Those girls, with barrettes and bows in their naturally colored hair, actually said "Okey Dokey" and "See ya later, Alligator" to their friends and "Yes, Ma'am" to adults. They met a man walking down their road and sat and listened to his tales while drinking from glass bottles of soda pop that he bought them. He offered them each a cigarette and of course, they had to try it. Coughing away, they tried different poses to be cool and soon tossed them to the ground, stating they had to be home soon for dinner. While they waited for their mothers to call them for dinner, they read books in the yard, comparing stories. Video games would not be invented for another 20 years and the black and white TV usually wasn't turned on until the family gathered after dinner. Instantly, I was back laying under the apple tree in my yard, book in hand with Pat, Susan, Yvonne and Annie. I learned to embroider with the same girls under the same tree on a summer afternoon.
It wasn't just another time, it was a very different world. We said the Pledge of Allegiance as we started each school day. Blue jeans were not allowed in school and girls wore pretty dresses. In a world without cell phones, we spent time with the kids on the block, most of it spent outdoors. We didn't send a text message, but knocked on the door of each friend, stopping to greet mothers in the kitchen. Just like these girls, we got up in the morning and our day began rouding up friends who spent summer days seeking and inventing adventures. The girls roamed their grandmother's attics, searching for treasures or creating a mystery to solve. They played in the woods, building treehouses and forts, just as I did. My best fort was in the yard, where I could string an extension cord to have electricity to read by in the evenings and begged to spend the night with my friends.
They rode bicycles, not to go anywhere, but just to be together. I wondered how many miles Pat and I logged as we rode until dark every single night, after the dinner dishes were finished. They stopped along the way to visit neighbors that they called Mr and Mrs. and even said "Please" and "Thank you" on a regular basis. I remembered fondly that I knew the name of every single family on my street and how we greeted everyone as we rode by. When a fight broke out on the playground, one girl stated loudly "We were raised to be ladies!" as the others nodded in agreement. I realized that I was one of those girls.
I watched those girls play freely, without fear, roaming their neighborhoods, not to return until dinner and back out again. Their mothers couldn't call to check on them and didn't worry either. They were too busy getting their housework done, visiting the beauty shop and spending afternoons playing cards with their girlfriends. Every woman in the movie either looked like my mother, neighbor or my aunt. They wore pretty dresses and ballet flats, changing to high heels to greet their husbands with a cocktail at the door. They served lunch on pretty plates and took pride in setting a beautiful table. The clothes looked funny now,but I realized that it was an era of femininity and yet freedom.
I thought about how the Feminists had not yet emerged, yet discontent was relatively low and girls couldn't wait to be called ladies. It was a time when cleavage and tight clothing was for bad girls and no one wanted to be a bad girl. It was a time of freedom from expensive name brand clothing and electronic diversion; freedom from fear to roam the world and grow up freely smiling at your neighbors. I realized that my tear was for nostalgia, but even more for a world that my grandchildren would never get to experience and I would wish it for them.
I kept watching the movie, nearly ignoring the story, but immersed in the era. It seemed so strange to remember a world without a computer,cell phone,. television, Ipod or video game and I remembered what kids used to do. I wish for one day of my childhood for my grandchildren.
