What are some vivid memories growing up?

Bretrick

Bretrick

Well-known Member
Location
Perth Western Australia
I grew up in Tasmania in the 60's and 70's.
I remember we had a black Bakelite Phone and we had a 3 digit Phone Number.

No such thing as a Pop Up Toaster. You had to stand there and remove the toast before it had a chance to burn.
The sides folded down, the toast had to be turned after one side was done.

Living beside a Creek one of my favourite past times was Tadpole hunting.
A few of us would spend time in the creek scooping up Tadpoles and taking them home to be deposited into a fish tank.
Watching them grow into frogs then we would release them back into the creek.Rubiics Cube was a source of frustration for me.
Never once did I achieve completion. In fact, I gave up after no more than a minute each time. My brain seemed not to be wired that way. I am a marvel at crosswords, sudoku? Blah.
ABBA came onto the scene in 1975, I was 13 and prime for being swept up in the mania that continues for 7 years.

Keep fit, or more precisely, get fit promotions began to make an appearance on TV.
One of the first campaigns was "Life. Be In It" in 1975
With "Norm" taking Center Stage.
Norm's message was to "Get up, Turn off the Tellie and Go For a Walk"
Norm, was a Middle Aged Man with a "Beer Gut" and was meant to represent a "Normal" Australian.

My Parents had a huge collection of "78" records.
These were made from a hard Shellac Resin, really solid, but brittle.
"78" meant that the record spun at 78 revolutions per minute.
Later, Vinyl Records replaced the Shellac Records. These were designated "33 1/3" and "45"
The 33 1/3 were LP's, Long Playing, a complete Album on the record.
The 45's were "Singles" a single song on each side
I ended up with about 200 LP's and 450 singles.
What happened to all those "78's"?
Being children we eventually used them as a sort of Frisbee but we never played catch with them, We had competitions to see who could throw them the farthest.
When the records hit ground, they shattered.
 

I grew up in Scotland in the most violent city in Europe at the time..

We lived in the best part of town, very upmarket, but it was all fur coat and no knickers.. because we had nothing even tho' both my parents worked.. We had no carpets on the floors, the livingroom and kitchen floors had lino.. the rest of the rooms had wood floorboards.. and no blankets or pillowcases on the beds.. we were given old army coats to keep us warm.. we were always cold.

We were very poor, we didn't have a toaster our toaster was the grill in the oven..sometimes if we had no electricity we used a toasting fork in the cola fire to make toast..


We had few toys , and those very few which were bought for us, were cheap and lasted a very short time..

We played out all the time, climbing the red sandstone walls which our house were made from. Walking miles along the railways lines looking for something to do.. fishing in the 'burn'' ( creek) making makeshift ropes to swing over the burn...borrowing our friends' bike to ride miles away from home even when we were very young..

On the odd occasion we got a few pennies we'd go to the swimming baths on a Saturday, and when we came out freezing cold, teeth chattering we'd buy a bag of hot chips ( fries).. between us all.. and walk home through the park...

On other occasions we'd sneak into the Saturday morning Pictures ( Cinema).. for free and hope we didn't get caught and thrown out again...
 
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hollydolly said:
I grew up in Scotland in the most violent city in Europe at the time..

We lived in the best part of town, very upmarket, but it was all fur coat and no knickers.. because we had nothing even tho' both my parents worked.. We had no carpets on the floors, the livingroom and kitchen floors had lino.. the rest of the rooms had wood floorboards.. and no blankets or pillowcases on the beds.. we were given old army coats to keep us warm.. we were always cold.

We were very poor, we didn't have a toaster our toaster was the grill in the oven..sometimes if we had no electricity we used a toasting fork in the cola fire to make toast..


We had few toys , and those very few which were bought for us, were cheap and lasted a very short time..

We played out all the time, climbing the red sandstone walls which our house were made from. Walking miles along the railways lines looking for something to do.. fishing in the 'burn'' ( creek) making makeshift ropes to swing over the burn...borrowing our friends' bike to ride miles away from home even when we were very young..

On the odd occasion we got a few pennies we'd go to the swimming baths on a Saturday, and when we came out freezing cold, teeth chattering we'd buy a bag of hot chips ( fires).. between us all.. and walk hme through the park...

On other occasions we'd sneak into the Saturday morning Pictures ( Cinema).. for free and hope we didn't get caught and thrown out again...
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Some harsh times interspersed with some good times.
Memories bring it all back.
 

I remember in 1948 when my youngest sister was born and our parents came home in a taxi with her, my older sister and I sat in the back seat kissing her little hands and stroking her cheeks. She was the baby doll I had always wanted. They were hard times for our parents, and they never had a cot for her to sleep in, so my mother pulled out a large draw in the bottom cupboard, filled it with some spare pillows and that was her first bed. Being so young we didn't know we were poor and were never envious of the other children with their bikes and riding in their parent's cars. My father never held a driving license, and it was public transport every time.

But you don't miss what you never had, and we were a happy family with sing-a-longs in the evenings and when TV first came out, we were the last people to get one in our street. Loved Christmas and went to midnight Mass Christmas Eve and sang carols all the way home only to be greeted by our mother with home-made Christmas cake. We made the decorations on the pine Christmas tree. What beautiful memories.
 
It was the kind of thing that some might consider poor but I never knew it. We had our own home, not a rental, right next to the public park. Baseball fields, playground, public pool and skating rink. The public library within walking distance and the citizen building. where they had indoor basketball and tennis courts.

Our parents bought a public swim membership, my stepbrothers played in the city league, my stepdad always a coach,

Now, looking back, it was not that great other than the pool. I was a water kid, there from open to close. The rest of what I thought was great I have started to question.

Gosh, that is the hard part, isn't it. Looking back, examining those memories and really seeing the truth, I realize now there were lots of problems going on. When I was 15 there was a divorce, mind you this was a marriage between a widow and a widower, They both had lost a spouse with little children to raise.

This was the worst thing, they did not know each other, they did not love each other, they married because of 2 little girls and 2 little boys who had a parent die, I think for the most part this kind of behavior does not come into play.

Society has come to realize that a parent is capable of raising a child on their own, male or female.
 
Blessed said:
It was the kind of thing that some might consider poor but I never knew it. We had our own home, not a rental, right next to the public park. Baseball fields, playground, public pool and skating rink. The public library within walking distance and the citizen building. where they had indoor basketball and tennis courts.

Our parents bought a public swim membership, my stepbrothers played in the city league, my stepdad always a coach,

Now, looking back, it was not that great other than the pool. I was a water kid, there from open to close. The rest of what I thought was great I have started to question.

Gosh, that is the hard part, isn't it. Looking back, examining those memories and really seeing the truth, I realize now there were lots of problems going on. When I was 15 there was a divorce, mind you this was a marriage between a widow and a widower, They both had lost a spouse with little children to raise.

This was the worst thing, they did not know each other, they did not love each other, they married because of 2 little girls and 2 little boys who had a parent die, I think for the most part this kind of behavior does not come into play.

Society has come to realize that a parent is capable of raising a child on their own, male or female.
Click to expand...
Looking back we see the reality of the life we lived. A lot of good memories. Some not so good. We survived to the age we are now with a few more years to come. Enjoyable years with a bit of luck and a fair breeze.
 
Blessed said:
When I was 15 there was a divorce, mind you this was a marriage between a widow and a widower, They both had lost a spouse with little children to raise.

This was the worst thing, they did not know each other, they did not love each other, they married because of 2 little girls and 2 little boys who had a parent die, I think for the most part this kind of behavior does not come into play.

Society has come to realize that a parent is capable of raising a child on their own, male or female.
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Even reading this makes me sad.
 
Bretrick said:
Looking back we see the reality of the life we lived. A lot of good memories. Some not so good. We survived to the age we are now with a few more years to come. Enjoyable years with a bit of luck and a fair breeze.
Click to expand...
Enjoyable? That's debatable. Life did seem agreeable until a few weeks short of my tenth birthday. My mother died from TB, she was just 35, Dad was left to raise four children, alone, with the baby but a few months old. Life was tough, but I guess the experience toughened us. It has never been a time to dwell on or reflect, the pain of that time never recedes, best left alone.
 
As stated before, most of my memories are about moving or waiting to move.
Saying goodbye to old friends and trying to make new ones.
Exploring the new places.

Now the memories of those places somehow get blended together.
I have to think hard about which memories go with which places.

I've come to realize it really doesn't matter anymore, because no matter 'when or where', they bring a smile to my face.
 
Father, due to pride, turned down veteran's assistance. That made life very difficult for a family of 6. We lived in small town Alberta, renting an un-insulated former chicken house that was made into 3 rooms. Us 3 girls slept on a fold-out chesterfield in the living room. We were always freezing in winter, and had all the winter coats on top of us.

Having no water pipes, we got our water from the well. I always had a fear of falling in. We 3 sisters chopped wood, and had to start a fire in winter, in the wood stove when we got home from school. The house was freezing, and frost covered the windows.

We had to go across to the older German couple, to fetch our baby brother. They raised chickens, and the
rooster would chase us, and peck at our heels. They loved my brother, and begged my parents to allow them to adopt him. Their grand-daughter used to write letters they dictated to her, and sent photos of them. They never forgot my brother.

When I was 7, we moved to Vancouver. A friend of Dad's drove us. It took several days, and we slept in the car. We settled in a lower-income part of the city, but, to us, it seemed like heaven. Indoor plumbing! A flushing toilet, running water .. and, a bathtub! Typically, we moved to a new neighbourhood over the years.

I ventured out on my own when I turned 20, moving to Toronto. My 2 half-sisters lived there with their father, and sent me a rail ticket to join them.

Mom and Dad eventually moved east to Toronto. Unfortunately, Mom had cancer .. they both passed away, some years ago. Brother and sister-in-law still live in Vancouver. They are visiting us right now.
 
oscash said:
I remember in 1948 when my youngest sister was born and our parents came home in a taxi with her, my older sister and I sat in the back seat kissing her little hands and stroking her cheeks. She was the baby doll I had always wanted. They were hard times for our parents, and they never had a cot for her to sleep in, so my mother pulled out a large draw in the bottom cupboard, filled it with some spare pillows and that was her first bed.
Click to expand...
When my youngest sister was born just before New Year 1963... she also had to sleep in a drawer
 
horseless carriage said:
Enjoyable? That's debatable. Life did seem agreeable until a few weeks short of my tenth birthday. My mother died from TB, she was just 35, Dad was left to raise four children, alone, with the baby but a few months old. Life was tough, but I guess the experience toughened us. It has never been a time to dwell on or reflect, the pain of that time never recedes, best left alone.
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So sad.:(. but co-inciddentally my mother died at 39 , and my father was left with 4 children, the youngest only 10...
 
hollydolly said:
So sad.:(. but co-inciddentally my mother died at 39 , and my father was left with 4 children, the youngest only 10...
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Your pain is my pain Holly, it has to be experienced to fully understand. I rarely share that time, others can but offer their succour and comfort. On the bright side adult life has certainly had me counting my blessings, I am grateful for that.
 
We were poor and we knew it, but it didn't seem to matter.
We grew up on a ranch for the most part with the exception of 3 years on a dairy farm.
Dad was a ranch hand and mechanic. He kept the tractors, pickups, feed trucks, etc. going and he was the only guy in 50 miles who could work on the big center pivot irrigation.
We were provided a house and beef as part of his wages, but there never seemed to be a lot of cash money.
It was a great place to be a kid and a great time to be alive.
All the neighbor kids had motorcycles, and when we were about 10-11 years old, Dad did some trading for a used Honda 90. My brother and I thought we'd gone to Heaven.
About a year later, Dad picked up another one identical to the first.
We had the run of the Sandhills. We hunted, rode our motorcycles down to the "crick"
We each had a .22 rifle and a single shot 12 gauge from the Montgomery Ward catalog.
When we turned 14, Grandpa gave us a '63 Rambler to drive to school. It wasn't the car of our dreams, but it got us from point A to point B, and most of the tie got us back home.
During the summer, we worked putting up hay, usually stacks, which you don't see anymore. Everything is big round bales.
We made enough to buy our school clothes, and the rest got spent on cars and car parts.
So many memories of the one room schoolhouse we attended from Kindergarten through 8th grade. All the grades in the same room, and 1 teacher.
We had a Christmas program every year and spent a couple weeks decorating the Grange Hall and practicing our songs and skits. People would come down out of the hills, even people with no relatives in school, just for the social aspect and "entertainment". At the end of our program, Santa Claus would burst through the front door of the hall with a big bag over his shoulder filled with smallish paper bags full of hard candy, nuts, maybe an apple or an orange for all the kids and there was always enough for some of the old people to take one.
I could rattle on for days, but I won't bore you with a long trip down memory lane.
As far as I'm concerned, I had a great childhood.
 
We lived in a small town of maybe 250 people. My Dad was an auto mechanic and Mom stayed home with the kids.
We sure weren't rich but our parents were good people and did their best for all seven of us. Four boys and three girls. We didn't eat the most elite type of meals but we never went hungry. Baloney, hot dogs and Spam were often served with veggies and potatoes. We always had a big garden and were expected to do our share of tending to it. When times got a bit better my Dad and a friend would buy a half of beef or pork to split between our two families. We all helped with butchering and packaging for the freezer.
I don't know how they did it, but Christmas was always a good one. Nothing elaborate or expensive but always enough. Some Christmas mornings we would go see our Grand parents and my Dad would take us boys out rabbit hunting. We didn't all get to carry a gun, just tromp around and hopefully put one or two up in Dad's direction.
I was lucky enough to be the only one of us that liked fishing much so many summer evenings all my Dad had to do was take a short drive around town to find me and make a casting gesture as he drove and I would be in the car in a flash even if there were some girls I might be talking to.
Grade one to six were in one room school house that was only about two blocks away. Grade seven and eight were in another one room school that we were bussed to. High school was about fifteen miles away so about a 45 minute to one hour bus ride by the time all the other kids were picked up. There were about 1800 kids there when I started so it certainly was a bit of a culture shock. I couldn't believe the number of good looking girls!
I always liked school and high school was even better.
Yes, I think I had a great childhood!
 
One evening on some programme or other, the singer 'Lulu' was described as coming from the slums of Glasgow. Mother nearly went ballistic - apparently she was born two streets away and said that when you came from there, you were almost a snob. She always maintained that her Grandmother was a 'titled' lady and her ancestry was from a certain family. We never had any proof of any of this, but there may have been a bit of infidelity somewhere. This was in the 1910's.

I don't know what school she attended, but she did talk about going to the swimming baths for lessons. Her mother died when she was 8 or 9 and I wonder if this was because of the 'Spanish flu'.

We were never a well off family. Paternal grandfather ended up with money, but no sense when it came to contraception. He had a large family, and when he died, his greatly diluted wealth was distributed amongst his offspring. My father was highly skilled, but unambitious, and never made much of himself. Mother ended up, I feel, insecure and feeling that life had dealt her a bad hand.
 
In the back of a garage, there was a spot where Brownie, the dog, was buried. For us kids, it was kind of a sacred place. If you stood on the grave, you could not tell a lie.
Years later, we found out that poor old Barnie went out with the trash. The parents just told the kids he was buried there.
 

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