Memories Archive
Browse and vote for your favorite vintage memories from our community
All Memories (9)
Milkshakes at Miller's Drugstore
Miller's Drugstore on Main Street had the best soda fountain in three counties. After school, we'd all pile into the red vinyl booths and order chocolate malts for 25 cents. Mr. Miller would put on an extra scoop of ice cream if you'd been good in school that week. The jukebox in the corner played Elvis, Buddy Holly, and Little Richard for a nickel a song. My first date with Jimmy was at that counter in 1956 - he ordered us both strawberry phosphates and we shared a plate of fries. We've been married 68 years now, and he still calls me his "soda fountain sweetheart."
— Dorothy Mae Henderson
My First Car - A '64 Mustang
I saved every penny from my paper route for three years. In the spring of 1967, I finally had enough to buy her - a red 1964½ Ford Mustang with a white interior and a 289 V8 under the hood. She wasn't perfect; she had a dent in the passenger door and the radio only picked up AM stations. But when I fired her up for the first time, hearing that engine roar to life, I felt like the king of the world. I spent every weekend that summer washing and waxing her, cruising Main Street on Friday nights. That car taught me more about responsibility, pride, and freedom than anything else in my teenage years.
— Frank "Ace" Romano
Sock Hops in the School Gymnasium
Friday night sock hops at Jefferson High were the highlight of our week. We'd all take off our shoes at the door to protect the gymnasium floor, and dance in our bobby socks until our feet hurt. The boys would stand on one side, girls on the other, until someone brave enough would cross that invisible line. I remember the first time Tommy asked me to dance to "Earth Angel" - my heart nearly jumped out of my chest. We'd do the Hand Jive, the Stroll, and if you were really good, the Bop. Mrs. Henderson, our music teacher, would chaperone and make sure we kept "room for the Holy Ghost" between us when we slow danced.
— Patricia "Patty" Sullivan
Route 66 Road Trip - Summer of '61
The summer I turned 18, my buddy Mike and I decided to drive Route 66 from Chicago to Los Angeles in his dad's 1955 Chevy station wagon. We had $200 between us, a road atlas, and absolutely no plan. We stopped at every roadside diner, motor court, and tourist trap along the way. I remember the Wigwam Motel in Holbrook, Arizona - we slept in concrete teepees! We ate at the Big Texan in Amarillo, saw the Cadillac Ranch, and got our kicks on Route 66. That trip taught me that America wasn't just a country - it was an adventure waiting around every bend in the road.
— James "Jim" Caldwell
Sunday Dinners at Grandma's House
Every Sunday after church, the whole family would gather at Grandma's house for dinner. She'd have been cooking since dawn - pot roast with carrots and potatoes, green beans from her garden, homemade rolls that melted in your mouth, and her famous apple pie for dessert. The dining room table would be set with her good china, and all fifteen of us would squeeze in somehow. After dinner, the men would listen to the ballgame on the radio in the living room while us kids played kick-the-can in the backyard. Grandma would sit on the porch swing, shelling peas and watching us play. Those Sunday dinners taught me that family isn't just about blood - it's about showing up, breaking bread together, and making memories that last forever.
— Barbara Jean Wilson
Working at Dad's Garage
From the time I was 12 years old, I spent every Saturday at Dad's garage on Elm Street. He'd taught me to change oil, rotate tires, and gap spark plugs before I could even drive. The smell of motor oil, grease, and gasoline was like perfume to me. Dad would let me work on the easier jobs while he tackled the big repairs. I remember the day he let me rebuild my first carburetor - a Rochester 2-barrel off a '56 Buick. When that engine fired up smooth as silk, Dad just nodded and said, "You're gonna be alright, son." That garage wasn't just where we fixed cars; it was where Dad taught me about hard work, honest dealing, and taking pride in a job well done.
— Charles "Chuck" Anderson
The Day Elvis Came to Town
August 12, 1956 - the day Elvis Presley performed at the County Fair. I was 16 years old and I thought I'd die if I didn't get to see him. My parents finally agreed to let me go with my older sister as chaperone. We waited in line for three hours in the August heat, but when Elvis walked on that stage in his pink jacket and black pants, it was worth every minute. When he started swiveling those hips and singing "Hound Dog," the crowd went absolutely wild. Girls were screaming, some were crying, and my sister had to hold onto me to keep me from rushing the stage. My mother nearly fainted when she saw the newspaper photo the next day - there I was in the third row, hands clasped to my face, mouth wide open. I still have that newspaper clipping in my scrapbook.
— Helen Marie Thompson
Little League Baseball - Summer of '58
The summer of 1958, I played shortstop for the Riverside Tigers in the Little League. We practiced every afternoon at Miller's Field, and on game days, the whole town would come out to watch. My dad worked the night shift at the factory, but he never missed a single game. He'd sit in the bleachers in his work clothes, still smelling of machine oil, cheering louder than anyone. The day I hit my first home run - a line drive that cleared the left field fence - I rounded the bases and saw Dad standing up, clapping so hard I thought his hands would fall off. After the game, he took me to Woolworth's and bought me a banana split. He told me he was proud of me, not because I hit a home run, but because I'd never given up, even when I struck out three times the week before.
— William "Bill" McCarthy
The Five and Dime Store
Woolworth's Five and Dime on the corner of Main and Oak was my favorite place in the whole world. Every Saturday, Mama would give me a quarter, and I'd spend an hour walking up and down those aisles deciding how to spend it. The wooden floors would creak under my feet, and the smell of fresh popcorn from the snack counter would make my mouth water. I'd look at the candy counter with its rows of penny candy, the toy section with its tin wind-up toys, and the cosmetics counter where the high school girls would try on lipstick. Sometimes I'd buy a comic book and a Tootsie Roll. Other times, I'd get a paper doll set or a balsa wood airplane. But the best part was sitting at the lunch counter on a tall swivel stool, eating a grilled cheese sandwich and watching the world go by through the big plate glass windows.
— Margaret "Maggie" O'Brien