MPT Part 7: Fifth Grade and Keeping Secrets

This is the seventh in a series of blogs I'm writing for Mommy's Piggy Tales .  Janna has provided a forum for members to write and share stories from their youth.  This is the post I have been most eager to write!

----But Don't Say Anything, Not Just Yet

1953 was an incredible year.  In fact, I cannot begin to capture the powerful emotions  I felt myself and experienced with my family.  So I'll go with the facts of the events and hope you can smile between the lines with me.

In late winter one Sunday night after dinner, my parents told my sister and me the best news we had ever heard!  In October, we would both be big sisters!  Our mom was having a baby.   We were absolutely thrilled.  "But  don't say anything, not just yet. It is too early in the pregnancy."  Wow, what a secret to keep!  But we did until a few more weeks had passed.  And by then, my parents had told the extended family individually and close friends.   In our small town where everyone knew everything about everybody, the good news spread quickly. 

Throughout the summer, we had family discussions about names for the baby, boy or girl.  And again, "Don't say anything ... in time, everyone will know."   I loved these discussions, thinking of all sorts of names: cute, meaningful, or just some that we liked.   And one night,  I remember it well, my mom suggested the perfect name for a boy that combined some family ties using initials and a special middle name with a traditional first name. All four of us loved it!   Fortunately, it was not a "leftover boy name" that they had chosen years earlier for either of us two girls.  For a baby girl, we talked a lot longer and agreed on a lovely name satisfying all our personal quirks and standards.  At home we called the baby "J or A" but I didn't say anything to anyone else.  Amazingly, I didn't even tell my cousin/best friend the names we had selected and she really wanted to know!

On Friday, October 9, Dad woke us up early saying that they were headed to the hospital (20 miles away). The baby would probably be born this day!   "But don't say anything, not just yet. " (Well, to be truthful, our grandparents and my cousin's family knew they were off to the hospital...but we were not to talk about this.)  We went to school as usual.   I couldn't begin to concentrate on my lessons.

About 11 AM, the elementary school principal came to the 5th Grade door.  Guess who had a phone call?   I rushed down the steps to the little phone booth in the central hallway.  Dad was calling, long distance, person-to-person for ME!   The news was wonderful, I had a healthy baby brother and mom was just fine!  He weighed 8 pounds and 14 ounces.   I cleared my tears and walked back to class beaming!   While I was out, my cousin had "accidentally" whispered to classmates "It's the baby!"   But I had the big news, "It's a boy!  His name is Joe." Oh, what a day!

Coincidentally, Friday October 9, 1953, was Homecoming for our high school.  In our town everyone went to all the games, always.  My sister, a 9th grader, was in the half-time show and was going to the dance afterward.  I went to the game with my cousin and her family because Dad was still with my mom and new brother 20 miles away.  I was talking to friends at the concession stand on the beautiful autumn evening when I saw my beaming Dad arriving.  Immediately, I ran up the hill to give him a big hug!  He was carrying a box of cigars to give out with the blue "It's a Boy" banner.  We made our way to the home side of the little stadium where we usually sat.  Suddenly the public announcer spoke to the crowd while waving to my dad, the former AHS football player.  He said  "Hey, congratulations Big Guy on the new Bulldog born this morning!"  Finally we could talk about our baby brother.

 Here we are a few days later. 

What an exciting time!

In November,  Mom made our traditional two birthday cakes, mine larger than M's.  This photo was taken in our breakfast room with the 50s style ivy wall paper. This is where we were when they told us about the baby.  Mom embroidered the coordinated curtains and table cover.  We're wearing our new birthday outfits. M sported a very stylish lavender sweater and was now into lipstick!   My plaid suit was three pieces, a skirt, vest, and jacket with a belt.  The second photo shows the vest of my outfit, but more importantly our little brother, Joe.

November 23, 1953 Ages 14, 11 and 6 weeks.

What a year for our family of FIVE!

MPT Part 6: Fourth Grade Rides and Thanks

This is the sixth in a series of blogs I'm writing for Mommy's Piggy Tales .  Janna has provided a forum for members to write and share stories from their youth.   THANKS Janna and THANKS to Wanda who inspired the wonderful project!

Fourth Grade, Riding Along and Thanks to Many

Family with Buick in 1952                               Internet Photo of my Dad's Jeep Willys (but his was always dirty)

In 1952 the family was  riding along in a blue Buick.  And on the farm, my dad sported a versatile little Willys Jeep that reminded a lot of people of Pat Brady's Nellybelle (from the Roy Rogers movies). 

Dad was expanding the cattle part of our farming operation and often needed to count the animals in various fields. On Sunday afternoons, one of us usually went to the farm with him to check things out.  I loved those times together.  We'd drive the Jeep up and over the terraces counting cattle as we went.  (If one was missing, it could mean a cow was having a calf off by herself, or maybe some animals had escaped due to a broken fence.)    I might say,  "Daddy, should we count heads or tails?"  "Well Karen, how about ears and divide by two."   "Or legs and divide by four?"  This is an old old joke that still makes me smile because I can hear us laughing together!

During wheat harvest, we had memorable picnics in the fields. Mom cooked huge meals, packed everything up (including a jar of soapy water for the men to wash their hands), and off we went in the car to locate my dad and the other workers.   We'd find a shady spot if possible in the harvested stubble, stomp it down as best we could, and spread out our blanket with a tablecloth on top.  We had the technique down to a science.  Then, we'd gather together, say grace and enjoy a family meal.  I'll always remember these special moments.  We would stay for a while when the men got back to work waiting for them to need to empty the hopper on the combine.  Dad would drive the machine beside the big truck and lower the spout.  Then the fun began.  As the grain was emptied into the truck, Daddy had a shovel to spread it around while the kids jumped barefoot in the grain.   It was amazing to see the hundreds thousands of grasshoppers with the wheat!  When the truck was full, a driver (perhaps my grandfather) headed to town and the grain elevator.  Farmers had to be very efficient at harvest time because the crop needed to be at the right stage and the weather cooperative. They couldn't waste time coming in for a meal.   (Thanks, Beth, for your recent post that reminded me of this fun time.)

The following story might be classified as a childhood event having some relevance to my adult profession. Perhaps that why I even remember all this! (Thanks, Denise, for your recent post which prompted this.  "It's so me." )

In our neighborhood, everyone had "green" lawns that were kept mowed, but not the manicured lawns of today.  No one watered or fertilized the grass, and everyone had a fair amount of clover. 

A fun activity for children was hunting for four-leaf clovers, perhaps inspired by the catchy song.   The game took a new turn for me when we had summer contests to find the lucky charms.  On one evening my friends each found one or two but I found six.  The next morning I looked more closely at my "secret" spot in the yard and observed the little vines and patterns closely.  When we played the game again a few days later, most kids found one or two and I came up with ten!  Now this was really fun!   Of course, I didn't tell the others what was going on.   I just nurtured my special vines and waited for another game.  The next time we played, my dad was observing.  Again, I won the game by a huge margin.  Dad had a twinkle in his eye and smiled at me.  He knew my secret.  I wasn't finding 4-leaf covers, I was cultivating them!      This is my first memory of an observation leading to a real scientific experiment and predicting the results!   

In the 4th grade that year, my teacher,  the wonderful Mrs. Emma Russell, made learning interesting and fun.    I loved ciphering in math and the Friday spelling bees.   Among many worthwhile projects, each child wrote an autobiography.  Since Mom saved my copy, I'm attaching a sample of my handwriting.   I remember what a big task it was, writing with a fountain pen and ink (not ballpoint), and endless copying to get it just right.   As I look at my penmanship now, I remember the HUGE controversy about the "new" handwriting style we were taught.  Instead of the traditional Palmer method, we learned a style that has an "open" letter p.  My mother was very upset about this... and when I wrote thank you notes for gifts to relatives, she made sure I "closed the p's."  And she also made sure I wrote promptly!

Folding Paper Word Game

During the presidential campaign that fall,  the candidate, General Dwight Eisenhower, came to our little town for a few minutes. And I was there!  A campaign train traveled from Omaha to Kansas City and it actually stopped, for us!   We got out of school for the 11 AM visit.  Crowds stood at our little Missouri Pacific Station and the train pulled in.  (Often the trains did not stop, so this was important.)  Eisenhower spoke briefly from the special caboose and we all cheered.  While there, we 4th Graders saw an unusual "I  LIKE IKE" sign that I remember distinctly.   When we went back to school that afternoon, we played word games with folding paper somewhat like the sign.   I suppose if a student wanted to do a word game with "I Like Adlai Stevenson" Mrs. Russell would have allowed it.  She was that kind of teacher!  Hundreds of students can thank her for a good year in school.

Thanks to Gretchen and All-American Sue for a recent post that reminded me of this story.
  
And in this season of Thanksgiving and my theme of this post, thanks to anyone who happens to be reading!

MPT Part 5: Third Grade, Pudding, and Progress

This is the fifth in a series of blogs I'm writing for Mommy's Piggy Tales .  Janna has provided a forum for members to write and share stories from their youth. Believe me, this is a lot of fun!

Third Grade, Historic Pudding, and Progress

Third Grade in our elementary school was upstairs...big deal, in my eyes!  My teacher was also the principal, the dreaded Miss Corners.  She was the stereotype stern spinster school teacher who scared most children (and their parents).   I didn't have any problems with her, but I tried my best not to test her patience!  Since she was the principal, she had more "student helpers" than other teachers...for jobs like answering the school phone (in a booth in the stairwell half a flight downstairs), taking notes around the building to all the teachers and waiting for an initial (no intercom in those days), and everyone's favorite -- operating the "lost and found."  Now these may not seem like huge tasks, but 3rd graders were eager to help on a rotating schedule.   All 3rd Graders were learning to be good citizens in the school community!   In fact, these responsibilities are my most vivid memory of school that year. 

My mom (far right) and siblings who loved pudding in1920s.

Throughout our school days, we always went home for a delicious lunch.  A real treat was having warm cornstarch pudding.  Sometimes Mom made red circular "moons" on top of each bowl which reminded her of her own childhood in the 1920s.  I loved the old stories she told and the pudding too.  Similarly, our children enjoyed cornstarch pudding and now I share it with our grandchildren.  I smile thinking that  four generations have had the same favorite lunch dessert.  My grandmother used cherries for the red color.  Mom and I turned to food coloring.  Our granddaughter has suggested a swirl technique.

2010 version of the moons (left).  Granddaughter prefers a swirl pattern.  Gotta lick the bowl, too.

In the 1950s our small Nebraska town was really progressing with two new technologies.  The first was dial telephones that replaced the old switchboard system.  When I picked up the phone, the operator would say  "Number, please."  And to call my cousin, I'd say very clearly  " Five two one" not five hundred twenty one.  "Thank you."  "You're welcome."  Telephone etiquette was very important!  Otherwise, you might get the wrong number.  Our home phone was 469; Grandma 403, St. Joseph's Church 345, the Farm 1731.  Rural numbers were party lines and had four digits.  Our farm was 1731.  The area was "17" and our ring was "3 longs and 1 short."   Why do I remember these things??? 

And the other technology was of course, TV!  The larger cities like Omaha and Lincoln had TV stations, but reception was weak in towns like ours. People installed an outdoor antenna and it helped if you had a higher elevation.   My grandparents were among the first to get a TV set, a Zenith with a round screen. Fortunately, they lived at the top of a hill.   My grandfather was eager to try latest thing.   My grandmother was totally delighted because  suddenly they had more frequent visitors like their sons(!), cousins, and friends.  She wasn't that interested in the shows, but the company was fantastic. Popular shows were "What's My Line?"  "The Ed Sullivan Show" and everyone's  Monday favorite, "I Love Lucy."

1951 birthday, the day of TWO parties.  Ages 12 and 9.

My sister and I turned  12 and 9 on our November birthday, 1951.  Our house remodeling was completed.  Here we are seated on the painted radiator with a padded cover that Mom made.  Again, my cake had to be bigger that M's.  I loved my dress, a navy blue with flower appliques.  This year we each had a party.  Mine was with 3rd Grade friends in the afternoon.  M had a sleepover that night with junior high classmates.  Now that was a full day!   Over the years, we had several birthday parties, but not each year. 



On a serious note from this era (1951-1953),  I remember how frightened parents and children were by a national epidemic of polio, also called infantile paralysis.  In our town, two girls slightly older than my sister, were stricken and disabled the rest of their lives.  A boy one year behind me in our grade school had his arm paralyzed, and he wore an unusual brace for some time.  But by the time we got to Junior High, he had regained his strength.   The radio newscasts had daily updates on the scary number of cases. I recall overhearing my mother and aunt talking about polio and both were in tears.  How could they protect their children?   People thought the disease might be spread in swimming pools, so we did not swim one summer. They may have actually closed the pool for a while.   Incredibly by the end of the decade, the Salk vaccine was available as a shot and a few years later we had the Sabin oral polio vaccine.  Thankfully, this crippling disease was effectively eradicated by the end of the decade.