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The other day I was running behind trying to get to my other office and I was dashing. As I was driving and I happened to look down and saw I was driving on gas fumes. I needed to stop and get some gas. Now there are something’s in life that is not my favorite thing to do and pumping gas is one of them and it got me thinking…

 Of course I don’t like pumping gas. It stinks, it can get dirty and it can be a pain. Maybe I’m just spoiled. I was raised in a time where people were trained and qualified not only to pump your gas, but to tend and care for your car and free of charge. Some of you know what I am talking about, it was called full service gas stations and it used to be all we had.

 Do you remember the full service gas stations? I sure do. As a kid, it was almost fun watching my parents get gas. It was an adventure and was certainly an opportunity get pampered. My mother used to pull into the gas station and the attendant would greet her by name, fill the car, wipe the windshield, check the tire pressures, give me a wink and a piece of candy and check under the hood. I wanted her to get gas every day. I wanted her to get that tiger in the tank!

 Some days the friendly gas station attendant would let me pump the gas. He would hand me the silver nozzle and tell me to pull the trigger. As a small child, this is what memories were made of. I remember I got a great reward after; sometimes a toy, sometimes a blow up tiger, sometimes just a chance to do it again.

 Plus come on, who can forget the soda machine that had bottled soda and for a quarter you could get a Coke or a Bubble Up and just for a few extra cents you a great piece of candy at the candy counter. Gas stations as a kid was an adventure.

 It sure isn’t like that now. I am unsure but I do not believe there are any full service gas stations in Arizona.  I do know that in Oregon and New Jersey, you are not allowed to pump your own gas and someone does it for you, however, you do not get that service with a smile.

 Back in the day getting a tank of gas could take up to 10-12 minutes per person. Checking the tires, the oil, even the battery, belts and everything else, took time. What I recall is that they did it with a smile as well. The gas station attendant seemed to take pride in their work. They enjoyed working with people and greeting them. It was a piece of American culture. If memory serves me, they even had little toys you could get cheap with a fill up.

 Sadly as gas prices rose, in the early 70s, gas station owners gave people the opportunity to save a few cents at the pump and let them self serve their own gas. I never thought I would ever see these gas attendants go, but they sure did, they are a thing of the past, much like what is happening to our banker. I have no doubt that bank clerks will be a thing of the past and one day you will see an article that says “do you remember bank clerks?”

 So, back to the original statement, do you remember the full service gas stations?

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I was talking to some friends the other day and we were chatting like we always do I am not quite sure how we got on the topic but someone we started talking about the old restaurant Sambo’s and this got me thinking…

 I remembered Sambo’s as if it were just yesterday that I was eating their silver dollar hotcakes and watching other drinking their advertised “bottomless ten cent cup of cofee.” I have gone to Sambo’s since I can remember. It was this great Village Inn Denny’s Style family restaurant that served up great grub since 1957.

 Now of course I was born in 1958 but I have no doubt my parents took me there as an infant because they liked eating there so much. I have very early memories of Sambo’s and they had this great little paper book, I think you could color in it, but I just can’t recall.

 The story was great. It was about a little boy and tigers that chased him and they turned to butter so Sambo took that butter home and his mom made him pancakes—just like the ones at Sambo’s. Big fat flakey ones that fell off your plate or cool silver dollar sized that you could gulp down in one bite. Either way, they were good!

 The Sambo’s story was simple and written by Helen Bannerman. It sold over 1,000,000 copies before it was pulled off the shelves in 1988 after being accused of depicting racist characters. The term “Sambo” became a racial slur. The magic of the little boy and the tigers that turned to butter to make great hotcakes were over. There was no more magic.

In fact, lawsuits led to the closing of a chain of over 1,000 Sambo’s and tons of employees and some of the best whipped butter you could imagine were gone. After all that butter was the tigers. Here is what was sad. Sambo was never “Black” like Africans; he was an Indian from India. Good grief he even had a turban on his head. 

Alas like so many things in our country, people remove the magic and only see things in black and white and rarely ever see the color. You see magic is filled with color. This was a fable turned into a family restaurant and that is what I recall; the fun, the kind people, workmen coming in and filling their thermoses with Sambo’s favorite coffee for a dime, the cool coasters on the table. It was pure magic I tell ya.

 Well no doubt down the road we will lose McDonalds playgrounds, someone will find something politically wrong with it, and anything else magical will be gone because we have replaced magic with mayhem.

 On a lighter note, an illustrator named Fred Marcellino understood that the story itself was not at all racist and simply a great story and produced a re-illustrated version and called it Little Babaji so no one would freak out.

 Long gone are the days where a simple little story about a boy from India watching tigers turns to butter. Long gone are the days of simple magic that we adored as children and clearly, long gone are the days where we could go in and read the fun story while dripping syrup from our mouth as we read the activity book they gave us on the table. What I do have is the magical memories, and no one can take that!

photo by euclidlibrary.org

I reached in my closet today to get dressed for a meeting and I grabbed a pair of tie-dye dress slacks. Hmmm I thought to myself, will this be okay to wear? They are dressy slacks and accompanied by a dressy blouse and jacket, I should look professional, well as professional as I get. I instead, grabbed a tie-dye shirt under a dressy blouse and heading out the door and it got me thinking…

 I love tie-dye. In fact, I can never have enough of it. I have a few pairs of pants, a pair or two of socks and a half dozen shirts. I need more MUCH MORE. I love the colors and the art that is involved with tie-dye and it got me thinking about this wonderful art, that became more than a fad, it became a fashion for generations and generations and more generations to still come so I did a little research.

 Most of us think tie-dye was about the 60s, and it sure made a huge comeback in the 60s no doubt however tie-dye started in China about six thousand year ago. So nope, it isn’t new!  It was different of course back then come on. What they did was used berries, roots and flowers and got the natural dyes out of them. They then dyed threads in different colors and weaved them into clothing and colorful designs were formed that resembled tie-dye. Throughout time it had different names and techniques but basically it had to do with dyes, threads and clothing, which created fashion and style.

 Ah pity us children of the 60s cannot claim this bright and colorful art form. In fact, in the 20s when the great depression it is said that pamphlets were printed that gave basic instruction on how to tie-dye things like curtains and throw-pillows. Many people in the 20s used cut up cotton flour sacks that were then tie-dyed and then sewed into spiffy clothing.  

 Of course tie-dye boomed in the 60s and they say it had a comeback in the 80s but quite frankly, I never saw tie-dye going out of style since the 60s. What has changed is product and techniques. As kids we used Ritz dye and today we custom order a variety of color powdered dyes and assortments of chemicals to keep the dyes from washing out.

 I recall as a kid my mother would get my sister and I the Ritz dye and we were allowed to tie-dye a shirt or two and a pair of socks or something. We would use string and rubber bands and design our master pieces. We would then dip it in the hot dye and wait then rinse. Within a month, the shirts were all faded out and we were left with stained blue or red fingers.

 Today, there are rinses that keep the dyes from rinsing out and colors that are bright and colorful. You can go online to tie-dye tips and tricks and designed maters pieces. Anyone can do this fun and colorful art now. We have tie-dyed a great deal in my household. We even toss a few tie-dye parties to this day and for holiday gifts, often do matching shirts and socks.

 There is no doubt about it that tie-dye reminds me of the 60s and takes me back to the Grateful Dead and their T-shirts and tapestries, and Woodstock and everything that is colorful and bright,  but I have to keep remembering that this is not a fad but a way of dying clothing now for over 6,000 years old…and I think that it is way groovy!