When you are a baker, you are lucky to get more than 5 or 6 hours of sleep a night. My husband, Bob used to get up at 2 or 3 a.m. to start his day, and many times he was still working at 6 p.m. One year Labor Day was approaching and the employees were asking to have Saturday off so they could have a long weekend. I talked with Bob and asked him what we were going to do without enough help to operate. He grabbed a sheet of paper and a pen, and on it he wrote GOING FISHING. CLOSED ALL NEXT WEEK. He pasted it on the glass door of the shop.
He called a pilot that he knew and asked him if he could fly us up to Young’s Bay for a week. He said he was available and would carry us up to the mountains, and would pick us up the following week. I had never done anything like that, so it was a real adventure for me. When we got there it was a charming lake with a canoe waiting for us to row it. The Forest Service had this pretty little A-frame cabin for us to stay in. When the pilot flew away we were left there as the only people on the mountain.
The front of the cabin had a huge plexi-glass window, and I found an old bed sheet up there which served as a curtain to cover that window. Bob thought I was silly because there was not another soul anywhere near, but I felt better having the window covered. When I crawled into my sleeping bag,I was located on one side of the room, and Bob was on the other side of the room. It was just a flat board on which we slept—not really a bed.
The table was at the foot of my bunk and I could her little mice crawling in and out of the box of food we had brought for the week. I was determined to be a good sport and not complain about it, so I just buried my head in my sleeping bag and finally fell asleep. Later on I awoke hearing what I thought were mice chewing in the walls. After awhile I realized that there were no double walls. I knew this because before I went to sleep I could see through the cracks. So what was that noise ? I leaned over the edge of the bed and pulled the sheet back to peek outside. THERE was a bear clawing on the walls and looking at me nose to nose. I could not speak out loud I was so frightened, and I could not wake Bob up. He had a gun right beside his bed. I finally got up and went over to his bed and shook him. I was not nice ! I said “some protector you are. You don’t even hear me when I cry for help.”
Bob got up and stepped outside, but saw no bear. Later that night the bear returned and was fiercely tearing at the walls. I put up my cry for help again, and Bob got up again, but each time I looked outside, the bear would jump off the porch and disappear. We finally carried our sleeping bags to the loft. There was a ladder through the ceiling to the loft. I felt much safer sleeping up there the rest of the week. In the morning we could see the claw marks on the wall, and knew why he was doing that. I had put cantaloupe, bacon, and other smelly things in a cooler box fastened to the wall. This was enticing the bear to try to get it.
Each morning we’d go out in the canoe and fish for trout, then come in and fry them up. They were so good. Then we’d nap until late afternoon when we’d go back out on the lake again to fish for some more food for our supper. We caught up on lots of sleep that week, and it was wondeerful. When the sun shines in Alaska, it is truly beautiful, and enjoyable to be able to bask in it.
There was an outhouse some distance from the cabin, and Bob had brought a gun for each of us. I was told to not go up there without my gun. The first day I ignored that order, but after seeing the bear for myself, I learned to shooot that gun, and carried it with me.
That was one of the best week vacation we ever had. It was so wonderful to sleep and eat, and get up when we felt like it. The week went too fast, and the plane was soon there to pick us up. That meant going back to town to work many long hours in the bakery again. The best part of the week was the memories with which we were left.
Friday, November 30, 2007
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
MOVE TO ALASKA
Our family was living in Salem, Oregon and Bob was working in a downtown bakery. One day we got a letter from my mom and dad asking us to come to Alaska. Dad was having problems with his eyes, and he was going to just sell the bakery for “peanuts” unless we could come to help him out for a year. He wanted to go to Seattle and have surgery on his eyes, and have the rest of the year to rest up from working so hard. Dad had no help in the bakery, except my mother who took care of all the business of dealing with customers. The food business is a difficult one to find competent help. Anyone can fry a hamburger, but not just anyone can make bread or decorate cakes. Consequently he just had to do it all himself.
We decided to go for one year. We stored our household goods, rented our house, and left our car sitting in the yard of a friend. It was the first new car we ever had, and when we contacted AAA about driving to Alaska they discouraged us by telling us how terrible the Alcan highway was, with large boulders in the middle of the road etc. This was in 1957 and the highway was rough, but they certainly exaggerated the driving conditions, but they scared us enough that we decided to park the car and fly to Juneau, Alaska.
When we got there dad wanted Bob to buy the shop so he would be completely out of the business. We had no money, and didn’t think any smart bank would loan us that much money. Consequently Bob worked for Dad that year and drew no pay for his services. If we found ourselves in need of money we could make a payroll draw, but we tried hard to not draw from the fund that was building up. I worked for Northern Commercial Company and was making $350 a month. From that we paid the rent on our 1 bedroom apartment, sent a car payment, and bought groceries. We ate a lot of beans and spaghetti for an entire year, and never once had a hamburger in a restaurant.
Linda was in the 3rd grade at this time, and she was not used to living like this, and she told her teacher that she didn’t have her own bed. She would start out in our bed with her daddy who got up around 3 a.m. to go to work, and when mama was ready for bed, Linda was carried out to the sofa bed for the rest of the night. Teacher thought she should maybe report this little child’s living conditions to the welfare office, but she investigated us more, as we became friends, and saw what we were sacrificing to pay for this business.
At the end of the year we had a good down payment, but not all the money we needed, when one of the salesmen came into the shop and Bob was telling him how we had been living to buy the shop. He said, “take off that apron and come with me to the bank.” Bob went with him and he agreed to co-sign on a loan so that we could borrow the rest of the money from the bank. We were in business.
At the end of the day if we had some cash profit, we would go over to the shipping dock and buy a sack of sugar or flour to operate the next day. That was how we managed for quite awhile, until we finally had some money in the bank.
While we were there we moved the bakery location from the original spot to two other spots. Each time we grew and it was no easy job moving those ovens and huge mixers
across the street to the new location. We lived in apartments above the shop until Linda was in the 6th grade and I wanted her to have a home to go to, not an apartment on one of Juneau’s streets, so we found a house and bought it. Finally we were home owners again.
Not only did we have a bakery, but we had a small eating establishment associated with the bakery, and we both worked very hard to keep things going. After 3 years with Northern Commercial I finally had to give up my nice job and work in the shop because we could not get dependable help, and I was doing double duty already.
Remember that we went there to spend a year, and here we were owners of a new business. This all took place before Alaska became a State. We did well, and worked hard and finally found our way out of Alaska to return to Oregon 30 years later.
We decided to go for one year. We stored our household goods, rented our house, and left our car sitting in the yard of a friend. It was the first new car we ever had, and when we contacted AAA about driving to Alaska they discouraged us by telling us how terrible the Alcan highway was, with large boulders in the middle of the road etc. This was in 1957 and the highway was rough, but they certainly exaggerated the driving conditions, but they scared us enough that we decided to park the car and fly to Juneau, Alaska.
When we got there dad wanted Bob to buy the shop so he would be completely out of the business. We had no money, and didn’t think any smart bank would loan us that much money. Consequently Bob worked for Dad that year and drew no pay for his services. If we found ourselves in need of money we could make a payroll draw, but we tried hard to not draw from the fund that was building up. I worked for Northern Commercial Company and was making $350 a month. From that we paid the rent on our 1 bedroom apartment, sent a car payment, and bought groceries. We ate a lot of beans and spaghetti for an entire year, and never once had a hamburger in a restaurant.
Linda was in the 3rd grade at this time, and she was not used to living like this, and she told her teacher that she didn’t have her own bed. She would start out in our bed with her daddy who got up around 3 a.m. to go to work, and when mama was ready for bed, Linda was carried out to the sofa bed for the rest of the night. Teacher thought she should maybe report this little child’s living conditions to the welfare office, but she investigated us more, as we became friends, and saw what we were sacrificing to pay for this business.
At the end of the year we had a good down payment, but not all the money we needed, when one of the salesmen came into the shop and Bob was telling him how we had been living to buy the shop. He said, “take off that apron and come with me to the bank.” Bob went with him and he agreed to co-sign on a loan so that we could borrow the rest of the money from the bank. We were in business.
At the end of the day if we had some cash profit, we would go over to the shipping dock and buy a sack of sugar or flour to operate the next day. That was how we managed for quite awhile, until we finally had some money in the bank.
While we were there we moved the bakery location from the original spot to two other spots. Each time we grew and it was no easy job moving those ovens and huge mixers
across the street to the new location. We lived in apartments above the shop until Linda was in the 6th grade and I wanted her to have a home to go to, not an apartment on one of Juneau’s streets, so we found a house and bought it. Finally we were home owners again.
Not only did we have a bakery, but we had a small eating establishment associated with the bakery, and we both worked very hard to keep things going. After 3 years with Northern Commercial I finally had to give up my nice job and work in the shop because we could not get dependable help, and I was doing double duty already.
Remember that we went there to spend a year, and here we were owners of a new business. This all took place before Alaska became a State. We did well, and worked hard and finally found our way out of Alaska to return to Oregon 30 years later.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
BEGINNING A NEW LIFE
All of you young married ladies probably think it is a chore to cook dinner when you come home. When I was first married, I knew nothing about cooking. I mean truly NOTHING. We moved to our first home in Walla Walla, Washington where we had a basement apartment. After World War-2 rentals were very difficult to find. You may know that materials were scarce, therefore building came to a halt. Also, the men who might be your carpenter were likely still in the military service. Consequently, we thought we had a jewel in our little three room, one bath basement apartment. The first thing that I had to learn was to cook with coal. Let me tell you, for those of you who know only electricity or gas stoves, there is nothing like trying to cook with coal. I had seen my mother cook with wood, but not coal.
One morning, Bob was going to show me how to quickly get that black stuff to catch fire. He went to the bathroom and came out with some rubbing alcohol, lit some paper, then shook the alcohol out of the bottle. It lit so quickly that he suddenly had a bottle full of fire in his hand. One thing I learned was to not do that again ! Of course we had to get this fire going in order to have any hot water too. The stove had coils in it which when heated, produced hot water. That was a lot of fun in the summer time when the Walla Walla heat would register around 100 or more degrees.
Our windows were ground level, and there was a mulberry tree outside our bedroom window. There were earwigs in the fruit of the tree, and they could crawl through our windows when they were totally closed. We had only an ice box instead of a refrigerator, but most of the time we didn't have enough money to buy ice for the chest. We used to keep things that needed to be cooled, sitting on the kitchen window. We would push a cardboard lid onto the milk bottles, then turn a small glass upside down and let it rest over the neck of the bottle, but those earwigs could even get through that. We had to be super careful that we did not have earwigs in what we wanted to eat or drink.
One day we had the opportunity to move into a nicer basement apartment, and we did not hesitate to accept the offer. We still cooked with coal, but did have some nice quarters, and made good friends with the family that lived upstairs. When we moved in they told us that no children were allowed. I didn't tell her that I was already pregnant, and thought we'd face that when the time came. Actually, the landlady was no dummy, and she figured it out right away. When we got the courage to tell her, she told us that she already guessed .
Bob and I worked for Birds Eye Snyder frozen foods. At that time (1946) it was the largest frozen food plant in the U.S. Bob was a lift truck driver who worked in the huge freezer area of the plant. I worked in the office, starting out as a telephone switchboard operator. In the summer time we worked as many hours as we could stand, including weekends. We had little or no time off. There was no such thing as unions in the plant, and we thought we were very fortunate to have jobs. Many of the workers in the plant were homeless, or winos that Birds eye could pick up on the street. They insisted on being paid every day, so that kept the office workers busy as bees.
Finally, my dad was going to open a new bakery in Sweet Home, Oregon, and he thought this would be a good trade for Bob to follow. I was not sure about that, because as I was growing up in the back end of the bakery, I saw my mother work very hard to support my dad in his business. But, because Bob did not have a trade at that time, we decided to go back to Oregon and give it a try. This led to many other stories , and I will tell you some of them at a later date.
One morning, Bob was going to show me how to quickly get that black stuff to catch fire. He went to the bathroom and came out with some rubbing alcohol, lit some paper, then shook the alcohol out of the bottle. It lit so quickly that he suddenly had a bottle full of fire in his hand. One thing I learned was to not do that again ! Of course we had to get this fire going in order to have any hot water too. The stove had coils in it which when heated, produced hot water. That was a lot of fun in the summer time when the Walla Walla heat would register around 100 or more degrees.
Our windows were ground level, and there was a mulberry tree outside our bedroom window. There were earwigs in the fruit of the tree, and they could crawl through our windows when they were totally closed. We had only an ice box instead of a refrigerator, but most of the time we didn't have enough money to buy ice for the chest. We used to keep things that needed to be cooled, sitting on the kitchen window. We would push a cardboard lid onto the milk bottles, then turn a small glass upside down and let it rest over the neck of the bottle, but those earwigs could even get through that. We had to be super careful that we did not have earwigs in what we wanted to eat or drink.
One day we had the opportunity to move into a nicer basement apartment, and we did not hesitate to accept the offer. We still cooked with coal, but did have some nice quarters, and made good friends with the family that lived upstairs. When we moved in they told us that no children were allowed. I didn't tell her that I was already pregnant, and thought we'd face that when the time came. Actually, the landlady was no dummy, and she figured it out right away. When we got the courage to tell her, she told us that she already guessed .
Bob and I worked for Birds Eye Snyder frozen foods. At that time (1946) it was the largest frozen food plant in the U.S. Bob was a lift truck driver who worked in the huge freezer area of the plant. I worked in the office, starting out as a telephone switchboard operator. In the summer time we worked as many hours as we could stand, including weekends. We had little or no time off. There was no such thing as unions in the plant, and we thought we were very fortunate to have jobs. Many of the workers in the plant were homeless, or winos that Birds eye could pick up on the street. They insisted on being paid every day, so that kept the office workers busy as bees.
Finally, my dad was going to open a new bakery in Sweet Home, Oregon, and he thought this would be a good trade for Bob to follow. I was not sure about that, because as I was growing up in the back end of the bakery, I saw my mother work very hard to support my dad in his business. But, because Bob did not have a trade at that time, we decided to go back to Oregon and give it a try. This led to many other stories , and I will tell you some of them at a later date.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
SINGING OPPORTUNITY
SINGING OPPORTUNITY
One of the most exciting things I have done in my life was to play the second lead in the opera The Bartered Bride, by Smetana. The lead was played by a senior girl, and was only a lowly freshman. I was attending Pacific University in Forest Grove, Oregon at that time, and had never undertaken anything quite this big before.
These were World War-2 years, and we had very few young men going to school. The ones who were there were older and married. Most were men who had already served their time in the military. There were lots of girls, but literally no men. When we had a dance function Navy men from a Tillamook, Oregon base were invited to attend. Otherwise, the girls had to dance with each other to show off their lovely ball gowns.
To fill out the cast of men we had to recruit from the Registrar's Office to get a nice tenor voice. It's amazing what you can do if you set your minds to it. We spent many hours rehearsing for a large production. The school had it's own orchestra, so we were set for music to accompany the singers.
The first performance was at home, in a Forest Grove auditorium. Everything went very well. I had done a lot of singing before, but had never received flowers while on stage. What a thrill it was for this young freshman. The next performance was at the Neighbor's of Woodcraft Hall in Portland, Oregon. I had a very bad cold, and was sucking on lemons the whole day prior to the performance. With a little luck I was able to sing OK, and we got a standing ovation from the audience who packed the auditorium. Now for the third performance we were going to The Dalles, Oregon. We were all told that we were being put up in private homes, and that we were to go directly to the houses and get to bed. No horsing around.
This dumb girl rode in the back of a pickup (it did have a top over it) but it was extremely windy . If you have ever traveled in that area of Oregon, you know the winds can howl in that Columbia River Gorge. When we arrived, we found our homes where we would stay, and then decided we should go bowling. Now our Professors would not have liked that if they had known. After all , we were just kids and were not ready to hit the feathers just yet.
In the morning when I awoke I could not talk. I had a very severe case of laryngitis. We had a 10 o'clock rehearsal scheduled, and a 1 o'clock radio production, as well as the opera that evening. I showed up at rehearsal with big tears running down my cheek. I croaked, "I can't talk. I have no voice." Everyone said "don't cry, it will only make it worse." As far as I was concerned it could be no worse. This was a University production and we had no such things as under studies. If I couldn't sing, we would have to give all the money back to the people who paid to hear us perform. They quickly changed the songs prepared for the radio production so that I didn't sing, and went to a doctor who was recommended to me.
When I saw the doctor he actually laughed when he heard my predicament. He said , "young lady, I have tickets to that performance, and you are going to sing." He gave me something to gargle, and I was to use it just before going on stage, and about half way through I could do it again. Then he said to throw away any that was left. I have learned since that it was some sort of dope, but it worked.
My voice was tight, but I was able to sing. The director was in the orchestra pit directing the orchestra and the opera singers. Each time it was my turn to sing he had sweat running down his face in fear that the voice would not come out. Everything turned out OK, and I did perform.
A few days after that I had an appointment at one of the radio stations for an audition to tour with a group that was selling war bonds. I was competing against Susan Burce, or better known as Jane Powel. I asked if we could postpone the audition because I still could not sing, but that was nixed right then and there. I had to sing if I wanted a chance at the job. Of course, I couldn't sing, so I tearfully went back home and walked away from the opportunity. Jane Powel became a famous singer in Hollywood movies, and most of you have heard her voice many times. She is still a star.
One of the most exciting things I have done in my life was to play the second lead in the opera The Bartered Bride, by Smetana. The lead was played by a senior girl, and was only a lowly freshman. I was attending Pacific University in Forest Grove, Oregon at that time, and had never undertaken anything quite this big before.
These were World War-2 years, and we had very few young men going to school. The ones who were there were older and married. Most were men who had already served their time in the military. There were lots of girls, but literally no men. When we had a dance function Navy men from a Tillamook, Oregon base were invited to attend. Otherwise, the girls had to dance with each other to show off their lovely ball gowns.
To fill out the cast of men we had to recruit from the Registrar's Office to get a nice tenor voice. It's amazing what you can do if you set your minds to it. We spent many hours rehearsing for a large production. The school had it's own orchestra, so we were set for music to accompany the singers.
The first performance was at home, in a Forest Grove auditorium. Everything went very well. I had done a lot of singing before, but had never received flowers while on stage. What a thrill it was for this young freshman. The next performance was at the Neighbor's of Woodcraft Hall in Portland, Oregon. I had a very bad cold, and was sucking on lemons the whole day prior to the performance. With a little luck I was able to sing OK, and we got a standing ovation from the audience who packed the auditorium. Now for the third performance we were going to The Dalles, Oregon. We were all told that we were being put up in private homes, and that we were to go directly to the houses and get to bed. No horsing around.
This dumb girl rode in the back of a pickup (it did have a top over it) but it was extremely windy . If you have ever traveled in that area of Oregon, you know the winds can howl in that Columbia River Gorge. When we arrived, we found our homes where we would stay, and then decided we should go bowling. Now our Professors would not have liked that if they had known. After all , we were just kids and were not ready to hit the feathers just yet.
In the morning when I awoke I could not talk. I had a very severe case of laryngitis. We had a 10 o'clock rehearsal scheduled, and a 1 o'clock radio production, as well as the opera that evening. I showed up at rehearsal with big tears running down my cheek. I croaked, "I can't talk. I have no voice." Everyone said "don't cry, it will only make it worse." As far as I was concerned it could be no worse. This was a University production and we had no such things as under studies. If I couldn't sing, we would have to give all the money back to the people who paid to hear us perform. They quickly changed the songs prepared for the radio production so that I didn't sing, and went to a doctor who was recommended to me.
When I saw the doctor he actually laughed when he heard my predicament. He said , "young lady, I have tickets to that performance, and you are going to sing." He gave me something to gargle, and I was to use it just before going on stage, and about half way through I could do it again. Then he said to throw away any that was left. I have learned since that it was some sort of dope, but it worked.
My voice was tight, but I was able to sing. The director was in the orchestra pit directing the orchestra and the opera singers. Each time it was my turn to sing he had sweat running down his face in fear that the voice would not come out. Everything turned out OK, and I did perform.
A few days after that I had an appointment at one of the radio stations for an audition to tour with a group that was selling war bonds. I was competing against Susan Burce, or better known as Jane Powel. I asked if we could postpone the audition because I still could not sing, but that was nixed right then and there. I had to sing if I wanted a chance at the job. Of course, I couldn't sing, so I tearfully went back home and walked away from the opportunity. Jane Powel became a famous singer in Hollywood movies, and most of you have heard her voice many times. She is still a star.
Monday, November 12, 2007
STEPDAD
I was born in a little town called Enterprise, Oregon. This was mostly a logging community then, and my father was in the logging business. My mother had waited several years for a child to arrive in their home, so I know that I was very special. When I was just 15 months old
the bad news came to our household. My father had been killed when a logging speeder, that ran on the railroad tracks, had dropped some of its pipe which was in the process of being moved from one location to another. This caused the speeder to overturn and it landed on top of my Father.
My mother was born in France, and her father did not consider it important for girls to have an education. Her mother had died shortly after they came to the United States at the now famous Ellis Island in the early 1900's. Her father was very fond of his alcohol, and that seemed to be the most important thing in his life. My mother had to learn to stay home, cook and clean at a very early age. She only had a third grade education. I tell you all of this just so you see the gravity of a young woman, recently widowed with a child to care for, and no education to go out and find a paying job.
Mother soon found a logging camp where we could move and have a very small cabin to live in. To earn some money she decided she would take in washing and ironing because she knew how to do that very well. She would get up early in the morning and start the old gasoline engine- powered washing machine. You could hear it all over the camp. There was no sleeping in if you lived near us.
This is where she met a suitor for her hand in marriage. He courted her, and immediately began to show me favors. He was a baker in the cookhouse and used to take me up there and set me on the end of his work bench. While there, he would feed me the biggest, most delicious cream puffs anyone ever tasted. He began calling me cream puff, which lasted throughout his entire life.
After they were married they moved to Estacada, Oregon where they opened their first bakery. This is where we lived when my only brother, Ivan Jr. was born. I had a hard time calling him Daddy, and continued to call him by his given name. I resented that this man had moved into my mama's bed, which was where I had become used to sleeping. My mother said,"Margaret, if you keep calling Ivan by his name, what do you think your new little brother is going to call him?" That really did register with me, so I made the effort and was soon calling him daddy.
We had a good life, moving many times, but even during depression days always had food on the table. People always have to eat, so even in difficult times most people in the food business can find work.
I have to say, my step father was never referred to as "step", but he was always my Dad . And neither did he ever introduce me as a "step" daughter. I was his daughter and both of us were proud of that. No one could ever have had a better dad than I did growing up. I loved him very much, and was sure to tell him that before he died of cancer in 1964. He gave me a brother who I never refer to as a "step" brother either. He is my brother, and we have a close relationship to this day.
Cherish the families that you have, and the love will always come back to you in many ways.
Sunday, November 11, 2007
TRIP TO ADAK
When the Korean war broke out Bob decided that he should get back into the Navy Air. He did not want to be drafted by the Army so chose to make his own move so that he could get back into what he loved. Anytime he could get into an airplane, he loved it. After some training he was sent to Adak, Alaska. In case you are not familiar with Adak, it is way out there in the Aleutian Islands, where there is some of the toughest flying a person can find. The winds howl at 100 miles per hour, and the visibility can be very poor. To top it off, he was with a crew in a PBY, which is an amphibian-type plane. The PBY was an old plane, but known for dependability, but it flew at low speeds and took time to get between the islands. Their mission at this time was delivering mail, picking up ill people who needed to get to a hospital, or whatever need the Navy had for them. Most of the islands had no air strips, so the plane was then landed in the water.
Bob was living in a barracks situation, which for a married man who was used to his comforts of home, and home cooking, it was a bit difficult to revert to this military life. He was out there for a year, and in order to get him to extend for another year in the Aleutians, they offered to bring his family to Adak . I was eager, and this sounded like lot of fun. They had beautiful duplex homes that were new places with lovely furnishings and all the comforts anyone could want.
Linda and I reported for a departure date of December 27, 1951. We agreed that Christmas would wait until we got to Adak to have that exciting day with her Daddy. We were assigned a fairly nice stateroom on the USS Funston, a military ship. It had a nice dining room with fancy dressed waiters who took excellent care of us. We were on the 4th deck, and were told that we could not go below that deck. We didn't know at first, but soon found out that the lower decks had military men headed for active duty in Japan.
We sailed that December 7th into a world we had never seen. Linda got sick the first night out. Poor little girl was very miserable , but by morning time, she seemed to be OK, and it was her Mother who was sick. Each day out at sea got rougher and rougher, and I got sicker and sicker.; Can you imagine a snow storm at sea, with 150 m.p.h. winds? That's what we experienced, and it was horrible. I was not alone. Many on board were sick, including the nurse who was supposed to be taking care of us. She had made that trip many times without getting sick, but the other trips were not in the middle of winter. The crew would tell us that we still had it good. They said "you should see what those poor military men are experiencing on the lower decks." They could not even get to an outside deck where there was some air to breathe.
When we got near Adak 10 days later we were told we would have breakfast prior to docking . All the wives and children were so excited to get off that ship and stand on something that was not pitching up and down. Every child was spit and polished so their daddies could see them at their best when we debarked. Breakfast came and went. We headed for the docks, but pretty soon we turned and came back away from the docks. We did that 4 or 5 times before we heard the announcement that the winds were too strong, and we might wipe out the docks. Now we were going to have lunch on board and try again after lunch. After lunch it was the same old story, we could not dock and would try after dinner. Oh, yeah ! Now we are getting very impatient with all of this, and I recall saying "I am not going to spend another night on this ship." To make a long story short, I did spend another night on that ship. When morning came again, the kids did not look spit and polished anymore. No one wanted to open suitcases to get fresh clothes; all we wanted to do was get off the ship.
Adak has no trees, except for their "National Forest" which was planted in World War 2. Those trees had been there all those years, and although they were alive, they were about 3 or 4 feet tall. They just sat there and did not grow. It was like landing on the moon, with everything being brown and bare. As Linda saw her Daddy, and he carried her to the car, this little child who was nearly three years old said it all. She said "grey, grey, grey." Even she was awed with what she saw.
This was an experience I shall never forget, and a boat ride that I would never like to take again.
Bob was living in a barracks situation, which for a married man who was used to his comforts of home, and home cooking, it was a bit difficult to revert to this military life. He was out there for a year, and in order to get him to extend for another year in the Aleutians, they offered to bring his family to Adak . I was eager, and this sounded like lot of fun. They had beautiful duplex homes that were new places with lovely furnishings and all the comforts anyone could want.
Linda and I reported for a departure date of December 27, 1951. We agreed that Christmas would wait until we got to Adak to have that exciting day with her Daddy. We were assigned a fairly nice stateroom on the USS Funston, a military ship. It had a nice dining room with fancy dressed waiters who took excellent care of us. We were on the 4th deck, and were told that we could not go below that deck. We didn't know at first, but soon found out that the lower decks had military men headed for active duty in Japan.
We sailed that December 7th into a world we had never seen. Linda got sick the first night out. Poor little girl was very miserable , but by morning time, she seemed to be OK, and it was her Mother who was sick. Each day out at sea got rougher and rougher, and I got sicker and sicker.; Can you imagine a snow storm at sea, with 150 m.p.h. winds? That's what we experienced, and it was horrible. I was not alone. Many on board were sick, including the nurse who was supposed to be taking care of us. She had made that trip many times without getting sick, but the other trips were not in the middle of winter. The crew would tell us that we still had it good. They said "you should see what those poor military men are experiencing on the lower decks." They could not even get to an outside deck where there was some air to breathe.
When we got near Adak 10 days later we were told we would have breakfast prior to docking . All the wives and children were so excited to get off that ship and stand on something that was not pitching up and down. Every child was spit and polished so their daddies could see them at their best when we debarked. Breakfast came and went. We headed for the docks, but pretty soon we turned and came back away from the docks. We did that 4 or 5 times before we heard the announcement that the winds were too strong, and we might wipe out the docks. Now we were going to have lunch on board and try again after lunch. After lunch it was the same old story, we could not dock and would try after dinner. Oh, yeah ! Now we are getting very impatient with all of this, and I recall saying "I am not going to spend another night on this ship." To make a long story short, I did spend another night on that ship. When morning came again, the kids did not look spit and polished anymore. No one wanted to open suitcases to get fresh clothes; all we wanted to do was get off the ship.
Adak has no trees, except for their "National Forest" which was planted in World War 2. Those trees had been there all those years, and although they were alive, they were about 3 or 4 feet tall. They just sat there and did not grow. It was like landing on the moon, with everything being brown and bare. As Linda saw her Daddy, and he carried her to the car, this little child who was nearly three years old said it all. She said "grey, grey, grey." Even she was awed with what she saw.
This was an experience I shall never forget, and a boat ride that I would never like to take again.
Saturday, November 10, 2007
CALIFORNIA LIVING
When I was about 11 years old we were living in San Pedro, California. I was due to go into the Junior High where everyone had to wear a uniform. I thought that was really a neat idea. This was my first year of living in a big city and going to a huge school. I think that in the 6th, 7th, and 8th grades we had about 1,400 kids in that one school. My Dad got a job working in a cookhouse in Glenwood, Oregon and we were going to move again. I have always said that Dad was half gypsy because he was always moving. I rarely went to one school more than a year. It was very difficult because I would just make friends and feel comfortable when we would move to another school. I can attest to the fact that this is not easy on a child. I cried a lot. When this new move came up I pled with Mom and Dad to please leave me there in California so that I could go to a junior high where they wore uniforms. Surprisingly, they decided to allow me to do that. I stayed with my Aunt Francie who was my Mom's sister. Everyone in that home spoke French. My grandpa lived there with my aunt, and one of her daughters lived there because her husband was in the Navy and rarely got home. So I was the only one who spoke only English. When they wanted to talk about me, it was easy for them because I could not understand anything they were saying.
On Sunday afternoon I was always allowed to go down town on the bus to see the movie. I remember seeing Flash Gordon weekly serials, and what fun I thought that was. I had been told many times to never get off the bus and walk in front of it to cross the street. I was to wait for the bus to move. One day I was coming home, wearing a new dress and a pretty new coat that I got for Easter. I went skipping in front of the bus just as a car was passing , and he hit me hard. I went flying.. The man wanted to take me home, but I insisted I was not hurt, and that he didn't need to do that. It was hard to talk him out of it. Actually, I was hurting all over my body, but didn't want anyone to know that I disobeyed and went in front of the bus as I had been told so many times not to do. Aunt Frances always had Sunday dinner for her family, and instead of me coming home hungry, I told them I didn't feel very good, and I went in to bed. I could hear them talking about what could be wrong with me, but they had no clue about the car hitting me.
The next morning I managed to get up and keep my skinned up knees and elbows hidden from my aunt. I went to school anyway. When I came home I told a big lie ! I said that I had fallen on the graveled yard where we played basketball. In California we always played basketball on the outside grounds and never in a gym. I got away with my story, and have thought so many times since then that I could have been hurt seriously, and because I lied about it the conclusion of that story could have been a bad one. I have used this story when working with children's bible classes to impress upon them the importance of always telling the truth.
This proved to be a wonderful year for me, and in the summer time I was allowed to be a passenger on a train that took me to Portland, Oregon. I thought I was pretty big stuff to do this alone. My folks met me and took me back to the country, to live in another logging camp area in Glenwood. This was where I went to a two-room school house where we had about 50 kids in attendance. Life was good there, and I have good memories of living right beside a beautiful creek, and being able to walk to the swimming hole where we swam in water that came right down from the mountains. Rarely did we wear shoes all summer long. I adjusted to living there where I found new friends and teachers, plus life that was full of fun and had many things for kids to enjoy.
On Sunday afternoon I was always allowed to go down town on the bus to see the movie. I remember seeing Flash Gordon weekly serials, and what fun I thought that was. I had been told many times to never get off the bus and walk in front of it to cross the street. I was to wait for the bus to move. One day I was coming home, wearing a new dress and a pretty new coat that I got for Easter. I went skipping in front of the bus just as a car was passing , and he hit me hard. I went flying.. The man wanted to take me home, but I insisted I was not hurt, and that he didn't need to do that. It was hard to talk him out of it. Actually, I was hurting all over my body, but didn't want anyone to know that I disobeyed and went in front of the bus as I had been told so many times not to do. Aunt Frances always had Sunday dinner for her family, and instead of me coming home hungry, I told them I didn't feel very good, and I went in to bed. I could hear them talking about what could be wrong with me, but they had no clue about the car hitting me.
The next morning I managed to get up and keep my skinned up knees and elbows hidden from my aunt. I went to school anyway. When I came home I told a big lie ! I said that I had fallen on the graveled yard where we played basketball. In California we always played basketball on the outside grounds and never in a gym. I got away with my story, and have thought so many times since then that I could have been hurt seriously, and because I lied about it the conclusion of that story could have been a bad one. I have used this story when working with children's bible classes to impress upon them the importance of always telling the truth.
This proved to be a wonderful year for me, and in the summer time I was allowed to be a passenger on a train that took me to Portland, Oregon. I thought I was pretty big stuff to do this alone. My folks met me and took me back to the country, to live in another logging camp area in Glenwood. This was where I went to a two-room school house where we had about 50 kids in attendance. Life was good there, and I have good memories of living right beside a beautiful creek, and being able to walk to the swimming hole where we swam in water that came right down from the mountains. Rarely did we wear shoes all summer long. I adjusted to living there where I found new friends and teachers, plus life that was full of fun and had many things for kids to enjoy.
Friday, November 9, 2007
Logging Camps
Not being a youngster, my memories are mostly all from many years back. I grew up living mostly in logging camps, or small towns. We rarely lived anywhere that we had electricity or running water. I recall living in Tidewater, Oregon, which was 30 miles from Astoria. When we went to town, we would park the car in a covered area and walk about a mile to our house. If we had groceries, we would leave them by the covered barn area and the camp would send a speeder, on the railroad tracks, and pick up our groceries and bring them to the camp for us. Can you imagine doing that today? If you did, you likely would have no groceries left.
The school I attended was a one room school house with a very large pot-belly stove near the entry. We had all 8 elementry grades in one room, and there was a total of 11 students in those 8 grades. It took some concentration to study when the teacher was talking with one of the other classes.
To get to school my brother and I had to walk the railroad tracks to the school building. It was probably about a half mile, but when it snowed my brother, who was just a first grader, couldn't walk the tracks by himself, so Dad would leave work and come home to carry him to school. I would trudge behind him so that I could step in his tracks and not have to make my own path. When we got to the school building we would be pretty wet, so the teacher had us sit on curved benches placed around that big hot stove until we were dry enough to go to our desks. I recall that we thought that was a lot of fun.
It was nice living in those days. Parents never worried about where their children were, or what they were up to. There was no place to even get into trouble. Some may think we missed out on a lot of things, but we made our own fun and built memories that are still strong in my mind. It was not easy for Mom's who had no power for washing machines or other nice appliances, and some times had to walk a long way to get water when the summer sun dried up our usual source of spring water.
Now that I have all the conveniences of modern day, I can think back on days like this and smile at the wonderful memories that were built by living in remote areas.
The school I attended was a one room school house with a very large pot-belly stove near the entry. We had all 8 elementry grades in one room, and there was a total of 11 students in those 8 grades. It took some concentration to study when the teacher was talking with one of the other classes.
To get to school my brother and I had to walk the railroad tracks to the school building. It was probably about a half mile, but when it snowed my brother, who was just a first grader, couldn't walk the tracks by himself, so Dad would leave work and come home to carry him to school. I would trudge behind him so that I could step in his tracks and not have to make my own path. When we got to the school building we would be pretty wet, so the teacher had us sit on curved benches placed around that big hot stove until we were dry enough to go to our desks. I recall that we thought that was a lot of fun.
It was nice living in those days. Parents never worried about where their children were, or what they were up to. There was no place to even get into trouble. Some may think we missed out on a lot of things, but we made our own fun and built memories that are still strong in my mind. It was not easy for Mom's who had no power for washing machines or other nice appliances, and some times had to walk a long way to get water when the summer sun dried up our usual source of spring water.
Now that I have all the conveniences of modern day, I can think back on days like this and smile at the wonderful memories that were built by living in remote areas.
Thursday, November 8, 2007
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