I feel like a dinosaur
During a cold February winter in Philadelphia, I came on the scene. We were just into World War II. Air Raids, black out curtains, water fights in the front street, gas lamps outside my front door, lit and turned off by city workers each day, and horse drawn milk and ice wagons.
City workers shoveled horse manure three times a week from our narrow street. Mom insisted we did not drag in the horse dung.
My father taught me the GUY in the family worked fearlessly, tirelessly, all hours of the day, night, week-end, holidays, you did what you had to do, but you brought in the money for food, clothes, the roof over our heads - everything. He did it.
Mom was the soul of femininity, a mother that held me tight, told me not to be afraid during the air raids, taught me how to dance ( my girl friends years later said I was great ), and showed me what women in the world are like.
" Treat all women like you treat me," she said, " and they will show you their appreciation. Boy, was she right. All through my adult life I was so fortunate to blend into social lives that included men like me, highly educated, women feminine who were soft, adorable, and educated and accomplished.
When I dated, respect for women was not something that was a "gear shift" in my personality. Opening doors, handing her a menu, making friends with a waitress was just something I naturally do. Almost all of my women friends were long term, close, passionate relationships until I married.
So much so, some of my girlfriends had sent flowers to MY MOTHER on Mother's Day. " You raised a gentleman, " one woman told her. (THAT came out of the blue.
Comes now the 21st Century: I am awash in today's womenhood. I am now happily married thank the Good Lord. If I was not, at my age, I probably would move on to the end alone. Looking around the vast sea of tattoed, lacquered women covered in inked pictures of dragons, guns, vulgar epiphets, I wonder, IF THIS IS WHAT I SEE - WHAT CAN'T I SEE?
Back in the late 50's and early 60's the only time I saw tattoes was on long shoremen, I sometimes worked on Delaware Avenue on the docks where they unloaded ships for the American Export Lines, or on Navy Guys who were so horny, you had to lock up your grandmothers. Dees guys wud pok ur gradma in da ear if ya knos whad I mean.
A lady would NEVER be caught dead with a tattoe on her body, let a lone be dating a guy with a tatt on him. Now, some women I see have these markings all over their bodies. And all these punks run around with them, all they can think of to say is, " geez...cool, n. stuff." Brain dead.
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City workers shoveled horse manure three times a week from our narrow street. Mom insisted we did not drag in the horse dung.
My father taught me the GUY in the family worked fearlessly, tirelessly, all hours of the day, night, week-end, holidays, you did what you had to do, but you brought in the money for food, clothes, the roof over our heads - everything. He did it.
Mom was the soul of femininity, a mother that held me tight, told me not to be afraid during the air raids, taught me how to dance ( my girl friends years later said I was great ), and showed me what women in the world are like.
" Treat all women like you treat me," she said, " and they will show you their appreciation. Boy, was she right. All through my adult life I was so fortunate to blend into social lives that included men like me, highly educated, women feminine who were soft, adorable, and educated and accomplished.
When I dated, respect for women was not something that was a "gear shift" in my personality. Opening doors, handing her a menu, making friends with a waitress was just something I naturally do. Almost all of my women friends were long term, close, passionate relationships until I married.
So much so, some of my girlfriends had sent flowers to MY MOTHER on Mother's Day. " You raised a gentleman, " one woman told her. (THAT came out of the blue.
Comes now the 21st Century: I am awash in today's womenhood. I am now happily married thank the Good Lord. If I was not, at my age, I probably would move on to the end alone. Looking around the vast sea of tattoed, lacquered women covered in inked pictures of dragons, guns, vulgar epiphets, I wonder, IF THIS IS WHAT I SEE - WHAT CAN'T I SEE?
Back in the late 50's and early 60's the only time I saw tattoes was on long shoremen, I sometimes worked on Delaware Avenue on the docks where they unloaded ships for the American Export Lines, or on Navy Guys who were so horny, you had to lock up your grandmothers. Dees guys wud pok ur gradma in da ear if ya knos whad I mean.
A lady would NEVER be caught dead with a tattoe on her body, let a lone be dating a guy with a tatt on him. Now, some women I see have these markings all over their bodies. And all these punks run around with them, all they can think of to say is, " geez...cool, n. stuff." Brain dead.
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