prune sits on the heights boat on each visit to his homeland to pause and reflect while enjoying a cigar
Another Recollection from the Old Days
An egregious error of omission has recently been brought to my attention. It is herein rectified. Details are not spared.
In the “Prune Saga” (8/10/2009), it was noted that “Other tribulations endured before he finally got street smarts are too numerous to mention”. One profound humiliation inflicted on that rascal, here-to-fore kept archived, makes all of his other tribulations pale in significance, including the aforementioned incident involving the bully.
In Centennial Heights in the early ’forties were two tough and fearsome tomboys, a year or two older than the Prune and his chums. It was the practice of these young ladies to sit on boys’ faces, just for sport. Much to their credit, they both wore skirts, unlike the trousers or jeans worn by young women today.
One would pin their victim to the ground, while the other exercised a squat with her dress hiked, flush and firmly on the mouth of her hapless prey. They took turns. The Prune was one such victim.
Back then we all got a lot of mileage out of our drawers. Fresh underwear put on after a sauna stayed on until the next steam was taken. An interim change was considered frivolous. By way of contrast, the Prune recalls Pete and himself wearing their same flannel shirts to high school for at least a week running.
The bloomers worn by the Heights girls were quite often home-spun “snuggies” woven from thick skeins of yarn. The finest attribute of the garment was a sponge-like capacity to absorb multifarious residues left behind as a result of using grossly inferior, non-absorbent bum wipes, such as orange wrappers or pages from an old “Monkey Ward” catalogue. Outdoor johns were still very much in vogue back then while “Charmin” was for many an unheard of luxury.
The residues, or “nicotine stains” as grandpa used to call them, were permitted to accumulate, mature and stink the fabric for upwards of two weeks of heavy-duty service. Back in the forties, it is remembered that one and only one bath or sauna per week was standard for most of us: some went unwashed for two or three weeks (I wonder what the record is).
In view of these facts one today can only imagine how bad those drawers must have stunk. The Prune claims he can still taste those soiled bloomers to this very day.
The identities of the two young women in question remain duly concealed. Suffice it to say they both became well-respected members of their community in later years.
The respect accorded them was earned.
Author Anonymous
gawNewellWVaug182009
