Sometimes you scroll through a crispy, fresh new yearbook and can’t help but do a doubletake. That’s exactly what I did with this shot this morning. I thought Medicare was a nationwide health insurance program provided for Boomers and the last bit of the Greatest Generation. Evidently, there was another, less complicated Medicare littering drug store shelves like Atherton’s here, during the year Marilyn Monroe was killed by the Mafia committed suicide. Mary, Jackie, and Kaye were in the know about problematic pimples–and Tussy was the answer.
Not ‘Tussin, the cure-all touted by comedian Chris Rock, although one wonders if cough syrup could, in fact, cure outbreaks. Perhaps it could help with “breakthrough” COVID cases?
Nope, this Tussy was targeted at teens, not windpipes. As you can see, Tussy got top billing!
My April 1947 Seventeen magazine includes some cute rhymes to help teens be better human beings. The threat of a $100.02 fine (or $1,212 today, adjusted for inflation) should prove effective. I’ve never paid a library fine, nor a Blockbuster fee, as I try to live my life by the rules. But I can’t imagine anyone accruing over a thousand dollars in library fees, no?
This next image warns against tardiness, a reprehensible character flaw.
I am reminded of the chorus to Genesis’ “Misunderstanding.”
There must be some misunderstanding There must be some kind of mistake I was waiting in the rain for hours You were late
Lastly, we see a milkman at sunrise, stumbling upon a woman who has forgotten her key, but somehow managed to locate a fluffy pillow.
If this was geared toward 1940s teens, I’m not sure of the implications. Surely not the walk of shame. Couldn’t she simply have knocked on the door and had her parents open it? I don’t get it.
Wow, this ad campaign has got it all. The bandwagon technique; he’s running with the pack. He doesn’t care about personality; he only dates Eye Tonics. So if you’re the angel cake that’s trying to catch the eye of a dark hunk of muscle like Chuck, you better spread some fancy frosting all over you, ladies! It’s not optional; Chuck says it’s glamour homework. It’s your assignment! Remember, he’s for the filly with an even pace!
So what is this ad even selling, other than insecurity? This stylish lass, though trim and decked out in modern garb, seems to be apprehensive about her potential suitors. Probably because she has a secret. A secret that keeps her elbows close to her side, while the boys wave their arms about. She reeks.
But for a few coins, she can rate with fellows like Chuck. Thank you, ARRID!
Seems like an easy way to snag a date with boys who possess a molasses drawl. Just a swipe in your pits, and you’re done!
Could there be a more fetching color than kelly green? I think not. And “if you want to make like 1947” (which we all do, let’s be honest), then you’d do well to keep a longer hem. See below for more tips on how to be slimmed out like a soda straw.
It’s February 12, 1964, and nobody in New York City cares a farthing that it’s Abraham Lincoln’s birthday. The Beatles have just arrived in NYC, and frenzied Beatlemaniacs across the street from New York’s Plaza Hotel are losing. Their. Minds.
I have enough 1940s yearbooks to confirm that Sadie Hawkins dances, based on the then-popular L’il Abner strip, were a HUGE DEAL. Nowadays, not so much. In fact, my son’s high school had one scheduled earlier this month, and it was cancelled due to low ticket sales. Eight tickets, to be exact. And keep in mind, all the other dances have been packed.
What does that say about today’s youth? Aren’t women enlightened enough to ask boys to the dance? That’s the whole point of it. Or is it an outdated concept altogether, since boys now ask boys and girls ask girls? Every high school around here has its share of transgender kids who were named Katie in 8th grade and now go by Collin. Or perhaps teens just don’t like donning hillbilly garb–although I think they nixed that part long ago. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen anyone in overalls in a few decades.
The evil big-box stores have already stocked their aisles with back-to-school items, an affront to all American children, trying their durndest to enjoy the apex of global warming seasons. As a parent of a teen, my days of purchasing Elmer’s Glue and huffing markers and dull scissors are over, but we’re still expected to pony up for supplies. Evidently, $7000 in property taxes on a mighty modest home does not cover Kleenex.
To all this mid-summer school rigmarole, I at least ask the makers of supplies to look backwards for inspiration, and not to the future. This ad makes education positively dreamy.
But what if you’re too thin, and you need to bulk up? Simply sport a Hugh Downs jacket!
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Hugh Downs was a once-relevant broadcaster who is still kicking it at 97. Look how attractive his family is, wearing bulky red-orange. And who’s the lady fondling his son’s hood? Go back to Paris, Simone.
Maybe you’re too young and hip to wear anything from an old fuddy-duddy and his family. Maybe you’re avant garde like Pat Boone, who lives life on the cutting edge.
Dressing like Pat Boone ensures that girls think you are a liberal arts professor. And maybe they’re into that kind of thing. Remember, remember, you’re mine… Wow, he really did wear white shoes.
Speaking of white, perhaps you missed my earlier post on putting more sugar in Lisa. Here’s another misguided Sugar Information ad, advising moms to put more sugar in their teens, so they can become slovenly-dressed sugar-swinging freaks–just in time for back to school!
Turtles don’t need seat belts, y’all. They just don’t.
Okay, so it doesn’t look like Papa Joe Jackson (RIP), but it absolutely looks like Holly Hunter circa “Raising Arizona” (desperately in need of some sun). However, it’s just teachers chaperoning a high school dance. Thank God THIS teacher put on a happy face for the dance.
Do you remember those AWFUL cheap plastic cups? Yikes.
Take a look at the students. Do these look like the kind of kids that even NEED chaperoning?
Of course they do! Poor Midget…
You won’t find a pay phone in a high school these days.
What festive autumn colors! Sixteen-year-old Jacqueline LaVigne, aka Miss Vermont, took part in several 4-H canning projects, using tomatoes from her Essex Center garden. Check out that plastic apron!
This beauty had her hands full at the State Fair in Indianapolis. She was one of the 1,760,000 boys and girls taking part in 4-H Clubs in 1948. During WWII, 4-H club members canned 74 MILLION quarts of food.Â
But it wasn’t only 4-H members canning. Home canning reached its peak in 1943, with over 4.1 billion jars canned in homes and community canning centers (Bentley, 1998).Â
This young man may look like the king of his castle, but surely his folks wouldn’t approve of filched funeral home signs. Does anyone say “filched” anymore? Let’s bring that back. Note his tastes: cards, Popeye, and George Petty pin-up girls. Seems pretty blue-blooded American to me.
I Don't Get It 