Dear Smiley: In the late ’50s, Louisiana College, in Pineville, had a new swimming pool that all the students really enjoyed.
However, the school decreed that there were two periods set aside for swimming: one for the guys and one for the girls.
Furthermore, the young ladies were required to wear raincoats over their swimsuits from their dorms to the pool and back — for modesty reasons.
There were no female lifeguards, so the lone registered lifeguard, a male student, was the only guy on the campus who could ogle the coeds in their swimsuits for two hours a day. As you would suspect, he was the envy of all of the male students.
By the way, guess who that lucky lifeguard was?
Born too soon?
Dear Smiley: When I was in college in the early ’60s, girls still had to wear skirts with appropriate tops to class on Monday through Friday. If we had a late lab class on Friday (after 4 p.m.) or any Saturday classes, we could wear slacks, but NOT blue jeans or shorts.
We could also go to supper in slacks any day of the week, but for Sunday dinner at noon, we were expected to show up as if we had gone to church, whether we had or not.
In the early ’70s, we were stationed at West Point, where my husband was assigned to teach French.
One of the younger officers in the department was married to a girl who graduated from my school eight years after I did, after the big “let-it-all-hang-out” revolution of the mid-to-late ’60s.
She reported that girls could wear jeans, shorts (to include cut-offs and “hot pants”), T-shirts, sweats, whatever they wanted. And the real kicker? They didn’t even have to wear shoes!
HARRIET ST. AMANT
Park it here!
Dear Smiley: I was reminiscing with another Yat elder about the “Aints” when they played at the original Tulane Stadium.
Back in the ’70s, as a young (14 years old) entrepreneur, I would ask my neighbors on Broadway if I could park cars for the games in their driveways and split the profits.
I did a pretty good job at $2 per car, parking about five cars per driveway. We would really make the big bucks at the Sugar and Super Bowls, for $5 a car.
What was really amazing is that those who parked would give me their keys, so I could move their cars if needed out the way of others who had parked and may have not gotten back in time — and I didn’t even have a driver’s license.
Those were the days, as Edith used to sing on “All In The Family!”
Dear Smiley: When I was a teenager and listened to rock ’n’ roll music, I was told that too much volume was bad for my hearing.
Now I’m in my 60s, and my hearing is fine.
But now I’m being told that too much volume is bad for my waistline.
I think I’ll go put on something by Chubby Checkers or Fats Domino.
Thick and thin
Dear Smiley: The other day I was talking to one of my grandchildren, Breanna, 8 years old.
I usually tease her about any and everything. Sometimes she gets perturbed at me which, of course, is the point.
This particular day I was teasing her pretty good, and she was getting especially perturbed at me. All of a sudden she stopped what she was doing, looked straight at me and said, “PawPaw, you’re treading on THICK ice!”
Dear Smiley: Some time ago, a fellow called and informed me that they were monitoring my computer and found a “dangerous virus” that needed to be removed immediately!
He instructed me to go to my computer and follow his instructions. I asked him where he was calling from, and he said, “Microsoft,” whereupon I said, “No, you’re not — you’re calling from a suburb in either Bangladesh or New Delhi.
There was silence for a bit, and then a very soft “OK,” followed by a hang-up. Hasn’t called me since.
Domestic Goddess Dept.
Dear Smiley: I am such a culinary queen.
One time I had invited a large-ish group over for breakfast. In order to make a big batch of bacon, I slipped it all into the oven.
Then I decided that curried eggs would be good. I had no idea how to make them but figured if I scrambled some curry powder in, that would do the trick.
My company sat down to black powdered bacon and khaki-colored eggs.
After a moment of stunned silence, someone suggested that we all go to the local greasy spoon for a lube job.
I was first out the door.
Write Smiley at Smiley@theadvocate.com. He can also be reached by fax at (225) 388-0351 or mail at P.O. Box 588, Baton Rouge, LA 70821.