The coastland times. [volume] (Mnateo [i.e. Manteo], N.C.) 1947-1959, 1958-01-10
9 IL M P S E S
TIL E PA ST
BY CAROLYN LLOYD

Ever nave one OF CnOSe udyS
when everything you own seems
to break down or give out? On
just such a day last week the
typewriter refused to write, the
automobile refused to run, and the
hot water heater refused to oper-
ate without oil, an indication that
shortly the Duo-Therm would GO
on strike. Envisioning the cost OF
putting them all back into running
order, / nomentarily decided to
begin the new year by cutting
down on all unnecessary items and
returning to the less expensive
way of life in the "good old days" "
"Momentarily" is the word because
a backward glance sent me, men,
tally shuddering, back to the pres
ent.
In the "good old days" of moi
too many years ago l didn't have
to worry about paying for car
repairs and gas, it's true. did
however, walk to school every
morning regardless Of weather
Now, the weather man may tell
you that the coolest spot in the
United States is in Minnesota OF
somewhere, but he has never walk
ed past the arcade of the Belhaven
City Hall on a windy winter morn
ing or on a cold night to P.T.A
meeting or play practice. Granted
it didn't kill me, but Pm not SO
sure it wouldn't now. Well then
there's nothing to do but keep
the automobile as long as it will
run.
In the "good old days" there
was no sudden discovery that the
oil had given out and there was
no hot water. After Juggling in a
scuttle of coal and building fire
in the hot water 'jack", then wait
ing an hour or two, you were sure
of having hot water-if you cared
by that time. The bathroom was
heated by portable oil stove that
had to be as carefully tended as
an infant. One fatal winter morn
ing a teacher who. was living with
US decided to light the stove early
and go back to bed until the bath
room was warm. One hour later
| opened the bathroom door and
stepped into utter darkness. Two
days later we were still trying to
get the smoke tags from the walls,
our hair, and everything else on
the place. In spite of my mothers
sending me to check on the thing
every five minutes after it was lit,
that oil burner managed to smoke
up the place pretty regularly.
On the heels of that memory
came one of the time that gases
accumulated in the coal stove that
heated the living room and blew
coal particles and smoke all over
the place; of an inch of ice on the
bathroom floor when the pipes
froze and burst; of the time when
/ was sick alone in the house with
no telephone and had to crawl to
the door to hail a passerby to call
a doctor.
Conclusion: the "good old days.
may have been less expensive and
they seemed perfectly normal at
the time; but since living in dis
comfort didn't seem to result in
money in the bank, l might as
well ride over the hills to the poor
house as walk. Two of my friends
have come up with pretty good
plan that makes the future seem
less uncertain. They propose to
build extra rooms onto the home
of one and turn it into home
for aged and INDECENT bridge
players. They figure it won't take
too much food to give us strength
to sit at the card table and we
can keep ourselves entertained
Voices may quaver as we bid and
hands may tremble as we shuttle
the deck; but it sounds better than
sitting around counting the few
pennies we may have saved in the
"good old days"