REMEMBER THESE ?

REMEMBER THESE ?

If you remember some of these photos …you are old!!

If you remember most of these photos …you are very old!!

   If you remember all of these photos …you are antediluvian!!......( look it up )

 

 

The Green Thing

In the line at the supermarket, the cashier told an older woman that she should bring her own grocery bags because plastic bags weren't good for the environment. 

The woman apologized to him and explained, "We didn't have the green thing back in my day."

The clerk responded, "That's our problem today.  Your generation did not care enough to save our environment."

She was right -- our generation didn't have the green thing in its day.

Back then, we returned milk bottles, soft drink bottles and beer bottles. They were then sent them back to the plant to be washed and sterilized and refilled, so it could use the same bottles over and over.  So they really were recycled.

But we didn't have the green thing back in our day.

We walked up stairs, because we didn't have an escalator in every shop and office building. We walked to the grocery shop and didn't climb into a 300-horsepower machine every time we had to go two streets.

But she was right. We didn't have the green thing in our day.

Back then, we washed the baby's nappies because we didn't have the throw-away kind.  We dried clothes on a line, not in an energy gobbling machine burning up 220 volts -- wind and solar power really did dry the clothes.  Kids got hand-me-down clothes from their brothers or sisters, not always brand-new clothing.


But that old lady is right; we didn't have the green thing back in our day.

Back then, we had one TV, or radio, in the house -- not a TV in every room. And the TV had a small screen (remember them?), not a screen the size of Tasmania. 

In the kitchen, we blended and stirred by hand because we didn't have electric machines to do everything for us. 

When we packaged a fragile item to send in the mail, we used a wadded up old newspaper to cushion it, not Styrofoam or plastic bubble wrap.   

Back then, we didn't fire up an engine and burn fuel just to cut the lawn. We used a push mower that ran on human power. 


We exercised by working so we didn't need to go to a health club to run on treadmills that operate on electricity.

But she's right; we didn't have the green thing back then.

We drank water from a fountain when we were thirsty instead of using a cup or a plastic bottle every time we had a drink. 

We refilled writing pens with ink instead of buying a new pen, and we replaced the razor blades in a razor instead of throwing away the whole razor just because the blade got dull.

But we didn't have the green thing back then.

Back then, people took the bus and kids rode their bikes to school or walked instead of turning their mothers into a 24-hour taxi service. 

We had one electrical outlet in a room, not an entire bank of sockets to power a dozen appliances.  And we didn't need a computerized gadget to receive a signal beamed from satellites 2,000 miles out in space in order to find the nearest pizza place.

But isn't it sad the current generation laments how wasteful we older people were just because we didn't have the green thing back then?

ROSEMARY AND MEMORIES

Anzac Day, 25th April, was always a day of great significance in my family. 

Three of my father's brothers had gone to World War II and all  had returned, for which we were always grateful. My maternal grandfather  had served in WWI, as had many of my ancestors and, as I was to learn  when I began researching, many of my family, some whom I didn't know,  had also fought in various wars. I had a second cousin captured in  Singapore, who was to die there. So it was with great pride, that we  wore our sprig of rosemary, pinned to our Sunday best and marched in the annual parade with our heads held high.

I grew up in a small country seaside town in NSW, where the war monument took pride of place in the bottom corner of our school grounds, at the main intersection in town. It was suitably fenced off, and we were always taught to respect it. We were too young to understand what war really was, or where ANZAC Cove was...it was just over there... not in Australia. That meant not on the same page as Australia was, in our blue covered school Atlas, so it must have been a long way away. Papua New Guinea however was close by, so we more or less understood that it was at the top of Australia... no Google maps in the '50s. That's where Dad's three brothers had fought.

We went to the morning services only, as the dawn service was only for  the returned soldiers in the main then. We could never understand why they needed to have two services, after all we held a march before we  laid wreaths at the war memorial. It was with sombre faces that the chosen children would lay a wreath. Then it was three steps backwards,  bow your head and wait... for either your parents, or a member of the RSL (Returned Services League), to tap you gently on the shoulder and you would return to your place. I can still hear the haunting sounds of The  Last Post being played on the bugle, accompanied by quiet sobbing from  many gathered around, particularly one of the older women, who had lost  three sons in WWI. She held her head high, but the tears rolled freely  down her cheeks. Hers was always the last wreath to be laid. Each year,  she would place a wreath of hand made red crepe poppies, with three white poppies in the centre, one for each son. Then she would quietly  take the sprig of rosemary from her dress and lay it at the base of the  memorial on the side where her son's names were and walk home alone. She  had many friends, but kindly declined their offers of company and spent  this day alone. When she passed away, her grave was honoured with white handmade crepe paper poppies... and a sprig of rosemary. 

Crissouli (c)