My World Through Rose Colored Glasses
by
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It was one of those beautiful spring days that are uncommon in the
It was during that brief respite from the extremes of the
It has been said to me since — jokingly, I hope — that I was so ugly that the midwife slapped Miss Ida. What I do know for a certainty is that I was a skinny little runt who never quite seemed to know what was going on around me for the first few years of existence.
One of the first things that I recall being told by my Uncle Fred was, “Boy, poor you were born, and poor you will be.” As young as I was, I understood that this was a clever play on words. My name was James Poore, and that statement by Uncle Fred was probably the only clever thing he ever said.
I grew up thinking of myself as a “Poore boy.” But it was not until much later in life that I realized how true that description was. It wasn’t just that there was never any money in the family. I heard so many neighborhood women describe me as “poor little James” that I thought I had one of those three-word southern names, you know, something like Billy Bob Leroy.
It wasn’t easy growing up as “Poor Little James.” Miss Ida was a good woman, I’m sure, but she was also a single mother. And being a single mother in
Life was a struggle for Miss Ida even before I barged into it. The four-room cinder block structure that we called home was bone-aching chilly from October until April. And it was tobacco-curing hot from April until October. The nearest neighbors lived about a mile upstream and no one wanted anything to do with that “white trash whore” with the snot-nosed little brat and no husband.
We struggled, Miss Ida and me, although at the time I really wasn’t aware of her fight for survival. There was no indoor plumbing in the house, and Miss Ida cooked our meager meals on an old kerosene-burning stove. We also heated the house with kerosene in the winter and, years after I had left that little block building, the oily scent of kerosene lingered in my nostrils. We did have electricity, but the only lighting came from a bare bulb located in the center of the ceiling of each room. The bulb in my room had burned out some time in the distant past and I never even thought of the possibility that it might be replaced.
But that was OK. I liked the gloom of my room. The room was my world and I could be anything I wanted during the long hours that I sat in the semi-darkness and let my imagination run wild. Those imaginary journeys were the SportsCenter highlights of my existence.
The nearest thing we had to a luxury during those first cruel years was our outhouse. For some reason, whoever had built the cinder block house and the accompanying outhouse, had decided to make it a two-seater. Maybe he and his wife liked to go to the john together, I don’t know. But I can still smile as I picture what it must have looked like, the husband and wife sitting side by side over the holes cut in the bench seat. Did they race to see who could make the first splash?
I’ve never been quite sure how Miss Ida fed us and paid the electric bill, which sometimes ran as high as $11 a month. We never had a car while she stayed with me and the nearest store was about six miles away. When we ran out of something, Miss Ida would wash my face with cold water and we’d walk the 150 yards from the cabi
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About the Book
If we were born before 1945, we were before … television, before penicillin, before polio shots, frozen foods, Xerox, contact lenses, Frisbees and The Pill.
We were before radar, credit cards, split atoms, laser beams and ball-point pens; before pantyhose, dishwashers, clothes dryers, electric blankets, air conditioning, drip-dry clothes, and before man walked on the moon.
We got married first and then lived together. How quaint can you be?
In our time, closets were for clothes, not for “coming out of.” Bunnies were small rabbits and rabbits were not Volkswagens. Designer Jeans were scheming girls named Jean or Jeanne, and having a meaningful relationship meant getting along well with our cousins.
We thought fast food was what you ate during lent, and Outer Space was the back of the local theater.
We were before house-husbands, gay rights, computer dating, dual careers and computer marriages. We were before day-care centers, group therapy and nursing homes. We never heard of FM radio, tape decks, electric typewriters, artificial hearts, word processors, yogurt and guys wearing earrings. For us, time-sharing meant togetherness, not computers or condominiums. A chip meant a piece of wood; hardware meant hardware and software wasn’t even a word. There was no UPS, FedEx or Express Mail. And an Automated Teller Machine was a long-time bank employee who was good with numbers.
In 1940, “Made in
We hit the scene when there were 5 & 10 cent stores where you bought things for five and ten cents, Ice cream cones were a nickel or a dime (double dip). For one nickel you could ride a streetcar, make a phone call, buy a Pepsi or enough stamps to mail one letter and two postcards. You could buy a new Chevy coupe for $600, but who could afford one? A pity, too, because gas was only 11 cents a gallon!
In our day, cigarette smoking was fashionable. Grass was something you mowed. Coke was a soft drink and pot was something you cooked in. Rock music was a grandma’s lullaby and aids were helpers in the principal’s office.
We were certainly not before the difference between the sexes was discovered,
but we were surely before the sex change. We made due with what we had. And we were the last generation that was so dumb as to think you needed a husband to have a baby.
No wonder we are so confused and that there is a generation gap today.
But we survived. And what better reason to celebrate!
About the Author
If we were born before 1945, we were before … television, before penicillin, before polio shots, frozen foods, Xerox, contact lenses, Frisbees and The Pill.
We were before radar, credit cards, split atoms, laser beams and ball-point pens; before pantyhose, dishwashers, clothes dryers, electric blankets, air conditioning, drip-dry clothes, and before man walked on the moon.
We got married first and then lived together. How quaint can you be?
In our time, closets were for clothes, not for “coming out of.” Bunnies were small rabbits and rabbits were not Volkswagens. Designer Jeans were scheming girls named Jean or Jeanne, and having a meaningful relationship meant getting along well with our cousins.
We thought fast food was what you ate during lent, and Outer Space was the back of the local theater.
We were before house-husbands, gay rights, computer dating, dual careers and computer marriages. We were before day-care centers, group therapy and nursing homes. We never heard of FM radio, tape decks, electric typewriters, artificial hearts, word processors, yogurt and guys wearing earrings. For us, time-sharing meant togetherness, not computers or condominiums. A chip meant a piece of wood; hardware meant hardware and software wasn’t even a word. There was no UPS, FedEx or Express Mail. And an Automated Teller Machine was a long-time bank employee who was good with numbers.
In 1940, “Made in
We hit the scene when there were 5 & 10 cent stores where you bought things for five and ten cents, Ice cream cones were a nickel or a dime (double dip). For one nickel you could ride a streetcar, make a phone call, buy a Pepsi or enough stamps to mail one letter and two postcards. You could buy a new Chevy coupe for $600, but who could afford one? A pity, too, because gas was only 11 cents a gallon!
In our day, cigarette smoking was fashionable. Grass was something you mowed. Coke was a soft drink and pot was something you cooked in. Rock music was a grandma’s lullaby and aids were helpers in the principal’s office.
We were certainly not before the difference between the sexes was discovered,
but we were surely before the sex change. We made due with what we had. And we were the last generation that was so dumb as to think you needed a husband to have a baby.
No wonder we are so confused and that there is a generation gap today.
But we survived. And what better reason to celebrate!