That is me in the middle. The middle son (circa early 1950’s).
Those are not Tommy Hilfiger stripes on the shirts. The shirts were probably on sale at Montgomery Ward’s children’s department. Sorry if I am dating myself, but those were good times. If you were good, you got your one bicycle at Christmas when you were 9 or 10 years old and you made it last until you learned to drive your family car (singular, not plural).
Remember the old red Coca Cola signs? Remember getting good ice cream at the local Howard Johnson’s restaurant? Probably not, because most of you were not yet born.
(Picture Credit: Brighton Allston Historical Society at http://www.bahistory.org)
Growing up, we had one rotary dial phone in the house that was a party line with one or more of our neighbors. Our phone number was HE6-0997. HE stood for Hemlock. There were no area codes at that time.
There was no such thing as a ‘play date’. Our mother told us to go play outside. We didn’t come home until my father whistled us home for dinner. There was always something to do, some place to explore, some trouble to find. That is when our bicycles came in handy.
This challenge is sponsored by Frank Jansen at the blog ‘Dutch goes the photo!‘. Follow the link to find other nostalgic entries for this week.