In the Hood IV

During WWII there was considerable rationing - gasoline on the need for same. But each family had a book of ration coupons for each member of the family - so a family of nine had more books than a family of four and there was much trading of ration stamps i.e., coffee for sugar. On the Saturday trip to the butcher, after requesting the hamburger and pork chops, you whispered your need for a quarter pound of butter. And if you were female the butcher might squeeze your hand. At age thirteen I had a newspaper route - thirty customers  - the papers cost two cents and sold for three cents - so I made thirty cents per day x six days or $1.80 per week. I tried selling on a corner but learned an early lesson of "location - location - location" and soon abandoned this effort. One day I was sick in bed and rather than deprive the neighbors of their afternoon news, my mother picked up the papers and delivered them to the surprised neighbors. Since she couldn't fold and hurl the papers between the flower pots, she had to climb the steps. I think I know now where I got my work ethic. At age fifteen I upgraded to become a soda jerk/dishwasher/messenger for a pharmacist - the upside to being a soda jerk was that you got to eat your mistakes. This job paid seventy-five cents an hour plus tips. August 15, 1945 was V-J day - the end of the war in the Pacific and while I was hoping the druggist would close up, we were obliged to stand outside and watch the neighbors parading around the block beating on pots and pans and blowing horns - the end of a long and painful war period. As the troops came home to the G.I. Bill we listened to Doris Day singing "Sentimental Journey" and the Greatest Generation was home to populate all the campuses.
tjs
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