THANKSGIVING DAY

Thanksgiving has always been a fun, family-time day. Over the years our traditions have had to make changes due to families being apart, deaths in the family, etc. Today was a totally new experience again. Linda was in Texas helping with her new Grandson, Robert Fox. That left her hubby, Dan, and her other son, Tim alone in Albuquerque. Thank goodness for good church families who look after people who are alone on special days, they had a great meal with friends.

For me, I felt alone here in Carlsbad, N.M. and was not sure how the day would go, but it turned out to be a good day. A friend invited me to her home for dinner, and she asked another 14 people too, so the meal was huge, and everything was good, including the company.

I think the one most memorable Thanksgiving I can remember was one in Juneau, Alaska many years ago. We had two dear lady friends there that invited us to dinner. My Mother was also invited that time, and another family of 4. The winds decided to howl that day, and the rain did come down. Finally, the wind took out the power lines and we were without power to finish cooking the turkey. The 10 of us sat around wondering if we were going to get to eat at all. After a long time, we gave up on the idea of getting that turkey cooked. Louise went hunting for a small camp stove and made cheese sandwiches to cook. We had delicious toasted cheese sandwiches, after which we had pumpkin pie, which had been baked ahead of time. It just goes to show that you don't need turkey and all the trimmings to be thankful.

The next day we were invited to come eat turkey, since they were finally able to get it cooked . We have joked over the years about being invited for Thanksgiving, only to eat toasted cheese sandwiches.

We have so much in our lives that we sometimes forget to be thankful for the bountiful blessings that we all have each and every day. Few of us have ever been starving, and don't know what it would be like. Let's pray that we never do .

My wish for you is that your life will be blessed with many good things, and that we will all remember to be thankful to our God for looking after us in such wonderful fashion.

May 19

It seems that May 19 has been in my life over many years. When I graduated from grade school it was on May 19, 1940. My highschool graduation was on May 19, 1944. On May 19, 1946 Bob and I were married, which was the highlight of my life. These dates were not planned, but just happened to be on the same date.

I also remember an important Memorial Day in 1948. Our best friends Liz and Glenn Gibbens wanted to pack a picnic and go to Cannon Beach, Oregon, we fried chicken and made potato salad and headed out for the beach. Both Liz and I were pregnant, and excited about being Moms.

While at the beach, we rented horses and went horse back riding. I'd never ridden a horse before, and thought it would be fun. About all it did for me was to give me a very sore rump the next day. I did not have the art of riding a horse so that I was not bounching all over the place.

We did not spend the night because in those days we did not have the money to have such luxuries in our life. We got home late that night, so did not hear the news until the next day. In the morning the news was telling us about the big flood in the Vanport area of Portland, Oregon, where many people lived. The housing in that area was erected during the war time to house people who came to the area to work in the shipyards. A local dyke broke and that area was totally flooded and most of it was washed away. People lost everything, including their cars and some lost their lives.

I was working in the office of the gas company in Hillsboro when one of the ladies in the office got a phone call. She knew a person who had a small plane and he was taking people up to see the flooded area from the sky. She asked if I wanted to go because it would be cheaper if she could get 4 passengers. I jumped at the chance, and later wished I had not. After work we headed for the airport and up we went. I had only been in a small plane one time before that, so it was quite a thrill. As we got over the flooded homes and businesses the pilot started dipping the plane from one side to another so that we could take pictures. That took about one minute for me to get sick. I was so sick I wished I had not taken the ride. Being pregnant did not help this situation very much. I just tolerated the rest of the trip and somehow or other managed to keep my stomach from turning inside out. When I got on the ground I rushed home and Bob was being sweet to have dinner ready for me when I got back. He was cooking red beans, and the aroma hit me as I walked into the house. That did it for me.....I was so sick that I could not eat anythng. What a day that turned out to be.

May has always held some memorable events for me, and each year I find myself thinking of some of those things that were special in my life. Today I am sharing them with anyone who might care to read about it.

MAY 19, 1946

May 19 came again this year, and although I am alone now, with my beloved spouse gone on ahead of me, it would have been 63 years since we were married. The past 12 years have been very lonely ones, but I have so many good memories to keep me going. Not everyone has a husband as good as I had. When he passed on I could remember so many little things we had done together, and how we laughed and cried together.

The day we were married in Hillsboro, Oregon was a very hot day. We were being married in my folks home, and there was no such thing as air conditioning at that time, so we knew everyone was going to suffer with the heat. At the last minute we decided that since they had a lovely front yard, with two large trees, we would move the wedding outside where people could be more comfortable. Bob was surprised when he arrived to find we were having an outside wedding. My cousin Margaret Clemens and her husband Kenneth did the flowers for us, and we had beautiful large baskets of flowers to decorate the area.

After the wedding we loaded up my little 1930 Model-A Ford and tooled on down the road for our honeymoon. We went down the Oregon Coast. We kept seeing signs that read "Stop at Hotel Newport, the newest and best on the Coast". So, we decided that was where we were going. About two hours later we arrived at the Hotel that was so widely advertised on billboards all along our trip. As we walked into the lobby to sign the register, Bob told them we had two bags to carry up. They promptly told us where the stairs were, and that there was no bell-hop service. That should have been a clue to us. We also had to pay in advance. (another clue)

We walked the stairs and found our room. I gasped when we walked in because it was so small we could barely get in and put the luggage down. There was an old iron bedstead, a 3 drawer chest, and a chair which was on top of the chest because there was no place to put it on the floor.
We were timid kids, and didn't know how to handle this situation. Oh, yes, I forgot....the bathroom was down the hall. We picked up our bags and carried them down the stairs and outside to our car. We could not sleep there. We drove a few miles down the road to Toledo where they had an old hotel, which was a palace compared to the Newport hotel.

Our new home was going to be in Walla Walla, Washington where both of us would be employed by The Birds Eye Snyder frozen food company. This was quite a few miles from the Oregon Cost, and we had to stop every few miles to let the Model-A cool down. Those cars didn't use much gas, but they got hot very easily, and one had to take care to let them cool down every once in awhile. We finally got to Walla Walla, and were happy to get to the end of our journey.

Do you know that right after World War-2 it was practically impossible to buy a car? I was going to school at Pacific University in Forest Grove, Oregon. I had begged to be able to drive my Dad's car, but that was one thing he would allow no one to do. He took pride in his car, and would let no other hands steer it down the road, not even me, whom he loved dearly. No way !

I had sung in a quartet on campus for a May day competition, and we won the cup for that year. I was so excited because I was only a Freshman and was singing the lead in this group. After the competition there were many activities going on at the University. My only problem was that I lived about 10 miles from the school and had to catch the bus to get home. I felt totally "down" because I wanted to stay on campus and be part of the celebration. When I did get home, my bad temper showed up and I cried and cried, then stomped my feet to let my Mom and Dad know that next year I would not live at home while going to school. Dad felt pretty bad, I guess because he said we would start looking to find me a car. He wanted me to live at home, not on the campus.

We looked at many cars, but most were pieces of junk, and Dad would not have me be on the road in a junker. I would have grasped at the first car we saw, but he was not easily swayed when he was thinking of my safety. We finally found it ! Now, remember this was 1945 and the car we were looking at was a 1930 Model A Ford. It was beautiful, well cared for, and I fell in love with it. Dad paid a whole $275 for my car, and needless to say, my Mom hit the roof. She thought that was terrible for a car that old.

I drove that car many miles, and always felt proud in it. In case you don't know, after dark the lights on a Model A shine depending on how fast you were driving. So, if you were out on a dark, rainy night, you had to drive fast in order to see the road. My night vision was not the best, but I ignored that and drove fast enough to see.

Dad had the same rules about anyone driving my car, as he had for his own. No one could drive my car. Dad insured it in my name only, and he meant what he said. When Bob came home from the service we starting dating regularly. He could not drive my car, and did not have one of his own, so I had to pick him up and deliver him back home at the end of every evening. I am sure Bob was not too fond of thar idea, but we lived through it.

In 1946 Bob and I got married and moved to Walla Walla, Washington where we both worked for what was then the largest frozen food plant in the U.S. It was a new Birds Eye Snyder food plant. I worked in the office and Bob worked in the warehouse. He got rather tired of always driving in my Model A, which now carried both our names on the insurance, so he could drive it. So we started hunting for a used vehicle to buy. They were all junk cars, and he found one owned by a local butcher and Bob thought we would like it. I nearly choked when I saw it. It was a 1937 Chevrolet sedan, hand painted in a nauseating green color, and there was even straw all over the back seat. It was some gem, but Bob wanted it, and we came up with the $640 to buy it. We both worked at the same location, but I drove my own car, and he drove his. I could fill my tank up for $1 a week, with gas costing 10cents per gallon. Many mornings I would have to go out and push his Chevrolet to get it running.

On Labor Day we decided to drive to Hillsboro, Oregon to visit his folks. There was no super highway in those days, so it was a long drive. Before we got to Arlington, Washington, which was about 100 miles from Walla Walla, we had 3 flat tires. The ones on the car were practically rags. We kept buying old, used ones along the way, and paying top dollar for them, and after a few miles they would go flat, or blow out. After the third blow-out, we were in the dark trying to fix a tire. A kindly gentleman came along and parked behind us with his lights on so that we could see to change the tire. He noted that we had two jacks in the trunk, and said he was headed for Death Valley and would sure like to have one of those jacks. Bob was so thankful to him for stopping that he gave one to the man. I'll bet you guessed it already....there were no rooms in Arlington, and we were only about half way to our destination, so we decided to turn around and go back to Walla Walla. Yep, on our first blow out our jack would not work. Bob's brother, Harry was with us on this trip, and they literally lifted the car to get the tire off and back on. The fellows worked, and I sat in the car and cried.

Before we left Walla Walla we had both cashed our week's checks. When we got home, after 2 more blow outs, we were broke. This was a nightmare of a trip for us, and I always equate it with that moster green chevrolet.

Shortly after that, we sold the little Model A, and I was always sorry that we did that. That was a special little car, that served me well, and I loved it.

MISSING ME ?

It has been so long since I added to this blog that I almost forgot how to do it. April 5 I got up at 4 a.m. to visit the bathroom, and somehow or other, I fell backward very hard. I knew I was hurt, but could not get off the floor. I thought I had broken my hip. Finally, after a horrendous struggle I managed to get up and struggle back to the bed where I had a phone. I was afraid to call 911 because I thought they would not have a front door key, and would break the door to get in. My next alternative was to call my neighbor, Pat and ask him to come over, since my back door key was there. I didn't want to wake him t 4 a.m. so waited until 5 a.m. before I called him. Later I was scolded for that decision and was told that in an emergency I could call any time I needed help.

After a painful ambulance trip, and a visit to the Emergency Room for X-rays I was told that I had broken my pelvis. Everyone said that of all the bones one can break, the pelvis is the most painful, and would take a good 9 weeks to heal. I was in the hospital for several days before being transferred to the Lakeview Nursing Home. All in all I was there for about 9 weeks. While there I got the gout, which was very painful, and had to go through daily therapy to get myself able to move around with a walker.

My birthday was June 11, and I was finally able to go home a couple of days before my 82nd birthday. With the help of Home Health, I managed to stay here by myself . It has been a long haul, and only this last day or so have I been able to walk some without the aid of a walker. I still need to work on getting steady so that I don't fall again.

I got so many beautiful cards and letters, and had many visitors. I am thankful that I have so many good friends and neighbors. Now that I made it back to the computer, I will try to stay in contact.

TRUE FRIENDSHIP

Have you ever had a true friend? I've had lots of friends over the years, but when I think back about one that stands out, it is Evelyn B. I was living in Portland, Oregon when my husband, Bob had to go back into the Navy Aircorps during the Korean war. Our little girl was only about 2-1/2 then, and it was pretty traumatic for each of us.

First of all Bob reported to Seattle, Washington for some training for the job. He did not have time off, so there was no thought of our going there to visit him. Evelyn took over, acting like a grandmother to my little Linda, while I went out to search for work. I finally found a pretty good job and started working at Transport Clearings. In the evening, I would drive from my house to Evelyn's to pick up Linda. Evelyn always had an early dinner at her house, and she would have fed Linda already. That was wonderful for me, but then I would go home and eat a bowl of cereal, or a peanut butter sandwich. Soon I was getting thinner and thinner, and I was never fat to begin with. Sweet Evelyn noticed and feared I was going to get sick. At that time we cooked on an old wood stove, so her oven was always warm, and she would put a dish of food in there for me to have when I reached her house. How wonderful it did taste.

After about 6 weeks, Bob finished his training and was going to be shipped out somewhere. We had no clue yet where he would be sent. He would have a few days off and wanted us to come to Seattle so he could see Linda and me once more before he was trasnported elsewhere. Those of you who were military wives know that the allotment money took quite awhile to start showing up in our mailbox. My job only paid once a month, and I had no money to get to Seattle. When I arrived to pick up Linda and told Evelyn that I had no choice but to tell Bob that I could not come, she quietly slipped money into my hand and said , "you get a train ticket, and get up there to see Linda's daddy. "

We did take the train to Seattle where I had a cousin living, and we could stay with her family for the few days that we would be there. What a good reunion we had, and a sad farewell when it was time to go home.

Another time, some years later, Bob was home and we had purchased our first new (used) home. Because we were applying for a GI loan, it took quite a little while for the approval to come through. Here we were homeless until the loan was approved, and again Evelyn and her husband Wilson saved our lives. They had two teen age girls and they all lived in a two bedroom home. The girls gave up their bedroom so that we could stay with them. They slept in the front room on a hide-a-bed. This was one cozy group, and it went on much longer than any of us visualized it would, but they made us feel welcome and wanted. I am sure both of the girls were tickled to death when we finally got our own beds to sleep in and they could get back to their bedrooom.

True hospitality is almost a thing of the past now. I am glad that I have these memories of real friends who did so much for me.

In the bible, 1st Peter 4:8-9 tells us "Above all hold unfailing to your love for one another. Practice hospitality ungrudgingly to one another.

FASHION STATEMENT

Isn't it funny how clothing fashions go "in and out" with the times? When I was young, ladies never wore slacks. I remember my family was making a trip from Oregon to California, and I begged to have some pants to wear on the trip. I was about 10 years old then. It took a lot of begging, but my Mom finally allowed me to have a pair of pants. What a thrill that was for me. By the time I was 12 years old, many young ladies were wearing slacks, and they just got more and more popular. No one looked at us as doing something shameful because we were wearing trousers.

I can also remember when my little brother wore short pants to school when he was in the first grade. Those were not what we think of as shorts today, but were pretty little one piece, with a bib, and often even made with velvet. He was practicing for a school play one day, and came home from school crying. He told Mom that he was not going to be in the play if he had to wear the short pants. She asked him why, and he said, "one of the boys said he would pinch my butt if I wore those pants." That was the end of the short pants for him. But many boys still wore them.

When I was in high school, the fad was that boys wore corduroy pants, and NEVER washed them. That's right, I said never! They were usually a beige color, and by the time the school year was over the pants could stand by themselves if you put them in the corner, and they looked greasy, but the girls seemed to love them. Girls began wearing skirts that came above the knee, but my Mom insisted my skirts be below the knee. After I got to school I would roll the top of the skirt so that it was short like the other girls. Before I went home, I unrolled it so I didn't get into trouble.

In 1968 I worked in the Alaska Governor's office, and always dresssed stylish. Skirts were very short then, and I kept up with the working girls. If you were thin, they looked OK, but if you had excess weight on your body, they were truly bad. Modesty went out the door with those short skirts. The major thing I can remember at that time was that ladies did not wear slacks to work. That was unheard of and was not acceptable. One winter when the temperatures dipped down below zero one brave lady wore a very nice pant suit to work. She worked in the Department of Administration Commissioneer's office. When the boss came in , he took one look at her, and promptly told her to go home and put on a dress before she came back to work.

That news swept all the offices rapidly, and there were partitions passed in most all the State offices saying that men could wear pants on their legs to be warm, but ladies had to let it all hang out and freeze. Shortly after that, a memo was issued saying that in the cold weather, pant suits would be accepted, but we were never to wear jeans or regular slacks with a blouse or sweater. It had to be a pant suit.

Remember when you went to the doctor's office and the lovely nurses were always wearing their starched white uniforms and caps, and a doctor looked like a doctor in his starchy white coat?

Today you can't tell a nurse from a patient. You can't even find anyone in the hospitals that look like a nurse. There are not identifying pins, or caps, and many of them look like they slept in their work clothes. Men teachers always wore a suit and tie, and the ladies wore a practical dress or suit with heels and hose. Today? They don't even shave before they go to work, and their clothes do not present a dignified position.

No wonder our kids of today are wearing those horrible "low rise" pants that hang so low that you see their underwear, and sometimes lack of underwear. The crotch is so low that it must rub their knees raw. They have no one to look up to that they admire or aspire to be like.

I recall the day when ladies would never go to church without a hat, heels and their best Sunday dress. Men were always in their best clothes too. I guess our respect for the Lord has even disappeared with the ages.

I assume that I am showing my age with this story, but I do miss the decorum that used to exist when we were proud of our appearance, and in school we were taught how to dress to apply for a job, or when going to a wedding or a funeral where we wanted to show respect. I am sure those days are gone forever, and I wonder how much farther will things go.

HALLOWEEN PRANKS

Did you ever go out on Halloween and enjoy playing some pranks? I did. When I was young and living in a logging camp area, about 8 of us kids would get together and go trick or treating. Most people had treats for us, so we didn't do anything naughty, but for those who would not give us something good, we would think up something to do as a trick.

I remember one house that we went to was different. The lady and her daughter came out on the porch with their bibles, and they read scriptures to us. Well, being ornery kids, we didn't consider that a treat. When they went back into the house, we went to their outhouse and spread limburger cheese on the seat of their outhouse toilet, and then we lifted the hood of the car and spread it all over the engine. I can imagine how horrible that smelled when the engine heated up and that smell came into the house.

Soaping windows and tipping toilets was our favorite mean tricks to do. One time the girls in the group decided to do something without the boys help. We were going to tip our own toilet over by ourselves. We found this one outhouse located in back of a small store and thought this was our perfect opportunity. We planned that we would count to three and then all of us would shove in the same direction. We got our selves in position and started counting....one.....two....

and before we could say "three" a voice from inside said, " you shove this toilet and I'll fire this shotgun I have right here. I've been waiting for you ! " Girls were running in every direction after the voice from inside scared us. There was a row of huge evergreen trees across the front of the building, and what I forgot was that only two trees had no barbed wire between them. I picked the wrong two to run between, and the fence hit my face and knocked me flat on the ground.

The boys were waiting for the girls, and saw me fall down. They came runing to pick me up, and see if I was hurt. I had blood running down my face, so they didn't have to ask. That barbed wire hit me right under the lower eyelid and beside the nose. I knew I needed to go home to get this taken care of, but also knew that if I went home my trick or treating for the evening would be over, so I stayed with the group. The boys had matches and were lighting them and holding them near my face so that the blood would possibly dry and quit squirting out. It was later when I realized how very fortunate I was to have not gotten that wire in my eye. It could have been a disaster for me.

In those days people did not go to the doctor unless they were seriously ill. I didn't tell my Mom what I was doing when I hit the fence, I just said I didn't see the fence and ran into it. The treatment for nearly everything back then was iodine. So Dad brought out the trusty bottle with the ugly red stuff in it, and swabbed my face. "There", he said. "it will be OK now"

I still bear that scar, and it is about an inch long. It has faded a lot, but when I look in the mirror and see it, I remember that doing Halloween pranks nearly did me in.

UFO SIGHTING

One evening I went out to 17-1/2 mile road in Juneau to visit with my good friends Liz and Louise. They had a pretty little house at that location, looking out across the road and at the Fritz Cove waters. On that dark evening we sat looking out their very large picture window toward the water. It was very dark, but all of a sudden we saw a light hovering over the water. We got the binoculars to see what in the world it was, but could only see this eerie green colored, cigar shaped green glow. We watched this light hovering there with little movement for about 20 minutes. Finally we decided to call the airport tower to see if there were any helicopters flying in the area. The voice on the other end of the phone happened to be a person that we all knew very well, and he said there were no planes or helicopters flying in that area. He recommended we call the Coast Guard. So, our next move was to get the Coast Guard on the line and tell them what we were watching. They told us they would contact the Juneau police and have someone check this out with us. As we hung up, awaiting the police to drive that distance to meet with us, we kept watching the light. All of a sudden it took off like a rocket while we watched it soar out over the water until it disappeared from our sight.

Needless to say, when the police arrived we had nothing to show them. We felt pretty silly because who believes in UFO's ? The police took our report, and did not make us feel like we were seeing things, or telling a lie, which helped in some respect. The fact that we were out in the country, and there were no buildings out there, made the light even more mysterious.

The next night my husband, Bob decided he would go out with me, and we'd set up a tripod with a camera and watch with binoculars. We wanted to capture something to prove what we were seeing. Of course, we were disappointed and no UFO appeared for us. I certainly took a lot of razzing about this sighting, and did for years after that.

The same week that we saw the strange light there were workers in a fish processing plant on a nearby island. They reported to the newspaper that they were in the building when the lights all went off, and all machinery lost power and quit working. They saw this mysterious glow overhead, and when it soared away from them all power was restored.

Over the years we have talked about this sighting, and few people believe me. They make fun of me because I believed it was a UFO. I saw it, and I know it was real. The last time I mentioned it to Liz and Lousie, who also witnessed it, they laughed and sounded like they would never admit they thought it was a UFO. I had another friend who was a scientist and he questioned me many times about the situation. He was a believer, and did not make me feel like I was dreaming.

Do UFO's exist? I don't know, but I know what I saw, and I believe some day we may have to admit there is something out there that today cannot be explained.

Nanny

GREETING CARDS

Are you like me ? Did you find it difficult to get those Christmas greeting cards in the mail? In the past I have always prided myself by having them in the mail right after Thanksgiving. This year I was scrambling to make it by Christmas. Cards have gotten more and more expensive, and the postage keeps going up until it seems like a good idea to just skip the whole thing.

Today I was gathering up all of the cards that I received, and I sat down to re-read all of them once more. I was touched by the nice notes, letters, and pictures that I received from various friends. I had a little talk with myself, and wonder if you have thought about these things too.

Old friends are some of the most treasured things we have on this earth. I still receive cards, letters, and phone calls from some people who were in my high school class of 1944. Frank W. is one of those people who calls me often. He has called me since my husband died, just to check if I am OK and to let me know he is thinking of me, although he lives on the Oregon Coast. Recently his wife passed away, and yet he managed to get Christmas cards posted. Betty Jean lives in Eugene, Oregon and we have stayed close over the years. We also stay in touch via telephone, and she is one of those people who never misses sending a card on special days. Her husband, Tom was very special too.

One time while we were living in Juneau, Alaska my husband, Bob decided we needed a new car. He got on the phone and called Tom who was a buick salesman. Bob told him exactly what we wanted in a car, and when the conversation was over, Tom asked, "when are you going to come to Oregon to pick up the car?" Bob said, "we aren't, you are going to bring it to us." Tom was open-mouthed at that one. Bob said that if they would drive the car to Alaska, they could visit us and then we would fly them back to Portland. So, the deal was made. That summer Tom, Betty Jean, and their daughter Deborah drove the Alcan Highway to Prince Rupert, Canada and then ferried the car on to Juneau. That was the year that there were huge floods in Canada, and they had to drive many miles from Prince George to Prince Rupert on a gravel road. That road was covered over with water, and they were driving by sighting some posts along the edge of the road, and it was a very frightening drive. There was a very deep gorge along side the road a good share of the way. No one could turn around, because there was no place to do that. They made it fine, and while on the ferry Tom polished and cleaned the car up until it looked like a bran new car when he drove off the ferry in Juneau. Who, but a good friend would do that?

Betty Ann was my maid of honor when I married Bob in 1946. We were best friends in high school, and over the years have stayed in touch. She and her husband, Kenny came to Juneau to visit us once, and they also came here to New Mexico to visit me when I first moved here. Kenny has since passed away, but I still have those good memories.

Dorothy has been a close friend since 1942 when I moved into her neighborhood and we walked to school together every day. Dorothy used to tend to be late getting places, and when we'd walk I was always hurrying her along. She finally got so that she would meet me on the corner and we were always on time to school. We had to walk about 2 miles to school in rain or shine weather conditions. They didn't send busses for us back then.

Over the years I have made many new friends who still stay in touch too. As I read over the cards I realized the importance of getting those cards in the mail so that I will never lose track of any of those very special people in my life.

Maybe this little memo will cause you to rethink the importance of the beautiful cards that bring us greetings from friends that can never be replaced.

I wish for you a Happy new year.

FUN AS A CHILD

I recall when I was 9 years old and my family lived in Seaside, Oregon. What a treat that was for a youngster. We lived right on the beach, and in the summer , as soon as breakfast was over, my Brother and I were playing in the water. We had a fireplace in the house in which we were living, but the cost of wood was a premium my folks could not afford. That was in 1935 and times were pretty hard for most people. My brother and I were trained that when we went to the beach we must bring back a stick or two of wood each time we returned to the house. Before summer came to an end, we had a huge pile of drift wood which would keep us nice and warm in the winter.

We had a little boston bull terrier, and he was the sweetest dog. When we would go down on the beach to play, we would dig a hole and stand him up inside the hole, then push the sand in on top of him. Just his head was sticking out. We could stay on the beach for hours, and he would never make a fuss at being there. There was one problem.....the sand fleas collected on him from being in their territory.

One day someone stole our little dog, and we kids were broken hearted. It turned out that a lady wanted him and she paid the paper boy to steal him from us. He was gone for a couple of months when one day we heard a noise at the door, and when we opened the door in came our little dog, Muggs running completely wild with excitement to be back home. He had broken loose and found our house.

A short time later Muggs disappeared again. We had no luck finding him, and the culprit obviously kept him tied up so he could not come home. One morning Dad was walking along the downtown street when he saw this lady walking our dog. Dad was across the street from them, but when he called out to Muggs to "come here" he broke loose from the woman and came jumping all over Dad. My Dad went to the lady and told her that if she ever took that dog again, he was going to go to the police. The nice part of the theft was that she took the dog to the vet and had him made free of the sand fleas. His coat was so pretty, and we were so excited to have him home again.

Living on the beach to small children was like being at a resort all the time. We never put shoes on our feet during the summer, and we were brown as coconuts by the time we were ready to go back to school.

We lived near the Seaside Hotel, which had a little train that operated on their property. My brother and I used to sit on the fence behind the hotel, and when the train would come by, we would jump on and ride free. Of course, we thought we were not seen, and we abused the situation. One day, I did not make the jump and fell from the fence. The "engineer" stopped the train and came to see if I was OK. When he saw that I was not seriously hurt, he scolded us properly. He warned us to never do that again, and told us that if we wanted to ride, we could just wave to him as the train came by the fence and he would stop and pick us up. What a treat that was, and we rode the train many days with the generosity of the "engineer." As I think back about it, I doubt that we ever told my Mother what we were doing.

I dare to guess that anyone reading this can recall things they did as a child that was hazardous, or not good for your health. I wonder sometimes how any of us lived through our childhood and became good citizen adults. Today the parks and school grounds have taken away the teeter-totters and other things we played on because they are dangerous. Kids stay inside and watch TV and play computer games instead of playing outside and having fun while being adventurous souls learning to play kick-the-can, or playing on the monkey bars. Are we raising children, or will they grow up to be like house plants that will wilt with exercise and the hot sun?

Some of you know that Bob and I had a sweet little boy who was 4 years younger than Linda. We lost him before he was 3 years old when he had to have his tonsils out and his heart stopped during that procedure. This was the worst day of my entire life, and was one that a person never gets over.

Bobbie was a darling little guy, but he was the opposite of Linda. She was so good, and if we told her to not touch, she would obey. But Bobbie was different, he liked to try us every chance he got. Our friends got one of the first big color TV sets back in 1956 and we used to go to their house once a week and watch wrestling. (I don't know why, I can't stand it now) Our friends were so proud of their TV and wanted the kids to not go near it. Bobbie would dash over and turn any dial that came into his little hands. We would spank him and say no-no, and before the tears were dry, he would go back and try it again. He was fearless.

Our son was also very hard on beds. When he went to bed he never went quietly, but would jump on the mattress, or get on his knees and rock while bumping his head against the head board. By the time he was two we had to get a new mattress for the crib. His had holes in it from his jumping. One night we put him to bed, and we never heard a sound from him. I thought he must have been extra tired because he was immediately quiet and I thought was asleep.

Linda had a parakett, and she loved that little bird so much. Once in awhile we would turn him loose in the evening and let him exercise a bit. Well, when I went in to check on Bobbie and to see if he was covered up for the night, what a sight I saw. He was sitting up in the dark room and had the parakeet in his left hand, and with the other hand he was pulling all the feathers off that bird. There were feathers all over the room.

That little naked bird sat shivering in his cage for days after that. He lived, and didn't seem to have any bad effects from having been plucked, but he spent a cold winter.

We learned after that to check on Bobbie if he went to bed quietly. This was not his nature, and we did not want any more close calls for the parakeet.

WONDERFUL CHRISTMAS

I have just returned from the Houston, TX area where I was privileged to visit with Chris, Kelsey and Clara Margaret. What a Christmas we had ! I had almost forgotten how wonderful it is to see Santa Claus through the eyes of a little one. I guess the last time I really experienced that thrill was when Chris and Tim were little boys. Now....here I was watching it through the eyes of Chris's daughter. Where do the years go so quickly?

Talking about this reminds me of when Linda was a little one, and how much fun it was to see her when she got excited about Santa Claus coming to her house with all the special toys. Bob and I always had package opening on Christmas eve. One of us would take Linda for a ride, pretending that we needed to go to the store, or return something to a friend. When we got back to the house with Linda, Santa would already have been there. Of course, the plate of cookies was always empty. Santa was hungry when he arrived with his heavy load.

When I was a little girl I would always select some ONE thing that I hoped Santa would bring to me. There were not oodles of presents under the tree. Sometimes a relative would send some small packages, but the main thing that Santa brought was never there until Christmas morning. I was always thrilled if I got the one thing that I asked for. We always had a stocking that would be filled with oranges, nuts, apples, and perhaps some pencils or other small things.
One year I recall saying that I wanted this pretty floral house coat. I had seen it in the Sears catalog, and dreamed of wearing it. On Christmas morning I was so thrilled to find my dream housecoat waiting for me. How beautiful I thought I was when I put it on and swirled around in the room.

I don't recall that my Mom ever got anything special. Dad always gave us a little bit of money and we would shop for her. It always wound up being a pair of silk hose. She always pretended to be very excited, and as I look back, I wonder if she was disappointed because she never got anything very special from Dad. Probably finances had something to do with this, but we kids always got the one thing we dreamed of having.

This year was very special because I was able to see Chris all grown up and being a very special Daddy to his little Clara. The generations just keep going on, and changes are being made with each one. May we never forget the true meaning of Christmas. We must remember to teach our little ones about the Christ that we honor on that day. We don't want them to think that Santa is the real reason for Christmas when there is truly a wonderful meaning behind that special day.

May I wish everyone a HAPPY NEW YEAR.

HARD TIMES FOR THE CLARKS

We had been married about 2 years, and decided to move to Hillsboro, Oregon. Before that we had been in Sweet Home, Oregon where Bob started the learning process to be a baker while working with my dad in his bakery. We found out that he could go to work in Portland in an apprentice position in a bakery under the G.I. Bill, and draw a small salary while learning. This sounded good to us, and we decided to take a chance on it. We were so poor that we had no funds in the bank, and had to be very careful to make it from pay day to pay day. Being right after the war, there were no houses or apartments to rent, so we decided to see if we could buy one. We found this little tiny "chicken coop" of a house, so we sold our old car to make the down payment. The seller of the house was going to carry the papers, and told us that our payment would be $145 per month, plus a percentage per annum. Both Bob and I thought that percentage was once a year on the balance. Ha ! It was every month on top of the $145. I can remember crying the first month when I took the payment to the landlord and he advised me that I owed another $40. He was a kind man and waited until we could scrape that $40 together.

Bob was working 30 miles away in Portland and we had no car, so he had to ride the bus to and from work each day. In our house we had an unfinished kitchen with a sink and one cupboard in it. There was no cabinet below the sink. I got some material and hung a skirt around it so that it was not open for all to see. There was linoleum on the front room floor, and a little tin stove in that room. It gave very little heat.

We had lost a full term child our first year while we were in Sweet Home. Now we were expecting another child and this house was certainly not a good place to be. Some friends had an 8 x 10 rug and gave us that to cover the floor. We had an antique electric stove that we had previously purchased, but the house was not wired for 220, so we could not use it. Friends had a 3 burner gas stove that we were using. I was working for the gas company, and when we got enough money to bring in the 220 wire so we could use our electric stove I nearly lost my job with the gas company. They felt I should have been faithful to the gas company.

Pretty soon we were able to scrape together enough to buy an old Hudson car, and were we ever proud. We had only had it a couple of days when we went to pick up our friends Glenn and Liz to take them for a ride. When we were taking them home, some kids crossed the highway and hit us, turning the car over on its side. I was hysterical because I was so afraid I would lose this baby too. Liz was also pregnant and had a bad bump on the head. I had a broken arm, but was OK otherwise. Now we are again without a car.

In January our beautiful little daughter Linda was born and only a week or less after that, the bakery that Bob was working for laid him off. business dropped suddenly after Christmas and they didn't feel they needed him. Times were tough ! Bob's Dad had an old oil heater stored in a shed at their house and brought it over for us to have some good heat to keep the baby warm.

Eventually Bob did find some work and we were able to save enough to buy a refrigerator to keep Linda's milk cold. I had no washing machine so each day would fill up the wash tub and with a scrub board would do the daily diapers and hang them out on the line to dry. After about 3 months of that my sweet aunt Agnes came over one day and was shocked to see me washing on a scrub board. She said she had an old ringer washer in storage and would get it out and give it to me. What a blessing that was !

Not too long after that Bob went back into the Navy because the Korean War was on, and he felt he would be drafted. He had been in the Navy Air and wanted to get back into that. Things went some better after that for this family. We knew what it was to be poor, and always appreciated what we had when things got better for us.

WORLD WAR-2

Having lived on this earth for 81 years I have seen a lot of changes . During world war-2 we could not buy meat, canned goods, butter, cheeese, or even shoes without producing stamps to purchase them. Each family was authorized a certain amount of blue stamps for canned goods, and red ones for meat or dairy products. As I recall, we could have two pair of shoes a year, but most of the tops on ladies shoes were made from cloth, not leather. My dad worked in the shipyard, which was considered an essential job, and he was allowed stamps to purchase gasoline for his car so that he could drive back and forth to work from our home in Hillsboro, Oregon to Portland five days a week. If he carried passengers he received some bonus stamps. We did a lot of walking in those days, and only used the car when it was absolutely necessary.

Dad's real profession was a baker, so when Bob and I were going to get married dad was going to decorate our wedding cake for us. We decided to let the local baker make the cake, but he did not put the icing on it. In order to get him to bake our cake we had to furnish the eggs, shortening and the sugar to make it. We skimped on sugar for other things for a long time prior to the wedding so that we would have enough sugar for all the decorations. Dad raised about 10 chickens in a coop in our back yard, so we always had nice fresh eggs.

As it got dark in the evenings we had to draw all shades on the windows so that no light would shine through. People in the neighborhood took turns being "neighborhood wardens". We would have an assigned section of the neighborhood that was walked every evening, and if we saw a glimmer of a light we would go to the door and alert the residents to get that shade pulled properly so that there was no light shining through. This , of course was so that if any enemy planes were to fly overhead at night, they could not see the cities below.

Most people had minimal training so that they could sit in the air-raid post too. When you were on duty you had to be sure to stay awake, and if you heard any plane fly overhead, you tried to spot it. We had diagrams of the various types of U.S. military planes, and we would try to see how many engines were on those planes for identification. If it was too dark or cloudy, the little building in which we served as spotters had a phone, and we would call in to report the direction the plane was flying so that people who knew what was up there would know if it was enemy or friendly.

I was in high school during those years, and girls in high school all wore anklet socks, never hose. That was because we couldn't find any to buy. One time I went to a senior tea in which we were instructed to dress up in heels and hose. I recall that because I didn't own any hose, I borrowed some from my mom, and she always wore a corset (another thing of the past). On the corset she had suspender-type things to hook onto the hose to hold them up. I was very thin and couldn't wear the corset, so she made me some garters out of elastic. I'd pull up the hose and make a roll with the socks. The elastic band inside that roll was to hold the hose up. I think that miserable experience was what convinced me to never again wear hose. The few socks that ladies would find to buy were made of silk. It was after the war that the first nylon hose came out, and ladies used to line up to get a pair of those beautiful inventions.

If you had a car with worn tires, you were pretty much out of luck. There were no tires to be purchased. That was the case for 2 or 3 years after the war ended, and did become quite a problem for people who needed replacements. That was the time when the retreads came out. You would take in your old worn tires and they would put new tread on them. I can remember seeing the first new car after the war. It was a 1946 Chrysler. Everyone wanted to see and touch that beautiful piece of machinery with so much chrome that when the sun shone on it, it nearly put your eyes out.

Some of you youngsters probably don't even know about what we went through during those days, and many of the older group has forgotten some of the trying times we had. But everyone was very patriotic, loving their country and the military personnel who were risking their lives for us, and we did not complain. We are so lucky to live in the good old U.S.A. and maybe this little story will remind us how fortunate we are .

EARLY ALASKA LIVING

For years Bob and I had our own Bakery in Juneau, Alaska. We grew from a tiny little "hole in the wall" to a two oven, two mixer large bakery. We were sending bread to neighboring islands , and supplying a good share of the homes in Juneau. Bob learned to bake from my Dad who was a top notch baker. We were in business when you did everything from scratch. There were not all of these mixes that bakeries use today. If you've never eaten real danish pastry, you've missed a lot. Dad invented a danish donut that was the best thing you ever put into your mouth. When Dad was out of the bakery, Bob continued to make those danish donuts one day a week. They were so much work that he only took the time to make them once a week. People would stand in line to get those donuts.

Bob was also a good cake decorator, and did many wedding cakes and other special occasion cakes for our city. Linda was very young then, but would stand on a box beside her Dad and watch him decorate. Bob would turn a cake pan upside down and let her ice it and decorate it like a real cake. She was very good, and in no time could decorate better than many who call themselves bakers.

Our bakery had a large, full basement that was always damp. When the tides were high, some of the sea water would leak through cracks in the basement walls. This was a perfect enviornment for unwanted pests. We kept on our payroll a man that we called the "rat man" because that was his only job. He used to sleep under the docks, and learned all about rats and termites. He had a key to our place and would come in a night or two every week to keep the rat population down. This probably sounds pretty gross to those of you who have never lived on the water front. But, in Juneau, the whole town was built up on piling and the water was under the streets and buildings of the entire down town. If the tide was out, you could go down under there and walk the "beach" under all the stores. No one would do that for fun, because the odors were not good.

We had a good old friend who brought Bob a gift one day. It was a little sawed off pistol that he said would fire very quietly. Some times the rats would get brave and come up out of the basement and we would see one in the shop. When that would happen, Bob would get that little pistol, and would signal me to get ready. You need to know that we had a restaurant too, and there were always people in there having coffee and eating some of our goodies. When Bob would signal me to get ready, I would get a stack of 3 or 4 full sheet pans, which were very large, and I would stand holding them until Bob would fire that little pistol at the intruder. When he fired, I would drop that pile of pans at the same time, and everyone in the shop would jump and wonder what happened. I'd just pop out into the area where the people were trying to see what happened, and I would say," I just dropped a pan of empty pans, everything is OK. "

We moved to Juneau in 1957, before it became a State. We used to keep a stack of counter checks beside the cash register, and people would come in and write a check for their purchases. You might be surprised to know that we never had bad checks. Some time, toward the end of the month when finances were running short, we might get an NSF check, but after the 1st of the month, we'd run it through again and it would be good. Most people were not excited about becoming a State. I recall that after we were officially named the State of Alaska the people built a huge bonfire at the area we called the sub-port, and that night hundreds went there to take part in the bon fire " celebration." We all stood around the fire, holding hands, and it was like a wake. People were not talking or singing, but acted as if an old friend had just died. There was a lot of sadness that night. We didn't know what to expect now that we would be considered officially one of the States.

Living in Juneau in those days was certainly different than it was a few years later when it modernized with the times.

MY MOTHER

My Mother came to the United States when she was about 2 years old. Her Father came before she and her mother did. He had to work and make enough money to bring the family from LaHarve France . Mother's mother, Adeline passed away soon after they made it to the United States. Mother's sisters, both older than she, married and were on their own but were also living in Kansas. That was where the family settled because there were many coal mines, and these head of household males were all uneducated and spoke little or not English, and they could get menial jobs.

My mother, Rose went to school through the 3rd grade, then she was pulled from school to stay home and keep house and learn to cook for her dad. Life was not easy for this little girl because her dad would hit the bar when he got off work, and rarely arrived home in a sober state. He had an old horse and buggy, and the horse knew the way home. He'd just tell the horse to "giddeup" and the horse would take him home.

Rosie would have coffee and bread to eat, and rarely had much more than that. One day she decided she could make some bread, and got busy doing what she thought was right. When the bread was finished it did not rise, and it was extremely heavy. When her Dad got home he laughed at her efforts and took a nail and hammer and put it on the wall for all to see. Of course it broke her heart to see that failure displayed so prominently.

When Rosie was allowed to go to a movie on a weekend, it only cost 5cents, and she went whenever she could. She would sit with her feet tucked under the seat so that 0thers could not see that she had no shoes on her feet.

Despite all the drawbacks she grew up to be a very pretty young woman, and when she was 22 she married a fine gentleman and was extremely happy. They left Kansas and went to Oregon where he worked in the logging industry. When my mother was 25 she gave birth to me, Margaret, and was a proud, happy lady, until when I was 15 months old my father was killed in a logging accident. Not only was Rosie devistated to find herself alone, she had no education and did not know how she was going to take care of me. In those days there was no such thing as welfare to help in such a situation. She found herself doing what she knew best, cleaning and cooking for others. She took in washings for the loggers, and did ironings for anyone who needed her help. This is where she met another fine gentleman who married her. His name was Ivan and he cared for me as if I were his blood child. When I was 4-1/2 they provided me with a baby brother, and I loved him so much.

As a family we made many moves during my growing up years. I rarely went to any one school more than a year, and sometimes not even that long. It was depression times and Dad cooked for the logging camps and had to move as the camp work was relocated.

In 1942 Dad was working on the island of Dutch Harbor, Alaska teaching sailors to bake. It was good money, and he liked doing that work. My mom got her first real job working for Birds Eye frozen foods in Hillsboro, Oregon. She worked nights, and I was responsible for watching my brother in the evenings. When I was 16 I was allowed to date, but I could not go out to a movie or any other place unless I took my little brother with me. My first real boyfriend had an old car with a trunk seat, and he got to ride out there while we were inside the one seater car.

This was when my mother started studying for her citizenship. I used to help her memorize the things she had to know when she went for her test. She worked very hard on learning the facts about our government and when she took the test...she passed ! She was so excited to have made it and to be a U. S. Citizen after so many years.

She later took some adult classes to learn basic math problems, and was always able to get a job to support herself. Dad passed away in 1964, but she was able to take care of herself and was proud that she could .

I look back now and think of the days when I was a high school student who thought she knew all about everything, and I used to correct her english from time to time. I recall that she would say that I had the opportunity to go to school and learn those things and she did not. Because I was a "smarty" high school kid, I didn't realize that I probably hurt her feelings many times being that know-it-all girl.

My mother lived to be nearly 90 before she passed away. She lived a good life, even though she worked very hard at times, and we always wondered how someone who was raised on bread and coffee could live to be such a healthy older lady. She defied all the health rules about eating a proper diet.

ALASKA VACATION

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.

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.

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.