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This Day and Age

This Day and Age

Tags: memories

I remember attic fans in the summer and radiators in the winter and if you backed into it trying to get warm, you burnt your ass.

I remember linoleum floors.

Stovetop percolators.

Gas stoves you had to light with wooden matches.

I remember glass bottles of milk with cardboard stoppers on the porch.

Wall phones with 15-foot cords hanging in the kitchen.

Screen doors with long springs to close them. Loudly.

I remember rugs, not carpeting.

Clear plastic furniture covers.



I remember newspaper shelf lining.

Wood piles.


Picket fences.

One-car garages.

I remember fried bologna sammiches.

Jello salads.

Sweet tea.

Bacon drippings.

Morse code.

I remember Saturday baseball at the park.

Bicycles on the sidewalk.

Mowing lawns with push mowers.

Hand watering the yard.

Sweeping the curbs.

I remember dressing up to go shopping.

Skeleton key locks.

Tick-tock clocks.

Three TV stations.

Floor lamps.

I remember running boards on cars.

No seat belts.



Pocket combs.

I remember Sen-Sen breath tabs.

Blackjack gum.

Two movies and a cartoon at the local theater for 25 cents.

Drinking from the water hose.

Peeing outside.

Lightning bugs.

I remember playing tag.

Wrestling in the yard and getting chiggers.

Beans and spaghetti sauce on the stove all day.

Hating meatloaf.

Cutting the crust off bread.

I remember sock-hops.


Cherry cokes.

Peter Plenty trucks.

First love.

I remember... way too much.


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