A POEM TO WHICH I CAN RELATE
And the bread that we cut with a knife,
When the Children helped with the housework,
And the men went to work not the wife.
The cheese never needed a fridge,
And the bread was so crusty and hot,
The Children were seldom unhappy,
1947 Don in sledge with me pulling, outside the back door. |
And the Wife was content with her lot.
I remember the milk from the bottle,
With the yummy cream on the top,
Our dinner came hot from the oven,
And not from a freezer; or shop.
The kids were a lot more contented,
They didn't need money for kicks,
Just a game with their friends in the road,
And sometimes the Saturday flicks.
I remember the shop on the corner,
Where cookies for pennies were sold
Do you think I'm a bit too nostalgic?
Or is it....I'm just getting Old?
Bathing was done in a wash tub,
With plenty of rich foamy suds
But the ironing seemed never ending
As Mama pressed everyone's 'duds'.
I remember the slap on my backside,
And the taste of soap if I swore
Anorexia and diets weren't heard of
And we hadn't much choice what we wore.
Do you think that bruised our ego?
Or our initiative was destroyed?
We ate what was put on the table...
And I think life was better enjoyed.
[Author, Unknow]
I can relate to this poem especially the one where “you ate what was put on the table”! To this day, I annoy my family by struggling through food put out before me (e.g. a restaurant) which is more than I can eat. They say “Oh for heaven’s sake! Just put it to the side!” Do you know what? I can’t! I really, really cannot. I carry this baggage in my head and have all my life: eat what’s on your plate! Therefore when I go to a restaurant I am very careful to say “Please make it Ladies portions…. or… could you bring another plate please?" And I simply help myself to what I know I can eat and send the rest back (or share it with someone else at the table).
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