Celebrating New Year's

My parents didn't "go out" often, but they did every New Year's Eve, either to a party at someone's home or the Ambridge Vets (VFW), leaving me and my sisters to spend the evening celebrating with our grandma. My grandma would feed us cookies and let us stay up, dressed in our pajamas and slippers, way past our usual bedtime. She'd turn on her TV, and we'd watch Guy Lombardo and His Royal Canadians live from a New York hotel ballroom.

Sometimes Grandma would dance with us. When we were little, she'd let us stand on her feet while she stepped and swayed around her living room. We were incredible dancers!

We'd watch the glamorous people party until the ball dropped in Times Square at midnight. Then we'd grab some of Grandma's pots and pans and rush out into the cold night air, stand on her front porch, yell "Happy New Year!" and bang those pots and pans together as loudly as we could. We could hear others in the neighborhood doing the same. After a few minutes of making a ruckus, we went back inside and to bed.

I loved the morning of New Year's Day when we'd get the exciting booty my parents had brought home for us from the party. Shiny cardboard hats. Sparkly tiaras. Streamers. Cardboard horns with thin strips of tissue paper hanging from the bottom. Blowout horns. Decorated tin noisemakers that clicked, clacked, rattled, or made a cranking sound when you spun them on their handles. Such fun!

Then we'd go to Mass since January 1 was a Holy Day of Obligation, which obligated Catholics to go to mass. Back then, it was "the Feast of the Circumcision." If we asked what "circumcision" was, we were led to believe that it was sort of like a baptism for Jews. Because you couldn't tell Catholic kids, especially girls, about cutting off part of Jesus' penis. Later, the name of the day was changed to "Octave of the Nativity." "Octave" is much easier to explain to inquisitive kids. Now, the day is called "Solemnity of Mary, the Mother of God." Even easier to explain. Or not. "Well, 'Solemnity of Mary' doesn't mean Mary was 'solemn,' which means 'serious' or 'somber' or 'not a lot of fun.' Rather, in Catholic-speak, 'solemnity' means this is a extra-important Catholic celebration."

My mom would always cook pork and sauerkraut for our New Year's Day meal. I also seem to recall that my dad had a New Year's tradition of eating smelts. He'd try to talk me into eating one, but the smelts smelt, so I'd decline. I've tried to find out if the smelt-eating was some kind of Slovak New Year's tradition, but so far, I haven't found anything indicating it was. Does anyone know why my dad would have started the new year with a smelt snack?
_____

The VFW is still at 1098 Duss Avenue, and it doesn't look like the exterior has changed much over the years. The above photo shows the Google street view.

Carrying a plaid, metal lunchbox to school in the mid-'50s

Photo credit: Tamara Ricci, used with permission

The old, red brick, three-story Divine Redeemer School building at 300 Merchant Street, now Karnavas Vending, didn't have a cafeteria. It didn't have much of anything except six classrooms, a few tiny, single-toilet bathrooms, and some cloakrooms. Oh, and a lobby area where we waited for the bus after school. So we took our lunches to eat at our desks.

In early elementary years, I carried my lunch in a red plaid, metal Aladdin lunchbox that looked like the one above.
 
That lunchbox was a disappointment, although I don't recall ever complaining about it to my mother after she bought it for me, because what would have been the point of complaining? My mom wasn't going to take it back and get me the more trendy lunchbox I would rather have had with that cute Tweety bird or at least Mickey Mouse on the side. (While those weren't my favorite TV characters in my early elementary years, even then I recognized that carrying a Hopalong Cassidy lunchbox would greatly increase my dorkiness quotient in the opinion of my classmates.)
 
As a practical matter, the plaid lunchbox made sense, as at least it was equally non-trendy--and not Hopalong-grade dorky--for my entire elementary school career.
 
The lunchbox came with a matching plaid, glass-lined thermos. The thermos was held securely in place, theoretically at least, by a one-piece, u-shaped, metal wire clip. Yet, I don't know how many times I brought home a thermos that made that clinking-tinkling sound which identified a thermos with broken glass inside. I have no idea how I broke them. It wasn't as if I'd used my lunchbox as a weapon, although supposedly some schools banned metal lunchboxes for that reason.

Inside the lid were safety tips, written as a rhyme, and accompanied by illustrations.
 

Photo credit: Tamara Ricci, used with permission

The text reads:

"SAFETY FIRST" is an important rule
At home, at play, and in your school.
The school patrol is on guard each day,
And they know the rules you should obey.
So watch for cars with each step you take,
And cross at the corners for safety's sake.
There's really no need to play in the street,
Since playgrounds are better places to meet.
Learn all the rules of the games you play,
They'll be safer if done in the proper way.
Remember to walk, not run, in the halls,
Keeping to the right will save you from falls.
When lunch is over, clear the trash away,
And go on to have fun the "Safety Way"!
 
Having those safety tips inside the lid made sense, because didn't all kids read the inside lid of their lunchboxes? And then think, "Oh, those safety rules, which I never heard before, must be really important seeing that they are inside the lid of my lunchbox, so I'll follow them!"
 
Obviously, kids' minds must have worked so much more simply in the mid-'50s.
____
 
The lunchbox photos came from Tamara Ricci's Etsy store, BeholdAllThingsNew.