Forgotten bygones

Searching for a snack at the college where I teach, I noticed a tin container labeled Kojak lollipops. To satisfy my curiosity, I asked the cashier, who was in his 20’s, whether he knew who Kojak was. His answer and that of my students that day, also all in their 20’s, was negative.  This generational ignorance in regards to the then famous non-smoking detective of 1970’s and 1980’s television made me consider how many names, brand and otherwise, have lost identity over time and no longer make sense.

For example, in choosing a car, one of the most important features is horsepower. I am sure that an average person in 1850 had an idea of how much a horse could carry but I strongly doubt that today anybody in the Western world could now produce a reasonable guess. By the way, one horse power is the strength required to more 500 lb. one foot in one second. Likewise, people generally store their insurance papers, some long-forgotten gum, a dried-up pen and maybe a screwdriver in their glove compartment.  It has been at least half a century since anybody drove with gloves and needed to store them.  Nonetheless, a glove compartment is still useful if inaptly named.

Some locations are also mislabeled.  Like men, women at restaurants do occasionally go to the toilet, euphemistically referred to as “going to the bathroom” or “going to powder my nose”.  However, I am convinced that they neither take a bath nor put powder on their face in that room. Still, those expressions are still used, maybe because saying “I need to take a pee” is a bit crude. Similarly, the use of the term “penitentiary” for prison ignores that the fact the term originates from an unsuccessfully and dangerous social experiment for the Puritans in the 1790’s. They thought that if criminals had enough time and solitude to contemplate their sins, they would become penitent.  Alas, prolonged solitary confinement too often leads to insanity and not the intended result.

Some people had their names become synonyms for objects. For example, if anybody asks for your John Hancock, they are asking you to sign.  Alas, it is not clear how many people know that Mr. Hancock was one of the signatories of the United States Declaration of Independence.  A shirley temple, a non-alcoholic drink made of ginger ale, grenadine and a maraschino cherry, is named after the famous child actress of the same name in the 1930’s, who served as an ambassador as an adult. However, who remembers that?

Lastly, the French have had a huge cultural and culinary influence on America. As an example, American troops serving in World War I brought home French fries and French postcards. The first, fried potatoes, were actually a Belgium specialty but they spoke French. So, the French stole the credit, to this day. The second, a synonym for erotic pictures, showed women in more clothes than you would see at an average public beach today.  Times have changed but the names has not.

 So, the next time you feel old and stupid because you cannot understand the jargon of computers, Facebook and tweeter, I suggest you take a look around, find some archaic term unobtrusively retaining its existence and ask someone from the current generation about it.  You still may feel old, but you will feel just as privileged in knowledge.

The fifth commandment, as times goes by

There is a story I remember reading in my youth, apparently originally compiled by the Grimm Brothers, about giving a half blanket to an aging grandparent and keeping the other half for the parent when he becomes old and useless. (https://spellbinders.org/story/old-grandfather-and-the-half-blanket/) The morale of the story is that the grandson will treat his parents just like his father treated his father, i.e., by sending him away when he becomes old and useless.

Times have changed but human nature has not. We learn human relations, especially patterns of family interaction, from example, not words.  We do as we see, not as we are told. As my parents are now in their 90’s, I observe with amusement as I am doing as my parents do.

My paternal grandmother lived a long and not so happy life as did her many brothers and sisters, almost all reaching the age of 90+. She suffered from several serious diseases and psychologically found it difficult to deal the change in values in the 1960’s. In simple terms, she was a good, honest woman who could be difficult to deal with. My parents called her and her sister, who lived with her, at least once a day, drove them to and fro all holiday occasions, a 45-minute drive each way, and accompanied them through medical tribulations. While as a kid I “sort of” understood how much patience and energy this requires, I now realize that is was labor of love and duty.  Not only that, they never complained about this duty, accepting it as a part of life.

My maternal grandmother had even a harder life and was even more unhappy.  She was, well, Polish.  For those unlucky enough not to experience a Polish compliment, here is an example: You look good today, much better than yesterday. She used to call my mother every day at 8:00 and report all the disasters of the morning to my mother, which earned her the epithet bonnes nouvelles, good news in French. Needless to say, I could immediately identify a conversation with her by my mother lighting a cigarette.  Still, my parents did the same for her as they did for my other grandmother.  My step grandfather, a man whose major positive attribute is that he adored my grandmother, also lived to his 90’s. My mother and aunt made sure that he was well taken care of and visited him regularly.

Now, I live in Israel while my parents live in LA. Every night, we speak around 20 minutes on the phone. I fly to Los Angeles, a hellishly long flight, twice a year and have done so for over 28 years. In a modern twist, I now order items online for them. Fortunately, they have not had too many hospital visits, all things considered, although my father has had his scary moments. My brother has been there for those times.  My mother still drives and handles the frequent doctor visits. On the whole, my parents have required much more emotional than physical support.

This post is neither to complain nor to praise myself but to try to understand my willing choice to invest precious resources, i.e., time and money, on my parents.  That the fifth commandment exists does not obligate anybody, even the religious. Our decision to respect our parents, even when they could be viewed as a burden, is significantly based on example. Maybe, as the story suggests, we should honor our parents to make sure that our children honor us. I see the dutiful behavior of my daughter, now 21 years old, towards her grandparents and parents, with all of whom she has serious issues, and see that she is observing that commandment: Respect your father and mother. It could be said that investing in our parents is long term savings account, with very high interest, whose fruits we only see as time goes by.

My paternal grandmother and her sister

My maternal grandparents