I just realized I failed to post an ad from the vintage archives yesterday so will make amends here on the Lord’s Day (and by “Lord” I mean Mrs. Blather who has designated this as the day each week I shall do stuff she wants done.)

There was a brief but wonderful time in our nation in which everyone was utterly convinced nuclear power was going to change everything about our lives–and they meant that in the good way. That era probably began on January 17, 1955 when the U.S.S. Nautilus–the world’s first atomic-powered submarine–was launched. “Underway on nuclear power” was the first message radioed back from the vessel. The event captured the imagination of the entire country.

From that day forward, every product that wanted to be viewed as modern and scientific tried to find some way to work an “atomic” angle into their pitch. This extended, apparently, to stuff you’re supposed to rub on your little kid’s chest:

“From the laboratories of atomic medicine . . .” These are words designed to confer instant credibility. And they did. Why? Because “scientists” were involved!

I’m not too sure about the sentence structure of this caption. There seems to be a participle dangling around in the wrong clause somewhere. But I am pretty sure that the atomic scientists at Vicks didn’t use a particle accelerator to fire an atom into a pointy-limbed test subject and watch it ricochet around.

Again, writing sensical sentences seems to be a challenge here, but we get the drift. Slather the stuff all over your kid’s upper body, particularly “the area of lungs and heart.” Why? Because of “cold tension” which is a problem with which I’m not familiar.

Like most people around my age, I have memories of being greased up with this stuff when I had a cold–usually in conjunction with a “humidifier” in the room.

[Note: In recent years, Vicks Vaporub has proven to be highly efficacious in treating a very different malady. Toenail fungus. That’s right. For many people, Vicks appears to be more effective than prescription medications that cost hundreds of dollars per month. My Dad tried it. Worked like a charm!]