Summer in the '50s

Blogger is having a bit of trouble uploading photos tonight, so until we can check out Beata's shower photos, here's a little trip down memory lane with Gupp...

I was sitting in my bathroom this morning drinking coffee (since my remodeling has positioned my coffee pot in my bedroom). The temperature outside was in the low 60’s and there was a slight breeze. My mind magically transcended to a summer day in the late 50’s when I would sneak out the back door quietly turning the lock so as to not wake my mom. I made my way through the back gate and down the small, wooden steps to my grandparent’s house for morning coffee made especially for me by my grandma with _ cup of Pet Milk and 3 or 4 teaspoons of sugar. I was also treated to homemade bread toasted and buttered on both sides to dip in my coffee. There was something magical about those summer mornings with my grandma at her kitchen table. I thought I was “getting away with something” having the coffee that my mother would never give me but I suspect more than anything it was just the fact that I had her undivided attention.

Besides the early morning there were many other times that I spent at 417 Baldie Street. She would have me dust under the dining room table and other places that were hard for her to reach. I washed the windows with newspaper. Every time I did something she would put money in a piggy bank in the china cabinet and would give it to me when I thought I needed to buy something. Once in a while she would take me upstairs to help clean and if I asked I could play the music box that held a powder puff with no evidence that face powder ever was inside it. I have the music box and if I wind it up and play the song I am again transcended into the upstairs.

In the afternoon we would go into the garden to pick whatever was ripe. I have vivid memories of eating a tomato very warm from the sun and having the juice all over my clothes and run down my arms. At 4:00 I often went there to sit and watch the Edge of Night with her but I could only talk during commercials. For someone my age the storyline was quite risqué. There were several times that I “ran” next door to “go” because the one and only bathroom was “occupied” at 419.

Every Friday night was my adventure “downtown” with Grandma at 7:00. Somehow her dog, Lady, knew when it was Friday as Grandma would let her out to “go” and then could never find her. Grandma would start walking down the street and I would stay behind to watch for her. Lady appears from the bushes stealthily walking behind my Grandma so she couldn’t see her. I grab the dog and put her in the house and run to catch up. Those Friday nights were the highlight of my week, just walking beside her and visiting. We would sometimes go to the dime store on the south side of the street, D&C, and then on to the Vogue Shoppe but my favorite place we stopped was Model Bakery to get an apple fritter or a long john with white frosting. Then we’d go to Penney’s and cross the street to Mode O’Day or Petersen’s Jewelers and then the other dime store, McClellan’s. Next on the agenda was the A&P for a few groceries and to get coffee beans that she ground at the store. I think it was called Eight O’Clock Coffee in a red and black bag. The last stop was to the City Fruit Market. If we bought anything to keep cold we would put it in the pop cooler at the store while we waited for Grandpa to close up at 9:00.

While we waited for 9:00 I could pick out a candy bar and listen to Grandma, Grandpa and Nick Colbrese have what I’m sure were interesting conversations although I didn’t know about what because they talked in Italian most of the time. Nick’s dog, Blackie, would be lying on the floor chewing on a bone from the City Fruit Market.

The ride home was in Grandpa’s blue Corvair. I sat on Grandma’s lap praying we would make it home in one piece. Even though I’m sure there were several gears, my recollection was that Grandpa used only some of them and often “riding the clutch” and the transition from one gear to the next was anything but smooth.

I don’t know what triggered these memories on this day…maybe it was the cool weather, maybe the coffee (without the Pet Milk), maybe it was just because I missed a simple life but most of all I think it was just because I miss my Grandma.