Random memories from yesteryear - Got any?

I once swallowed a quarter. Waited two days for the change. 😵‍💫

It's a beautiful November day and we are going shopping downtown. Must call Smiths Taxi and spend 50 cents to get downtown from West Hill.

First stop will be the Imperial Tea Room for my favorite Mexican Sundae. Maybe I'll luck out and have a cherry coke too.

Of to Grants, my favorite store, and go down the stairs to their toy room. Oh my gosh, they got just what I want. A set of Roy Rogers cap guns. Beautiful chrome with pearl handles. What a Birthday this is. I will wear these proudly until they are completely worn out.

Maybe we will go shopping again soon and visit some other stores.

True story. It was my 8th or 9th Birthday.
 
A random memory about HS Senior photographs: Large photo shops from the big city sought out contracts with school districts to provide graduation photos for the entire class. In exchange they would provide a free camera and supplies for journalism classes. This was standard practice for decades.

When my class'es time came, all 35 of us were loaded on a bus and driven on a two hour trip to the photographer. Most girls took along a case of makeup and a couple of outfits while we boys carried a pocket comb if even that. The boys were supposed to show up in a suit or sports jacket but most of us didn't own such a garment so the photographer had a few "loaners" on hand.

A few weeks later, we received a packet of proofs from which we selected the one we wanted.

When my son and daughter graduated, the system had changed and graduates went wherever they wanted for their graduation picture.
 
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Llynn said:
A random memory about HS Senior photographs: Large photo shops from the big city sought out contracts with school districts to provide graduation photos for the entire class. In exchange they would provide a free camera and supplies for journalism classes. This was standard practice for decades.

When my classes time came, all 35 of us were loaded on a bus and driven on a two hour trip to the photographer. Most girls took along a case of makeup and a couple of outfits while we boys carried a pocket comb if even that. The boys were supposed to show up in a suit or sports jacket but most of us didn't own such a garment so the photographer had a few "loaners" on hand.

A few weeks later, we received a packet of proofs from which we selected the one we wanted.

When my son and daughter graduated, the system had changed and graduates went wherever they wanted for their class picture.
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Our class photographs were always taken at the school, and we all had to be in school unifrom.

I had one class photo when I was about 8.. then they were individual photos.. and then from the 3rd year of high school group photographs were allowed again. Including the teachers ... I managed to avoid being in them all....
 
@Bretrick's "pee" story reminded me of one of my more vivid memories. I was in college in Tampa studying Architecture and was sent to University of Miami for the weekend to attend some lectures. I rode down with two friends in a red Firebird with the music blasting. The first night was a party on the beach that included a huge vat of grain alcohol. My friends and I got so drunk that we peed by a dumpster outside a gas station in Miami. We then went back to the dorm where multiple people were staying and they had more grain alcohol!

I did sober enough to attend the lectures, but hey... such was college life in the late 70's!:ROFLMAO:
 
At some point when I was without a car for a few weeks I would get a ride from my job and be dropped off at a corner about a mile from home. Often there was a few minutes wait until I was picked up by my brother. There was a man who drove by several times and would slow down and gawk at me on more than one occasion. He never threatened but it was creepy.
A few weeks later I went to vote with my parents and older brother. Guess who checked us in? That same guy. Now he knew my name and where I lived. He also knew that now I could find out who he was (small town) and report him. He never bothered me again.
 
Prior to the 1960s pistachios were largely imported from Iran. The red dye was apparently traditional there and domestic production in the USA hadn't taken off yet. In the next decade domestic production soared and the political map changed resulting in few imports. Producers in the USA dropped the red dye idea and natural colored nuts became common. Red dyed nuts still hit the market at Christmas.
 
Llynn said:
Prior to the 1960s pistachios were largely imported from Iran. The red dye was apparently traditional there and domestic production in the USA hadn't taken off yet. In the next decade domestic production soared and the political map changed resulting in few imports. Producers in the USA dropped the red dye idea and natural colored nuts became common. Red dyed nuts still hit the market at Christmas.
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fascinating stuff...I learn something new every day....
 
squatting dog said:
When I was young and not so smart, my buddy and I found a small wash out under the rail road tracks. Just enough room to lay under there and therefore let the train run over you. All I'm going to say is it's a weird feeling when train rails kind of bounce on your body as the train rumbles over you. :eek:
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I did some stupid crap as a kid, but I’m pretty sure I would have drawn the line at letting a train run over me, culvert or not.
 
I seem to be having a lot of flashbacks to my childhood and youth lately. And I get a wierd feeling when I realize how long ago they were. I've heard that before you die your whole life flashes before you. I wonder if these are some sort of previews to that. Like today I was thinking about how it was 60 years ago that I was in my first semester of college. How could it have been that long ago?

I started out at the Clearwater campus of St. Petersburg Junior college the first year that campus was open. 1965. It was out of economic necessity. I couldn't afford anything else. Tuition there was $60 bucks a semester.

People would make fun of it a lot. As if you were a loser because you weren't going to one of the big schools like the University of FLorida, or Florida State.

I remember some of the nicknames that campus had. One was St. Juniorsberg Peter College. Another was Drew U. because the campus was located on Drew Street. And another was calling it 13th grade.

I remember listening to my car radio one time and the disc jocky said "And this one is dedicated to all you out there in 13th grade at Drew U."
 
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The only time that I have dressed up in drag was back in the early 1980's. We had been invited to a rather special New Year's Eve Party and the dress code was to come along as someone famous of the opposite sex. I couldn't be a female for the life of me. A phone call to the hosts, hoping that I could get out of the dress code, revealed that accuracy wasn't expected, so don't worry about shaving legs, it was all meant to be a fun time. (Yeah right.)

No internet to turn to in those days, I just didn't know who I could be. Then, by chance, I came across the head and torso of a damaged shop window mannequin that had been thrown out. The wig gave me an idea. It took a while, but with a bit of help from my wife, making a floor length dress so that I could wear my own shoes, some carefully sculptured latex, a lot of pink make-up, some huge, over size eyelashes and, hey presto! I was Miss Piggy.

The party was a huge success, the best outfit by far was an Indian fellow, his skin tone was perfect for his character, and his outfit must have taken ages to put together, but he was the perfect Carmen Miranda. The host, who had chosen Mary Poppins as his outfit, had one more surprise in store. Once all the guests had arrived, he announced that we were all going to the pub. We all looked at each other, too late to back out now, so with misgivings we all agreed.

The host then said: "We're going on the bus!" It was a riot, the pub was only a mile or so away, about five or six stops by bus. We all piled on, everyone in the street had stared at us, the bus passengers thought that we might be filming an advert and when we entered the pub, it was like one of those 1950's Westerns where the bad guy enters the bar. The music stopped and the general hub-bub died to an absolute silence.

After we had had a few drinks we had to do the whole thing in reverse, but it was much easier with the Dutch courage inside. It was a party like no other and one, as you can tell, I'll never forget. Thank goodness we didn't have the kind of social media photo call that we have today. My one time as a "female."
 
I took an Alka Seltzer the other day and it brought back a memory of these:

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