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Father's Day: 1964

Father's Day: 1964

I can't guarantee this is Father's Day, but going by the date imprinted on this Kodachrome slide mount it's certainly plausible. This is on the deck seen previously, with our dog Missie and my mother engrossed in the paper under the grape arbor. Today I'm six months older than my father is here, which in some undefinable way doesn't seem possible. View full size.

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Today’s Top 5

Our noses were pressed to the glass

Tterrace, I love your pictures of the '50s, '60s and '70s, though the world they memorialize was not my world. Instead I grew up poor in the Midwest, and I do mean poor -- without a dad, and with a multiplicity of revolving-door stepdads and "uncles." Guess you'd say Mom was ahead of her time with her free-wheeling love life. Believe me, it wasn't that much fun for my siblings and me.

Thank goodness for friends with kind mothers and fathers like yours. We saw that another way of life was possible, and the times we spent with them were among our happiest memories. What wouldn't I have given for your parents and your life!

The '70s blew by me and the values of that era were (and still are) as alien as if they had come from Mars. I was too busy trying to create what your hard-working folks gave to you and your siblings.

Thanks for these lovely, lovely pictures.

At the risk of striking a discordant note

The comments here tend mostly to view the past through extremely 'rose-tinted' spectacles.

My memories of the late 1940's and those years immediately following are not reflected in these pictures.

My experiences of those times were brutal and mean.

I would not want to have the dentistry and medicine of those times practiced upon me now.

I would not want the brutish parenting of those days to be repeated.

The kids in those times were tough; bullying was considered a rite of passage. You sucked it up or were called a sissy.
The teachers at school were rarely kind and discipline was meted out without the right to have one's opinion respected. The 'law' was to not 'talk back'.

I could never celebrate Father's Day.
Mine went missing in action at sea fighting for his country and against tyranny.
My mother received that fateful telegram a week before she went in to have me.

Our lives changed forever.

I come from an alcoholic home; most of my friends lived the same experience.

Many of us were not 'middle class' like those represented here. We did not own our own home or car.
We traveled by streetcar and waited on freezing cold days
at car stops.

We didn't live in the temperate climates often pictured here.

Compared to many of our neighbors, we had it fairly good.
Some of the kids at my school literally walked around in rags.
Many did not know from where the next meal was coming.

I'm not saying this to be rancorous or negative.
I feel it important to give the rest of the picture.

I, most definitely, would not want to return to 'those days'.

The amazing thing about memory is that it only recalls the
pleasant times. I guess it is that, that keeps us relatively sane.

That is all to the good.

The world is NOT going to hell in a hand-basket.
'The world is unfolding as it should.'

Let the past be the past.
The future awaits.

Those were the days

What lovely pic of times gone by. And yesterday is only around the corner. Love every detail of that picture. Even the dog enjoys a day in a time when it was all so innocent, so not today.

Carnations vs. pinks

Those little low-growing jobbies are pinks, which of course are a kind of carnation. We had a bunch of actual carnations, as well. And yes, the scent is one of those aromas that always sends me back in time. I must have a zillion slides of flowers from Father's garden, but now I wish I'd taken more of people and buildings (and cars!) back then instead.


The first thing you have to do is live in the right place and California certainly qualifies, especially if you live somewhere along the coast. Everything I stuck in the ground grew including carnations but especially begonias. It's the combination of lots of sun and moist breezes off the ocean. Wish I were still there.

Kodachrome, RIP

After 74 Years, Kodak Kills Kodachrome

NEW YORK (Reuters) - Kodachrome, the film brand touted as the stuff of memories, is about to become a memory itself as Eastman Kodak stops production due to overwhelming competition from digital cameras.

DIY Ancestors

Speaking of family photos, has anybody come across "I Am My Family"? It's a book of ancestral photos with quite a difference -- the photographer is posing as his own ancestors. A bit odd, but quite an accomplishment. This review has a few sample photos.

People were content

I'm not a sociologist, but I can guess that the people who lived through the Depression were happy with and grateful for everything they had. Their world was small, and they were content with that.

With the advent of TV, children started seeing a larger world and comparing their families with the families on TV -- and what parents could live up to Ozzie and Harriet Nelson or Charles and Caroline Ingalls?

Moreover, TV introduced people to a world of "stuff." No longer did the Jones family just live next door, we wanted to keep up with the Jones family that lived in LA or NYC. The more we see, the more we want.

Carnation generation

I wish I knew the trick to growing carnations like that. Mum and Dad and Missie all look so in sync. Or is that controlled calm around the time the sons were hooning around in convertible tanks? Hmm? And I think they are snappy dressers and neat as a pin. Just can't get over those bushels of carnations. They must have smelled divine!

Childhood's End

"Obviously there's been some mistake. You're a little kid splashing around in the water!"

Not quite, Dave. I grew up and became the person you see in my profile picture, gazing out the window at something only I could see.

My Father

"[Your father] knew how to see - to really see as an artist does completely and fully at one with his subject. Did he paint or have some other creative expression?"

My father's creative expression was our yard, of which the deck and arbor here and the cut flower garden seen below are just small portions. It wasn't just a yard, but something of a world unto itself, especially to a little kid growing up in it.

Wait just a minute.

>> I'm six months older than my father is here, which in some undefinable way doesn't seem possible.

Obviously there's been some mistake. You're a little kid splashing around in the water!

Your Father

knew how to see - to really see as an artist does completely and fully at one with his subject. Did he paint or have some other creative expression?

Sweet Spot

Dad has found the spot that hypnotizes Missie. She is blissfully zoned out.

Those Numbers

My father died December 2, 2001 at age 97. My mother on April 7, 2008 at age 103. Neither one ever smoked and I think that added to their longevity. In my wildest dreams I don't think I could ever reach those numbers and I'm not sure that I want to.

Banding together

Did Papa Terrace usually wear a wedding band? Mother Terrace?

Time does that, doesn't it?

I too have past the milestone mark of my father, although he died in 1982, at age 62 and nine months. I am now 63, so have passed the magic number. Mind suspect as we all age, we can't help thinking, "How did we reach this numbered age that we now find ourselves?"

How old is mom?

I'm "only" 52, but somehow I don't see myself dressing or wearing my hair like Mom any time in the next decade. Women were much older then. The glasses are kind of retro-cool, though!

Momma's Boyfrand?

Gee, what a surprise. Momma's boyfriend was her husband and babies' momma was his wife. Although so many are surprised by this idyllic picture of a fully functioning and secure family, this beautiful arrangement was the way it was for most people up until the 60's when everything went to hell in a handbasket. Can any sociologist put their finger on why it all changed into the "anything goes" clans we have today? I am not judging, just trying to figure out why so many are so mixed up. I don't have any answers but sometimes it does seem as if we are being less civilized instead of more. 'Twas so good to be young then.


They don't look like they're always looking to get even with someone.

Tempus fugit

>> I'm six months older than my father is here, which in some undefinable way doesn't seem possible.

I know exactly how you feel. I recently turned 65 and the granddaughters are the focus now. Happy Grandfather's Day!

When grownups dressed like grownups

I like the way men dressed back in the day. No cargo shorts, graphic tees, ballcaps and ridiculous looking hi-tech sneakers.

That is one happy dog!

This is a wonderful shot. I love the interaction between your father and Missie.

Mr. Terrace

A handsome and elegant looking man.

Mom and Pop

What I love about your parents is that they are so entirely comfortable with who they are.

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