Stories about my family and growing up in the 1940s and 1950s. Stories about raising my kids, about retiring to Florida and life in general.
Down on the farm
Monday, April 27, 2015
SUNDAY SUNDAY
We were sitting behind two couples in church Easter Sunday. They were at least my age, maybe older, all had
short gray hair still twisted up at the crown from the Lazy Boy. The women wore pedal pushers with sweaters, and
sturdy, flat podiatrist prescribed sandals. Both men wore khakis and a cotton shirt, with Keds. My husband
is dressed similarly. I check my hair. It seems to be laying flat. So is Dick's. I smooth it down just to be sure and he
gives me that "huh?" look.
Two rows up and one over a black woman of our age group is elegant in hat, silky suit and
sensible heels. Dotted around the sanctuary like orchids amongst peanut vines are others in their Easter finery.
Our few contemporary black men are wearing suits, collared shirts and ties with good leather shoes.
My brain went into oddity overdrive and I began a mental poll of the congregation.
Nearly all the white women of my daughter's age (fiftish) wear jeans or clam diggers, tees or tanks and sandals with a moderate heel. Their hair is long, worn pony tailed or loose. Most of our black sisters in this age group are dressed in the cutest short swishy skirts, astoundingly high platform shoes, and wonderfully intricate hair dos. The men are wearing vests, with dark slacks, and collared shirts, black or pink seem to be the prevailing color today.
The younger moms, both black and white, wear simple dresses, slacks or knee length shorts, and flat shoes appropriate for child chasing. Their hair is sensible and easy care with an occasional baby wrought twist. The fathers are in slacks, tennies, polo shirts, no tie.
Except for a few, the teens and school aged kids are wearing cut offs, tee shirts, and sandals or tennies. Those who are dressed up seem ready to declare rebellion.
Toddler boys scoot happily around our legs in little suits, shirts and tiny ties. The toddler girls are without exception dressed to the nines, in starchy petticoats, pastel pinafores or sundresses suitable for a sunny Easter in Florida. In a few years they'll be in cut offs, but hopefully still in church.
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