In Israel, a new five month scholarship program being offered to young aspiring athletes – one of them could be you.
Horses and buggies? Gas lights on streets? Did my mother grow up in the Dark Ages of History? She told me about living in buildings without elevators, where no apartment had its own bathroom. Years later I decided it was like my college dorm in the 1950′s when I had to climb stairs to my room on the 4th floor, and a bathroom with showers was at the end of each floor’s hallway; no big deal. She informed me there were no washing machines, dryers, refrigerators with freezers, and gas stoves had to be lit with a match; this didn’t seem to affect me as I wasn’t doing laundry or grocery shopping and cooking; being a young girl, my mother was responsible for all of my needs.
My mother spoke of her girlhood apartments with coin-operated heating devices; was she cold in the winter, I wondered, suddenly listening to what she was saying! My dad bought space heaters for us to use during World War II, and I always grabbed it first for my bedroom and warmed up my clothes before putting them on for school. But I just plugged it in; no coins were necessary. She mentioned that there were no electric sewing machines and she hand-made most of our childhood dresses; she taught me to sew when I was about nine years old.
The daily life she was describing, even that coin-space-heater, seemed as far back as hoopskirts, and I’d only thought those gowns were gorgeous and never about the wearer being restricted. My mother didn’t appear old but she certainly had to be since she’d been living “before” so much. I tried to imagine her sleeping on a fire escape in the summer because the tiny apartment was too hot, sharing a bed with her sister, even the 4 flights of stairs she walked up and down just to get to the street or school, and really couldn’t. My childhood in a big house with my own bedroom, streetlights, cars, radios, 78-rpm recordings, was “modern,” and I tended to “see” my mother in my world and not one before I was ever born.
“Did you grow up in black and white?” my granddaughter, Elaina asked; we were looking at some photos. They were all black and white. When did color film come out, and be inexpensive enough to put a roll in a camera, I wondered but kept that to myself? The question was cleverly put. Was she being diplomatic about age, or merely observant that photos were shades of grey? If I were to tell any of my grandchildren about my “black and white” days, might I then seem as ancient as my own mother had been because of the “lack of?”
I quickly remembered some of my early childhood before houses/cars/offices were air-conditioned, when music records were heavy 78-rpm and only one could be played at a time. We had a weighty black telephone with a personal phone number of only a few digits, and a real operator generated long distance calls, microwaves were not even imagined. My early hosiery had seams and were made of silk. All my elementary school classes were held in one room (except sewing for girls and shop for boys), taught by a single female teacher, and the desks had inkwells for liquid ink. There were no ballpoint pens.
Well, I could tell Elaina that my parents got our first television set in May 1948, the screen was very tiny, and there were almost no programs on anyway. Nah. She’d laugh. Hmm. We had no cell phones, x-boxes, computers, fax machines, eye contact lenses, automatic garage door openers, frost free refrigerators, self-cleaning ovens, disposable items, riding lawn mowers, cars with navigation systems and keyless operation, our cotton clothing required heavy starching via a solution to soak the items in…my mind was remembering things as if turning a rolladex and bringing up file cards. Now a hand-held device with a tiny memory chip takes the place of file cards and calendars. I can make a phone call to Israel and get an instant connection, and, with a computer or tablet, have a video call.
“Elaina, color photography didn’t exist, and a black and white portrait was hand colored in transparent oil paint.” I smiled as I remembered when I personally learned this process, enjoyed both making plain into magical visual with paint, and there was not the fading I eventually had when color film came out for my camera and captured color images. I paused. I did want to tell her about life before hand-held hair dryers, curling irons, and automatic ice machines in refrigerators, but decided to enjoy playing in raked leaves and sharing giggles and “young” things with her which I couldn’t do if I revealed “my days.” It would sound so old, just like my mother’s did for me. So, I merely answered, “Yes, Elaina, I was a very little girl during black and white.”
About the Author:
You must log in to post a comment.
Leah Katz, a TeenZone camper at Oorah’s TheZone summer camp and an 11th grader at Midwood High School, read her winning essay about how TheZone changed her views on Judaism at the Jewish Heritage Awards Ceremony held at Brooklyn District Attorney Charles Hynes’s office in April. The purpose of the Jewish Heritage Essay Contest is to acquaint public school students with Jewish history and customs and to help foster a deeper understanding of Jewish culture. The contest is open to students of all ethnic and religious backgrounds. Leah’s essay is reproduced in full below.
Moshe Sharett, the head of the Jewish Agency’s Political Department, visited Egypt in 1945. In Cairo he met a most remarkable young woman, a beautiful journalist who was the darling of Egyptian high society – from high-ranking military brass, to culture icons and Muslim sheikhs, to the court of King Faruk.
The two proceeded to talk about everyday things and surprisingly her mother-in-law did not find anything else to criticize. This occurred a few more times, with my client changing the topic every time by complimenting her mother-in-law or mentioning something positive about her.
There is always a lot of confusion surrounding sensory processing disorder – mainly because there are many different diagnoses that fall under the catch-all phrase sensory processing disorder (SPD). Among them are three specific subcategories:
The doctor had warned us that even if we did everything right and followed the protocol after the follicle was of the right size, there was no guarantee of success. Fertilization still had to occur, and just like couples do not necessarily become pregnant every month, we had no way to know if we were actually expecting for two full weeks.
The next chapter of the award-winning novel.
Jewish Press columnist Rebbetzin Esther Jungreis, founder and president of Hineni, the international Torah outreach organization, recently addressed an overflowing audience at the Beth Jacob Congregation of Irvine in southern California. Rebbetzin Jungreis’s address theme, “Making a Good Relationship Magical,” was apropos for the evening’s main mission: raising funds for the Irvine community’s mikveh.
You have probably been planning your marriage since you were about three. Let’s fast-forward to a big milestone– your twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. (Don’t worry, you don’t look a day over twenty one!) Now, would you appreciate your husband buying you a dozen roses that some florist recommended?
As I mentioned in my earlier articles about our family trip to Israel, our night flight went pretty smooth, thanks to my children’s willingness to sleep throughout the flight. I, on the other hand, didn’t sleep a wink and I wasn’t feeling too great by the time we landed. But we were finally in Israel, and just being in the beautifully renovated Ben Gurion airport and hearing all the Hebrew around us was exciting enough.
While all the flowers that grace your Shavuos table will surely be a delight to your eye, these will be a delight for your palette as well. Create them at any level, simple or sophisticated; any way you make them they’re sure to be a sensation.
Welcome back to “You’re Asking Me?” where we attempt to answer questions sent in by people who fortunately have fake names, so they won’t be embarrassed. I don’t know how they got through school, though.
Speechless wonder is the reaction to the beautiful vision seen though the Arch of the Keshet Cave at the Adamit Park in the Galilee. One of the most amazing natural wonders in Eretz Yisrael, the Me’arat Hakeshet — also known as the Rainbow Cave or Arch Cave — can be found up against the Israel-Lebanon border just a few kilometers from Rosh Hanikra and the sparkling blue Mediterranean Sea. It is situated amid the wild scenery on the cliffs of Nachal Betzet and Nachal Namer, on the Adamit Ridge.
Horses and buggies? Gas lights on streets? Did my mother grow up in the Dark Ages of History? She told me about living in buildings without elevators, where no apartment had its own bathroom. Years later I decided it was like my college dorm in the 1950′s when I had to climb stairs to my room on the 4th floor, and a bathroom with showers was at the end of each floor’s hallway; no big deal.
Printed from: http://www.jewishpress.com/sections/magazine/potpourri/before-color-photographs/2012/03/26/
Scan this QR code to visit this page online: