Dear 50s Mom,
In a few years The Feminine Mystique will get published. You will discover that you’ve been drowning your unfulfilled ambitions in gin and valium. You’ll divorce 50s Dad, go to college, where you will shack up with another woman. Are you ready?
P.S. Peggy told me I really wasn’t two months premature because 7 pound babies aren’t two months premature. Did you really let Dad knock you up when he got out of the service?
Dear Cousin Cynthia
May I borrow your blue skirt and cashmere sweater set?
Love Cousin Paul
Dear 50’s Mom,
All of the kids make fun of me because I am so skinny that you can almost count my ribs. I am 5’3" tall and weigh only 110 pounds.
Every day I try to eat from the seven basic food groups and always start the day with a hearty breakfast. I don’t skip any meals and I exercise moderately (except during my time of the month, of course.)
What can I do to get some flesh on my bones and be like a normal girl? I just don’t look healthy or attractive when I am underweight.
Boney Maroney
Oh, Marjorie…
So all this is because I was 4-F? Is that it?
Funny how you didn’t seem to give a damn about my hernia operation the day we played Farmer Bill and His Seed Spreader.
Oh, well. I’ll stand aside and let you do your patriotic duty staying married to that crumbum. And to think I had you figured for a smart gal. With a heart, too.
Guess I’ll hang my tears out to dry,
Bill
Sales Representative
Electrolux Corp.
P.S. Betty from down the street says hello. Yes, that Betty.
You’d be surprised how many schoolteachers, nurses and real estate agents there are right here in the 1950’s already trying to fulfill thier aspirations. The poor career girls just haven’t found the right man yet. Besides, I’ve already read Simone de Beauvoir and decided that her main problem was getting mixed up with that Communist Jean-Paul Sartre in the first place. I’m perfectly fulfilled just being a 50’s Mom, volunteering for the March of Dimes and the PTA, at least until I’ve made sure my kids are married and in their own homes. Then I can be 50’s Grandma.
Your father was always a gentleman, even the night before he had to ship out and he might have gotten killed in the war and we would have never seen each other again. And that’s all I have to say on that subject, young mister!
As my favorite philosopher, Dr. Norman Vincent Peale, always says, never underestimate the power of positive thinking. The first thing you should do is talk to your doctor, of course. And if he tells you not to worry, then relax. That beautiful Audrey Hepburn is such a petite thing. You have a pretty face. Perhaps you should look into the world of high-fashion modeling.
Oh, Bill. I told you all along not to get your hopes up. That was just an innocent little flirtation to get back at 50’s Dad for paying too much attention to Betty at that cocktail party. Yes, that Betty.
Well, I can understand why men pay attention to Betty. Say what you will about her, she’s not ashamed of being a woman – having a woman’s desires. She’s been places, done things. There is more to life than a split level house and two and a half kids, y’know. I thought you understood that, Marjorie. How wrong I was.
Y’know, sometimes lately I miss the 30’s. None of us had any money, but we were happy. I had three squares a day living with 30’s Mom, and after I was through stocking at the hardware, I’d climb down off that ladder, hop in my jalopy out back and pick up my best girl, and we’d drink a couple lime Cokes and then just drive around under the moon…well, dammit, I miss those days.
Y’know why? Everything was so much simpler then. Nobody running around calling their neighbors Commies or worrying whether the kids were chewing gum in school. 'Cause kids knew not to chew gum in school. Not like today. And the music they listen to now? Pleeease. We had better in my day, that’s for sure.
Anyway, this post-war prosperity isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. That’s all I’m saying. Of course, you fellas that went to war and saved the world for democracy and all, we owe you one. It just seems as though we’re all in some kind of rat race nowadays, that’s all. All clenched up and on guard, like we’re still fighting that war. Sort of a cold war, I guess. I thought we had the world’s highest standard of living and the freest democracy. Seems to me we were a lot happier back when we weren’t so rich and free. I’m just saying, that’s all.
Aw, hell. Guess it doesn’t pay to bellyache, anyway. I’m going down to McGinty’s for a little package they’ve got waiting for me, then home to the Philco. Just like every night before you, Marjorie.
Tell me, Marjorie. Where did it all go wrong? Not us. These whole goddam 1950’s. You can have 'em for all I care.
Regretfully,
Bill
Bill, as the youngsters say, “don’t be a drag.” It’s a lot easier to be happy when you have money. Don’t you remember 30’s Dad losing his job at the factory and the whole family having to go on relief? And then just when we were starting to climb out of the Depression, along comes the War. You know, 50’s Dad was never the same after he got back from the War. Sometimes he gets real quiet, and he only seems comfortable with his buddies at the lodge and the VFW.
But he makes sure there’s dinner on the table each night and he taught Tommy how to pitch and Sandy how to ride her first two-wheeler.
Yes, the music is too loud and the Commies are kind of pesky – but not so much as the Nazis were. And when I think about those poor Negroes in Birmingham, my heart breaks for them. But don’t tell someone who grew up in the Depression that there’s more to life than a split-level home and food on the table. That’s a lot more than 50’s Mom had when she was growing up.
Now go out there and knock 'em dead in Portland. I’m sure Oregon (or is it Maine?) is ready for the new revolution in home cleaning!
Maybe you shouldn’t have driven out past the edge of town. Now everything is so…unpleasant. It used to be 50’s Dad came home from the office to a martini and a hot dinner. Now his shirts have iron marks on them, and 50’s Mom spends way too much time down at the diner. Thank God there’s still the bowling alley.
It’s just not like it used to be. Thankfully, there’s still television. Everything is all right on the television. Ralph keeps Alice in line with a few manly threats, Ward Cleaver dispenses invaluable advice every thirty minutes, and Jim Anderson, Sr. knows best. There’s none of this unpleasantness on the television. No siree…no violence or drug use or disrupting news reports that dispute the official United States Information Agency line. And God willing, it’ll stay that way forever.
Stranger
But, if things don’t change, 50’s Son will grow up to become infected by a genetically altered arachnid, and 50’d Daughter will become obsessed with wearing pink, and carrying little cross-dressing chihuahua’s around in oversized pocketbooks
oh, never mind
Dear 50’s Mom,
I was in my friend’s basement, grooving to The Who with my friends, and Timmy took out a really small cigarette-looking thing… he called it a… reefer. Soon, he passed it to everyone, and Jan passed it to me. Then I smoked it. I felt funny.
Oh Mom, what have I done? Will I be a Communist Negro, like Daddy says? Or one of those Beatniks? Help me!
–Puzzled Over This
Yes, I realize this letter is hopelessly anachronistic 
So, 50’s Mom, you “took off your face”, eh, how do we know that you’re really not a Commie Android (or “Cylon” i believe is what all the kids are calling them these days…), how can you prove to us that you’re really a red-blooded American Mom?
Sincerely William “Husker” Adama
Dear 50’s Mom,
My older sister Suzy and my mother have been talking with the door closed a lot these days. One day I couldn’t resist, so I put my ear against the wall and listened. All I could make out were things like “keep them under wraps as long as you can or folks will notice”, “dogs can smell you a mile away, so be careful”, and “you don’t want any red showing through.” Worse, they kept talking about our Aunt Flo visiting, but I’ve never even seen her! What are they trying to hide?
I think the women in the family are secretly taking up with the Communists. Should I write a letter to J. Edgar Hoover?
Oh dear, this is the kind of thing a 50’s Mom worries about all the time. Now you’re going to be a drug addict. We’ll have to put you in one of those asylums and give you elctroshock treatments.
We’re calling the police. Be sure to cooperate with them completely before the electroshock destroys your memory.
I’m glad you came to me early, though. If we nip this thing in the bud there’s at least a 5% chance we can keep this marijuana habit from developing into heroin use.
[QUOTE]
So, 50’s Mom, you “took off your face”, eh, how do we know that you’re really not a Commie Android (or “Cylon” i believe is what all the kids are calling them these days…), how can you prove to us that you’re really a red-blooded American Mom? [\QUOTE]
Husker, have you been watching those silly science fiction movies at the drive-in?Rest assured 50’s Mom is as true-blue an American as Dinah Shore.
But I’m afraid you’re going to have to take my word for it. 50"s Mom doesn’t go out in public without her face on.
Dear Aunt 50’s Mom,
I thought I should ask you instead of my mom since she has enough on her plate with my brother Paul. As you know, I have been married to Jim for almost 2 months now. I’ve never been happier until last night. He wanted me to put his… you know…*** in my mouth!?!*** I told him I have a toothache. I’m supposed to make a dentist appointment. What should I do?
And thanks again for the lovely toaster.
Your loving niece,
Mrs. Perl Nichols
Let’s just say your mother is educating your sister about the wonders of becoming a young woman. Rest assured it doesn’t have anything to do with Communism. But we women are allowed to have our little secrets, and I won’t give away any more about this one.
Dear Perl,
Yes, 50’s Mom is aware of what you’re talking about. I read about it in a marriage manual. The author pointed out that no matter how sick, disgusting and perverted it may seem, some couples actually do consider it part of the wifely duties.
At one of our bridge club meetings, Nancy had a few too many screwdrivers and admitted she tried it with her husband. Although she didn’t care much for it, she said “first I got the pearl necklace, then I got a mink stole!” I haven’t seen her wear the pearl necklace, but the stole is lovely.
Dear fifties mom,
My friend Jimmy says that his mommy and daddy don’t live together anymore. He says they’re div-horse-ed. And that they don’t love each other anymore. My mommy and daddy said that mommys and daddys have to love each other forever.
From, Confused
Your parents are right. Mommies and Daddies are supposed to love each other foever. For a mommy and daddy to get divorced is a terrible thing.
You should feel very sorry for your friend Jimmy. He comes from what we call a “broken home.” He must have done something awfully bad to make his parents not want to live together anymore.
Dear 50’s Mom,
In your opinion, what was the greatest invention of the 20th century up until now?
And what do you think the next one will be?
The greatest invention of the 20th Century has to be the refrigerator. 50’s Mom is old enough to remember the ice box. Refrigerators keep food fresher, which means I don’t have to go to the market everyday . I know they’ll be coming along with even bigger refrigerators soon, maybe even some that can hold more than two trays of ice cubes in the freezer compartment. Then I could stock up on meat for a few days.
Earlier I made a joke about some kind of magical oven that could defrost meat or cook vegetables in a matter of minutes, and some sort of permanently pressed clothes that would cut down on ironing. Those would actually be wonderful inventions that I’d like to see. So space age! The Communists can put a satellite in space, but it still takes all afternoon to make dinner.
But since I’ve been to a lot of weddings of my friends’ teenage children, I know a lot of people would like to see some sort of pill that girls could take to keep from getting in a family way. Not in my lifetime, though. The only pill that can keep a girl from getting pregnant is an aspirin – which she has to hold between her knees all evening (that’s a 50’s joke, hardy harr harr!)
Dear Mrs. 50’s Mom,
Today at class, during History, our teacher was telling us about other places in the world where they have different types of government. It was really neat! Well… she told us about these places where they have, I think she said, a “planned economy.” Well, I guess I didn’t understand, but I raised my hand and she called on me and I said it sure sounds like a planned economy is better than some messy old economy where nobody is planning anything. The teacher got really mad, but I never did figure out what she was mad about. Oh yeah, the rest of the class laughed at me, and that hurt. What did I say wrong?
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