Young love is stupidly idealistic. Making a promise like this is, or having the expectation of its fulfillment 100% of the time, is asking for disaster.
Q: “Honey, do these jeans make me look fat?”
A: “Oh yeah. Your ass looks like two gigantic heads of cauliflower jammed into a laundry bag.”
I really hope she made her break while she still had the opportunity. It’s clear that Dave wasn’t giving her what she needed. Hope she punched out and fled to Boston or New York.
No further comment required.
In the era of a billion selfies, the youth of today probably have no clue what a photo booth was or what absolute gleeful entertainment it provided to generations of narcissistic teenagers. The hair looks like half the kids walking around today. The medium of the image throws back to a bygone era. Wonder where this handsome young man is today? Probably married, divorced, with kids he doesn’t see enough, not nearly as much hair, and battling a belly bulge and a heart condition. And he probably doesn’t laugh at himself nearly as much as he used to.
Youth. We miss it when it’s gone.
Passing notes in class is always risky business. When I was a kid I had a teacher who, if she caught you passing notes in class, would grab it and read it out loud. Humiliation, when you’re an adolescent, is brutal.
Hopefully the couple sharing this note overcame this obstacle to their everlasting harmony. Hopefully no one they knew ever saw this note.
Ask yourself, is spooning dangerous? In my experience, it can be, especially when accompanied with a “rumble seat”.
Whoever saved this one certainly had a well-developed sense of humor. My favorite part however, is an accidental enhancement added by the folks at the Old Used Bookshop; it’s the screw, penetrating the well-worn corner of the clipping.
I had to do some digging on this one. And boy-howdy, what I dug up was interesting. Maybe it’s just me, but grown men who host kids shows dressed up like clowns or circus geeks freak me out. Always have. I was three and I just knew in my heart that Mr. Green Jeans was a child molester. I just knew it. Kids know things.
So Uncle Paul was apparently a pretty popular guy in the small-television market of Raleigh, North Carolina. He was so popular that the television station has dedicated a web page to him here; The History of Capital Broadcasting / Uncle Paul.
He was so popular that some fan (sic) made a YouTube video tribute here; Where’s Uncle Paul?
And so darn popular that someone set up a FaceBook page for him here; Time For Uncle Paul.
Yeah. Someone even loved him enough to put this card in a book and leave it for me to find. Which brings me back to my original thinking… Uncle Paul creeps me out.
Ahh… the wonders of the Polaroid. That’s a lost technology that we actually miss. It cost one dollar, precisely, to capture an instant in time, in which you will always be remembered as the one at the party wearing too much make-up and saggy clothes, standing by yourself, without a beer, while some one snapped a pic of two happy girls flirting with the guy with the camera.
Occasionally you find an item that you know represents something important. I did a little investigative work to find out more about the people noted. Below is a short summary of a very big, very important story in American history.
Glad we saved this one.
In 1903 The Reverend James George Snedecor, a white Presbyterian minister, was appointed Secretary of “Colored Evangelism” by the General Assembly of the U.S. (Southern) Presbyterian Church. In 1910 he was appointed head of Stillman Institute in Tuscaloosa Alabama. Stillman Institute (now Stillman College) was formed to train young African-American men for the ministry. Rev. Snedecor passed away in 1916. Following his death, the faculty of Stillman Institute recommended that the Synod, which governed all of the “colored” Presbyteries in the church be named the Snedecor Memorial Synod.
Rev. Snedecor’s wife, Emily Estes Snedecor, shared her husbands dedication to education of young African-Americans. Upon arriving at Stillman Institute, she was made head of the training of young women to become nurses at the school. After her husband’s death in 1916, rather than retiring back to a life of affluence and society, she remained at the school. When a girls dormitory was finally built, she was made Dean of Women at the school. Prior to coming to Stillman, the Snedecors lived in a large antebellum mansion in Tuscaloosa, but they gave it up for modest quarters, choosing to live with and be near the students. Emily Snedecor also taught a bible class for the girls on Sunday morning, which created a good deal of controversy and criticism from the whites in Tuscaloosa. Un-phased by the controversy her activities ignited, she persevered and was appointed Field Secretary of Stillman Institute. She regularly spoke at meetings of the church on the spiritual and material needs of the African-American community. In 1922, the Womens Auxiliary had their first church-wide meeting in Atlanta Georgia. Emily Snedecor attended as the representative of the Alabama Synod. She presented an overture to built a hospital at the Stillman Institute for the training of young African-American women for the nursing profession, and also to serve the local community. The resolution passed and the Auxiliary funded this project and the hospital was built. The building was called the Emily Estes Snedecor Building. In 1932 an article in the Christian Observer about Mrs. Snedecor said in part,
”…Mrs. Snedecor is our Church’s missionary to the Negro, par excellence, for she has served the race in a land where such service often brings social ostracism unknown to workers in Africa. She has won the love of the students as well as their respect and adoration, and yet has retained, at the same time an unquestioned social position in one of the most conservative towns in the south…”