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Jello with pearls please

If you imagine the life of a woman in the late 50’s/60’s, it was a setting of an idylic time..or was it, and for whom.   When I think of this time, I think of crisp dresses cinched with a belt.  Hair in it’s place and of course the ever elustrious white pearls and only because of dear June.  Jello molds in all variety of colors and flavors adorned the latest cookbooks.  The only question would be fruit or veges to incorporate inside the colorful wiggly taste sensation.  

This was a time before paper or plastic and it was much more fun to recyle in those days.  Grab your “pop” bottle and run to the nearest carry out for your nickle.  The end result was penny candy and a returned bottle.  A means to an end or an delightful begining.

I could rant on for the overworked housewife of those generations.  Of how she was a workhorse to the home and family but there would always be a flipside to this, and comparing it to the now generation, mothers are still overworked inside or outside of the home ..in some ways this looks remarkably better.   I was one of those children from that generation, privileged to have my mom there when I left in the morning, or came home for lunch and after school.   I liked having  her if my fingers were freezing making a snowman, and she would warm them up with a nice cup of homemade cocoa.    

 I realize how hard my mother worked,  she didn’t choose this generation and I didn’t either, but I am truly grateful she was there.  We did and do what we are called to do and she did it very well.  There are yearnings of a time passed and also glad tidings of new inventions for the future that took the place of the ever-ready greased elbows.   Those elbows had to be good and greased for cleaning windows, washing and ironing curtains, gardening, canning, child rearing, cooking, cleaning, and there was so much more.   Meals weren’t handled at a drive through  window, because you worked all day and were too tired to cook.  There was time for dinner even if it was a light dinner and the family sat down together and cleaned up together.   The only fast food then was a tv dinner baked in the oven, a raw carrot or a piece of fruit if that was your fancy. 

Work was hard  and it taught us something, or it should have.  It was something by the end of the day where you felt a sense of accomplishment, and had some sore muscles.  In the morning, the sparkle of the windows and the crispness of the curtains were proof of a job well done.   When you put your clothes on, complete with  creases down your trousers (yes i said trousers) you knew somebody ironed them or either you had learned to  because it was something you needed to learn.  The brown bag lunch that was packed for you probably held homemade bread or something fresh from the garden planted to sustain you through the summer and the winter as well.   Everything, everyday was a ripple from the day before. 

I yearn for the smell of cotton sheets just off the line with freshly ironed pillowcases.   I would love to reach up and grab the apples off the trees and rip my gums up from the not so ripe apple that is set to give me a belly ache.  The blossoms of the cherry tree should be falling all around me because I shook  the limbs till white flakes were flying like newly fallen snow.  With anticipation of the ripe round red cherries that would soon be in season, I sit in the tree picking the mounds of beautiful amber colored sap on the  strong dark limbs, the taste of cherry and apple pies that were made so many  times can only be visualized of their tasteful essence.   These images of sights and soulful flavors of yesterday will always be a part of my very being, resting with the memories and the appreciation of all the hard work instilled in me, and the hope that I passed on the same……..

Olly Olly Ox in Free  and the street lights are on it’s time to call it a night.

 

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