Lovely Memories

Did you have the kind of Mom that taught you many of the “nice-ities” of life as it was then, and even though many of those things didn’t hold up in the way we live today, do you think of them sometimes? I do. I remember growing from a kid into a young lady that would wear gloves to certain occasions. And I remember graduating from white cotton gloves that one wore to visit someone, to beautiful, fitted kid gloves that were “smart”. My mom wore a dressy hat to my brother’s high school graduation and I thought--I was twelve at the time-- that when I grew up I would probably wear a hat to special occasions too someday. We learned to buy lovely nylons, which were held up by garter belts, and we know that today’s version serves quite a different purpose than the one our mothers taught us. Well, the only time I wear a hat today is to keep the sun off, and my gloves are the multicolored knit variety for the cold, such as it is here in California. So I have in my possession odd articles from the past that no longer serve their intended purpose, but they serve the purpose of reminding me of some of what I learned from my parents. My parents scrimped to make ends meet, but looking at these things, I can look back and see through the veils of memory to what was important to them, and what, of that, has been passed on to me and what has been lost to our fast paced, techno, but differentiated society. I have a box of evening purses that belonged to my mom. I remember too, the first beaded bag that I got of my own. It makes me kind of sorry that my daughters did not grow up in the kind of society where they had a need for beaded bags. They missed out on a certain kind of excitement that I experienced of dressing up, and there being dress clothes and play clothes, and one was not the other. Every girl dreamed of the time when she would have the need to buy a “formal”, a dressy dress or gown for a very special occasion. There was always such excitement when my parents got dressed up to go out for the evening, and it wasn’t clubbing, but perhaps to a dinner dance at the synagogue, or a party that a friend was making. No one ever went out for the evening in ripped or shredded jeans; actually there were no “good “ jeans. Levis were work clothes, and only men wore them, and there was no such thing as athletic shoes. My mom used to wear a skirt and blouse and high heels to go to the market. Ladies carried hankies in their purses, and gentlemen always had a clean handkerchief in their pocket. My father shined his shoes with paste wax, and buffed them with a brush. No one then could have imagined speaking to a small electronic box rather than to their dinner partner, and manners were important enough to be taught. I certainly don’t long for the days when I couldn’t run out to the store in sweats, or when no one had workout clothes, but I do think of the days when life had a certain rhythm to it, or at least my life did. There was homework in the afternoon after we walked a mile home from school, no lessons or leagues. My dad came home from work at 6 and we had dinner prepared by my mom. Mom washed the dishes and dad dried, my uncle called every night to say Hello, and plans were made for a picnic or a family gathering on the weekend. The “family” was the center of things, rather than the kids, and although there were not so many labor saving devices, parents were not so exhausted and preoccupied. I helped my mom with the housework, and we had good times that we created. We had less entertainment, but more fun. Something to think about.