I'm so old I remember when gas station attendants wore snappy uniforms with bow ties and washed your windshield and checked your oil for you. So old I remember our fruit man was called a 'huckster' and sold produce from the back of a horse-drawn wagon. And we had a coal chute on the front of the house down which the coal delivery man ran a metal chute and rattled down the coal into our basement coal bin.
And my grandmother's ice box was just that--and the ice was delivered in big chunks, and the neighborhood grocery store had a huge wooden pickle barrel and it was a treat to get a pickle from it and eat it like an ice cream cone. And coming home from high school, we'd stop in the local Five and Dime that had an old-fashioned coffee shop with a fountain and we'd chow down on cherry and vanilla or chocolate cokes and French Fries.
And so old that my friends and I tried to get on Dick Clark's Bandstand but the regulars elbowed us out of camera range so we never got on camera.
And so very old that during the cold war we all learned how to duck and cover under our desks to protect ourselves from nuclear attacks and--lol--nuclear fall-out. And those attacks were very real if you're old like me and remember clearly the face-off with Russia and the Cuban Missile crisis!
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