My husband is three years younger than I am. That doesn’t seem like much, but occasionally just that age difference means that when I say something like “blame it on the bossa nova” he doesn’t remember the song. I make these kind of random comments frequently and he usually knows the reference. For instance he connects with the Laurel and Hardy line, “fine mess you got us into Ollie,” and even gets it wrong(me not us) the same way I do.
We can break out in the same advertising jingles when pressed, much to the annoyance of our grandchildren. “Brusha brusha brusha with Ipana toothpaste.” “You’ll wonder where the yellow went when you brushed your teeth with Pepsodent.” And of course we can chant the same bad jokes “knock knock who’s there?” “Banana””Banana who?” Repeated four times and finally “knock knock who’s there?” “Orange” “Orange who?” “Orange you glad I didn’t say banana.” Loud groans ensue.
A good friend of mine married a man twenty years older than she was. They had a good lasting marriage, but I always wondered about what culture sharing they could do. He was born in 1927 and grew up in the Depression. She was born in 1947 and grew up in the 50’s. He knew radio shows she had never heard of. She watched “Spin and Marty” on the Mickey Mouse Club. Not earth shattering differences, I guess, but a lot of cultural ground wasn’t shared.
I have enjoyed the various times I have posted about some material aspect of my youth and discovered that a number of my readers connect with those same drinks, books, tv shows, movies or songs. Sure I love learning about differences too. But at home I appreciate the short hand between my husband and me when I say “hit the road Jack.”