REMINISCENES OF MY LIFE
by
Norma Vivian Stottle
Chapter 1
CHILDHOOD MEMORIES
Just why it happened in that particular spring of 1924, which I am told was one of the dullest springs in many years, I don't know, but a daughter was born to Mister and Mrs. Floyd Stottle, which was the third child, but the first girl. She was gifted with curly hair and brown eyes which were characteristic of her father. From the first she looked like the Stottles and had a disposition like them, which is nothing to brag about.
Yes, that was I. My first brother died four weeks after birth because the doctor forgot his medical instruments when he was called suddenly, and had to go back after them. By the time he had returned my brother had died. He was named "Everett" after my father. Two years later Newell was born, in September. He has curly hair also, when he isn't trying to comb it out. Two years, seven months, and twelve days later, I was born. My mother says she was glad I was a girl, because she had had two boys before me; but I have often asked, "Why didn't you take me back and change me for a boy?" and I mean it!
It is rather strange how the others were born on such exact dates, leaving me as the "black sheep" of the family. On December ninth at eleven o'clock, Everett was born, September ninth at eleven o'clock was Newell's birthday, and on October ninth at eleven o'clock, two years after I was born, Esther was born. I was born at five in the morning on April twenty-first. If my superior will allow, my inferior would like to say that perhaps I am the off one of the family.
Nevertheless I was once called the best looking grandchild, with heavy emphasis on the "was."
My grandmother gave me my middle name, "Vivian" after a cousin who died. Esther's first name is "Fern," and she disliked it very much. Of course Newell was given my mother's maiden name, "Lehman."
My mother tells me that when I was very small, I could stand no one looking at me. I cried when anyone, but someone familiar, was around. Wingers (sp?) lived next door when we had moved to our present home, and of course, they, as children loved to see a baby. I would cry so loudly when they came to see me, that Mom would have to send them home. I don't care to have people standing and gazing at me now, but I no longer cry.
As each of us grew older, we were taught to do things to help our mother. The first thing was the dishes, and how we hated it! When Newell and I were drying them together once, I was determined not to wipe as many as he. We were always trying to see who could do the least anyway. After all the plates had been wiped, I took them, one by one, to the cupboard, until Newell caught on to what I was doing. He picked them all up at once and took them away. I was awfully angry at him. Many times, being a tempermental, stubborn child, I actually refused to do them, but I did them in the end.
Before Newell was hardly out of his babyhood, he had three or four operations; but the first one Esther and I had was to have our tonsils removed. Our cousin, Geraldine Studman was trying to keep our minds off ourselves by taking us for walks, but managed to get us back in time to get us on the table. I remember getting on the kitchen table, and the doctor putting me to sleep. The next thing I know, I was in bed. We all survived it successfully, but Esther, who being very young, bled quite badly. the necest part of this operation was the ice cream we received, and we had lots of it.
We had the usual children's diseases, whooping cough, chicken pox, measles, and mumps. We were very young when we had the whooping cough and chicken pox. Newell, I remember, got the chicken pox first; and every morning after he came down with them, I would show my mother my "tummy. One morning she said "yes" instead of the usual "no", and I stayed quarantined in for a couple of weeks. Soon Esther caught them, and she scratched the "itchy buggers", leaving noticeable scars.
The next was the measles. Newell had them three times before Esther and I did. His, which lasted three days, were never severe. I used to have to go upstairs and read the funnies to him. My job was to keep him entertained. It was a hard job, for he was in bed and in the dark at all times. As much as I was with him, I didn't catch them until several years later; then Esther and I had the old fashioned ones.
Of course, I was in bed, in the dark, and unable to read. I couldn't even see where my face was, it was so covered. I had always wanted to remain in bed for a long time until I had to stay in there almost two weeks. Everyone was kind to me and kept me from getting lonesome.
I had no sooner gotten out of bed then Esther crawled into the same bed with them. It was my turn to again help someone in the dark room.
In 1940, I got the mumps, but they were nothing to worry about. Newell caught them from me, but as of yet, Esther hasn't had them. I have had the hives which I thought was the seven years itch; and at her minor scratches from which I thought I was going to die.
My mother has three sisters and one brother who have children around our ages. Aunt Mil died. Lanely has lived in Michigan for many years, and it is always a great pleasure to play with her two girls, Ruth, my age, and Mary, Esther's age. I recall one time when they were down to Grandma Lehman's, and we went down to see them. Ruth wouldn't eat something she was supposed to, and her father scolded her. I forgot to say goodbye to her father the same day and got scolded too. I never saw him again, so I am very sorry I didn't bid him adieu.
Ruth was always a tomboy. She would rather play with the two boys of the family than the girls. She was born in the city, and the country was a novelty to her. She could climb the trees faster and higher than the boys. Every year, after they had gone home, Grandpa would have to remove the stones from the pig pen which she had thrown in at the pigs.
One year, when everyone was home, we all went to the lake. I didn't have a bathing suit, and I remember putting on a pair of play tags to go on with. I was so ashamed of them that when my mother took a picture of me, I had a face as long as a "wet week." I don't think that I enjoyed myself one little bit that day!
To go down to Gram's was the nicest thing we could do. Very often, we spend Sunday's down there, and we kids had romped around the farm all day long; but whether the romping or the little while pail inside the pantry door was most important, I don't know. Far inside this pail were cookies, and anyone could make cookies like Gram Lehman. We would no sooner get inside the door than we were in the cookie pail.
Someone always spoiled the day by taking pictures. I used to hate to have my picture taken and I would hate to have anyone see the faces I made when it was taken.
One time Newell went back to Michigan with Aunt Mildred, and it being a Sunday, Daddy took us to church which was the last time I remember going with him. When we came home Mom took our picture, and Daddy was so tall that his head wasn't visible. In the afternoon to keep Esther and I content she took us to the lake. Esther and I paddled around in our bathing suits while Mom and Daddy watched us. This sounds very unimportant, but it was one of the happiest days of my childhood. Newell doesn't know what he missed.
We owned sheep for many years, and Newell and I used to watch Daddy feed them. One time while I was watching, I suddenly fell headlong into them. A big "he man" sheep had taken a dislike to me and had politely told me so by mucking me. Daddy stopped him from doing it a second time, but I was pretty scared.
We had two pet sheep, Molly and Betty. They were our constant companions. They followed us all around and came when we called them. Molly was the friendliest of the two, but we liked Betty just as much. After my father died we sold our lambs and have never owned any since for fearing of having to sell them again.
Jerry, our pony, was the nicest, prettiest, and best pony in the world. Daddy would allow Newell to ride him alone, and when he started to run, Newell always fell off, without fail. At each fall, the pony stopped and waited for him to get up. Although Esther and I didn't ride him, we loved him and felt badly when he, too, was auctioned off later.
A young one always has something to scare him which makes one fear a particular thing the rest of his life. I was frightened by a fire next door which I discovered. Of course it had to be at night, and a black one too, when we were going down to Gram's. As we went outside, I saw a light over in the neighbor's barn and asked my mother who was milking the cows. Whatever gave me the idea, I don't know, because no one lived there. My mother called my father and the fire department, for the barn was on fire. I nervously stood by watching the huge barn burn and silo fall in the night. That scene comes back to me when I hear the fire siren, and that night branded me against fires. To prove my statement, a few years later an old car in our garage caught fire. Upon seeing it, I waked calmly but very white, into the house and said our garage was on fire. My mother fainted, and my nerves broke. I recall running in one door and out the next screaming and yelling. At last I was calmed, but have fear of the same thing happening if ever a fire destroys something such as our barns.
At the age of six, I started school. Newell and I went up to Riga district. I never especially liked it, but it was a wonderful experience. As young as I was, I was taught companionship; for boys were my constant companions. There were no girls my own age. Bruce Murray, a junior at Scottsville, and Harold Thousand were my only classmates. Many happy hours were spend with these two boys.
I remember the first day probably because the teacher didn't say "hello" to me. I just walked in the room and took a seat. She handed me a paper with words to learn to spell on it. The first word was "goat", and I cried more over that word because I couldn't spell it!
It wasn't unusual to see one of the big boys knock the teacher down. Allen Thousand did it more than once because she scolded him for always being late.
Jack Murray has told me since that he spit on one of the girl's shoes and expected the "dickens" from her "proud mama". As yet he hasn't received his punishment, but still doesn't like the girl to this day. Isn't it queer how one will dislike a person when he is young, and never learn to like him?
Many happy days were spend at Riga, but at the end of the first month, we went to Churchville High. I have had the best times of my life at Churchville. Even if I did enjoy the boy's company up there, I soon learned to enjoy girls. But at least I never fought with Bruce and Harold as I have done with the girls.
We owned sheep for many years, and Newell and I used to watch Daddy feed them. One time while I was watching, I suddenly fell headlong into them. A big "he man" sheep had taken a dislike to me and had politely told me so by mucking me. Daddy stopped him from doing it a second time, but I was pretty scared.
We had two pet sheep, Molly and Betty. They were our constant companions. They followed us all around and came when we called them. Molly was the friendliest of the two, but we liked Betty just as much. After my father died we sold our lambs and have never owned any since for fearing of having to sell them again.
Jerry, our pony, was the nicest, prettiest, and best pony in the world. Daddy would allow Newell to ride him alone, and when he started to run, Newell always fell off, without fail. At each fall, the pony stopped and waited for him to get up. Although Esther and I didn't ride him, we loved him and felt badly when he, too, was auctioned off later.
A young one always has something to scare him which makes one fear a particular thing the rest of his life. I was frightened by a fire next door which I discovered. Of course it had to be at night, and a black one too, when we were going down to Gram's. As we went outside, I saw a light over in the neighbor's barn and asked my mother who was milking the cows. Whatever gave me the idea, I don't know, because no one lived there. My mother called my father and the fire department, for the barn was on fire. I nervously stood by watching the huge barn burn and silo fall in the night. That scene comes back to me when I hear the fire siren, and that night branded me against fires. To prove my statement, a few years later an old car in our garage caught fire. Upon seeing it, I waked calmly but very white, into the house and said our garage was on fire. My mother fainted, and my nerves broke. I recall running in one door and out the next screaming and yelling. At last I was calmed, but have fear of the same thing happening if ever a fire destroys something such as our barns.
At the age of six, I started school. Newell and I went up to Riga district. I never especially liked it, but it was a wonderful experience. As young as I was, I was taught companionship; for boys were my constant companions. There were no girls my own age. Bruce Murray, a junior at Scottsville, and Harold Thousand were my only classmates. Many happy hours were spend with these two boys.
I remember the first day probably because the teacher didn't say "hello" to me. I just walked in the room and took a seat. She handed me a paper with words to learn to spell on it. The first word was "goat", and I cried more over that word because I couldn't spell it!
It wasn't unusual to see one of the big boys knock the teacher down. Allen Thousand did it more than once because she scolded him for always being late.
Jack Murray has told me since that he spit on one of the girl's shoes and expected the "dickens" from her "proud mama". As yet he hasn't received his punishment, but still doesn't like the girl to this day. Isn't it queer how one will dislike a person when he is young, and never learn to like him?
Many happy days were spend at Riga, but at the end of the first month, we went to Churchville High. I have had the best times of my life at Churchville. Even if I did enjoy the boy's company up there, I soon learned to enjoy girls. But at least I never fought with Bruce and Harold as I have done with the girls.
Chapter 2
A RENDEZUOUS WITH DEATH
It was hard to leave my friends behind in Riga, but it was necessary. I was spell-bound when I first went in such a huge school as Churchville after being use to a one room school with every grade in it. I saw no such beautiful winding stairways at Riga as I did there. The teacher too was different. She said "hello" to me when I entered every morning and helped me to get along the with other children.
At Riga when we wanted to go out and play, we played hid and seek or some other game, but at Churchville, there was a sand box and bouncing balls to play with inside. Also there were girls my own age to have good times with, and we did.
Esther started school a the age of four, and although it was no farther than Riga, Daddy drove us down, for he went to work that way. I was in the second grade and in the same room as Esther, so it kept her from getting lonely. Also, I entertained her in the swings in the large play ground when it was necessary.
Being the years of 1931 and 1932, it is rather hard to talk about my good times at Churchville in this chapter, for it seems as if there were but two chapters of my life with my father, my babyhood, and my early childhood. In 1932 he died, leaving us fatherless. Thus; I would rather tell about him now.
One thing he used to get a big kick out of was when I asked him for some money one morning for a book. He didn't have the exact change, so he gave me a little more and told me how much change I should receive. When I gave the money to the teacher, I told her that my father said I should get so much change back. I didn't think about it at the time, but since then I have often wondered what she thought about me telling her what she already did know.
Even if my father did spank me at times when I wouldn't wipe the dishes, he was quickly forgiven when he pushed us in the swing. Being over six feet tall he could make us touch the limbs of the tree. Nights when we got home from school, we would wait by the swing until he came home. He would say, "Now hang on tight," and away we would go.
On Saturdays and summer vacations, Daddy would take us "over on the road." He was Highway Superintendent, and we loved to watch the men build roads. One time we crawled slowly away from a lighted explosive on the steam roller. Of course there was no danger for us, but we thought so and were thrilled over it.
One day when I wasn't so glad to go over and see the men on the road, was when I had done something I shouldn't have done. Esther and I were sitting in the car and were watching some cows in the distance. I must have gotten excited and touched the brake, for we started down hill towards the barn. Daddy happened out in time and stopped the car. If he hadn't of, we probably have gone through the barn. He told the men what I had done, and I was a little ashamed of my doings.
I wasn't the only one who touched the wrong tings when in a car. My father tried to teach my mother how to drive once, and I never had such a thrilling ride in all my life. It seems that he wished her to turn a corner which was part way down a hill. Whether we ever made the corner or not, I don't know for I went on the floor. I don't think I have ever been so near a ditch since.
For two years in succession we had severe winters. In 1931, the roads were so icy that my mother and father went skating on them. They skated across the lawn to the road, then up the lawn and down the hill. That must have been fun!
In 1932, it wasn't only ice but snow. Daddy, being responsible for the opening of the roads, spent most of his time working. For weeks at a time he was never home but for a few minutes. He remained at the garage day and night waiting for storms to cease, but always to be on the job. He had little nourishment during the winter except between storms. By the time winter was over and spring had really come, Daddy spent most of his time on the couch. He was tired completely out.
Strange as it seems, during these trying times and just when my father was resting, my mother got a call from Aunt Mildred in Michigan. Her husband, a doctor, was very ill with pneumonia. She wanted my mother to go out and help her. She didn't want to because of my father, but he said that the doctor said he was all right.
It wasn't many days before we were packed up and taken down to Gram Lehman's. The last night we were home, we made our father show us his funny looking tongue. We laughed, and he kissed us goodbye for the last time, ever.
As I have said before, it was a treat to go to Grams, thus when we knew, Esther and I, that we were going to stay for awhile, we were overjoyed. A little while is enough to stay away from home, but when you lose track of the time altogether, it is no longer fun. We had a good time as usual, until Esther got homesick. Then with our separate rooms and going to school, you miss home. Getting homesick spoiled it all. She cried and cried and cried to go home. Of course when she felt that way, I did too. About that time, Gram started sending us to our different aunt's, but even that wore off.
All the time we were away from home, we never knew what was going on. At school, Edna Munger told us that our father was dying. We felt quite badly over this, but Miss White consoled us by saying she was only kidding. Edna told us later she was told not to tell but the temptation was too great.
One night when we were again at Gram's, Frank Jacobs came down and wanted to take us home. We were overwhelmed with joy! He made us promise not to cry when we saw our mother or over what she was going to tell us. When we drove in the yard, the headlights flashed on a pretty wreath of red roses on the door. Then we knew what had happened.
Newell had been allowed to remain at home, and although we have never been able to make him admit it, he was glad to see us. We went up stairs, and Mom was sick in bed. She cried and told us that Daddy had gone away from us.
Aunt Elsie took us home, and I hardly slept all night long. I was the most confused seven year old child in the world. I couldn't understand how our mother got home without us knowing it. I couldn't understand why our Daddy had to go away from us.
We were brought home a few times before the funeral to see our father. Geraldine Steedman took us in to see him lying in a casket. That is a scene I have never forgotten, nor never will forget. He was lying so peaceable in his new bed with flowers all around him, so many that some were in the living room and dining room. The odor of them stunned me, and I have never like the scent of flowers since.
Geraldine told us that we could touch his hand, and it was cold. He didn't look as tired as he did the last time we saw him, but this time he didn't smile.
My father's funeral was the first one I had ever attended, and I am able to recall every minute of it.
The close relatives met here at the house, and they seemed to be many, for the place was packed. A service was held in the bedroom, and then everyone got in cars to go to the church in Riga. I didn't want to go because I didn't like to see mother cry, but she asked me too. We rode very slowly up the road until we arrived at the church.
The church also was packed with people. The minister preached, and talked, and preached. At every mention of my father's name, I could have choked him, for it made my mother weep worst. I was relieved when he had finished. One by one the people went by the casket to see him for the last time.
Then we went over to the cemetary. We kids didn't get out of the car, but my mother did. A few minutes later they carried her back.
No one realizes the feelings and the strange memories one has at such times, until you have experienced them. As young as I was, and not understanding the meaning of the whole thing, I can remember a very unimportant thing.
Up in the balcaney sat a woman who kept looking at us with sympathy on her face. She had tears in her eyes. Somehow when I looked at her, I found a certain warmth and comfort which was lacking at this time.
For a few weeks after it was terribly melancholy at home. My mother would allow no one to take care of my father's clothes but herself. Then we had an auction which made things still harder.
As we grew older we learned what had happened. When my mother went out to Michigan, my uncle was dying. The day he died my mother got a call that my father had pneumonia. She was sick from exhaustion, grief, and surprise. She took a train home, and I think she said she hardly knew what was happening all the way. When she arrived at Daddy's bedside, he said, "Why didn't you stay with Mildred? She needed you worst than I do. I'll be up in a few days." A few days later he died.
At Riga when we wanted to go out and play, we played hid and seek or some other game, but at Churchville, there was a sand box and bouncing balls to play with inside. Also there were girls my own age to have good times with, and we did.
Esther started school a the age of four, and although it was no farther than Riga, Daddy drove us down, for he went to work that way. I was in the second grade and in the same room as Esther, so it kept her from getting lonely. Also, I entertained her in the swings in the large play ground when it was necessary.
Being the years of 1931 and 1932, it is rather hard to talk about my good times at Churchville in this chapter, for it seems as if there were but two chapters of my life with my father, my babyhood, and my early childhood. In 1932 he died, leaving us fatherless. Thus; I would rather tell about him now.
One thing he used to get a big kick out of was when I asked him for some money one morning for a book. He didn't have the exact change, so he gave me a little more and told me how much change I should receive. When I gave the money to the teacher, I told her that my father said I should get so much change back. I didn't think about it at the time, but since then I have often wondered what she thought about me telling her what she already did know.
Even if my father did spank me at times when I wouldn't wipe the dishes, he was quickly forgiven when he pushed us in the swing. Being over six feet tall he could make us touch the limbs of the tree. Nights when we got home from school, we would wait by the swing until he came home. He would say, "Now hang on tight," and away we would go.
On Saturdays and summer vacations, Daddy would take us "over on the road." He was Highway Superintendent, and we loved to watch the men build roads. One time we crawled slowly away from a lighted explosive on the steam roller. Of course there was no danger for us, but we thought so and were thrilled over it.
One day when I wasn't so glad to go over and see the men on the road, was when I had done something I shouldn't have done. Esther and I were sitting in the car and were watching some cows in the distance. I must have gotten excited and touched the brake, for we started down hill towards the barn. Daddy happened out in time and stopped the car. If he hadn't of, we probably have gone through the barn. He told the men what I had done, and I was a little ashamed of my doings.
I wasn't the only one who touched the wrong tings when in a car. My father tried to teach my mother how to drive once, and I never had such a thrilling ride in all my life. It seems that he wished her to turn a corner which was part way down a hill. Whether we ever made the corner or not, I don't know for I went on the floor. I don't think I have ever been so near a ditch since.
For two years in succession we had severe winters. In 1931, the roads were so icy that my mother and father went skating on them. They skated across the lawn to the road, then up the lawn and down the hill. That must have been fun!
In 1932, it wasn't only ice but snow. Daddy, being responsible for the opening of the roads, spent most of his time working. For weeks at a time he was never home but for a few minutes. He remained at the garage day and night waiting for storms to cease, but always to be on the job. He had little nourishment during the winter except between storms. By the time winter was over and spring had really come, Daddy spent most of his time on the couch. He was tired completely out.
Strange as it seems, during these trying times and just when my father was resting, my mother got a call from Aunt Mildred in Michigan. Her husband, a doctor, was very ill with pneumonia. She wanted my mother to go out and help her. She didn't want to because of my father, but he said that the doctor said he was all right.
It wasn't many days before we were packed up and taken down to Gram Lehman's. The last night we were home, we made our father show us his funny looking tongue. We laughed, and he kissed us goodbye for the last time, ever.
As I have said before, it was a treat to go to Grams, thus when we knew, Esther and I, that we were going to stay for awhile, we were overjoyed. A little while is enough to stay away from home, but when you lose track of the time altogether, it is no longer fun. We had a good time as usual, until Esther got homesick. Then with our separate rooms and going to school, you miss home. Getting homesick spoiled it all. She cried and cried and cried to go home. Of course when she felt that way, I did too. About that time, Gram started sending us to our different aunt's, but even that wore off.
All the time we were away from home, we never knew what was going on. At school, Edna Munger told us that our father was dying. We felt quite badly over this, but Miss White consoled us by saying she was only kidding. Edna told us later she was told not to tell but the temptation was too great.
One night when we were again at Gram's, Frank Jacobs came down and wanted to take us home. We were overwhelmed with joy! He made us promise not to cry when we saw our mother or over what she was going to tell us. When we drove in the yard, the headlights flashed on a pretty wreath of red roses on the door. Then we knew what had happened.
Newell had been allowed to remain at home, and although we have never been able to make him admit it, he was glad to see us. We went up stairs, and Mom was sick in bed. She cried and told us that Daddy had gone away from us.
Aunt Elsie took us home, and I hardly slept all night long. I was the most confused seven year old child in the world. I couldn't understand how our mother got home without us knowing it. I couldn't understand why our Daddy had to go away from us.
We were brought home a few times before the funeral to see our father. Geraldine Steedman took us in to see him lying in a casket. That is a scene I have never forgotten, nor never will forget. He was lying so peaceable in his new bed with flowers all around him, so many that some were in the living room and dining room. The odor of them stunned me, and I have never like the scent of flowers since.
Geraldine told us that we could touch his hand, and it was cold. He didn't look as tired as he did the last time we saw him, but this time he didn't smile.
My father's funeral was the first one I had ever attended, and I am able to recall every minute of it.
The close relatives met here at the house, and they seemed to be many, for the place was packed. A service was held in the bedroom, and then everyone got in cars to go to the church in Riga. I didn't want to go because I didn't like to see mother cry, but she asked me too. We rode very slowly up the road until we arrived at the church.
The church also was packed with people. The minister preached, and talked, and preached. At every mention of my father's name, I could have choked him, for it made my mother weep worst. I was relieved when he had finished. One by one the people went by the casket to see him for the last time.
Then we went over to the cemetary. We kids didn't get out of the car, but my mother did. A few minutes later they carried her back.
No one realizes the feelings and the strange memories one has at such times, until you have experienced them. As young as I was, and not understanding the meaning of the whole thing, I can remember a very unimportant thing.
Up in the balcaney sat a woman who kept looking at us with sympathy on her face. She had tears in her eyes. Somehow when I looked at her, I found a certain warmth and comfort which was lacking at this time.
For a few weeks after it was terribly melancholy at home. My mother would allow no one to take care of my father's clothes but herself. Then we had an auction which made things still harder.
As we grew older we learned what had happened. When my mother went out to Michigan, my uncle was dying. The day he died my mother got a call that my father had pneumonia. She was sick from exhaustion, grief, and surprise. She took a train home, and I think she said she hardly knew what was happening all the way. When she arrived at Daddy's bedside, he said, "Why didn't you stay with Mildred? She needed you worst than I do. I'll be up in a few days." A few days later he died.
My father died around midnight in April on the ninth. The tenth was his mother's birthday. He was born on July 4 and was thirty three years old when he died. In the spring of 1941, it will be nine years since he died. Exactly one half of my life so far has been without a father.
On every July fourth we celebrate a double holiday. The family on the Stottle side always went down to Gram Stottle's for the day. A good time was had for an uncle from Whitesbourough, brought boxes of noise makers. After a few years, we stopped this celebration, because it was too hard on my mother.
The years following were trying years. An old uncle of my mother's lived here for a few years. He lived with us 'till his death three years later.
He was a good old man, seldom saying a word. At night he would fall asleep in the kitchen rocker and would almost fall out. We would laugh and it roused him just enough to catch himself.
All year long, he could do the chores and had to go way down to the lower farm. I would feel sorry for him in winter and scared, so I would go with him. I would hold the light while he milked the cows; then together we would go back to the house.
The only times we were afraid of Uncle John was when he came home drunk. That happened only about three times while he was here. He was perfectly harmless and only talked. He would tell about his younger days, some truth and some lies. For about a week after he wouldn't do anything around.
Gram Lehman was never well, for she had heart trouble. We spend much time at her bedside. Each time we left we kissed her, expecting it to be the last. One fall, two years after my father died, she died. One of the grandest grandmothers left the world when she left. No one could have found a nicer one than she.
Now I have a step-grandmother. My grandfather married Bruce and Jack Murray's grandmother about a year after ours died.
Along with all this we went to school. As year by year rolled on, many happy hours were spend at Churchville. But the sudden death of my father left a vacant spot in my life.
Much praise must go to my mother who kept her chin up despite her sorrows. She has raised us three kids alone. She has smiled her way through.
Chapter 3
WE PUTTER AROUND
People always say to make the most of your school days for they are the best times of your life. I quite agree with them, and we should make the most of our younger ones especially.
Miss White, later Mrs. Kinn, was my first teacher at Churchville. She was small with large eyes and very nice. She encouraged me, comforted me, and scolded me, as well as taught me.
After I was acquainted with my teacher, she started to questions me to see how much I knew. She asked me what the window was, the door, the dish, and other objects in the room. I knew them all except the desk which I kept calling a table.
Now a handsome young lad with a freckled but smiling face, couldn't stand me calling the desk a table, so he told me. This new friend, who couldn't stand in front of the class without shifting from one foot to the other and putting his hands in his pockets, bold me answers all year when I got "stuck." This was Howard Laley.
I was a favorite of Howard's. He would take me ove to his house, and together we would play with his trains or other toys. Every time he got something new, I had to see it.
Jessie Liebeck was as large as Howard was thin. I met Jessie before I went down there to school while playing at Steedman's. She felt quite proud my first day there to know me. She took the privilege to introduce me to other children and to show me around.
Maybe Jessie knew me first, but I didn't like her, at first. She was too bold and bossy. The girls I did like was the dark curly haired one who asked me to sit next to her. She talked to me and explained about my new educational residence. Lucy DePlama and I grew to be fast friends and have continued to me thus.
There were two other girls who were in my first grade. One was Mary Lageration who would tire us to death with stories about her sisters and brothers. The other was lanky, reserved Esther Redgrass. Esther never let anyone really know her, but we had fun together. She would take me down to her house to play.
Around the first week of school, I got into trouble. I was bouncing the ball one morning after dismisssal, and what I thought to be a young "smarty," told me not to make so much noise. I told him to, "Shut up!" and he didn't like it at all. He made me put the ball up and take my seat. I didn't see what right he had in doing such a thing until the kids told me he was the principal.
When Ms. White learned about my plight, she made me apologize to him which hurt my pride very much. I was either to apologize or take a spanking. I said, "I'm sorry."
At the beginning of my second year, Esther started school. We were in the same room with the same teacher. I felt quite grown up to be a full year ahead of her, but I have had to study in order to keep ahead of her.
Kenneth Farbes started school the same year as Esther, and all the girls were crazy over him but me. Leona Bavier and Lucy DePalma admired him tremendously.
The strange part of it was I was Ken's favorite. Regardless how many girls wanted to sit with him, I was the only one who did. He would do anything for me or give me anything I wanted. I accepted his feelings primarily to make the others "see green."
In the third grade, handsome Mr. Farbes gave me a valentine with "I love you" on it. None of the rest got one.
Maybe Kenneth Farbes was my suitor; but Jessie had one whom I liked. I don't remember his name for he was only with us a year. He gave Jessie things and talked with her, but not to me. I felt quite hurt. Anyway, Jessie always had a way of winning the boys from the rest of us girls, except Ken Farbes.
In December of 1940, I attended a basketball game between Honeoye Falls and Churchville. On the first team was one of the boys who for many years was a schoolmate of mine. He was Albert Tesch. As I watched him, I wondered if he remember the time he cheated during a test in the second grade? He didn't know an answer so he asked Miss White. She told him. He went back to his seat and wrote it down. He was caught though.
Albert was a typical farm boy and full of life. He was continually doing something wrong and then stuttering when he tried to explain. He was very well acquainted with Jessie, but we didn't mind. (Now we do.)
Albert had a sister, Arline, who was very dark complected. She told us that once when she was sick, the doctor gave her the wrong medicine; thus making her dark.
It was around the latter part of my second year when Harold Baughner first came to our school. His mother brought him the first day, and he cried. He would probably be embarrassed now to be reminded of that day. I so kindly let him take my ball, and I can remember the smile I received for doing it. I had won a friend.
Howard Laley, Lucy DePalma, Mary Logeration, Esther Rengrass, Harold Baughner, and I were the "main stays" off our first few years. We are still all together except Harold who is a social junior.
In the third grade we had a new teacher, Miss Glover. She was one of the prettiest girls I had ever seen, when she first came. She was very nice except she slapped Esther for chewing gum.
During this year, Miss Glover's father died. She was broken hearted and often broke down crying in classes.
Certain days I remember Thelma Keith Warbois, one of my piano teachers, coming up to school giving Miss Glover lessons. If we got to school too early, we would have to wait outside the door while she either practiced or took a music lesson.
It was during my fourth year that Peter DeBerger was in with me. Peter was another of my suitors, but this time I didn't mind. he was a tough young man, and I wanted to help him. As a result I had won a real friend, and have cherished the valentines I received from him many years ago.
Once Peter gave me a "dutch rub" and I cried. Miss Glover told me to return this "rub" but I would rather have pulled his hair. So Peter never got punished by me.
An incident I have never forgotten, but thank goodness it has never happened since, is when the boys in the third and fourth grades tried to kiss me. When the teacher had left the room, I think it was Grover Hugelmauer's idea, the boys all rushed for me. They didn't succeed, I don't think.
Marjorie Miller came to our schoool in the fourth grade, and we disliked her very much. She was the most conceded little girl and spoiled of anyone I had ever met. Lucy and I did all we could to make life miserable for her. One time we slapped her, and she ran to sister Sadie. We liked Sadie about as well as Marj. Sadie told Mr. Dermody who tried to find us, but we had locked ourselves in the girl's room.
Marjorie was short and pudgy. We kidded her about having to have her sister comb her hair every morning and noon. Today Marjorie is a blond, but although we quarrel even now, she is my best friend. We outgrew our childish dislike.
In those four years of school, Lucy DePalma and I were the star pupils. In the fourth grade during January exams, I remember getting all ninety[-nines and one-hundred's. In the first two years I had a report card full of gold stars. I got "smart" once and threw them in the fire. But both of Lucy's and my cards were covered with A's.
When graduating time came along, Mr. Robbins presented us back with a silver pin for our efforts. This was my first time of attending a graduation exercise. Marian Roth, Mildred Learn, and John Banner were among the graduates. This was the commencement of 1934.
My first four years had prove to be a big success. I looked forward to having all A's throughout my remaining school years. So far I have succeeded.
In December of 1940, I attended a basketball game between Honeoye Falls and Churchville. On the first team was one of the boys who for many years was a schoolmate of mine. He was Albert Tesch. As I watched him, I wondered if he remember the time he cheated during a test in the second grade? He didn't know an answer so he asked Miss White. She told him. He went back to his seat and wrote it down. He was caught though.
Albert was a typical farm boy and full of life. He was continually doing something wrong and then stuttering when he tried to explain. He was very well acquainted with Jessie, but we didn't mind. (Now we do.)
Albert had a sister, Arline, who was very dark complected. She told us that once when she was sick, the doctor gave her the wrong medicine; thus making her dark.
It was around the latter part of my second year when Harold Baughner first came to our school. His mother brought him the first day, and he cried. He would probably be embarrassed now to be reminded of that day. I so kindly let him take my ball, and I can remember the smile I received for doing it. I had won a friend.
Howard Laley, Lucy DePalma, Mary Logeration, Esther Rengrass, Harold Baughner, and I were the "main stays" off our first few years. We are still all together except Harold who is a social junior.
In the third grade we had a new teacher, Miss Glover. She was one of the prettiest girls I had ever seen, when she first came. She was very nice except she slapped Esther for chewing gum.
During this year, Miss Glover's father died. She was broken hearted and often broke down crying in classes.
Certain days I remember Thelma Keith Warbois, one of my piano teachers, coming up to school giving Miss Glover lessons. If we got to school too early, we would have to wait outside the door while she either practiced or took a music lesson.
It was during my fourth year that Peter DeBerger was in with me. Peter was another of my suitors, but this time I didn't mind. he was a tough young man, and I wanted to help him. As a result I had won a real friend, and have cherished the valentines I received from him many years ago.
Once Peter gave me a "dutch rub" and I cried. Miss Glover told me to return this "rub" but I would rather have pulled his hair. So Peter never got punished by me.
An incident I have never forgotten, but thank goodness it has never happened since, is when the boys in the third and fourth grades tried to kiss me. When the teacher had left the room, I think it was Grover Hugelmauer's idea, the boys all rushed for me. They didn't succeed, I don't think.
Marjorie Miller came to our schoool in the fourth grade, and we disliked her very much. She was the most conceded little girl and spoiled of anyone I had ever met. Lucy and I did all we could to make life miserable for her. One time we slapped her, and she ran to sister Sadie. We liked Sadie about as well as Marj. Sadie told Mr. Dermody who tried to find us, but we had locked ourselves in the girl's room.
Marjorie was short and pudgy. We kidded her about having to have her sister comb her hair every morning and noon. Today Marjorie is a blond, but although we quarrel even now, she is my best friend. We outgrew our childish dislike.
In those four years of school, Lucy DePalma and I were the star pupils. In the fourth grade during January exams, I remember getting all ninety[-nines and one-hundred's. In the first two years I had a report card full of gold stars. I got "smart" once and threw them in the fire. But both of Lucy's and my cards were covered with A's.
When graduating time came along, Mr. Robbins presented us back with a silver pin for our efforts. This was my first time of attending a graduation exercise. Marian Roth, Mildred Learn, and John Banner were among the graduates. This was the commencement of 1934.
My first four years had prove to be a big success. I looked forward to having all A's throughout my remaining school years. So far I have succeeded.
Chapter 4
CORNFLAKES AND FISH
In 1933, I was in the third grade. One time I recall Aunt Mildred coming from Michigan, and me taking Ruth to school. I was very proud to have her in my spelling class because I then displayed my booklet of papers with one hundred on them. She took a spelling test for the fun of it and got one wrong. Is it any wonder I was proud?
Aunt Mildred drove clear from Michigan for a purpose. Being only a year after may father's and her husband's death, she was lonely like my mother and decided it would do Mom good to get away; so she wished to take us back to Michigan for a visit. We accepted.
It was around the first week of June or the last week of May, and we kids were still in school. Mr. Robbins as kind enough to excuse us for the rest of the year, school term, and pass us on our present grades. I went in and had Miss White sign my report card for the subjects she taught me, and Miss Glover promoted me to the fourth grade. It was a happy day for us when we left school knowing that the next few days we would start on a long journey.
And start we did with seven riding in one car plus all the baggage. It was Aunt Mildred's car and was quite large, but nevertheless, the seven of us had to do some tight squeezing. I sat on the trunks when Ruth wasn't sitting on them, and the rest were sitting on me when I was sleeping.
When we had gone half-way through Canada we cam upon an accident; in fact we were the only witnesses to the accident. We were nearing a crossroads with a beautiful new car coming towards us. Scurrying out all of a sudden from the side road was a light open auto. Regarding neither the stop signs nor the approaching car, the little one crashed into the big one, turning it upside down. It drove nonchalantly on to the corner where it pulled up and stopped. The woman in the convertable seemed to know little and care less about the occupants of the overturned car, for she adjusted her hat while the fellow got out to view the accident.
By the time we arrived, the oil was strewn all over the road, and a man climbed out of the overturned vehicle. We stopped and asked if we could help him in any way, and rather nervously he told us we could stop at the nearest farmhouse and call the police. This we did.
This accident spoiled the rest of the trip for us, and at each cross-road from there on, Aunt Mildred slowed down; but this showed how careless drivers cause fatal accidents.
Whether there was a woman underneath the car which turned over, we never knew.
My mother tells me that we went to Detroit and stayed at Aunt Mildred's cousin's house all night. This man was an artist, and of course his home was filled with beautiful pictures. The next day we left for Clark's lake, eighty miles from Detroit. Here we were to spend our vacation.
The drive to the lake was beautiful. The trees and all the flowers were blooming, and the grass green. As we neared the lake, we saw several smaller lakes, far around this section there were many bodies of water. They all looked very blue and some had marshes all around them. All these lakes were fed by springs which made them very cold.
We arrived at the Krieghoff cottage, and it was a neat little white place. Inside was a rather small kitchen, a large dining room, and living room, as sun porch where I slept most of the time, and three bedrooms. We stayed fourteen some of the time and I don't know how many more most of the time.
Besides Aunt Mildred and her two girls and mom and us three kids, Krieghoffs had five children and their friends, and Caras Krieghoff's relatives stayed their most of the time. Barbara, Ruth and I slept together on the sun porch and so did the three boys. It was really amusing.
The oldest Krieghoff was Margaret, and she had a boy friend there. I don't recall whether she was engaged at that time or not, but a few years later she married him. Margaret was the most level headed and the nicest of the five. Being older than I, I didn't have much to do with her.
Betty was the next oldest and very conceded. She was nice looking and had many boy friends. She was crazy over movie stars and spent endless hours in on her bed writing and pasting when she was suppose to be keeping the dishes.
David was Newell's age. He was especially good looking but was good-natured. He peddled papers every afternoon, and I, being is favorite, always went with him. He would spend his profit money buying me candy. If someone of the other kids went with us, he would wait until they disappeared before "treating" me.
Barbara was far from being the "smartest" as far as brains were concerned, but was when it came to acting up. She was Ruth's and my age, and even at our early ages, she was terribly boy crazy. I think Barbara got us into more trouble than anything else.
Daniel was the youngest and the "darndest." He was the one who was always getting into trouble or making it for someone else, even more so than Barbara. Being small, he was very quick, and I never saw anyone disappear as fast as he could , at times.
These fine growing youngsters had had no bringing up what so ever. They had shifted for themselves from the time they were able to the present. When they wished to learn to swim, they were pushed into the water and told to sink or swim. They swam. As a result, they were all able to swim beautifully. They looked like seals in the water.
Aunt Mildred drove clear from Michigan for a purpose. Being only a year after may father's and her husband's death, she was lonely like my mother and decided it would do Mom good to get away; so she wished to take us back to Michigan for a visit. We accepted.
It was around the first week of June or the last week of May, and we kids were still in school. Mr. Robbins as kind enough to excuse us for the rest of the year, school term, and pass us on our present grades. I went in and had Miss White sign my report card for the subjects she taught me, and Miss Glover promoted me to the fourth grade. It was a happy day for us when we left school knowing that the next few days we would start on a long journey.
And start we did with seven riding in one car plus all the baggage. It was Aunt Mildred's car and was quite large, but nevertheless, the seven of us had to do some tight squeezing. I sat on the trunks when Ruth wasn't sitting on them, and the rest were sitting on me when I was sleeping.
When we had gone half-way through Canada we cam upon an accident; in fact we were the only witnesses to the accident. We were nearing a crossroads with a beautiful new car coming towards us. Scurrying out all of a sudden from the side road was a light open auto. Regarding neither the stop signs nor the approaching car, the little one crashed into the big one, turning it upside down. It drove nonchalantly on to the corner where it pulled up and stopped. The woman in the convertable seemed to know little and care less about the occupants of the overturned car, for she adjusted her hat while the fellow got out to view the accident.
By the time we arrived, the oil was strewn all over the road, and a man climbed out of the overturned vehicle. We stopped and asked if we could help him in any way, and rather nervously he told us we could stop at the nearest farmhouse and call the police. This we did.
This accident spoiled the rest of the trip for us, and at each cross-road from there on, Aunt Mildred slowed down; but this showed how careless drivers cause fatal accidents.
Whether there was a woman underneath the car which turned over, we never knew.
My mother tells me that we went to Detroit and stayed at Aunt Mildred's cousin's house all night. This man was an artist, and of course his home was filled with beautiful pictures. The next day we left for Clark's lake, eighty miles from Detroit. Here we were to spend our vacation.
The drive to the lake was beautiful. The trees and all the flowers were blooming, and the grass green. As we neared the lake, we saw several smaller lakes, far around this section there were many bodies of water. They all looked very blue and some had marshes all around them. All these lakes were fed by springs which made them very cold.
We arrived at the Krieghoff cottage, and it was a neat little white place. Inside was a rather small kitchen, a large dining room, and living room, as sun porch where I slept most of the time, and three bedrooms. We stayed fourteen some of the time and I don't know how many more most of the time.
Besides Aunt Mildred and her two girls and mom and us three kids, Krieghoffs had five children and their friends, and Caras Krieghoff's relatives stayed their most of the time. Barbara, Ruth and I slept together on the sun porch and so did the three boys. It was really amusing.
The oldest Krieghoff was Margaret, and she had a boy friend there. I don't recall whether she was engaged at that time or not, but a few years later she married him. Margaret was the most level headed and the nicest of the five. Being older than I, I didn't have much to do with her.
Betty was the next oldest and very conceded. She was nice looking and had many boy friends. She was crazy over movie stars and spent endless hours in on her bed writing and pasting when she was suppose to be keeping the dishes.
David was Newell's age. He was especially good looking but was good-natured. He peddled papers every afternoon, and I, being is favorite, always went with him. He would spend his profit money buying me candy. If someone of the other kids went with us, he would wait until they disappeared before "treating" me.
Barbara was far from being the "smartest" as far as brains were concerned, but was when it came to acting up. She was Ruth's and my age, and even at our early ages, she was terribly boy crazy. I think Barbara got us into more trouble than anything else.
Daniel was the youngest and the "darndest." He was the one who was always getting into trouble or making it for someone else, even more so than Barbara. Being small, he was very quick, and I never saw anyone disappear as fast as he could , at times.
These fine growing youngsters had had no bringing up what so ever. They had shifted for themselves from the time they were able to the present. When they wished to learn to swim, they were pushed into the water and told to sink or swim. They swam. As a result, they were all able to swim beautifully. They looked like seals in the water.
We kids liked to go on hikes, and go we did. Once we hiked way out in the country someplace. We went up hills and down hills until we got on the top of one and stayed. On this hill an old man and woman lived with their cows. It was beautiful up there. The hills were covered with grass and trees and were very steep. The road which wound up there was surrounded on both sides with trees.
We ate our lunch over the fence where the cows were, but they were down in the valley. I was so scared that a cow would come up and see us that I couldn't eat.
Thank goodness we didn't have to walk home. We were all so tired, I don't think we could have hiked the five or six miles we had gone.
The next hike we took was around the lake. It was David's birthday, so we bought a bag of jelly beans and started on our way. About half-way around, I found the raft which had wandered away during a storm, so I received an extra jelly bean. We stopped everytime we saw something interesting. Once we stopped and played on a play ground. Another time we "gabbed" with some man. Then when we came to an extra special swimming section, we stopped and watch the swimmers.
In all, it took us all day to hike around the lake which was from seven to ten miles. Once gain we slept very well at night from exhaustion.
A few years before we went to Clark's lake in 1933, a beautiful large home owned by rich people from Detroit burned down. The foundation was left, and evidently the floors had been marble. Around the place was a high iron fence keeping invaders from entering. Inside were beautiful gardens with hundred's of lovely flowers. We got inside once, but I was so scared I didn't enjoy myself. Usually policemen remained around keeping you out, for people wanted the flowers. They might just as well of let the people have the flowers, for they only dried. At night you couldn't find a "spookier" place on Clark's lake than Fawhn's.
At last one thing we learned to do was to row a boat. When we went on boating trips, each one had to take a turn. Once the boat got loose and drifted way out into deep water. I went after it, and my feet couldn't touch bottom and I couldn't swim. I reached the boat and rowed it back.
Our boating excursions weren't always enjoyed, for the kids liked to show off. The would rock to boat when we got over bottomless spots and scare the life out of me. Oh, I know I was a "sissy" all through this trip, but it was the first time I had been away on such a trip.
As is at every summer resort, there was a dance hall here. It was located at Pleasant View which we called "P.V.". We girls would go and watch the older ones dance. Being very young, we would "pester" the lovers and giggle. The wharf was near by where such people could take a moonlight boat ride. Theses we laughed at.
Many times we rowed up to P.V. to play on the playgrounds. There were swings and teter-boards. Clams and shells were collected at odd times. While Dan and I were catching clams, the rest of the kids rowed from P.V. across the lake. They were severely scolded for doing it, for it was dangerous for little ones to row such a distance.
Sunday's we took a bath in the lake and went to church. We met many boys and girls whom we saw years later when we returned for a visit.
Nights were the hardest to get over, even more than the food. the older ones usually went out and left us home. I had studied a little piano so when my mother wasn't there to play, I played, with one finger, while the kids sang. That is, we sang when we weren't quarreling.
As I said before, I slept out on the sun porch with Barbara and Ruth, all in one bed of course. It was "small". Even the mosquitoes thought so. But one night we had a thunder storm, and you have never really seen one if you haven't been at the lake during one. The thunder cracked so loudly that we three girls couldn't even "holler" loud enough to be heard. The rain was coming through the roof, and we were getting wet. Finally we were heard moved, but that was too late. We were all wet.
The next morning the place was a mess. All around outside, it was flooded. The dock had been washed away, and I was too, almost. Of course I had to go out in my night dress to see the dock. A big wave caught me, and I fell over. Everyone laughed very hard at me, but I wasn't in the mood to see anything funny. That water was cold!
Our meals usually consisted of corn flakes for breakfast, maybe soup or corn flakes for dinner, positively corn flakes for supper. When the fishing season opened, I had so much that I haven't eaten any since. They killed my love for fish. One good meal we had was the last supper where we had chicken. I was never so glad to see a chicken on the table in all my life.
The last night was a very enjoyable one even if Newell did have to go to bed for doing something someone else had done. We put on a play with Ruth as "Cinderella" and me as the "prince". Mr. Krieghoff showed movies he had taken. They were interesting but the best part was that a certain young man was there.
I don't ever think I shall forget him. He must have been twenty years old with red hair and very tall. We called him, "Junior" and I spent much time playing with him during our visit. He would push me in the swing. Being very witty, he would tell me very funny stories. I never saw him again after we left, but you can't take memories away from me.
I think the trip was spoiled for my mother when Gordon drew a picture of my father. It was a large charcoal drawing taken from a very small picture. He had never seen Daddy, but the picture was perfect.
Mom wished to be home for the fourth of July, so we left around the second or third. Daddy's brother, Burton, came after us. We left very early in the morning, leaving the thanked host and hostess and guests evening goodbye.
All the way home we sang "Shuffle off to Buffalo." We were glad to get home, but we had had a very enjoyable and memorable time with cornflakes and fish leading the memories.
We ate our lunch over the fence where the cows were, but they were down in the valley. I was so scared that a cow would come up and see us that I couldn't eat.
Thank goodness we didn't have to walk home. We were all so tired, I don't think we could have hiked the five or six miles we had gone.
The next hike we took was around the lake. It was David's birthday, so we bought a bag of jelly beans and started on our way. About half-way around, I found the raft which had wandered away during a storm, so I received an extra jelly bean. We stopped everytime we saw something interesting. Once we stopped and played on a play ground. Another time we "gabbed" with some man. Then when we came to an extra special swimming section, we stopped and watch the swimmers.
In all, it took us all day to hike around the lake which was from seven to ten miles. Once gain we slept very well at night from exhaustion.
A few years before we went to Clark's lake in 1933, a beautiful large home owned by rich people from Detroit burned down. The foundation was left, and evidently the floors had been marble. Around the place was a high iron fence keeping invaders from entering. Inside were beautiful gardens with hundred's of lovely flowers. We got inside once, but I was so scared I didn't enjoy myself. Usually policemen remained around keeping you out, for people wanted the flowers. They might just as well of let the people have the flowers, for they only dried. At night you couldn't find a "spookier" place on Clark's lake than Fawhn's.
At last one thing we learned to do was to row a boat. When we went on boating trips, each one had to take a turn. Once the boat got loose and drifted way out into deep water. I went after it, and my feet couldn't touch bottom and I couldn't swim. I reached the boat and rowed it back.
Our boating excursions weren't always enjoyed, for the kids liked to show off. The would rock to boat when we got over bottomless spots and scare the life out of me. Oh, I know I was a "sissy" all through this trip, but it was the first time I had been away on such a trip.
As is at every summer resort, there was a dance hall here. It was located at Pleasant View which we called "P.V.". We girls would go and watch the older ones dance. Being very young, we would "pester" the lovers and giggle. The wharf was near by where such people could take a moonlight boat ride. Theses we laughed at.
Many times we rowed up to P.V. to play on the playgrounds. There were swings and teter-boards. Clams and shells were collected at odd times. While Dan and I were catching clams, the rest of the kids rowed from P.V. across the lake. They were severely scolded for doing it, for it was dangerous for little ones to row such a distance.
Sunday's we took a bath in the lake and went to church. We met many boys and girls whom we saw years later when we returned for a visit.
Nights were the hardest to get over, even more than the food. the older ones usually went out and left us home. I had studied a little piano so when my mother wasn't there to play, I played, with one finger, while the kids sang. That is, we sang when we weren't quarreling.
As I said before, I slept out on the sun porch with Barbara and Ruth, all in one bed of course. It was "small". Even the mosquitoes thought so. But one night we had a thunder storm, and you have never really seen one if you haven't been at the lake during one. The thunder cracked so loudly that we three girls couldn't even "holler" loud enough to be heard. The rain was coming through the roof, and we were getting wet. Finally we were heard moved, but that was too late. We were all wet.
The next morning the place was a mess. All around outside, it was flooded. The dock had been washed away, and I was too, almost. Of course I had to go out in my night dress to see the dock. A big wave caught me, and I fell over. Everyone laughed very hard at me, but I wasn't in the mood to see anything funny. That water was cold!
Our meals usually consisted of corn flakes for breakfast, maybe soup or corn flakes for dinner, positively corn flakes for supper. When the fishing season opened, I had so much that I haven't eaten any since. They killed my love for fish. One good meal we had was the last supper where we had chicken. I was never so glad to see a chicken on the table in all my life.
The last night was a very enjoyable one even if Newell did have to go to bed for doing something someone else had done. We put on a play with Ruth as "Cinderella" and me as the "prince". Mr. Krieghoff showed movies he had taken. They were interesting but the best part was that a certain young man was there.
I don't ever think I shall forget him. He must have been twenty years old with red hair and very tall. We called him, "Junior" and I spent much time playing with him during our visit. He would push me in the swing. Being very witty, he would tell me very funny stories. I never saw him again after we left, but you can't take memories away from me.
I think the trip was spoiled for my mother when Gordon drew a picture of my father. It was a large charcoal drawing taken from a very small picture. He had never seen Daddy, but the picture was perfect.
Mom wished to be home for the fourth of July, so we left around the second or third. Daddy's brother, Burton, came after us. We left very early in the morning, leaving the thanked host and hostess and guests evening goodbye.
All the way home we sang "Shuffle off to Buffalo." We were glad to get home, but we had had a very enjoyable and memorable time with cornflakes and fish leading the memories.
Chapter 5
STEADFAST MEMORIES
With a silver pin for my efforts in the first four grades, I set out in my fifth year determined to keep on the honor roll, which I did.
I was in the nicest room in the school in 1934 and 1935. It was the sunny, cheerful room to the east on the lower floor with a porch. We could get out and in easier when school was out and recess was over.
Perhaps I had my favorite room but not my favorite teachers. This particular year we had Miss Stiegerwald who treated you according to her likes and dislikes. She was an outspoken woman but a lot of fun. She wasn't gifted with good looks, and therefore she could make such funny faces that "a monkey would have to laugh."
Miss Stiegerwald's main interest was the agricultural teacher, Mr. Dermody. After Easter vacation in 1936 she came back married. She said it was "leap year."
The music teacher was a big laugh to the pupils. Her name was Miss Day, and her habits which she often displayed in class were terrible. She never had a good reputation in town while or after she was here. At lease one thing she could do, even if she couldn't sing, was play the piano. She would play without looking which pleased me very much.
Miss Divisar, later Mrs. Baer, was our drawing teacher. She was very tall and think with a long nose. Her hands and fingers were typically an artist's, but not her temper. Her married name describes her better than I can.
One time she was trying to teach us how to read a ruler. I couldn't tell an inch from and eighth of an inch, so she lost her patience. She gave my hand a slap with the ruler. it stung and I cried. Anyway, she never tried to teach me to read it again.
Recess time was the best time of the day. How and why Frances Munger was chosen for a time to entertain us, we never knew. She was a nice kid, but she had a nasty temper, but I kept up with her. I could be pretty stubborn and I imagine made things pretty tough for Frances. I gradually learned to play peaceably with her.
In summer, baseball was our favorite sport. Now David Steedman, my cousin, was in with us. He, liking Miss Stiegerwald about as much as the rest of us, did most everything but study. Therefore, he repeats the fifth grade.
But getting back to baseball; you put David and Peter DeBerger on the same or opposite teams, something usually happens. I had won Peter by being nice to him in the third grade as a friend, and therefore whatever I did or said was alright. Once I was referee, and I said something which David didn't agree with but Peter did. I got angry and never finished the game.
Pete and I were in the same boat once. We were fooling and Miss Stiegerwald made us go outside the door. I balked a little but Pete took me by the hand and said it was fun to stand out there. It wasn't.
Although my marks weren't bad in the fifth grade, I once again got on my feet in the sixth grade. Once again Miss Redfern was my teacher. With Miss Redfern behind me, I always seemed to get along fine. My marks once again were back up where they should be, and I still had a good time. Miss Garrison, a very pretty girl, was our music teacher. She used to get "peeved" at me, but I liked her. She could play the violin beautifully, if I remember correctly. She later married and became Mrs. Esperson. She taught here only a few years.
This year of 1935 and 1936, my troubles again started. Julia Embling came down to school, and we all wished to go with her. I felt so hurt because she preferred Lucy DePalma to me, and I told her so. I went around with her during the later part of the sixth grade and seventh grade. Marjorie was still my favorite.
In music class we used to have to perform solos. Esther and I sang a German song, "Vas Villet DuHaben" and won much praise. Miss Garrison had us sing it twice in assembly. I was never so scared in my life as I was when I stood on that huge stage with so many eyes turned towards me.
The saddest day of my life which started out to be the happiest was the ruining of my brand new pretty dress. Daniel Stone, who had the largest elbows and who always managed to wiggle them around enough to cause a catastrophe, overturned my ink bottle and spilled it. It ran from the top to the bottom of my dress. I was so unhappy and wet that Miss Redfern took me home because she was afraid I would catch cold.
Fred Hilliker came to Churchville in 1936. He was in my class. Fred was crazy over Lucy DePalma, and I asked him to write in my autograph. He chose the page next to Lucy's name and wrote a lot of silly nonsense. I tore it out.
Strange as it seems, the seventh grade is the most remembered year of my first eight. For the first time we went up stairs where the high school scholars passed. We passed too.
But our passing into study hall got us into more trouble than good. Everyday fourth period, was Mr. Palmer's study hall. I can hear him scolding us yet, saying, "You seventh graders have to learn how to act like grown ups now. I want you to be quiet." The last was shouted as gently as the first phrase. I don't know about the rest, but I shrank about two feet every time he spoke.
Somehow we always managed to be in study hall the periods we weren't suppose to be. Mr. Leader would come rushing in and roar at us "to get where you belong." We got there very quietly and quickly. Usually the eighth period found us in the wrong room, but it didn't take us very long to find the right one. I would feel so embarrassed when Mr. Leader had to speak to us that I could have dropped through the floor.
The best part of our seventh year was our handsome new teacher, Mr. Mink. He was tall, dark and very nice looking. He had the nicest way with the boys, and still has, especially the basketball players. The first day to get acquainted with us, he had us play games where we told our names. He soon knew us, and we, him.
That year was full of happy and sad events. The happiest were our new friends. The young boy, who I thought was being smart when he got up in front of the class and said, "Vote for Landon," was Bobby Wickens. Bobby was a short fellow but full of fun. He took piano lessons and would tell me what he would do to get out of practicing. We all liked Bobby very much and were very sorry when he didn't come back the next year.
Bob Fridd (sp?), a tall blond haired lad was another favorite. I used to sit in front of him back in 1936 and 1937, and he teased me something awful. Bob was a likable fellow, but had turned out rather badly. He had a serious operation during the later part of the year and never came back. We all lost a swell friend when Bob failed to return to our school.
Another fellow who used to be just plain dumb was Bob Riley. Poor Bob! I don't ever remember him passing a test. He was once left handed and was changed to right handed. That's why he was so ignorant, he said. I think it was his second year in the seventh grade and would have been there a third year had he not quit. Bob now is an usher in a Rochester theater.
After the first day of school, I went home and told my mother that here was the cutest blue eyed girl in my class. Much to my sorrow, she wasn't there the second day. This blue eyed lass was Betty Heffer. She returned our freshman year.
Another girl who took me for an Italian was Irma Miller. She was an Indian girl from Batavia. On Valentine's Day she gave me a valentine with my name spelled S-T-I-E-L-I-O. I told her how to spell it, and she told me she thought I was a foreigner.
Better late than never was George Vincent. He entered our class around the middle of the year. We admired George's drawings.
His first day there Mr. Mink told us he wanted us to make George right at home. I piped up and asked how we were to make him at home when we weren't. I don't know whether George was embarrassed or not. He didn't come back the next year until we were freshman.
Leading from our room was the fire escape. It was iron and it made me dizzy to look down through it. I was so afraid I would trip during a fire drill, but I never did. The boys would dash up and down them so fast that if you were in their way, you soon knew it.
At noon we ate our lunches in our rooms. We raised the dickens at such times. We girls would get so angry with Lionel Noosten and Norman Hill who would come in and bother us. We disliked these two very much but got a lot of laughs out of them.
Speaking of laughs, I never giggled so much as I did in study hall with Frances Giaconia. She would sit across from me and write me notes. Girls certainly deserve the name as gigglers.
I received my first "C" in the seventh grade. Miss Walker thought I couldn't draw, which was true. There was nothing I could do about it, for I knew I deserved it. But was it my fault if I couldn't draw? I felt pretty badly for being taken off the honor roll for drawing.
During this year I again stepped outside the door for being naughty. Mrs. Mallock was our English teacher, and one day found her quite out of sorts. I dropped my eraser on the floor and spent too much time looking for it so she sent me outside the door. I felt another black mark against me, but I was only going to pick up what I had dropped.
I took my first regents in 1937 and got the highest in the class. This was geography in which I received ninety-eight. I was thrilled. But I only got around seventy-eight in arithmetic, my only seventy before or since then.
This year marked a very important event in a girl's life. I had my first date. There was to be a Boy Scout banquet and I had seven invitations. I accepted Howard Laley's and had a very nice time except I was a little flustered.
On Declaration day we once again went to Michigan. We went to Clark's lake and visited Ford's Greenfield Village at Dearborn, Michigan. We took our time about seeing things but it was worth it.
At the end of the year, we were sorry to leave our old school. The following fall we entered our new school. Nevertheless, we had many many good times which shall never be forgotten even if they did tear our old one down.
That is another reason why the ending of the seventh grade caused us so much grief. Another was that we had to leave our favorite teacher, Mr. Mink. At the end of the year he wrote in my autograph,
"To a very fine girl and student. I am very happy that I had the pleasure of her presence in my seventh grade."
The pleasure was all mine, I'm sure.
Chapter 6
FORD'S MAGIC WAND
Ever since we were little tots, Esther and I have marched in the parade on Declaration day. We would take flowers down and throw them in the creek We always started at Baker Street, went up Buffalo Road, and went around the square. Then we went up to the cemetery where Mr. Mallach and Mr. Bonner spoke. The band played, the trumpets saluted, and the great guns went off. Often we ended by going over to the park for dinner.
In 1937, my mother's cousins thought it would be nice to take a trip to Michigan. We left the day before Declaration day.
It was a long ride through Canada, but we enjoyed it. The homes and people seemed to be so much different from us. There were many gorges which we kids counted throughout. In many places we saw results of floods. The water did much damage.
We arrived in Detroit very early and had a lunch. Then we went on to Clark's lake. We left here around five in the morning and arrived at the lake around four in the afternoon.
The children as well as the places were changed. We saw many of our old friends whom I don't think recognized us. We had lots of fun reliving the things we had seen before.
Some of the kids went in swimming but I didn't have a bathing suit. Anyway I wasn't very good natured!
One night the four of us girls went up to the Dance Hall. One of the boys took us up. We danced and had a good time until ten o'clock. Then we started walking home.
Now, we could go one of two ways, past the spooky old burned down houses or by the road. Us girls, we took the road.
It was very dark, and we walked quite rapidly. When we reached a farmhouse, a dog began to bark. This frightened us, and a couple started to run, but I was too scared to. A girl who was running the fastest down the road kept shouting, "Don't run! Don't run!"
The next day we went to that farmhouse to see what had barked at us. It was a very small dog which was perfectly harmless!
We behaved ourselves much better this time, but I was quite "snappy." The long trip with little sleep after I got there jingled my nerves. I didn't want to stay as long as we did, but I'm not sorry we did.
It was nearing school time, and we still wished to see Greenfield Village. We left the lake in an afternoon and arrived in Detroit that evening. We girls went to a show and the next day, to Dearborn.
I have never as yet seen anything as interesting as this was. We didn't go back to school on time, but we learned a lot at Ford's educational village. Many of the buildings which I will mention were not complete, but they were a part.
Two hundred acres at Dearborn were set aside for an educational project by Henry Ford. The main building is called "Edison Institute" by Mr. Ford after his friend, Thomas Edison. Serving the institution is a museum which is historical and primarily educational.
The museum is fronted by classrooms, libraries, workshops, and auditoriums, and executive office. These buildings are reproductions of Independence Hall, Congress Hall, and the old City Hall of Philadelphia. Independence Hall is in the center with the corridors leading to the other exhibitions.
On the last is Greenfield Village which displays the handicraft arts of the past plus original historical buildings, and works of our great Americans.
As one passes through the lobby of the duplicated Independence Hall, you see an exact copy of the Declaration of Independence. the original old furniture and lights are also an interesting sight.
The main exhibition hall covers approximately eight acres. The lighting effects and the architecture was beautiful. When we were there, the hall wasn't quite complete, but when it was finished teakwood would cover the beautifully designed floor.
The hall was divided into three divisions representing the three main industrial arts. The first was the agricultural display supplemented by a textile exhibit. In this we saw the evolution of farm implements. There were the tools used in preparing the soil, planting seeds, cultivating and harvesting, and finally the preparation of the crop for market. McCormick's reaper was among the display.
In the textile display we saw the steps in preparing the different types of cloth such as wool, flax, and cotton. Eli Whitney's cotton gin and the first Singer sewing machine were a few of the inventions.
The second division was the manufacture displaying power and electrical devices. The earliest engine was the Newcomen fire engine. Then there was some sort of boiler for generating steam, and an early reproduction of a watt rotating engine. There were many more such engines which I didn't understand. Nevertheless it was interesting.
In the third division we saw a transportation exhibition. I liked this one the best of the three divisions. The Campbell Coach of 1760 was, we learned, given to a young girl when she married one of the richest men of New York at the time. Another coach was the Concord coach.
Airplanes suffered many autographs on their wings. I left mine there! We saw the first autogyro built, and the "Floyd Bennett" used by Admiral Byrd in his flight to the South Pole.
Of all the funny looking things, the trains were the funniest. The Rocket", the "DeWitt Clinton" and the "Tom Thumb" were a few of the historical locomotives. We saw the coach which Tom Thumb and his wife road in.
In the bicycle exhibit we saw the largest and smallest bicycle ever built and used.
Handicraft shops such as Blacksmith's shops, Pewter shops, Tinsmith's shops, and a Candlemaker's shop were visited before we took an old time coach across to Greenfield village.
When we entered this village, we went first to Clinton Inn which is logical. It was built in 1831 - 32 and was furnished in the style of the early days.
The famous Mary-Martha chapel, where all the inhabitants of the village and pupils of the institutions attend, was next. It is a nonsectarian church, typical of Colonial churches. It is named after the mother's of Mr. and Mrs. Ford.
Ford has erected his old school which he first attended. Mr. Ford occupied a desk in the back of the room where his initials are carved. The building was erected in 1861.
In a group stood the McGuffey units. The central unit was the birthplace of William H. McGuffey, an author. He was born in this log cabin in Pennsylvania in 1800. The building was furnished with the original furniture.
The second building was a school house for the younger children of the village and wasn't open to the public. The third building was the McGuffey smokehouse.
The most interesting to me was the courthouse where Abraham Lincoln practiced law. This was a two story structure of black walnut erected in 1840. The lower floor had a judge's bench at one end, and a fireplace at the other. Lincoln's death chair with the blood stains was there. Within were many other possessions of Abe's.
There were two slave huts from a plantation near Savannah, Georgia. They were the exact size and the typical furnishings of the old South.
In 1876 Edison build a two story clapboard house in Menlo Park, New Jersey. Here he worked with his chemicals and made his discoveries. We went into this memorable house and visited the famous workroom. Everything from Edison's stove to his chemicals which were left exactly as they were in his laboratory.
In a rectangular yard surrounded by a white picket fence, Mr. Ford brought together a few historical buildings of Menlo Park. He even had the reddish sail characteristic of Menlo Park surroundings the buildings. Many of these such as the Little Glass House and the Machine Shop were either not finished or we didn't have time to visit them.
Mrs. Sarah Jordan's boarding house which Edison first lived, and Edison's homestead weren't as yet complete. Also incomplete was Stephen Foster's birthplace and an old secretary house constructed in 1751.
Mr. Ford has brought in an old English cottage characteristic of the English cottages to his village. Inside it was furnished with seventeenth century furniture. Valuable books, leather pictures and a Bible chest were included.
One of the most comical things was the eighty-two year old General Store. We saw bustles, old corsets, out of style hats and shoes, and other articles of clothing used many, many years ago. They had some sugar which was used before it was granulated and old kinds of tobacco. It contained scores of valuable material of the olden days. We laughed at some of it.
I could go on endlessly talking about many other buildings, but I will finish by discussing the tin type studio.
It was quite a warm dry day, and my hair being natural curly was much curlier than usual. This attracted the old photographer, and he wished to take my picture. He made me sit quietly for what seemed like five minutes while he "pulled the trigger." Today, I imagine if you visited this place, you would find me, my picture, hanging on the wall.
One really needs to spend a couple of days in order to see all that there is to see.
We went at around nine or ten in the morning to visit Dearborn and left for Churchville at five at night. This meant driving all night.
We took a different route home and went through London. We stopped and went into a restaurant to eat. This was my first experience of eating out in such places. We three kids were amused at the way the Chinese waiters carried the dishes.
We walked around looking into windows for a few minutes; then we traveled on through the rain the rest of the night. We stopped several times to catch "forty-winks" and once, for a bite to eat.
We arrived home at seven in the morning, and we wanted to look at all the "funnies" we had missed, but mom send us off to bed. We slept until two o'clock in the afternoon.
This was my second long trip, back to Michigan, one at the age of nine and the other at the age of thirteen, one in 1933 and the second in 1937.
Ford has erected his old school which he first attended. Mr. Ford occupied a desk in the back of the room where his initials are carved. The building was erected in 1861.
In a group stood the McGuffey units. The central unit was the birthplace of William H. McGuffey, an author. He was born in this log cabin in Pennsylvania in 1800. The building was furnished with the original furniture.
The second building was a school house for the younger children of the village and wasn't open to the public. The third building was the McGuffey smokehouse.
The most interesting to me was the courthouse where Abraham Lincoln practiced law. This was a two story structure of black walnut erected in 1840. The lower floor had a judge's bench at one end, and a fireplace at the other. Lincoln's death chair with the blood stains was there. Within were many other possessions of Abe's.
There were two slave huts from a plantation near Savannah, Georgia. They were the exact size and the typical furnishings of the old South.
In 1876 Edison build a two story clapboard house in Menlo Park, New Jersey. Here he worked with his chemicals and made his discoveries. We went into this memorable house and visited the famous workroom. Everything from Edison's stove to his chemicals which were left exactly as they were in his laboratory.
In a rectangular yard surrounded by a white picket fence, Mr. Ford brought together a few historical buildings of Menlo Park. He even had the reddish sail characteristic of Menlo Park surroundings the buildings. Many of these such as the Little Glass House and the Machine Shop were either not finished or we didn't have time to visit them.
Mrs. Sarah Jordan's boarding house which Edison first lived, and Edison's homestead weren't as yet complete. Also incomplete was Stephen Foster's birthplace and an old secretary house constructed in 1751.
Mr. Ford has brought in an old English cottage characteristic of the English cottages to his village. Inside it was furnished with seventeenth century furniture. Valuable books, leather pictures and a Bible chest were included.
One of the most comical things was the eighty-two year old General Store. We saw bustles, old corsets, out of style hats and shoes, and other articles of clothing used many, many years ago. They had some sugar which was used before it was granulated and old kinds of tobacco. It contained scores of valuable material of the olden days. We laughed at some of it.
I could go on endlessly talking about many other buildings, but I will finish by discussing the tin type studio.
It was quite a warm dry day, and my hair being natural curly was much curlier than usual. This attracted the old photographer, and he wished to take my picture. He made me sit quietly for what seemed like five minutes while he "pulled the trigger." Today, I imagine if you visited this place, you would find me, my picture, hanging on the wall.
One really needs to spend a couple of days in order to see all that there is to see.
We went at around nine or ten in the morning to visit Dearborn and left for Churchville at five at night. This meant driving all night.
We took a different route home and went through London. We stopped and went into a restaurant to eat. This was my first experience of eating out in such places. We three kids were amused at the way the Chinese waiters carried the dishes.
We walked around looking into windows for a few minutes; then we traveled on through the rain the rest of the night. We stopped several times to catch "forty-winks" and once, for a bite to eat.
We arrived home at seven in the morning, and we wanted to look at all the "funnies" we had missed, but mom send us off to bed. We slept until two o'clock in the afternoon.
This was my second long trip, back to Michigan, one at the age of nine and the other at the age of thirteen, one in 1933 and the second in 1937.