School Cafeteria Food

I walked into Walmart last week and was transported by the smells coming from the deli.  I was back in the Huntington School cafeteria on chicken a la king day!  I am pretty sure Walmart doesn't sell chicken a la king.  In fact, I haven't ever seen it on a menu anywhere, but something the Walmart deli makes has exactly the same smell!

I can still see Mrs. Toozik, in her white hairnet, wielding a huge ladle of  "a la king" and with a skilled twist of her wrist landing it  perfectly centered on the scoop of sticky white rice of each passing tray.  In our day there were no vegetarians, no vegans, no food allergies, no freedom of choice.  Everyone got the same portion, the same food, no exceptions, no substitutions.

 Clean trays were a requirement.  No food was allowed in the garbage can no matter how deserving.  Teachers took it as a personal insult if any food was left on any tray, especially Mrs. Halkovich,  the star of many second grade students' nightmares.This is why my brother Ned was forced to become a professional milk-carton-stuffer.

It was very difficult to gauge which was stronger - Ned's gag reflex or Mrs. Halkovich's sadistic streak. She would stand over Ned until every bite was consumed no matter how many times it reappeared!   It took most of the school year for Ned to be able to perfect the skill of drinking his carton of milk in 3 large gulps, shoveling all food into the carton, and then, as Mrs. Halkovich approached, freezing his face with a look of satisfied gluttony.

Well, I could go on and on about the delicious dark tuna with Miracle Whip or the red jello with the whipped-whatever topping, but I am headed out to Walmart.  I don't need anything, I just want to feel 8 years old again.

Halloween

Halloween

I have mixed feelings about Halloween.  My mother was good at alot of things, but sewing and crafts were not her strong suit.  Store-bought costumes were the norm in our house until we all took dancing lessons and wore our recital costumes (from June) as our Halloween costumes (in October.)  Of course, living in the Northeast, this meant wearing at least a sweater, usually a coat, over our costumes.  We felt more like flashers than trick or treaters as we opened our coats on every doorstep to show "what we were."  My brothers usually dressed as hobos which took  little or no effort.  (Doesn't say much for their wardrobes.)
I remember Halloween 1962 or '63 when my sister Toni and brother Ned went dressed as Kennedy and Castro.  Store-bought costumes, of course.  Ned spent most of the night trying to find a match to light the cigar my Dad had given him to complete his Castro look.  (Remember the Cuban Missile Crisis? If not, you may be young enough to still be going trick or treating. Stop reading now.)

This same year I went in a store-bought costume of a hot dog.  The fabric was one step up from paper, you stepped into it and tied it behind your neck.  One size fit all, which as a 7 year old meant I could wear my jacket under the costume and still have plenty of room. I looked like a Ball Park Frank that "plumped when you cooked it." Since the hot dog costume did not come with a mask, and everyone wore masks, my mom found a bear mask in our attic from the previous year and that completed my look.  (Refer back to the second sentence above about Mom's creativity talent.)  This was the one year I wished I could have worn my coat on the outside.  Even as a seven year old, I knew there really is no way to explain why a hot dog would have a bear 's face.  Nevertheless, every neighbor at every house would ask me to explain my costume.  I tried to give them a blank stare, but my eyes didn't quite match up with the holes in the mask.  So I resorted to a cold silence and bashful shrug.

The things we put up with for a little (or in our case a lot) of candy. This was when candy bars came only in full size, not like today's "fun size".  Our neighborhood was large and filled with families....a Halloween mecca.  The Richards' was the only house that gave out apples.  We would quickly pass them by, trying to give them the evil eye. (Again, mask eye holes made this impossible.)
I have decided my feelings for Halloween are not mixed after all.  I wouldn't change a thing.  My mom was good at so many other things, all the important things, I can accept her lack of costume talent.  (After all, my son, John,  went dressed as a spider 3 Halloweens in a row until his Carter cousins started sending their hand me down costumes.)  The gene pool runs deep!

Scouting



This is a picture of how scouts were supposed to look when I was a girl scout in the 1960's.  I don't know anyone who actually looked like this.  I never did learn how to tie the bow without it listing to one side or the other.  My gloves were always too big and stretched out of shape.  The beanie (and then beret) only stayed on with the help of several bobby pins and I usually wore white ankle socks because after the first washing my uniform socks parted ways.

Renee is upset because she knows that next year she will be a Brownie and will be wearing my hand me down uniform.  Ned obviously has tied his neckerchief too tightly!

Don't even get me started on those sashes!  Most girls tried to earn as many badges as possible.  After my mom sewed on my troop numbers, scout council name, and troop patch, we both realized the less badges I earned the happier we would both be.  My mother actually tried to convince me that the wings are supposed to be crooked to simulate flight. Adjectives such as  lopsided, cockeyed  and careless are not what a serious scout wants to hear when showing up at her first meeting. (Thank God I wasn't a serious scout.)  After a quick trip to Mrs. Shanley, family friend and talented seamstress, I was able to show my face (and sash) at the next meeting.

This is my actual sash

I can't find my keys, but I knew exactly where my 47 year old sash was! (In the attic right next to my David Cassidy poster.)

Memorial Day

When I was growing up, my favorite holiday was Memorial Day!  I know that's weird.  I'm sure if you conduct a poll, 0 out of 100 kids would name Memorial Day as their favorite holiday.  Let me explain why it was so much fun for me.

First of all, we always got a new outfit to wear on Memorial Day - of course, it had to be  red, white and blue.  I would pray for a warm, sunny day because the weather in the Northeast in late May can be cool.  Sweaters and jackets can just ruin a good stars and stripes theme.  (Don't even get me started about what a cold or rainy Halloween night can do to a good scary costume.)

We always watched the Shelton parade sitting on the curb in front of my great grandmother's house surrounded by extended family and friends.  The adults had lawn chairs, but the kids sat on the concrete...not very pleasant when wearing shorts (even if they are a cute navy and white stripe).  Also, not a great spot to be in when the Shelton High Majotettes marching by would throw their batons 15 feet into the air and then try to catch them. (I'm not sure how hard they really tried.)  My mom tells the story that one year  I was looking straight up as the baton came down on my head!  I don't remember this.  I'm not sure if that is because I was too young to recall it or because I had memory loss from a severe head injury.

After the parade, we would walk over to the Aherns' house and eat  donuts and pastry while the crowds and traffic thinned.  Then we would go home and kill a few hours before going to my aunt and uncle's house for a really fun picnic that would last into the night.

There were always cases of bottled Castle soda in a variety of flavors under the tree and we drank as many as we wanted  since the adults were busy with their own beverages.   Birch Beer was my favorite with Cream a close seond.

After hot dogs and hamburgers, salads, ice cream and softball, my cousin Robin and I would usually go up to her room and make prank phone calls.  I never had a phone in my room, so this was very exciting. Today's kids don't realize what they are missing.   Caller ID has ruined one of the most fun and creative activities of our youth.  The thrill of a good prank phone call was about as daring as I ever got and to this day it still makes me smile.

Reading this over, I guess it's impossible to recapture the magic of a great memory.  None of this sounds as exciting as I remember it, but I still recall that feeling of anticipation and excitement and stand by my vote for  Memorial Day as my all time favorite holiday.

My addiction to Barbie

My all-time favorite toy to play with was the Babie doll.  I could play Barbie for hours and usually did, with my sister, Renee.  Mom would buy Barbie clothes for us every time she went downtown.  They cost $2.00 for a whole outfit (including shoes)  and we had all of them.
Our favorite doll was "the white haired Barbie."

We would argue over whose turn it was to play with her.  We had so many variations of Barbies, but only one with the white hair. When Renee would be playing with her,  I would grab Barbie's head and take it off and put it on the Barbie I was playing with.  This happened so many times that she ended up with  a tear in her neck. (Barbie, not Renee.) For some reason we still loved her the best....broken neck and all.

Another thing we argued about were the outfits.  Looking back we may have argued more than we played.  We both loved the black sequined gown with a red rose in the tulle hem. It came with a floor microphone for any nightclub gigs Barbie happened to be playing as she held the pink scarf in her hand.

Of course, we also had all the "hangers on"...Ken, Midge, and Barbie's little sister Skipper.  We always gave these to our friends to play with when they came over.  Barbie was always the star. All was fine until one day Renee decided to cut Skipper's hair. I was so upset!  Of course, it wouldn't be until years later when we learned how much an  original Skipper doll was worth that we realized what an expensive haircut that really was!

My very favorite outfit, without a doubt, was this gold lamee dinner dress and coat with (wait for it) REAL MINK trim.  (PETA wasn't born yet.)  This outfit got so much wear and tear that the gold eventually wore off in most places and the mink became a wisp of a memory.

These photos still bring a smile to my face.  I have never wanted to own a black sequined gown, or sing in a nightclub; never owned a mink trimmed coat ...never even wanted to cut my sister's hair, but maybe that's because I did all these things before I was 10 and got it out of my system. We sure did have fun!

The Dugan's Man

Supper time at our house, without fail, was between 5:00 and 5:30 p.m.  My dad was very involved in various community volunteer organizations and would often have evening meetings, but he would always come home for our family dinner first.  Dad didn't eat much for lunch, usually just a tuna sandwich, so he really looked forward to dinner.  Needless to say, he did not like any interruptions during supper.  The phone ringing would be bad, but a knock on the front door would really send him over the top.  My father would take it as a personal insult that someone would dare come to our house and ruin his dinner. We always ate our weeknight suppers at the kitchen table.  The dining room was only used on Sundays and holidays.  Our kitchen table was only a few feet from the front door, so whoever was there would definitely hear the fireworks started at the sound of the knock.
(My brother, Ned, would sometimes knock on the underside of the table just to get a rise out of Dad.  When no one was at the door,  Dad would be so glad to return to eating  that he didn't bother to question who it could have been.)

The only time Dad didn't mind the interruption was when it was Gus at the door.  Gus was our Dugan's Man.  Dugan's was a bakery that sold its products door-to-door.  We loved Gus!  He wasn't particularly friendly,  but his delicious cakes and desserts made him our man of the hour.  He would put his big metal basket down and we would all grab our favorite treat. (Mine were the apple turnovers sprinkled with gigantic crystals of sugar.)

This is what Gus' truck looked like.

There is the goody basket

    

We were so sad when Dugan's Bakery went out of business in 1967.  Mom would buy us snacks and 

treats from the local bakery and grocery store, but somehow they never tasted quite as sweet.    

                                                               

Good Humor

My sister sent me this photo this morning and it brought back so many memories

   

Our neighborhood was made up of large families.  Our family had five children and we were considered undersized.  There were several families with seven and eight kids, five seemed average.  With such a large population under the age of 10, Judson Circle must have been considered The Promised Land for any self-respecting "Good Humor Man".  The sound of his bell would attract a crowd before he even turned up our street.  This explains why our ice cream truck would come between  8:00- 9:00 in the morning.  Why not start off the day with a bang?  (or a Toasted Almond?)  My older sister always ordered a Creamsicle... I was always the Chocolate Eclair, (although Strawberry Shortcake was hard to pass up.)

The big treat came on Sundays when my grandparents would "take us for a ride" and we would always end up at the overpass on Route 8.  That's where the Good Humor truck was parked for the afternoon.  I don't know why ice cream always tasted better mixed with the traffic fumes wafting from the highway below. 

 My brother and I were fascinated with the Good Humor Man's coin dispenser.  It hung from his belt at our eye level and I couldn't understand why every adult didn't have one.  It was so cool!! 

I am sad to say that I haven't had a Good Humor in years.  I know they still sell them in the freezer department at our local supermarket, but what's the fun in that?  Maybe if it's 8 in the morning and I am standing in a truck stop parking lot I will try one, but I still don't think they will ever taste as good.