Not long ago I read in an old magazine about a lady going to buy a “foundation” garment at the Sears and Roebuck store.

I guess in decades past it was common for most ladies to wear these garments.

When I mentioned this to my child bride wife, she informed me that her mother used to work at Montgomery and Wards in the lingerie department.

She also told me her mother had a certificate to fit a lady for her foundation garment and wore a white uniform.

Ladies back then used to refer to her foundation garment, rather than corset or girdle.

Well, it finally happened.

My age-old Lazy Boy chair has given up its faithful, many years of life for old Charlie.

I loved my old Lazy Boy as it fit my situation perfectly.

After my stroke in 1988 which left me with very bad double vision, my recliner rocker swiveled, which let me turn to look and talk to my visitors sitting on the couch.

So I went to Lazy Boy and found one that did the same three things as my old one did.

Once again, luck was on my side.

How many remember the big, round metal cylinder connected to the west side of our old two-story Oak Street school?

It was our way of escaping from the second floor if we ever had a fire.

Inside of it, spiraling down was shiny metal to slide down to the door at ground level.

Someone (not me) discovered you could open the door on the ground, make your way up to the top and slide down.

This was done after school let out, and usually at night.

Way back in my growing-up days, dads were the breadwinners and we had stay-at-home moms, with one exception.

One of my neighbors who was a widow had to work as she had two small children to raise.

I bet there are a lot of kids today who never had a chance to smell the pleasant scent of sheets and towels after they were brought in after hanging outdoors on the clothes line to dry.

There used to be a man out north of town who raised goats. He sold goat milk to people in Dowagiac who had stomach ulcers.

This was real rich and quite expensive, but I guess it helped heal ulcers.

You’ve heard of “Charlie’s Angels,” but have you heard of “Charlie’s Widows?”

You gals know who you are, don’t you?

“Cardinal Charlie” Gill writes a nostalgic weekly column about growing up in the Grand Old City. E-mail him at cardinalcharlie@hotmail.com.