From Where I Sit

By Pat Spilseth, Columnist

Once in a while newspapers print photos from long ago in their local sections and ask for identities. Do you try to guess who the people are in those black and white photos from yesteryear? It’s a guessing game most of the time, but once in a while I remember the faces and friends from long ago. Those aged postcards and photos, all in black and white, remind me of times when life was more black and white, a simpler time.

Flashing images appear from the recesses of my mind…I recall a dimly lit,  square department store from my childhood. It was on a side street downtown across from Larson’s Furniture Store and across the street from Setters’ Drug Store, which had the popular soda fountain where kids gathered. I remember a few other stores like Ryghs Jewelry Store and the Glenwood Theatre on the same side of the street as the department store I’m thinking about. Was the store called Odegards Department Store?

Isn’t the mind fascinating, how it picks random thoughts and expands on them with names, faces and even songs?

At Odegards I distinctly remember sales clerks hovering in dresses and sturdy black shoes, following me, inquiring if I needed help. Gold wire-rimmed glasses were perched on their noses or hung on a black or gold chain around their necks. Others wore harlequin glasses with rhinestone trim…so fashionable back then.

Many matrons styled their long gray hair in buns, like my kindergarten teacher Miss Johnson, who sat me in the corner of the room with a dunce hat because I talked too much. The younger clerks at Odegards had their hair still molded by overnight pin curls, uncomfortably held in place all night by two black bobby pins crisscrossed.

The department store stocked all sorts of merchandise, which fascinated folks of all ages. Tables of long johns in soft, gray-speckled fabric with buttoned bottoms were piled next to wool scarves and mittens. Blue jeans with thick bronze colored zippers and metal buttons had their labels fixed with staples to the back pocket of the jeans. I remember Mom always buying my jeans too long. We had to roll the cuffs because they’d be too big for me, but Mom said I’d grow into them if the knees didn’t wear out.

My favorite glass showcase at the store was filled with plastic pop-it beads and matching sets of necklaces, earrings and broaches of colored stones. Arranged by colors, the glittery rhinestone sets grabbed my attention. I wanted a blue birthstone necklace for my September birthday.

Maybe some of my memories have confused the department store with the Penny’s store on Main Street. Penny’s mannequins were nude colored displaying brasseries on faceless and legless models. Maidenform cotton bras, only in white, featured the Madonna look, bras with cups of tiny stitches in white thread round and round to a peak. I called them “bullet bras.” They looked so uncomfortable. Shopping for underwear was a totally uncomfortable experience, much like buying feminine products at the drug store.

Colored underwear was considered to be racy, maybe even unsanitary. My mom thought colored underwear might cause infections. Too much color in makeup was frowned on too, except for lipstick. Ruby Red was hot! Kiss Me Quick would have been a perfect name for a tube of Revlon or Max Factor lipsticks, favorite brands at the Corner Drug Store where I worked in the sixties. Rouge came before blush. When a woman appeared in public with too much rouge coloring her cheeks, some people labeled her a clown or a tart.

Like those postcards of yesterday, life seemed more black and white in those days. Maybe my memories are colored by time, but I remember people having high standards of behavior. Parents expected their kids to get a good education: that was the passport to a good job and a good life. Piano lessons were popular, especially for girls, and kids were encouraged to participate in band and choir, participate in sports and attend church. Being busy kept us out of trouble.

Entire families were expected to sit down for noon dinner and supper at the kitchen table. Prayers were said before meals: “Come Lord Jesus, be our guest/let these gifts to us be blessed.” Before I crawled into bed, I recited: “Now I lay me down to sleep…” Those well known refrains still come to mind automatically.

Isn’t it interesting how many long ago memories come to mind when we see those old black and white photos? What triggers your memories? Do you still recite the same prayers?

   

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To contact Pat, email: pat.spilseth@gmail.com.