He remembers it one way, I remember it another.
I Remember JFK likes to research and write for boomers so…
you will have a wonderful time here perusing memory-jogging thoughts to stimulate pleasant feelings of nostalgia.
I remember polio.
Oh yeah, I have the same recollections of sea monkeys, formica, Big Chief Tablets, and so forth that Ron does. I just don’t find it that interesting to read much. When his blog pops up in my RSS, I read the truncated version and then move on.
With respect, Ron, I’ll be blogging about some memories that aren’t so pollyanna.
I remember polio. More specifically, I remember Russell, a kid with polio. When we started in kindergarden together, he could walk but not run. As I recall about second grade he started using crutches. They were the crutches where the top fit around his forearm.
About fourth or fifth grade walking very far with crutches was more than he could handle. Russell road the bus to school, and since I was one of the bigger kids in our class, I would be one of two to help get him to the bus.
The way we got him to the bus was unconventional, but fun for all of us.
We went to an elementary school that previously was the high school my dad graduated from. The lower level was the cafeteria and boiler room and storage. To get to the second floor there were stairs probably ten feet wide. The center of the school was an open octagon area with hardwood floors. The classrooms were around the outside.
The janitor took great pride in keeping those wood floors highly polished. We sat at wood desks with seperate wood chairs with sliders on the bottom.
OK, now I sound like Ron, but this all has a point.
Rather than make Russell walk to the stairs, the teacher would let us put Russell in a school desk chair and push him to the steps then carry him down and he would walk to the bus.
At least that’s what happened when the teacher was looking.
More than once, Ed (one of the other big boys) would stand at the closed classroom door with Russell in the chair, and then give him a mighty shove and Russell would slide across the floor and I would catch him.
He laughed and we laughed. If we had time, we would do it more than once, and we did it fairly regularly.
He eventually got to the place where he had to use a wheelchair all the time and our special entertainment for Russell had to end.
He graduated from high school with me.
Ever visit anyone who was in an “iron lung?” I remember doing that once…but I don’t think I could go back. It smothered me to look at them using that mirror and seeing the maching breathe for them.
I do! My brother dated a girl who’s mother was in an iron lung! I had totally forgotten about her. She was at home and I went with my brother to her house. Pretty scary stuff.
I missed that! Mercifully, we brats in my neighborhood in Toledo missed that experience. The very thought of it gives me what my ancient mother would call the heebie jeebies! I had the audacity at age 8 to wake up one morning with my legs aching so badly I cried smack in the middlr of polio season and there was a whispered discussion by my parents followed by a a rare trip to the doctor. I’d never seen my dad scared before which, in turn, frightened me greatly. My malady? Severe growing pains! Whew!
Heh, you had guts to call “Polio.” I guess that an a Nuke Attack was what scared our parents most.
Growing pains! You ever hear of a doc now dismiss anything as growing pains? I doubt it would happen.