I remember returning to California from the Middle East as a result of the 1967 war there. I crossed from the East Bay and through Palo Alto to Stanford for a job interview. In Black East Palo Alto the streets were loaded with people celebrating. I needed gas, and at the station asked the attendant what was the occasion. He said it was “Mother’s Day.” I said I didn’t know that, but I had been abroad for a number of years. The answer was “Sure, this the day the welfare checks arrive.”
Mothersday was a nationwide thing.
Grocery stores stayed open all night.
The end of each month was like a breath if fresh air back then.
This was before some fool declared it’s their money and before plastic cabbage.
Now every won is flashing a card a pocket full.