Relax, Laugh and Remember with Reminisce Magazine. Each issue is a "time capsule" of life from the 30's, 40's, 50's and 60's filled with reader-written stories, pictures from the past, embarrassing moments, ads from the Old Days and much more!
Have you ever heard the saying “You never get a second chance to make a first impression”? Maybe that’s why a first kiss or a first job can create a memory that lasts a lifetime. We’re planning a special issue to celebrate your “Unforgettable Firsts.” If you’ve got a great tale to tell on one of these topics, please send it our way—and don’t forget the photos! GROWING UP: The First Day of School OUR HEROES: First Battle or First Day of Basic Training OUR HOME: Our First Home (or the First Place That Felt Like Home) ON THE JOB: My First Job SILVER SCREEN: The First Movie I Ever Saw COMING OF AGE: My First Crush ROMANCE: My First Date OUR MUSIC: The First Album I Owned (and Wore…
FLORENCE OWENS THOMPSON was born in a teepee in Indian Territory, Oklahoma, in 1903. By the time photographer Dorothea Lange met her, in 1936, she was a widowed pea picker living in a tent in Nipomo, California, and had just sold her car tires to feed her seven children. “She seemed to know that my pictures might help her,” Lange said after the photo, Migrant Mother, became an iconic image of Dust Bowl poverty, “and so she helped me.” Though Thompson never saw a cent from Lange’s photo, she worked her way into the middle class. Even though she could have afforded a house, she chose to live in a trailer. “I need to have wheels under me,” Thompson said.…
MADE WITH LOVE MOM ALWAYS let us eat raw cookie dough. One day, I begged her for a taste, but it turned out to be shortbread dough—yuck! We were always excited to see rolled and cut cookies because that meant more scraps for us to eat! SHELLEY THOMPSON MY MOM made fudge quite often. There was no secret recipe—it was right on the back of the cocoa tin. Still, it took patience and a strong arm to get everything just right. Mom had the knack. Just the sight of her pouring the sweet goodness from the pan onto the buttered plate made our mouths water. I have the same recipe, but I don’t have the knack like she did! MARGI DICKSON ANDRULONIS ONE CHRISTMAS, my grandmother confided in me that…
A DISASTROUS FIRST DATE HUGO BOUR TIFFIN, OH IT WAS ONE OF those wonderful May days in the springtime of my life. I was 16 years old and going out on my first real date. I had washed and polished my dad’s ’51 Plymouth to near-showroom perfection, and after a little dab of Brylcreem and a liberal splash of Old Spice, I was ... well, all that I could be. Peggy was outgoing, bright, and fun to be with. I wasn’t a confident talker, so I figured going to the drive-in was a good strategy. She sat beside me, and I had my arm on the seat behind her. Life was good until my arm grew numb and slipped off the seat. Peggy quickly smacked my hand and said, “Behave…
My Favorite Saying: “Let a smile be your umbrella on a rainy, rainy day.” KATHY TIETZE VIA FACEBOOK ONE SUMMER DAY, my husband came home to our western Minnesota farm with a little fur ball the size of an apple. It was a baby owl. My two young sons, Charles and Clem, and I immediately fell in love. We named the owl Rosco Lonnie. We wanted to do our best to take care of him. I was worried because he wouldn’t eat. Finally, I thought, What do I like to eat when nothing else tastes good? Bread and warm milk. So I put a little in a teaspoon, and he happily ate it. This new diet let him know we loved him and wanted to help. Our back porch became…
IN THE ’40s, Rosie the Riveter gave women an identity, alongside the millions of men who defended the nation. My mom was a Rosie; I’m a Rosie’s daughter. After my father died, Mama placed my two brothers and me in an orphanage and dedicated the next four years of her life to making bombs for the Navy. But when the war was over, along with Mama’s job, we settled among the rural fields of Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. My favorite place to go was up the street to Mrs. Wrigley’s house. She taught me to pull taffy as she would’ve shown her daughter. “Butter up your hands, like this,” she said, greasing me up to my elbows. She boiled sugar to a soft ball, dropping the taffy into a glass of…
