out the back door...
out the back door...
There seems to be a prevailing thought in today's advertising world that when the nostalgia angle is used to promote certain products, increased sales for those products are inevitable. Put another way, $ucce$$ for that advertising campaign is all but guaranteed.
According to fabrikbrands.com, a strategically-focused branding agency based in London, Research shows that nostalgia gives our lives a sense of continuity and meaning as we get older. The findings went on to say, Studies suggest that nostalgia inspires consumers to spend their money because it promises an immediate return in the form of happy memories and comfort.
Nostalgic advertising works because there are a huge number of people who can relate to its appeal, so the target audience is tremendous in size and assets.
A perfect example of nostalgic advertising and throw back product is an advertisement in a recent Sunday newspaper magazine (yep, still read the newspaper). The ad featured a ceramic tree about 18 inches high with multiple iconic 1957 Chevrolets the size of Hot Wheels dangling from the tree limbs as if they were ornaments on a Christmas tree. That particular car is one of three or four of its generation that speaks to a multitude of car enthusiasts.
But, nostalgic advertising is not the only source that provides those feelings.
Just like in nostalgic advertising, reliving and talking about past memories.....promises an immediate return in the form of happy memories and comfort too. For most of us, the past defines who we are today. But, even though yesterday should be relegated to a visit, not on the shelf of permanence, it's fun to talk about the Wonder Years.
HUH? What's up with that?
This is the second installment dealing with the four George brothers, Dave, Steve, Carl, and Ken and their interactions with their parents, Joe and Ruth.
Joe was old school and the patriarch of the clan. There was no question about executing what he said to do, you just did it. In addition, he had a basso profundo voice range that gave his commands more urgency and thus, the mandate required immediate attention. Democracy did not reign at 5736 Haverford in Indianapolis, Indiana in the 1950s. Strangely, Joe was not a disciplinarian or enforcer, but the perception was always present.
Ruth on the other hand was much more moderate and easy going. The brothers knew they could negotiate with her and quite possibly even win a case every now and then, or at the least, get a reduced sentence.
The household was fairly typical for the time period, although Ruth never wore heels and a fancy dress during the day as so often depicted on mid-century television shows. Nor did Joe don a tie while bumming around the house.
On any given summer day, hearing the screen door off the kitchen slam shut (THWACK) was a common occurrence. It was the way the four of us entered or left the house regardless of the season. Even Joe and Ruth used the back door. The door faced the driveway on the south side of the house and we called it the back door, even though it was really on the side facing a neighbor.
The outside screen door was made of wood and had upper and lower screen panels, separated in the middle by a four to six-inch wide piece of wood. When you heard that THWACK, you knew someone had left the house.
The front door was totally useless in our house.
A typical summer day meant three of the boys were anywhere but in the house. Kenny was the youngest and wasn't old enough to venture out of the yard as did the older three.
I don't recall riding my bike on Haverford that much, he said. It was after we moved when I was 11 or so that I remember the most about leaving the house on my own.
Joe would be at his business and Ruth was probably cleaning house, cooking or getting dressed up to go downtown to shop with her sister, Alice, and their mom, Mary. Shopping Centers only existed in architectural drawings.
On any given day, it would be 50-50 if Joe needed Ruth to help at his various businesses he owned throughout our growing up years. If the telephone rang between 9 and 10 in the morning, she knew she was going to be getting dressed and going to work. Regardless of the time of year, she generally returned by 3:00 every afternoon.
But, on a normal day, after breakfast, Dave would be the first to leave the house.
I'm going out, Mom, he would yell as he went out the back door, THWACK! Steve, if Bob Jeffrey calls, tell him where I'm at, will you, he would add.
Mr. Jeffrey went on to teach art at North Central High School in Indianapolis for 45 years. He and Dave still share a friendship.
Big Brother would usually head for one of three places, any time, day or night. He could be found playing basketball at Lynn Jagger's house down the street; the Riviera Swim Club playing basketball in the part of the pool they called the bullpen, complete with net; or, Christ the King Church dribbling the round ball with some buddies.
Out the door he would go (THWACK) and you could wager any amount you wouldn't see him again until sometime after dinner was underway. The large spring on the back door would stretch as far as it would go before it would pull the door closed like it was on a bungee cord. The sound of that wooden screen door slapping the wood of the frame produced a unique THWACK that's memorable today.
The chances were pretty good Steve or Carl would leave next. Both were constantly on their bicycles. If Steve left first, he went out the back door, THWACK! As was quite often the case, he would be delayed by a flat tire or some mechanical failure that required immediate attention. It was either that or walk and nobody walked in the 1950s.
After the repair was made and Steve was about to make good his escape, Ruth, with impeccable timing, would come out the back door (THWACK) with a final admonition.
Be home by 5 o'clock, she would call out.
All four of us heard the same boundary and generally, it was followed. The exception was Dave who was famous for getting in trouble with Joe for being late for dinner which was on the table and ready for consumption at 5:30.
As Carl went out the back door, THWACK, he too would find his bike in the garage. All three brothers could find their vehicle of choice either in the garage, or lying on its side in the back yard.
Steve recalls having trouble getting his bike to remain upright.
I probably replaced more kick stands on every bike I owned than any of us, he said. I was constantly breaking them. So, I'd just lay it down in the back yard. I was really hard on my bikes.
Both Steve and Carl spent a lot of time in one of two places on those warm, summer days..
Spudnuts Donuts in Broad Ripple, Carl said (Spudnuts Shops sold donuts made with potato flour called Spudnuts. The parent company no longer exists, but about 56 independent stores remain. The original recipe is based on a folk recipe that traces back to Germany). I don't know how often, but me and my buddies rode our bikes there a lot. You just knew that at some point in the day, we would end up at Spudnuts.
Steve agreed. Donuts were either a nickel or a dime and I always made sure I had a quarter in my pocket when I went out the back door (THWACK), he reminisced.
The other place was Ed Schock's Hobby Shop in Broad Ripple, Carl recalled. I literally spent hours every week walking around looking at stuff. It was the perfect place to add to my Baseball Card collection. You could find any card you wanted there.
Steve did the same thing. I had an electric train setup downstairs and I was always looking to buy something I didn't have for my village, he said. Sports wasn't my thing, that was more Dave and Carl.
One of Carl's passions was baseball. He was likely playing baseball with however many cohorts he could round up for a pickup game if he wasn't carousing around Broad Ripple on his two-wheeler.
We went to the Moravian Church at 54th and Haverford because they would let us play on their baseball diamonds, Carl recounted. We also went to Christ the King School on Kessler to play baseball too if the other place was full, he added. Usually, Tom Jessup and I were together, so wherever he went, you'd find me and vice versa.
Mr. Jessup became a veterinarian in Indianapolis. He and Carl are still friends today.
One of Steve's friends in the neighborhood was Mike Farkas.
Mike and I went everywhere on our bikes, Steve said. When we were about 15, Mike decided to take his dad's brand new 1958 Chrysler out for a test ride, he mused. I remember we were dumb enough to laugh as we backed out of the driveway as we headed for Mike's girlfriend's house a block away We both had a crush on her, but Mike actually kissed her one time, so, I knew I didn't have a chance. When we got back, his dad was waiting in the driveway.
Mike Farkas went on to become a dentist in Indianapolis. He lost a battle with cancer 20 years ago.
One of the dynamics of the brothers was they always went places with friends, rarely with each other.
Eating lunch at home was never a priority. But, if any of the four found themselves at home around noon, the odds were pretty good tomato soup and grilled cheese was the fare of the day.
Every weekday was the same, yet they each seemed different at the time, said Steve. Looking back, we all thrived on the continuity and repetition of those days.
Carl added, A couple nights a week after dad came home and we ate supper, we'd go for a ride. Most times we wound up getting ice cream. That's just how our weeks were every summer.
Sunday's were extraordinary at Joe and Ruth's. It was an unwritten rule none of us left the house on that day of the week. We were either at home, or at Ruth's sister's or mom's home for an unbelievable 1:00 o'clock Sunday dinner.
Everybody gathered for our Sunday meals, Dave said. Aunts, uncles, grandparents, cousins, you name it. We never knew who all would be at that table.
Carl remembered, There were no less than three to five main entrees on any given Sunday, plus all the sides, no matter whose home we dined.
There were only a few dishes she made that I didn't like, said Ken. Probably my favorite was kibbee (a baked Mediteranean dish made of meat and wheat).
I'd have to say fried chicken, Carl recalled. She always made sure she made some extra wings for me.
Dave and Steve agree.
Ruth made the best fried chicken in the United States, Dave said.
I'd eat it today, if mom made it, Steve said. She had that iron skillet half full of Crisco and a whole stick of butter.
Sunday night was always exciting, Carl said, because it meant Monday was next and we'd start all over.
Great memories, all three brothers agreed.
All the advertising in the world won't bring back those years no matter how nostalgic. All great memories are priceless, even the shutting of a back door, THWACK!
Coming up: You will be: meeting Indiana governor Eric Holcomb's press secretary; learning about a few retirees and their particular hobbies; sharpening your skills with a relatively new language; saying hello to a man who is 89 and playing travel softball!
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