Saturday night, we invited our elder son's in-laws over for dinner, along with both our sons and their significant others. After dinner, Earle started a pot of coffee and served those interested. We were scattered about our dining room and kitchen chatting, when I saw my son's MIL approaching his FIL with a mostly empty, worse-for-wear paper sack of sugar. She looked at him apologetically and he looked back as if to say "what kind of establishment is this?" He made a quip, but in my mortification, it went right by me. I had failed at being a good Southern Hostess. And then - to double my shame, his wife had to serve herself cream, FROM THE CARTON.
You best believe I went to Bed, Bath, and Beyond within 24 hours and ordered a Fiestaware sugar bowl/creamer duo in Lemongrass It won't happen again.
In the 60's and 70's, being a good hostess was imperative for a Southern Woman. As was good grooming, and tasteful attire. I did not live up to these ideals. My Home-Ec teacher, Mrs. Sylvia Lassiter, would be so elegantly disappointed.
But the times, they are a changing. Some niceties have gone the way of orange shag carpet and good riddance. Others have disappeared from my life just because they seem - well - impractical. (But sometimes that's just me.) And some, I truly miss.
Personally:
I refuse to wear makeup, except for moisturizer and a touch of lipstick now and again. Brava to women who can paint their faces into looking ten years younger. Good for you. My one makeover left me thinking "lipstick on a pig." Sorry, lady at the Clinique counter. you tried your best. Freckles don't take kindly to such as that.
Pantyhose: Somewhere Hanes executive fatcats are cranked back in their big leather armchairs, smoking cigars, drinking brandy by the snifterful, delighted that many women still wear their brands of pantyhose. The infernal contrivances are designed to have a short lifespan. One run and out they go. And we buy replacements in a never ending cycle. Ladies - if we can put a man on the moon, almost 50 years ago with a computer less powerful than our Fitbits, WE CAN DEVELOP PANTYHOSE THAT DON'T RUN. I wear them when I must, but Mary Frances still finds then de rigeur. You are welcome, Hanes Fatcats.
Acrylic Nails. No. Just No.
(Disclaimer. I do use hair color. Yes, it's inauthentic. But when your husband is mistaken for your son when you are 36 and have a first grader and a head full of gray hair, you become a "dye-hard." When at 57 you think about stopping the color and your 91 year old mom thinks it's a bad idea, well, it's a bad idea.)
And look what's disappeared from our culture:
Male tech workers wardrobes of slacks, white short-sleeved shirts, neckties, and pen protectors. Gone like the wind. Replaced by t-shirts, shorts, and sandals. I miss you, IBM of yore.
Dressing up to go shopping. My dad always went "to town" in a sports coat and tie, usually with a hat. Now, apparently, flannel pajama pants are okay. I feel well dressed up in my capri sweatpants.
Belts. Teen-aged boys, you have belt loops for a reason.
China. I didn't choose a set of china when I married. My fusty MIL was so horrified she gave me a set anyway. But she can't make me use it.
Hats. What happened to hats? I want them back! And I don't mean knit ski caps or baseball hats. I mean for men - honest to goodness Fedoras and Hombergs. And for women - things with bits of feathers or lace, or bright buttons, maybe even a veil. Church hats!
Shoulder Pads. Good riddance to bad rubbish.
Going to Church. Go to church, people. God needs you as much as you need him.
Soda Fountains. The many flavors of commercially available juice drinks do not hold a candle to a freshly made lemonade, orangeade or limeade. Not even a match.
Homemade ice-cream. My younger son had this recently at the parents of his bride-to-be. He loved it. I realized I'd never made it. Some of my happiest childhood memories involved homemade peach ice cream from my Dad's good friend, Bill Davis accompanied by twilight, lightening bugs, and mosquito bites.
Visiting with Neighbors on the Porch. A small town joy that's gone the way of ...small towns.
Driving politely. Driving these days is like being an extra in the Fast and the Furious.
Bridge. This seemed like a good idea. Ladies had a night out, AND they could win a prize.
So....I'm sure you can think of others: midi-skirts, bikes with baskets and only one gear, bookmobiles, bubble gum prizes and real toys in Cracker Jacks instead of a sticker, Chocolate Cow taffy suckers that could pull your teeth out and did...
At least I have the fond memories - but for today...
My sugar bowl and creamer came in the mail. I'm pretty happy with it.
But my son's FIL actually prefers artificial sweetener, so I'm gonna need one of these next...Sugar Packet/Artificial Sweeter Holder in Sunflower Yellow. $9.99 at Macy's for a Limited Time Only.
Mrs. Lassiter would be so proud.
