I want to discuss grandparents for just a minute.
I suspect a lot of readers of the blog are grandparents themselves. If not, chances are they will be someday. Or maybe remember their own grandparents from years past.
I happened across a picture of my own grandparents the other day. Just the two of them, standing in their front yard. I suspect it was taken just as the family was leaving after a stay at their house for a visit, I don’t remember for sure. Based on the weather, it wasn’t a holiday. It was the mid to late sixties.
So were they.
And they looked so old. To be fair, they looked like they always had to me. And at the time they looked like every grandparent I knew looked. But as I gazed at the Kodachrome, I realized. . . they were about a year or two younger than I am right now. And I had no idea how that could be.
Back then it seemed as though people turning 50 were all given a memo of instructions on how to proceed with life. A list of rules they had to follow that went something like this:
- You will purchase a full sized car, preferably a Chrysler product.
- It must be a sedan, in either gray or beige. (This would later be modified in the late 60s to include green.)
- You will cover the seats in clear plastic in order to preserve them so that the next owner of the car, who will pay one third to one half of what you did for it, can enjoy that upholstery.
- You will affix a compass to the windshield that will spin and point the direction you are going, so you will never be lost.
- You will disregard that compass as soon as you leave your own driveway.
- You will embrace the greatness of the doily and employ them throughout the house wherever possible.
- You will refer to the couch as a ‘divan’ or a ‘davenport’, never offering an explanation as to why.
- If you are male, you will wear a tie often, and for no reason.
- If you are female, you will wear a print dress at all times, preferably floral.
- At home, while relaxing, the female can change into a housecoat, which is not actually a coat, but called one for reasons that you don’t need to know. The male will still wear a tie.
- The carpet will not match the drapes. This will take on a different meaning to generations that follow. Do not worry about that.
- Females will hold on tightly to their pocketbooks and not leave the house without them, though they will not drive. Only the men will drive.
- Family photos will be taken by the family car for quick time period reference.
- You will make dishes that the family looks forward to eating, but not have recipes to share. You will make them from memory and never think they are as good as everyone else does.
- Grandchildren’s birthdays will all be remembered with a card and a small amount of cash. Preferably $2, never more than $5. You will expect a thank you card, but not be surprised when you don’t get one.
- If you are male, you will get up from family gatherings to check the air pressure in the tires on the Dodge.
- You will save containers. Margarine tubs, Cool Whip tubs, jars and boxes are not to be discarded. You will not know who is inside these containers when they are reused, but do not worry. Most of them never will be.
- Males will wear khaki pants, always with a belt worn several inches above what most would consider the waist. Several inches. Hats should also be worn regardless of season or outside temperature.
- The best part of any trip will be planning the shortest, quickest route. Stopping for anything other than fuel for the Dodge shows weakness. Never show weakness.
- You will keep watch on the neighborhood, seeing things which neighbors less diligent will miss. These should be reported.
- You will quickly learn the value of a spiral notebook kept in the breast pocket of your shirt. The spiral should be on top. A pen sill accompany the notebook at all times.
- As you fill up the gray or beige full sized sedan, you will use the spiral notebook to figure the mileage of the tank just emptied. You will note those figures in the spiral to share with other grandfathers. These figures may be exaggerated and still not considered ‘lies’.
- Never underestimate the value of “Pull my finger.” It never gets old.
- The very best gifts are those that are homemade and involve a craft. These are not easily mailed, however. A card with a maximum $5 bill will do.
- Nothing good happens after 9:00 PM. There is no reason to stay up for it.
- All You Can Eat Buffets are meant to lose money.
The generation of my grandparents embraced these guidelines, held them close, and adhered to them. Sure, some would stray and buy a Ford or a GM product. My own grandparents went so far as to purchase an AMC Hornet in their declining years. Of course, the family was worried. But what could we do? At least it was still beige.
And those same grandparents were younger than I am now in the picture. What happened? When did things change? Did my generation miss the memo? Buttercup still dresses like she did when she was a lot younger, and still looks good doing so. She might be gray, but who the hell would know? Her hair is colored monthly. I’ve made it clear that if I ever came home and saw her in a housecoat I would pack what I needed in the back of the Fairlane 500 and leave Fort Stockton.
Granted, my generation has made medical strides to stave off the inevitable. We’re probably going to live longer than my grandparents’ generation. There are medications to keep us from keeling over, keep us erect, offset the effects of what we choose to eat, and enable us to remain active in ways our grandparents would have never imagined. Pacemakers, knee, shoulder and hip replacements, and laser cataract surgeries keep us younger than my grandparents were when they were younger than I am. I’ve never once had the urge to buy a beige Dodge.
But why did they dress that way?
This week we finished HAPPY MOTORING, the first series of 2025. That was six chapters of more twists and turns than the Runaway Mine Train at Six Flags. We learned that not all is always as it seems and that there’s no place like home. To those of you who were so generous as to leave something in the TIP jar on the end of the bar at the Lucky Lady for Hank and I to split for our efforts, thanks. It’s appreciated, and what keeps the lights on and paper in the Smith-Corona.
Tomorrow we start a trilogy called REDEMPTION, the story of a telemarketer from Fort Stockton. I can’t even imagine how my grandfather would have handled a dozen calls a day from telemarketers trying to get him to change his Medicare plan before open enrollment was over. We’ll get a glimpse of what it’s like on the other end of those calls.
That’s it for this week. Just remember the words my grandfather pulled me aside and said to me when I was 17 or 18: “Be the man who ruins their lipstick son, not their mascara.” His fedora had a certain rake to it.
10 responses to “FROM THE BACK OF THE BERMUDA, 1/12/2025”
CMC,
“I want to discuss maternal aunts for just a minute.”
They are as close to being like one’s own mom as nature and nurture allow having been pulled from the same gene pool, pressed from the same mold, and cured on the same rack. They dress the same although at some point they may have chosen a floral print blouse to go with elastic-waist-mom-jeans and OTC orthopedic assisted shoes during the cold slippery months. They are on the town council of the ‘village-that-raises-the-child’ where Mom is the mayor and Dad is the Judge & Sheriff. In less than ten seconds aunts can slap your hand, whap the back of your head, or swat your butt then, pull you in for a smothering hug depending on the level of stupidity, lack of consideration, or severity of offense. And, you’ll feel the same guilt about the disappointment you made her feel and, hopefully learn the same lesson, but maybe even better.
Yesterday I lost a great one. Before I knew about her passing I saw a Dollar General checkout girl wearing a sweatshirt that on the back said, “Suck it up, Buttercup”. I thought of you immediately. I put aside the book I was reading for just a few moments then went back to reading glancing up occasionally until Sweetcorn came out of the store. We went on to her quarterly doctor appointment fifty-odd miles away in the town where this and another aunt live. After the appointment we had to rush back to the pharmacy in our town before it closed and, it was nine degrees outside so, we didn’t call this aunt for our quarterly quick-drop-by Howdy-N-Hug. Last night late, we found out she could not have answered the phone had we called.
Woulda coulda shoulda learned the lesson better.
Now I need to take the advice read on a sweatshirt.
I’m sorry for your loss, Dave. The number of relatives from the generation before ours seems to be dwindling rapidly, resulting in sorrow in the cornfields.
Be sure to check out the Thursday, 1/16/25 story.
Cap’n
The Difference is, We’re Not Old Folks… We’re just Kids who got old!
We still think we’re young, until we try to move.
When I married Annie, she was Hot! She’s still hot, but her name has been changed to Grandy by 20 or so grand kids and her Naturally Platinum Blond hair refuses to turn gray even after 70 years.
Some time back I was joined in a elevator by an elderly woman and when I mentioned the inevitable aging process, she exclaimed, “Don’t I know it! I can’t believe that I’m a little girl trapped in an Little Old Lady body”.
El Conquistador,
I have often thought the same, my maternal Grandfather made it to 69 , about what the actuaries had accounted, that being grim a business… was a chevy man through and through
A belated Christmas token was just sent to you for entertaining my aging frame, stoking memories and placing smiles on this face that reflects my father more and more
Happy New year Sir!
Now off to another episode of Land man and crazy Texans
Thanks Cap’n. I never knew my grandparents since my parents married quite late. They had all passed by the time I was old enough to remember anything.
So now Nana and I (never dreamed I’d sleep with a grandmother) are the old folks. Lots on that list apply (who would throw out a perfectly good box? And yes there is a spiral notebook in the glove compartment, but the fiat is RED, and I know where my waist is. ).
Now I know how heartbreaking it was for us to visit so briefly with the grandkids. The post-Christmas house is just too big and quiet and they’re all getting on with their own lives.
Puppies, and Old Folks – can’t go wrong with those, Cap!
I never figured out until about 10 years ago, what the doily things (that my mom crocheted) on the back of the divans and upholstery chairs were for. We soaked our hair with Wild Root Cream Oil!
Also, you had a picture, but you didn’t mention all the What-Nots on the What-Not shelves.
There were so many of us grandkids, I don’t think my grandpa even knew my real name. My daddy was called Runt ( he was the shortest of the boys when grown at 6’2″). I still remember my grandma saying, “Runt, will you hand me that pan over there!” [Who the heck is Runt?]
“At home, while relaxing, the female can change into a housecoat, which is not actually a coat, but called one for reasons that you don’t need to know. ”
These, of course, were floral print, too.
Thanks for the memories and smile on a snowy Sunday morning, Captain!
I never knew my Grandparents. My maternal grandfather was the last one to go, and I believe that I was about 3 when he died. He was about 88. I always felt like I really missed something, and I guess I did.
My father’s parents lived to 85 (dad) and 95 (mom). They lived through the Great Depression providing flowers to mafia funerals in NYC (their florist “farm” was just a few miles up the Hudson from NYC). He always drove Caddy’s all the years I remember. Traded in every year or two. Back then the saying went – traded when the ash tray got full. (my grandparents didn’t smoke). Grandpa served in the Navy in The Great One. Both born late 1890’s.
My mother’s parents lived to 44 and 95. He died young from cirrhosis of the liver. He had been a golf pro. My grandma lived with my aunt in Miami. She did not drive. Both born late 1890’s.
I have wondered if JDivan Vance’s couches had the ubiquitous plastic covers . . . (you left that item off your list Cap’n – car seats and couches by any name)
What a list Capt’n, I can relate to 99.9%. I’m trying to remember if my Nana ever took her apron off. Maybe for church, but I can’t verify that. I swear she wore those aprons to bed over her nightgown. This first car I remember my grandparents having had a push button transmission and big fins, light blue or green. But later, as the rest of the masses, they bought AMCs (obviously). Light greenish bluish 1964 Rambler was my favorite. My grandparents would pick my brother an I up at what seemed like 3am to go fishing with cane poles in a lake far from home. My Papa was the first to teach me how to change oil. Remember those old cardboard cans with the metal top and bottom? The ones you had to use a separate metal spout to pierced the top of the can to pour the oil. Thanks for the memories.