Around 1960 radios with transistors had come for good in our lives. So I decided to get myself one. The basement of the store "Minion" as many will remember, was one of the most suitable places for this purchase. So, after some searching I bought a "National Panasonic", which you can see in the photo. The market price was 800 drachmas. So I went to the cashier, but surprisingly he asked me for my personal data to send to the EIR (national broadcasting institution, which forced the radio owners to pay a monthly contribution - for more information about it click here).
-Leave it my friend, I will not take it, I replied.
-Well, do not worry, we will not send them, he assured me.
It was probably the fierce look I had that made him change his mind immediately, so the little radio became mine. Such was my longing for the little radio that I stayed up all night with it. The next morning I was tired of not sleeping but happy as if I had won the lottery. Since then it became my inseparable friend. The day I was working as an electrician and at night I had it at my bedside calming me with its music.
And the time came that I had to present myself for my military service. The first, and perhaps the only thing I took with me was the little radio. At the gate, the officer asked me if I thought that I was going on a trip. Unfortunately for me, he kept it and returned it after the inauguration. The feeling I had as a rookie and without it, I cannot describe.
Technology brought forth the FM, resulting my little radio getting somehow marginalized. This does not mean that it has lost its worth for me, it is an important part of my youth...
Here you can see the tickets of that olden times. What we made my friends and me gather them is that by reading them from left to right, and vice versa, you got the same number. You will notice that the last one is different, and for that one I would like to talk.
One evening returning from night school that I went, the tickets collector (the tickets were issued inside the bus) gave me the said ticket. Looking at it drove me nuts because it was only a number away from the kind of tickets I collected, so I started to watch the man who took it. I didn't get down at my stop, but after two stops that he got off, hoping that he would toss it somewhere and I would take it. I followed him to his house, but in vain, he didn't throw it (now that I think about it; maybe he was a collector, too?)
I came home disappointed , late of course. My mother asked why I was late and I replied that I had lost the bus and took the next one. How to explain her about my adventure!
Now many will wonder why didn't I just ask the man. What can I say... different years!
I spent my childhood years in a neighborhood with many kids (families with settlement, new Liosia. It still exists). So, we run around there all day barefoot, wore shoes only on Sunday for church an when we had school, in that neighborhood that the toys we played with were made by us.
"Ksiliki", ball from rags and some luckier kids who found bearings to construct a skateboard. At Mr. Stelios courtyard there was a large tree with a swing. We were crowded about who will play first. We swang for endless hours. Mr. Stelios, although wanted to sleep at noon. How could we understand about it, though, that the day wasn't enough for our game! If our mothers didn't call for us in the evening, we'd still be out!
In this neighborhood, one day Christos appeared with a clock in his hand. With pride he told us his uncle had brought it from the USA. And to take a little of his joy, we asked him what time it was all the time and he was happily answering: 'quarter past three, ten to five, seven and twenty". After a few days on same question, Christos hesitated to answer and one day he told us that he should not look at his watch much, because it would get old. Why did he say that? The jokes on him after that were indescribable. We asked him what time it was even when he didn't wore the watch.