joke, every single time! My third-graders’ eyes were filled with mischief and wicked plans for their teacher—me! My husband of only two years and I had been separated by the Vietnam War. I was back with my parents and teaching in North Caldwell, N.J. The times were turbulent, the news reports filled with fear, protests, riots and death. Perhaps my students reflected our adult fears, for they were especially challenging. As for me, I was not happy with myself. Barring being a total coward and calling in sick, I needed to form a plan to…

We lived in East Flatbush, N.Y., in 1959 when I was 10 years old. My dad was a general contractor, and sometimes he brought home “interesting finds” he encountered in some of the demolition jobs before new construction. Case in point was an enormous box kite that had a broken main strut. At that time, I was really into flying kites with my buddies, but I had never had a box kite before. My “professional expertise” consisted of many 50-cent paper kites from the neighborhood candy store. This box kite was almost as tall as me, probably close to 4 feet long, and 2 feet in diameter. Dad found it in the debris of Floyd Bennett Airfield, and it must have been some type of weather test or recording device…

My mother loved chocolate, so when a local candy store was going out of business, she made a beeline to the store and jostled for a place in line. “I wonder why these never melt?” I asked her as we stood in line and looked through the huge plate-glass window. The candies were displayed for weeks at a time, absorbing the full afternoon sun. The large boxes were all shapes and sizes, and some of the candies were wrapped in colorful aluminum foil. Once inside the store, we discovered the reason the chocolates never melted. On a separate table, the “window chocolates” were displayed with a “For Sale” sign attached. We touched them and discovered they were fake, formed of brown plastic. The morsels looked so realistic! I tried to…

My mother told me this story that happened when she was a child. I am 88 years old, so this took place a very long time ago. She was attending a one-room schoolhouse with some of her brothers and sisters. One of her brothers, Kenneth, was an ornery kid, always getting into mischief. He and one of the other older boys were assigned the task of adding coal to the stove when needed. The stove sat in the middle of the room. The stovepipe went straight up, made a turn and then ran to the end of the room. One day Kenneth got up and added coal to the stove. Not long afterward, the other boy added coal to the stove. Soon after, there was a large bang. The stovepipe…

Highlights and Boy’s Life magazines and Superman comics were popular reading materials for young boys in the 1960s. In the pages of these publications one could find engaging puzzles, instructions on tying knots and starting campfires, and a virtuous hero with superpowers whose only weakness was an imaginary green element, Kryptonite. But besides their more prosaic uses, if, say, a young boy carefully read the small print in the back of the magazines and comics, he would find ads for all sorts of oddities, including seahorses, Charles Atlas strong-man training, small items he could sell and be rewarded with a BB gun, and of all things, explosive loads for cigarettes and cigars. That last one was just too much of a temptation for my brother Steve and me. My dad…

FRIENDS on Facebook It may be springtime now, but when we were creating this issue it was fall, so, we asked fans what their favorite part of the autumn season was . “The colors! I’m a HUGE leaf peeper.” —Vicki L. “Everything except football.” —Cyndi W. “Sweater weather instead of sweating weather.” —Kellie G. What was your favorite class in school? “Art class in high school. We didn’t sit at desks. We sat at tables—four kids to a table. We were allowed to talk as we worked.” —Fran S. “Math. I became a math teacher!” —Linda L. “Learning to read in the second grade. It began my love of books, which continues even to this day.” —Debra L. We posted that the Bunny Hop was created at Balboa High School…

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