A Wee Poem

[Alastair]

Got in this anonymous poem from Ken Cameron which I thought I'd share with you...

I remember the corned beef of my Childhood,
And the bread that we cut with a knife,
When the Children helped with the housework,
And the men went to work not the wife.

The cheese never needed a fridge,
And the bread was so crusty and hot,
The Children were seldom unhappy,
And the Wife was content with her lot.

I remember the milk from the bottle,
With the yummy cream on the top,
Our dinner came hot from the oven,
And not from a freezer; or shop.

The kids were a lot more contented,
They didn't need money for kicks,
Just a game with their friends in the road,
And sometimes the Saturday flicks.

I remember the shop on the corner,
Where biscuits for pennies were sold
Do you think I'm a bit too nostalgic?
Or is it....I'm just getting Old?

Bathing was done in a wash tub,
With plenty of rich foamy suds
But the ironing seemed never ending
As Mum pressed everyone's 'duds'.

I remember the slap on my backside,
And the taste of soap if I swore
Anorexia and diets weren't heard of
And we hadn't much choice what we wore.

Do you think that bruised our ego?
Or our initiative was destroyed?
We ate what was put on the table
And I think life was better enjoyed.

Author, Unknown/...

If you can remember those days...Continue to enjoy your Retirement.

Alastair

[FriedaKateM]

Re: A Wee Poem

Hi, everyone, again...In reading the above poem, of course, I was taken aback....to those much simpler times. I can't remember IF I commented in this vein previously, so please bear with one who's "retired"!! As kids on our block, we used to play hide & seek, not being concerned in regard to running into, & hiding in our neighbors' yards. As a young girl, I wandered up & down, visiting the old folks on the block, talking to many other people, such as the grocers' on the corner. We did have two separate what we called "beer joints" within two block area, & I do remember being slightly scared in walking past these dens of iniquity!! We did have a sense of freedom, and of home...which as a community we shared. As a 13 year old, I worked for awhile at a corner shop, for an old man. (can't remember much about it, though!) I went quite frequently alone to the YWCA downtown, to go swim, after school, waiting for a bus both ways, to & fro. And our so-called recreation from outside the community...was lying on our stomachs listening to Arthur Godfrey, The Shadow knows...Fibber McGee & Molly, and on & on. At lunchtime, we'd walk home from school, have sandwich & tomato soup in our own home, then walk right back to school for the rest of the afternoon. It's sort of like the song...Where Have All the Flowers Gone?...what has happened to our society now? I am living in my ranch condo, but rarely...does anyone notice me here. I do exchange pleasantries with the folks next door, but in the main, people tend to not associate with each other in the same way anymore. I read an article not too long ago, saying that it's much more difficult for older people to make friends, & I do tend to agree with that. I am not unhappy, though. My cats here are settled in, & more or less, I am too. It's just different now. I do get emails from my previous neighbor over in Indiana, & that's a good thing. Just my meandering thoughts.....Joan

[Hugh]

Re: A Wee Poem

My experience was much like yours Joan. You brought back some memories.

Cheers,

Hugh

[swiftest]

Re: A Wee Poem

Right after the war, my brother was the last prisoner to come home; he had escaped a few months before the war ended and when his camp was liberated, he was drafted by the Americans because, captured at Dunkirk and a prisoner all those years he had picked up enough German to be a translator...BUT...the thing which came to mind after reading the previous three posts was my Dad's job....he was a lamplighter, had the long pole with the hook on top to start the gas.