1924 SCHOOL CHRISTMAS TREE

©2011 Lynn Ferrin

Every year I try to make a point of visiting the Mission Inn in Riverside to view the fantastic display of lights and decorations. They are truly beautiful and, I might add, very costly.

As I write, my thoughts go back and back through the years to the most beautiful tree I ever saw. It was in 1924, and I was in the first grade in a one-room schoolhouse, literally in the woods on the coast of Oregon, so getting a tree was no problem.

We had been having a wonderful time making decorations for the school tree. We strung popcorn and cranberries and chains of green and red paper. There were little stars made of some silver and gold papers.

Finally, the time for the Christmas program came, and our whole family came to hear the songs and readings we had so painfully rehearsed.

There in the front of the room, stood the Christmas tree, bedecked with all of our decorations, but something else had been added. On many of the branches there were candles clamped on in little holders. At the appropriate time, some of the men lit the candles and there was a complete transformation.

The brilliant light, I am sure, was very much like the lights of heaven, and I was completely awed and inspired.

The candles were quickly extinguished because of fire danger, but, in my mind, they still burn in all their beauty and glory. 

MY METAL BABY CRIB

Barbara Maineri ©2011

I always admired the image of the sweet baby face impressed on the head of my metal baby crib. The crib was a dark brown but the face made it just right for a child. My three younger brothers each slept in that bed as well. It was sturdy, probably not up to the standards of today as I'm sure the slats were wide enough for a baby's head or legs to get caught in them, but we all survived. When we visited my folks in Houston in 1958, my son, Paul, slept in that bed.

Not the original crib

Ron and I had purchased a wooden crib when Paul was born, and we also used it for Susan. However, that bed was not as sturdy as my old bed, and we no longer had it when our third child was about to come along. Rather than purchase a new bed, perhaps my old brown baby bed would be nice. I thought about painting it a lighter color to make it more appealing, so I asked my mother, “Mimi, I remember that my old metal baby bed was still in good shape about six years ago when Paul was a baby. Could I use it for our new baby?”

“Oh, honey,” Mimi replied, “I don't have the bed any more. Carla took it.”

“What, Carla took it? You mean she just took it? Why did you let her take it? Who is Carla anyway? Why don't you get it back? All of your children slept in that bed and now I could use it for my new baby, and she just – took it?” I said angrily.

“Oh, no, you don't understand. We were staying in Port O'Connor for the summer, and I had taken the bed down there for your brother. We got the notice to evacuate quickly and didn't have time to pack the crib. Carla was the hurricane that was coming. She did a lot of damage and destroyed the house where we staying. We returned to look around later, but we never did find the bed. Carla took it! She took just about every house there.” Mimi explained. “Carla even took Uncle Bill Madden who wouldn't evacuate. She was fierce.”

Growing up on the Gulf Coast, I knew about hurricanes and respected their wrath. In 1961, Carla, a Category 5 hurricane, struck Port O'Connor head on. The storm surge was 22 feet which completely covered that area and 10 miles inland. We were living in England at the time and I didn't realize how bad it was until we returned. I knew my little baby bed with the sweet cherub face had survived four rambunctious babies could not stand up to Carla.

JUNQUE OR JUNK

JUNK or JUNQUE SAVED BY DESIGN or JUST BECAUSE

 © Bill Dickinson January 31, 2012

When my wife Barbara and I first discussed this assignment I was under the impression that there wasn’t much of anything saved to inspire a memoir. Then she started in on a long list of articles that are in drawers and hanging on the wall in my work area. Barb said that I should be able to pick any object and have memories attached to it from when it was used or saved after the last project.

Well I went back there and began to look around –it took a while because everything I saw had a reason to be there for use in household maintenance, including the empty boxes from recently installed appliances and other items that hold warranty information required for possible return or claim.

Then I started going thru some file drawers under the bottom shelf of the storage for my hardware and plumbing stuff. These drawers hold records and historical items that I haven’t looked at for decades.

The first items found were graduation folders presented to Barb and I when we completed Straling Leadership and Pastoral Ministry courses. The SLI certificate reminded me of our trip to Israel which we departed on just days after graduation. That trip was 13 days of total immersion into the time of Christ and the Roman/ Jewish era of that time in history. In addition our guide during the tour gave us a fair amount of political and historical thinking of the people of Israel during the period from 1964 thru 1988 while we were there.

The next drawer I looked in was full of military records. I even have my medical records which I received upon my retirement discharge in 1974! What in the world can I ever do with those at this time in my life? The next drawer I opened was the most fun.

I found my high school senior year book with my athletic letter and other school items from later education efforts. Buried under the documents was a slide rule that I used for math and engineering classes in the 50s. Last but not least is an MB-2A hand held circular slide rule that I had to use to plot courses and flight plans before the world of computers and current GPS technology. It kind of made me think back on how Columbus felt when he had to navigate with handmade charts and stars and instruments. Thanks to technology advances the ability to get from point A to point B is now just a push of a few buttons. Now all we have to do is pray to God that we use the brain for something other than has been displayed by recent disasters on the sea and air lanes

The last drawer I looked into had Barb’s “American Judo” magazine archives. I’ll let her share about that time in her life. But, I looked at the collection with pride for her and the fact that she contributed to the advancement of the sport of Women’s Judo and Judo in general with her efforts as Editor of that magazine.

So why do we save these objects of our personal history? I don’t really know but it seems to be something learned or maybe even partially innate. It is especially mind boggling to me because I never considered myself a saver or much of anything. Lately (last few years) I have been giving my coin collections and misc jewelry like cuff links away to other family members and asking them if there was anything else they wanted.

However, now that I have re-acquainted myself with the historical artifacts of my youth I feel maybe I should add another room on to the house so that Barb and I can call it our museum. We all know that won’t happen but it’s fun thinking about—and now we know the title answer – it was saved “Just Because” and not “By Design” and I am happy about the fact that it is memory productive JUNQUE.

Something About Eggs

©June, 2008 Barbara Mueck

Eggs can be coddled, poached or fried.

Over easy, stuffed, hard-boiled and dyed.

There's bird nest's, painted eggs, candy eggs to eat.

But

What to do with the “eggheads” you should happen

to meet.

Coca Cola Five Cents

by

Robert S. Ynacay©2011

Five cents for a green, special-shaped, five-ounce bottle of dark, sweet liquid that could soothe one's thirst on a summer's day!

The bottle was in the shape of curves, modeled in the form of a female with a girdle on, at the turn of the century, and this became their trademark and product identification. This was more or less how the Coke Company described their unique bottle and, they claim, even a blind person can identify their product.

During my younger years, they had only two sized of coke; small (five cent bottle) and the family-size quart bottle (twenty cents). Coke became famous world-wide because of the Second World War and the craving thirst of the American fighting men and women.

A few other nickel items that were popular amongst Americans were the chocolate Hershey Bar, a five-stick pack of Wrigley chewing gum, and others.

I believe the price of these items remained the same for a long time and did not change until the 1950's.

Everyone could afford these treats by turning in empty coke bottles for two cents deposit refund. The quart size brought about three cents; a stubby beer bottle with for a penny; and a real large bottle was a prize for a nickel.

A real beer bottle was dark brown in color, and clear beer bottles went for only a penny. Milk bottles, hardly ever found away from someone's yard or back porch, were rare.

Penny's grocery store would redeem your collection (no beer bottles) with a grilling where you got your collection by Mr. Penny, the proprietor, who paid cash money. Immediately you would run over to the penny candy display, which was huge in size, like the modern day meat counter display at the supermarket.

If he had no customers in the store, you could choose, change your mind, or even drool over all those beautiful pieces, behind the glass, for a length of time, before you had to choose.

The beer bottles were turned in at the Red Pig tavern on 82^nd and Halsey Streets, and if you were lucky, the customer would cajole the innkeeper into throwing in an extra nickle or dime so he would have enough to buy an ice cream cone on the way to the public swimming pool.

Those were the days! In my later years, I started redeeming soda cans. A young Marine claims he purchased a new car just by picking up and selling soda cans at the rate of four cents per pound. Now I see people with big garbage sacks, loaded with redeemable items, going through garbage cans on garbage day throughout the neighborhood.

This is real American ingenuity – to start a future business and find a way to keep off the welfare rolls.  

A Cup of Coffee and Moment of Silence

©September 2011 Robert S. Ynacay

It is time to take a coffee break and with a cup of that black thick brew, with a dash of milk, and sweetener, I settle down in my lawn chair at the small table with the big umbrella, shielding me from the direct rays of the sun. I take a big swig of the hot liquid and close my eyes, enjoying the drink as it goes through my body.

The rays of the sun feel good on my aching back and legs and the slight cool breeze blowing in my direction, down from the mountains, makes a pleasant morning. Joyce's white cat is creeping on my walled fence, looking for an active gopher hole or a small bird. A flock of birds are flushed out of the big tree on the corner when she got near them. There they go, circling the neighborhood in wide flight pattern and taking refuge on the power lines. My dogs have spotted the cat and now with their barking the area is becoming alive. The puppies next door are yapping up a storm, awaken from the sounds of my dogs.

Soft, low sounds of classical music can be heard coming from my CD player, through the open widows of my house and it seems to relax me. The kids are out playing in their yards and now and then, you can hear, “stop hitting me” or mom yelling at them and their puppies are still yapping away. I hear the sounds of a big jet airplane, circling overhead and he must be preparing to land at the nearby airport. In the distant, a siren is shrilling away, going to an emergency or chasing the bad guys.

I knock my book off the table and as I reach down to pick it up, a lot things are happening on the ground. A string of ants are crawling on one of the dog's missing treats, a green three inch lizard crawling up the wall, several moths landing on the tomato plant and there is movement under those big squash leaves, probably snails since it is cool and damp there.

The aroma of someone's cooking is filtering into my breathing space and I am feeling a small hunger pang, and those birds are now back in their tree, chirping away. My wristwatch alarm is notifying me that the coffee break is over and it is now time for me to go in the house to take my daily nap.