Monday, August 14, 2023

A Nostalgic Trip Back To The Golden 50's

The age odometer on the dashboard of my life clicked to 77 in June. When you've clocked that many years, it's natural to peer into life's rearview mirror.  As people of a certain age understand, you are prone to experience waves of nostalgia even as you appreciate today's advantages.

The year I was born, 1946, marked the starting point of the largest baby boom in U.S. history.  In a 19-year stretch from 1946 to 1964, more than 76 million births were recorded.  Population data estimates there are 65 million boomers still celebrating birthdays. Congratulations if you're in that exclusive club.

My earliest memories, although somewhat hazy, go back to 1950.  My parents and my oldest sister Charlene were living in a two-bedroom home in Jennings, Louisiana, population 9,663.  America's small towns were its beating heart. Only five cities topped 1 million in population. 

I have no idea what our two bedroom home cost, but the average home in 1950 sold for $23,450.  That was a princely sum, considering average annual wages were $8,450.  My Dad purchased our first new car, a Ford, in the 50's. Cars sold for an average of $1,510.  Gas cost 18 cents a gallon and a station attendant pumped your gas.

When Mom shopped for food, the price she paid for groceries would shock today's younger generations. The average cost of a loaf of bread was 12 cents. A pound of hamburger meat was 30 cents.  The average American family spent about $800 on food... in an entire year.  

The buying power of $1 in 1950 would equate to $12.66 today.  Do the math and it means $500 would be the equivalent value of $6,330.06 today.  If you find yourself yearning for the good old days, today's comforts we take for granted were either nonexistent or unaffordable for most families.

Our home was cooled by a window fan in sweltering, sticky Louisiana summers. No one complained because at least we had a fan.  There were only 76,000 air conditioners installed in the 1950's.  It wasn't until 1973 when the majority of U.S. households had central air conditioning or a window unit.

Schools opened windows during early fall and some rooms had an oscillating fan. Flies were frequent visitors to our class. It didn't impact anyone's ability to learn. Mom packed a lunch every day, because it was cheaper than paying to eat in the cafeteria. There was no such thing as a free school lunch.  

Every school day began with the Pledge of Allegiance, a tiny hand over your heart.  Students weren't the only ones saluting the flag. America was awash in patriotism.  There was a good feeling about the country, a belief they God had blessed the USA.  Will America every be like that again? 

Our home was equipped with a social network: a black telephone.  It wasn't uncommon in 1950 to share a line with another home or two. Most folks were polite enough not to interrupt a conversation on their party line.  About two-thirds of the 43 million households in America had at least one phone. 

Historians refer to 1950 as the golden age of crime because there were so few offenses.  FBI data does not go back that far, while other sources date to 1960.  In a sign of few crimes, no one locked the doors to their homes or cars. Today's generations will never know the tranquility of that era.   

In 1950, only nine percent of households had a television set. Families streaming service was free: programs on radio.  I listened to cowboy stories over the airwaves.  My favorite was "The Lone Ranger," which debuted in 1933 and ran until 1956. You needed an imagination to "see" horses, cattle and holstered pistols. Television robbed future generations of their cognitive imagery ability.  

At some point in the late 50's, a black-and-white television the size of a small refrigerator graced our living room.  Reception was always dicey.  Those rabbit-ears--two long antennas--captured the airwaves and turned it into sound and picture.  The picture often was fuzzy, a hazard of nascent technology.

Despite the poor quality, each home with a television attracted neighbor kids, who soon begged their parents to buy one of those new fangled devices.  Neighbors often dropped by to take a peak to see what all the fuss was about.  By 1960, 90% of homes had a black-and-white magic box.

With seven kids to clothe, the Roy family annual fashion budget wouldn't touch the cost of an iPhone.  Most clothes coast below $5, while a men's world suit cost $45, impractical in the South. My brothers and sisters often wore hand-me-downs.  As the oldest, I escaped that predicament. 

However, I do remember wearing jeans with patches to school.  And I was one of the lucky kids.  Some boys wore pants with more holes than a West Texas oil patch.  Searching through my memory bank, I think I owned two shirts. That was my wardrobe for the entire school year in the early 50's.

When I spin tales about my growing up experiences, my four grandkids find my description hard to fathom.  No internet. No Nextflix. No Nintendo.  No cell phone.  Less anxiety. They can't imagine it.  (And no, I don't tell them I walked 5 miles in the snow to get to school.) But I did ride my bike to classes for a few years.

Once our 11-year-old granddaughter Megan playfully asked: "PaPa, did you ride a dinosaur to school?" I think she was joking, but perhaps not. With age and experience, you appreciate the memories of the way things once were. But I don't want to return to a time without air conditioning. 

But honestly, I'm sad that today's younger generations will never experience what's it's like to have less in life and still be content. That might give pause to those who believe having more brings happiness. Hardships help you appreciate today's standard of living. That's why I will always value the 1950's.

1 comment:

  1. Reading these memories brings back my own…What I recall most was my sense of freedom. We didn’t need a ride, we made our own activities. And on reflection… we were content and could self entertain when there were no friends to play with. I read, sitting in a tree, or drew pictures of wherever story my imagination was telling me

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