Another layer of the memorabilia box produced my mother’s 1953 diary, with the first entry in my father’s hand:
With the benefit of hindsight, some entries stand out:
These were certainly not fresh from the garden:
Perhaps reaching this stage required some persuasion:
This required me to be outdoors:
Mom’s case of “strep throat” required three penicillin injections to knock it down:
I get up a little earlier and go to bed a little later nowadays, but I see absolutely nothing wrong with any of this:
My eyesight was much better back then:
My parents ran a restaurant out of the house:
As you might expect, the diary tapers off after the first year.
The Smell of Molten Projects in the Morning 
Nice mementos and very cool sign, needs to be in your kitchen or living room on the wall.
It’s been sitting at the foot of the basement stairs for decades: I sometimes smile when I see the thing.
AFAICT, my father got into the restaurant biz because he needed a job after his South Sea Island tour, not because he had any particular chef-like skills. I think he (and, after a few years, his new wife) learned by doing over the next couple of decades. [grin]
Hmmm … first recorded case of mask wearing not to infect others ;)
The patents for electret filters date from the 1980s, so whatever masks she used wouldn’t meet contemporary standards: it’s the thought that counts!
Penicillin injections were quite painful: I think they were prepared by mixing penicillin powder and peanut oil and injecting it intramuscularly. They (and a country doctor who thought it was a cure-all) are why I loathe needles to this day.
OW!
She wore a mask to avoid scaring the kid with a day-long grimace …
I remember big glass syringes with loopy stainless steel finger handles and chonky reusable needles: more reasons why the world is a better place nowadays.
My childhood dentist used such for novocaine injections, so I stopped getting the shots.
That tends to explain why most of my childhood fillings had to be redone as an adult. That doctor used much better equipment.
Oooooh, I wish you hadn’t reminded me …
It appears to have taken four months to abandon calling you Elmer. I wonder why it took so long.
Maybe they wanted to see if I was a keeper? [grin]
Dad was Elmer Edwin, universally known as Nis, and I’m Elmer Edward, called Ed, because they didn’t want a Junior underfoot. This made perfect sense at the time.
Protip: Having a kid go by his middle name is a catastrophically Bad Idea™, because all of his paperwork will never be up to par.
It’s kind of cool, though… your initials are EE and that sort of set the course for your whole future. :-)
And, yeah, hadda get an amateur radio license …
I wanted to be a doctor, until I realized how much gore was involved. Then a fighter jet pilot, until I realized nearsightedness was a disqualifier. Then I evolved into an engineering bear.
In a previous life, I was surely chipping spear points so the other guys could go hunting …