I Remember Growing Up In The1950s

From Google Images

A friend sent me the following. If you are anywhere near the half-century mark, you will understand it perfectly.


Recently, someone asked me what my favorite food was when I was growing up.

“We didn’t have fast food when I was growing up. All of the food was slow.

The questions continued. “Come on, seriously. Where did you eat?”

After stopping to think for a minute, I had my answer, actually stopping to think about how things were in my life long ago.

First of all, we ate at a place called home. Mom cooked every day and when Dad got home from work, we sat down at the table together. If I did not happen to like what she had cooked, I was allowed to sit there until I did like it.

My parents never drove me to soccer practice. This was mostly because we had never heard of soccer. I had a bicycle that weighed probably 50 pounds with only one speed, slow. We didn’t have a television in our house until the late 50s and we only had one. It was, of course, black and white, and the station went off the air at midnight, after playing the national anthem and a poem about God.

It came back on the air at about 6 a..m. and there was usually a locally produced news and farm show on that featuring local people.

I never had a telephone in my room. The only phone in the house was in the living room and it was on a party line. Before you could dial, you had to listen and make sure that some people you didn’t know weren’t already using the line.

I was 12 before I tasted my first pizza; it was called pizza pie. When I bit into it, I burned the roof of my mouth and the cheese slid off, swung down, plastered itself against my chin, and burned that, too. It’s still the best pizza I ever had.

Pizzas were not delivered to our home, but milk was. All newspapers were delivered by boys and all boys delivered newspapers –my brother delivered a newspaper, six days a week. It cost 7 cents a paper, of which he got to keep 2 cents. He had to get up at 6 a.m. every morning. On Saturdays, he had to collect the 42 cents from his customers.

His favorite customers were the ones who gave him 50 cents and told him to keep the change. His least favorite customers were the ones who seemed to never be home on collection day.

Movie stars kissed with their mouths shut when I was growing up, at least, they did in the movies. There were no movie ratings because all movies were responsibly produced for everyone to enjoy viewing, without profanity, or violence, or most anything offensive.

And when I was growing up lots of people never had a credit card. In later years they had something called a revolving charge card. It was only good at Sears Roebuck, or maybe it was Sears & Roebuck. Either way, there is no Roebuck anymore. Maybe he died.

About Fredda Jones

Fredda Davis Jones was raised “in the country” in Comanche County and learned very early that creativity and innovation are traits that can flourish even in small-town Texas and that with enough effort, indeed nothing is impossible, including being married to the same man for over 40 years! Rickey and Fredda have 2 children, 5 grandchildren, and a crazy life that includes sitting in the bleachers several times a week. The rest of her time is spent creating great content for texansunited.com and marketing small-town Texas.
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2 Responses to I Remember Growing Up In The1950s

  1. Geri Jarvis says:

    Hi Fredda,
    Don’t know howmI landed here, BUT Inam so glad that I did. Love your blogs about mom making dinner and you could sitbatnthe table until you decided to like it. I have a FB page, THINGS I REMEMBER GROWING UP IN STEPHENVILLE, TEXAS . FB recently made us a ‘secret group’, do’t ask me why. Anyway, I’ll send you an invitation to join if you’ll forward me your email address.
    I would love to repost that on my FB page. Almost every person there is at that half century mark (or older) and I think you’ll pick up some additional viewers.

    Is rhe Gore family still in Comanche? I used to have Marti Gore as a dance instructor. ;)

    Thanks again. you write in a lovely manner.cant wait to read more from you.

    Geri Jarvis

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