Carol's Chapter

The second daughter. The fourth child.

There is an old brass heat register in the living room of the house where I grew up. It is located at the base of the wall near the door that leads to the kitchen and has been there ever since Daddy added the basement and installed the furnace, in around 1943. Through the years, many little bodies stood in front of it to take the chill off on a winter’s morning. Many feet and hands were warmed there. Many boots and mittens were dried there. The room where the old brass heat register stands has been painted, wallpapered, and remodeled over and over again through the years, but the heat register was never upgraded, never polished or covered with paint. It was just always there and still is today. And even now, when I return to the old homestead, I find myself standing in front of that heat register and memories of my childhood come flooding back…

ON THE DAY BEFORE Christmas Eve in 1938, my mother was in the living room trimming our Christmas tree when all of a sudden she started having contractions and decided it was time to go to the hospital to have her baby. At 9:00 a.m. on Saturday, December 24, 1938, I was born to Ethel and Floyd Guild at Moline Public Hospital in Moline, Illinois. My mother was twenty-nine years old and my father was thirty-two years old. My father named me Carol Mae in honor of the Christmas season, and I went home to an apartment at 127 35th Street, Moline, Illinois, to join my sister, Iris, and my two brothers, Bobby and Bernie. After I was born, my mother had three more daughters, Delores, Diana and Barbara, making me the true middle child. (The well adjusted one, ha!) My weight is not recorded on my birth certificate, but I was told that I was very small and Mom carried me around on a little pillow. Mom kept me in an oval wicker basket on a shelf in the bedroom so my little brothers couldn’t get at me.

My earliest memory is from when we moved to 3209 39th Street, when I was just four years old. It was 1942. I can remember running from one empty room to another, yelling and jumping in and out of the windows. Moline is a small town on the Mississippi River, and the area of town where we lived was called South Moline Township. We had an acre of land in the country. There were no paved streets, no bus lines, and no streetlights. To this day, the street in front of the old homestead has never been paved. When we bought the house, there were only four rooms: a kitchen, living room, and two bedrooms. There was no garage, basement, or bathroom; merely an outhouse and a well. I found a receipt in Mom and Dad’s strongbox stating the purchase price of the house was two thousand one hundred and eighty-seven dollars. Behind the house, there was a large yard and an orchard with many kinds of fruit trees. We had ripe, red cherries in July, golden peaches in August, big beautiful red and yellow apples in September, and crisp juicy pears in October. There were grapevines and red raspberry and blackberry bushes bordering our property as well as a small strawberry patch. Mom canned all this fruit each season, and made wonderful pies. I especially loved her apple pie, and will never forget the heavenly fragrance wafting from her oven whenever she made one. We had one of the neighborhood’s biggest gardens on the south side of the house. (Daddy later sold that piece of land to George and Evelyn Sajben. They were good neighbors and friends to Mom and Dad the entire time they lived there.) Grandpa Williams (Mom’s dad) lived with us and helped Daddy plant and harvest the garden. As each of us kids got old enough, we also helped. I remember sitting under the big elm tree in the back yard with Grandpa shelling peas and snapping beans when I was still very young. We always had a big tomato crop. I have fond memories of picking that first juicy vine-ripened tomato of the season, sprinkling on a pinch of salt and biting into all that goodness, the juices running over my arm. Some of these tomatoes were sold to Sam Gnatovich, who had a large open-air supermarket on 23rd Avenue. (Sam later tore down the open-air market and built a bowling alley on the property. It is now called Highland Park Bowl and Wells Fargo Lounge, and Sam still owns and operates it to this day.) This was about 1950 and I was twelve years old. I helped Daddy pick the tomatoes, shine them up with a cloth, and put them in a bushel basket. Daddy taught me to put the smaller, less perfect ones on the bottom and the largest, prettiest ones on the top. We got three dollars a bushel for them and Daddy let me keep the money we made. Mom canned all the produce from the orchard and garden, doing most of it late at night after we had gone to bed so we wouldn’t get burned or be in her way. Grandpa Williams and Iris helped her with the canning. Virginia McFarland told me Iris could handle the canner like a pro. Mom was always so proud of the number of jars she preserved each year, and she and her neighbors would compare the number of jars each had preserved. She canned jars and jars of jam, jelly, applesauce, tomatoes, tomato juice, green beans, sauerkraut, corn, and pickles of all kinds. Dill pickles were my favorite. I remember the aroma of spices mixed with vinegar, and I can still hear the sound of the lids popping as the jars were sealed. In later years, several of us tried to duplicate Mom’s dill pickles, but could never quite get the taste we remembered so well. We came to the conclusion it must have been the well water she used that made all the difference. I know the harvest from the garden and orchard kept us from going hungry during the long winter months in the 1940’s. One of the first things Daddy did was build a basement under the house. Even though our house was very small for a family of ten (Grandpa Williams lived with us until his death in 1953), we didn’t realize it at the time. Barbara slept in her baby bed in Mom and Dad’s bedroom. The rest of us girls slept in the living room. The couch made into a bed where I slept with Diana and Delores. Iris slept on a rollaway bed. Every morning, these beds had to be put away so we would have space to live and play. The boys and Grandpa slept in the second bedroom. There were two double beds and a small dresser, which didn’t leave much room to move around. We had mice in the attic. We had more mice than Disneyland. We would lay awake at night and listen to them scamper around the attic. We had one small closet in Mom and Daddy’s room and one small closet in the boy’s room. There were curtains instead of doors on all the closets and doorways. When we first moved there, we had a pump at the side of the sink to pump water from the well. We only had cold water then, so Mom heated all our hot water on the stove in a big kettle for baths and washing clothes. We had an icebox that held a large chunk of ice in the top section to keep the food cold. The ice melted into a large tray that had to be emptied on a daily basis. The iceman delivered the ice to the house every few days. We had a sign that we put in the window so the iceman would know how much ice to deliver. The number facing upright was the pounds you needed. It looked something like this: Illustration: Ice sign 25/50/75/100 On a hot summer’s day, if we were really lucky, the iceman might take his ice pick and chip off a small piece of ice for us to suck on. We weren’t as poor as our school friends, Juanita and Lavelle Nelson, who lived in a boxcar in a ravine on 41st Street. They didn’t even own an icebox. They stored their milk and butter in a large hole dug into the side of the hillside behind their house. The milkman delivered quarts of fresh glass-bottled milk to our house early in the morning during the war years. He left them in a metal container kept on the front porch. The glass containers kept the milk so much colder than the waxed cardboard and plastic used today. The milk bottles were divided into two sections; the lower portion for milk and a smaller bulging portion above a narrow neck for the cream. Mom sometimes made whipping cream out of the cream on top. The bottles were sealed with a cardboard disk. In the winter, if you didn’t get the milk right in, it would freeze, expand, and push the cardboard disk up above the top of the bottle. After the war, supermarkets sprang up everywhere and it was cheaper to buy milk in waxed cardboard cartons at the store. We had a telephone party line of three or four families. Each family had a certain number of rings to identify their calls. One family might have two rings, another family three. So when the phone rang, you listened to the number of rings and then answered. If you wanted to call out, you picked up the phone and listened first to see if anyone else was using the phone. To this day, I still “listen” before dialing. If you had an emergency you asked politely if the person talking minded hanging up the phone so you could use it, but sometimes they would get nasty and not hang up. If the phone was free you had to tell the operator the number you wanted to call. When Mom wasn’t around, we often listened to other people’s conversations. We lived and ate in the basement during the summer months because it was much cooler down there. We had no fans or air-conditioning. We simply left the windows and doors open and hoped for a nice breeze. We had a big, round, beautiful oak table we ate on in the basement. Eventually Daddy chopped up the table and made a punching bag ceiling-mount out of it. That table would be worth a fortune today.

RUB A DUB, DUB…

Boiled - Soaked - Washed - Rinsed - Blued - Bleached - Starched - Hung - Dried- Dampened - Ironed - Folded - Stored. What is it? The laundry, of course! The laundry was done in the basement once a week, usually on Monday. You can imagine the amount of laundry we had for ten people. It was an all- day affair. We had a wringer-type washing machine. The white clothes and sheets were washed first in the hottest, soapiest water, then the colored clothes, and lastly, Daddy’s oily, greasy work clothes. Mom used Tide detergent from the earliest days until her death. The same water was used for the entire wash. There were two washtubs, one for the hot and one for the cold rinse water. The second rinse tub had bluing in it to make the clothes look ever whiter. Mom also added Borax to soften the water. The clothes were taken from the hot soapy water in the washing machine with the aid of a laundry stick and pushed through the wringer. You had to be careful not to get your fingers pinched between the two rollers on the machine. These rollers were on an arm that rotated around between the washing machine and the rinsing tubs. After the rollers squeezed the soap out of the clothes, they dropped into the hot rinse water, then they were wrung out again and dropped in the cold water, and finally, wrung dry as they fell into the clothesbasket. As the clothes were washed, Mom hauled the basketsful of wet clothes up the basement stairs and out to the clothesline. She didn’t need a gym to maintain her waistline; her many trips to and from the basement kept her fit. The laundry was hung outside to dry using wooden clothespins. In the winter, or if it rained, it was hung in the basement to dry. Those were long days because it took forever for the clothes to dry. Hanging the clothes on the lines was a real art. The sheets went on the outside lines to hide the underwear hanging on the inside lines. Each piece of laundry was arranged by size and shape. The sheets were hung together, socks hung together, and so forth. I can clearly see Mom bending to the laundry basket, shaking out one of my little dresses as she straightened her back and reached up to secure it to the line with the clothespins she held in her mouth. A clothes-prop was used to get the clotheslines higher to keep the line laden with wet clothes and bedding from drooping to the ground, and to take advantage of any light wind to help the clothes dry faster. After the sheets dried, they were immediately removed to make room for clothes washed later in the cycle. This went on all day long until all the clothes were washed and dried. The clothes were brought inside, some folded and put away, and some sprinkled with water and rolled up for ironing later on. One important part of doing the laundry was proclaiming how white it was, how crisp it felt, and how sweet it smelled. When Mom laid her tired body down on her bed on wash days she must have had a sense of accomplishment that she had done a good day’s work. The laundry was tucked away, and so were her kids—under nice clean sheets. One year, Grandpa Williams bought Mom a mangle to help her with the mounds of ironing there always was to do. It was a large cylindrical machine for pressing clothes and linens by means of a roller. The item to be pressed was laid on the round cloth-covered cylinder, which clamped shut against a curved heated metal shoe. The clothes turned on the cylinder and were ironed. We all thought this was a great invention and actually fought over whose turn it was to help “mangle” the clothes.

We had a well for years, and it went dry many times. Our water tasted and smelled good, but some of our neighbors had well water that tasted and smelled like sulfur. Mom would have to haul water from Reichenberg’s well to wash clothes when our well was dry. Ruth and John Reichenberg and their two children, Kent and Carolyn, were neighbors and very good friends. At one time, Daddy had a big wagon fitted with a five-hundred-gallon water tank that he had made. He went to town two or three times a week to get water for us and for our neighbors to put in our wells when they went dry. We learned how to ration water in those days, a lesson that has held over even today. I still cannot let the water just run and run when washing dishes or brushing my teeth.

We had a furnace that burned coal for fuel. Daddy would take Bob and Bernie and go to a huge industrial coal yard to get the coal. They would weigh Daddy’s car and trailer before they loaded the coal and then weigh it again after loading; subtracting the original weight to get the weight of the coal. There were mountains of coal everywhere, forming sharp peaks. While Daddy filled the trailer with a huge coal shovel, Bernie and Bob would climb these hills of coal and slide down, getting their clothes just black and, of course, Mom would be furious when they got home. When they got the coal home, Daddy had to shovel it into the coal bin through a small window in the basement. He broke that window many times in the process. The coal burned down until nothing was left but the cinders and ashes. Daddy had a never-ending job tending to the furnace. It had to be banked every day and every night, and the cinders and ashes had to be raked and shoveled out of the pit and then carried outside. We used to make cinder plants. First we had to find a good cinder that had a point. Then we would put iodine on it and it would actually grow and make brilliant iridescent multi-colored stalagmites.

Spring and fall housekeeping was a ritual I’ll never forget. Everything had to be cleaned, aired out, painted, and polished twice a year because the coal furnace left a dusty, sticky residue everywhere. We used an eraser- like material to clean the wallpaper. It was pink and had a scent I can remember, but can’t describe. It was sort of gummy and came in a can. I would grab a handful and rub it on the wallpaper. This stuff would clean the wallpaper just like an eraser would. The pink ball would get blacker and blacker as I progressed around the room. When I see my grandchildren using Play-Doh, I always remember this pink stuff. All the lace curtains were washed and put on a curtain stretcher to dry. This contraption was a large wooden frame with tiny little nails all around the perimeter. You stretched the curtains over the nails (being careful not to prick your fingers) and left them to dry. The area rugs were hung over the clothesline and whacked with the rug beater (a funny-looking device that looked like a giant fly swatter) causing the dust and dirt to come flying out. Blankets, pillows, bedspreads, and draperies were aired out on the clothesline. If any of the rooms needed painting or wallpaper, Mom tackled that also. I learned how to paint like a pro from her. We had storm windows that were put up in the winter to keep out the cold and stored in the basement in the summer, and screens to put on the windows to keep out the mosquitoes and flies in the summer. This was quite a job to do every summer and fall as all the windows had to be washed inside and out at the same time. Another part of spring and fall housecleaning was what I call, “weeding out the junk.” Since our house was small, with almost no storage space, it was a constant battle for Mom to make room for what was currently needed. If it no longer fit or was broken, out it went. We stored the winter clothes in boxes with mothballs during the summer and reversed the process in the winter. We couldn’t store anything in the basement because it was always damp and mildew set in immediately. It wasn’t practical to store things in the attic, as it was hot up there with just a few boards on the floor. Everything had to be stored under the beds, in the two small closets, or in Mom’s cedar chest. When the house cleaning was done for another season, Mom would walk from room to room with a sense of pride admiring the clean walls, curtains, windows, and furniture while proclaiming how fresh and clean everything looked and smelled. She loved a pretty, clean house.

We never locked our doors in the early years. The front door was often left open in the summer in hopes of catching a strong breeze. This, of course, let every fly in town into the house. We hung flypaper (long, thin strips of sticky amber paper) from the ceiling and the flies would land on it, stick, and eventually die. There was never a threat that someone would rob or harm us, but we did have a few window peepers. Later on, we used a “skeleton key” to lock the doors. I remember an incident with our skeleton key that probably could be classified as “my most embarrassing moment.” This incident happened while Chris and I were living with Mom, so Chris must have been about five years old. Mom was away, visiting Diana in Florida. It was winter, very cold and it had been snowing. I woke up this particular morning, had a sudden burst of energy and decided to clean the house. I didn’t even bother to get dressed before I started. I had on a sheer batiste short housecoat with only panties on underneath and I was barefoot. I dashed out the back porch door to shake a small rug. I was hurrying because it was cold and I was barefoot. But, I wasn’t quick enough. The moment I stepped outside Chris was right behind me and slammed the door shut, somehow locking it at the same time. I tried to tell Chris how to open the door to no avail, ran around to the front door, but it was also locked. There I was, left outside in the cold, only a thin housecoat on and barefoot. I knew I had to get help from someone. So I walked very quickly over to the Sajbens. I knocked on the door and Mr. Sajben came to answer it. I was so embarrassed! I tried to wrap my arms around myself to cover up whatever I could. He didn’t say a word about how I was dressed but he did seem to have a little smirk on his face as he walked me back to the house. He easily opened the door using the skeleton key to his house. As he opened it he laughed and said, “This skeleton key will probably open every door on this street.”

I lined up every Saturday night along with all my brothers and sisters for a bath. The oldest child went first and the youngest was always last. This was done in the cozy warmth of the kitchen, using a round galvanized wash tub. The water was heated on the stove in a big kettle. The oven was turned on and the oven door opened to keep the room nice and warm. Mom would place four chairs around the tub, and put towels over them to hide us girls from the peeping eyes of our brothers. We all used the same tub of water, but Mom kept adding hot water as each of us got done. She would scrub us raw, and then dry us with towels warmed on the oven door. She kept all seven of us perfect: nails clipped, hair clean, clothes clean, starched, and pressed.

Iris was a second mom to us as she was the oldest child and six years older than Bernie. She played with us, gave us many baths, got us dressed and baby-sat us. Mom was pregnant many times over a fifteen-year period, so Iris had to pitch in and do everything: cooking, cleaning, and caring for us. She got married when I was ten years old.

We lived in those four rooms on 39th Street from 1942 until about 1949 or 1950. I must have been about twelve when Daddy built on a bathroom and two bedrooms. We were all so happy not to have to use the outhouse anymore. I never felt poor when I was growing up, but when I finally realized most people had indoor bathrooms, I secretly knew we must be poor. I do know I never wanted my friends at school to know we had an outhouse. Our outhouse was built of ugly gray boards outside. Inside, there was a rough board with two holes. It was very spartan. Sometimes we didn’t have toilet paper and used pages from a Sears Roebuck Catalog. Going to the outhouse at night was very spooky and we didn’t go out there until we absolutely had to. Mom would grab a flashlight and go out with us. Sometimes she let us go on the grass so we didn’t have to go way out to the outhouse. There was no heat out there so it was a very cold experience in the winter. The neighborhood boys considered tipping over outhouses on Halloween great fun. (My brothers would never be involved in anything like that!) When we first had our inside bathroom, Daddy wanted to leave the outhouse intact just in case something went wrong with the inside plumbing. But one day, when Daddy was at work, my brothers went out to the yard and tore down the outhouse. Boy, were they in a heap of trouble when Daddy got home that night! Today an outhouse would be painted a pretty color and decorated with a country motif. There would be wallpaper with chickens or ducks, window boxes with colorful annuals, and a crescent moon on the door. Martha Stewart would have a million decorating tips!

Edward Williams, Mom’s father, was born May 19, 1881, near Astoria, Illinois. He married Agnes Tomitum in North Dakota in 1907. Mom was born to them in 1911. There were also two sons born to them, Lloyd and Ralph, but we don’t know their birth dates. Mom’s mother died of tuberculosis when Mom was about ten years old. Her brother, Ralph, died of pneumonia at the age of two. Grandpa Williams raised Mom and Lloyd alone. Grandpa Williams, Mom and Lloyd moved to Moline in 1925. Much later on, in the late Forties or early Fifties, Grandpa worked as a fireman at an industrial plant in downtown Moline called Herman Nelson. One day, at work, he accidentally stepped into a vat of lye. The skin and flesh on his leg was seriously burned and eaten away by the lye. The doctors used what were experimental drugs at the time, ACTH and Cortisone, to heal the leg. There was an article in the Dispatch about Grandpa and the experimental drugs. I think the article is in the family scrapbook. Daddy fought with Grandpa about his drinking. But, on the other hand, he liked him because he was a big help to Mom and the family. Daddy called him “Gramps.” One day, he handed Daddy two thousand dollars from his savings account and told him to build an addition onto the house because the kids needed more room. He worked long hours in the garden, helped Mom with the canning, and helped Mom take care of us in many ways. Grandpa gave Mom money for her false teeth and also gave her money to buy herself a new dress now and then. She always bought a new dress for her 500 Club meetings. That was designated her “good” dress. Actually, they were cotton housedresses that she got for two dollars and seventy-nine cents in J. C. Penney’s basement. We never saw Mom’s brother, Lloyd, very much, and Mom never talked about him much. I do remember him coming home from World War II in his uniform. He brought Mom two rayon “sweetheart” pillowcases with fringe around the edge. They were covered with brightly colored embroidered flowers. Mom never used them, but they remained in her cedar chest for years. He also brought home pictures of the natives in the Philippines where he was stationed. I only remember these pictures because all of the natives were stark naked! They stayed in the strongbox for years, also. He mailed Mom “Victory” letters from overseas. These were very thin sheets of stationery which, when folded a certain way, also formed the envelope.

My childhood years were indeed happy, carefree and uncomplicated. I used to ask Mom if we were a lot of trouble when growing up. She always replied, “Oh no. You would get up, eat breakfast, and go outside to play. I would call you for lunch; you would eat and go back outside and play. I would call you for supper; you would come in, eat everything in sight, and then go to bed.” When I was very small, maybe four or five years old, I would watch caterpillars crawling on a tree branch, follow ants to the ant hills, catch lightening bugs in a jar, watch grasshoppers hopping around, and look for four-leaf clovers. An adult sees “weeds” in a hillside of dandelions. A child looks at the same hillside and sees a fanciful playground. Dee and I would sit for hours on the grass and weave dandelion stalks into bracelets, necklaces, and crowns. It was simple to do. First you connect two ends of a stalk by slipping one of its hollow ends into the other, then, with your fingernail you slit a hole in the loop. Next, you slip a second stalk through the slit, connect its ends into a loop and continue until the chain is long enough for a bracelet or necklace. We also made beautiful dolls out of hollyhocks and toothpicks. The buds became their heads and the fluted blossoms were turned upside down for their bodies and skirts. We took daisies and played, “He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me, he loves me not,” for an imagined boyfriend, picking off one petal at a time until they were gone to see where you would end up. I have always felt very connected to Dee, almost as though she were my twin. As kids we were inseparable. Today, though we’re half a country apart, we often buy the same blouse, purse, or craft item unbeknown to each other. It tickles me and makes me still feel close to Dee whenever this happens. Dee did my hair perfectly for thirty-five years. Since moving to Florida, I have yet to find a hairdresser who knows my color, cut, and hair style like Dee did.

Tag Button, Button, Who’s Got the Button? Hide and Seek Fox and Geese Kick the Can Red Rover Croquet King of the Hill Crack the Whip (while ice-skating) Simon Says

I played outside with my sisters and the neighborhood kids, Marilyn and Patty McFarland, Eilene Peterson, Carolyn and Kent Reichenberg, and Erladine and Jean Hoglund. We didn’t have many store-bought toys. Instead, we used our imaginations. We played mostly with our dolls. Mom would spread the old army blanket out on the ground under the shade tree in the front yard and we were content playing House for hours. We played dress-up with cast-off clothes from the rag bag and used Mom’s old high heels and purses. I can still see Barb and Margie Britz, her best friend and our neighbor, prancing around in long formals and high heels. We also played in a big canvas tent that Marilyn and Pat had. I played paper dolls endlessly with Carolyn Reichenberg in her attic. I spent many happy hours quietly cutting out paper dolls or playing with my dolls on the kitchen linoleum while Mom ironed and listened to Art Linkletter’s House Party or Arthur Godfrey on the radio. These are warm secure memories for me. Mom was in her kitchen and all was right in my world. We played with Madeline Hancock and her four or five brothers. They had a deserted house trailer on their property and we loved playing in it. Their dad had a strange job. He had a panel truck with the back end full of equipment used to sharpen knives and scissors. He traveled around to all the area butchers shops and grocery stores sharpening their knives. We rode old bikes—mostly boy’s bikes. We would stand on the cement block wall by the chimney to get on. I did get a new red bicycle one year. I wish I could remember my age. I was inside the house and Daddy called me to come out into the front yard. I stepped out the front door and said, “What do you want, Daddy?” I didn’t even notice the new bike he was standing beside. He said, “Well, come here a minute.” I was practically on top of my new bike before I finally saw it. I was so proud of that new bike. Something brand new at our house was something to cherish. We made our own kites out of newspaper, thin pieces of wood and string. Bernie and Bob helped us girls, but I was never very successful getting mine to fly. My sisters and I made flowers out of Kleenex. They were fun to make. Just stack several Kleenex on top of each other, then fold them accordion style, find the center, and attach a bobby pin. Then, separate the Kleenex sheets and fluff them up. We wore these in our hair and thought they were perfectly beautiful. In the winter we would go to the woods behind the Swanson’s house to slide on our sleds. When I think about it now, I don’t know why we weren’t killed. The hills were really steep and there were many trees to run into. All I do know is we would be frozen stiff by the time we got home and couldn’t wait to warm up in front of the old brass heat register in the front room. We played hopscotch, made Kool-Aid stands and played jump rope and Double-Dutch in the street.

Cinderella, dressed in yella Went upstairs to kiss a fella. How many kisses did she get? 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, etc. (until you finally tripped.)

I love coffee, I love tea, I love the boys And the boys love me.

Mother, Mother, Set the table. Don’t forget the Salt, mustard, vinegar, pepper, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5...

Down in the valley, where the green grass grows, There sat Carol as pretty as a rose. Along came John, and kissed her on the nose. How many kisses did she get? 1, 2, 3, 4, 5…

Johnny over the ocean, Johnny over the sea, Johnny broke a milk bottle And blamed it on to me. Johnny told Ma. Ma told Pa. Johnny got a licking, Ha, Ha, Ha.

Turn to the East. Turn to the West. Turn to the one That you love the best. Teddy bear, teddy bear turn around. Teddy bear, teddy bear touch the ground. Teddy bear, teddy bear tie your shoe. Teddy bear, teddy bear read the news. Teddy bear, teddy bear go upstairs. Teddy bear, teddy bear say your prayers. Teddy bear, teddy bear turn out the light. Teddy bear, teddy bear say goodnight. Goodnight!

We played lots of different games and could entertain ourselves for hours doing the simplest things. Yes, I remember when batteries were not required to have fun.

All you need is a long piece of string tied together at the two ends. Looping the string around your fingers and hands, you can create various figures. Sometimes you need a helper to move the string around your fingers.

A few of the figures I remember making:

Jacob’s Ladder The Witch’s Broom Cup & Saucer Rock the Baby Chicken’s Feet Cat’s Cradle

Through two of its holes, thread a large button onto a long loop of string. The button should be in the center of the loop of string. Hold one end of the string in your left hand and the other in your right hand. Twist the string as tightly as possible by twirling it around. As you slowly start to pull on the string ends, it will twirl and vibrate making a humming sound. If you get good at it you can keep it going one way and then the other, winding, then unwinding, for a long time.

Jacks Marbles Jump rope Cap Guns Lincoln Logs Paper-dolls Erector set Tinker Toys

One day, when I was about eight or nine years old, I was riding my scooter near our strawberry patch and fell off, cutting my right knee on the sharp edge of the scooter. It was a big cut and really bled. Mom knew I had to go to the doctor for stitches, but Barbara had double pneumonia at the time and she didn’t dare leave her. Virginia came over to help. She ran down to Mrs. Hannah’s house to see if she could drive us to the doctor’s office. Virginia held me with a towel wrapped around my leg while Mrs. Hannah drove. I had four clamps put in to hold the wound together. I have a visible scar from it on my knee to this day. When we got home, my sisters and Marilyn and Patty told Virginia they had found the piece of flesh that had come out of my leg. Virginia took one look at it and said, “Oh you silly girls, it’s just a piece of strawberry!” We still laugh about this.

In the Forties doctors made house calls. No matter how sick we were, we had to get out of bed long enough for Mom to put clean sheets on the bed before the doctor got there. Dr. Cook would give Mom a big bottle of pills or cough syrup, stating that surely a few more of us would come down with the same ailment. Mom doctored our colds by rubbing Vicks on our chests and wrapping us in warm flannel cloths. Dr. Menton was the first doctor I remember us having. He caused a big scandal when he was caught supplying illegal drugs to his wife and went to jail. Then George Cook became our doctor. He was at our house so many times he became a family friend, tracking our progress through the years.

We never had any new furniture or appliances or cars. I was always ashamed of our old cars. Daddy would pick out and buy a piece of second-hand furniture or some other household item, bring it home, and Mom was stuck with it. She never said a word to criticize him. The few new things we had, Mom got by saving S&H Green Stamps and redeeming them for presents, small appliances and other accessories. She also tore off the box tops from Betty Crocker cake mixes, cereal, etc., and saved them for catalog points. This is how she purchased her silver-plated dinnerware, piece by piece, until she had a service for eight. There were only two things I remember Daddy buying new. The first was his new turquoise Comet automobile. This was his first new car and the first time in his entire life he had ever charged anything. He took out a loan at the John Deere Credit Union. (Actually, Mom and Dad didn’t even have a checking account until all us kids had left home.) The second thing was a new kitchen table with three leaves and ten chairs—one for each of us—that he purchased at Phil Vinar’s Furniture Store.

We never took what I would call a real vacation. Daddy would go to Brainerd, Minnesota to see his parents, brothers and sisters (actually, some were half brothers and sisters). Occasionally, he took Iris or the boys with him. I never made the trip to Minnesota and they never came to see us, so I never met or knew my grandparents on Daddy’s side. Sometimes Daddy would take us on a long car ride, often going as far as the Wisconsin border. I now wonder if this was his way of getting us out of Mom’s hair for a while, giving her a little breathing room. We also went to visit Bessie and Harry Means and their children in Cordova, Illinois. There was another family we visited near there named Rogers. I can’t remember anything else about them, but I do remember that Bessie Means worked at the East Moline State Hospital. We made short trips to Elmhurst, Illinois, near Chicago, to visit Ray and Arjean Moos and their four children, all boys. Mom would sit in the front seat of the car and read a book. She would hold it in front of her eyes so she couldn’t see Daddy drive. He drove fast, weaving in and out to be the lead car. This was very dangerous in those days when there were only two-lane roads. These were very special trips to us, and a big treat because they often included a side trip to Lincoln Park Zoo for the day. We would love to look for the Burma Shave signs as we traveled. These were sequential signs carrying catchy rhymes for shaving cream and dotted the roadways during the 40’s and 50’s. The signs stood in sets of five. The first four spelled out a snappy verse, the last said, “Burma Shave.” I still remember a few.

Are your whiskers Don’t lose your head When you wake to save a minute Tougher than a you need your head Two-bit steak? Your brains are in it Try Burma Shave Burma Shave

When passing schools Ben met Anna Please go slow Made a hit Let our little Ben wouldn’t shave Shavers grow Ben-Anna split Burma Shave Burma Shave

Daddy often took us out to the airport to let us watch the airplanes coming and going from the airfield. We also went to the air shows there. We would take blankets and sit out in the fields surrounding the airfield getting covered with those thorny, sticky sand-burrs that clung to your clothing. But it was fun and free. When we took these little trips with Daddy, we often passed an ice cream store on 23rd Avenue called Roselles. The minute we spotted it, we would start begging for an ice cream cone. Lots of times Daddy said no, but the times he let us stop, oh, how happy we were. They sold Sealtest Ice Cream and some of the cones had a note in the tip of the cone stating: “Free Cone.”

We had a big fat fluffy white cat named appropriately, “Fluffy.” This is the only pet I remember us having, except for the canaries Daddy had in later years. We had Fluffy for many years, but one day he was suddenly just gone. Mom told us he was sick and old and went off into the woods to die. I always believed this story. Years later however, Virginia McFarland confided that Fluffy had distemper and had to be put away. Daddy tried to shoot him but couldn’t do it. Finally, Dale came over and did it. At the same time Virginia told me the above story, she also told me another “Fluffy” story. One day she and Mom were sitting in the kitchen at our house having a cup of coffee together when they heard a tinkling sound. Over in the corner of the room was a little potty-chair and there was Fluffy sitting on the potty “tinkling” just like us little kids did.

COME AND GET IT!

The family sat down for meals at a rectangular table with three leaves. Daddy made a wooden bench to use at the end of the table. Bernie and Bob were probably the first ones to use the bench, but I only remember me sitting on it with Dee and Diana. Mom was at the head of the table and Daddy was to her right. The youngest child was to her left so she could help them. We always had big meals with dessert immediately after. There were two big plates of sliced bread, one at each end of the table. In retrospect, I realize that we had good well-balanced meals, but probably not enough for seconds, so the bread helped fill us up. Every supper ended with a rich dessert without thought to calories or cholesterol. There were pies, cookies, cream puffs, jelly-rolls, and cakes of all kinds. Everything was made from scratch. When I was in junior high I came home from school and made a two-egg cake almost everyday. I had the recipe memorized. We each had a piece for supper and the rest was saved to put in our lunches for school the next day.

SOME OF MOM’S OTHER FOODS I REMEMBER

Graham cracker cookies made with chocolate frosting between them. Homemade minced ham. This was made with bologna, not ham, and very popular during World War II. Fried cornmeal mush. Mom stood over the stove for hours frying this in two large black skillets. Homemade donuts covered with sugar. Mom cut the centers out with her thimble. Homemade cocoa fudge and popcorn balls. Friday night treats. Hot cocoa and peanut butter sandwiches. These sandwiches were made with one piece of bread, spread with peanut butter and folded over. Then we dunked them into the hot cocoa. It was a fine art getting them to your mouth without having them fall apart first. We were taught how to do this by Mom’s brother, our uncle Lloyd. White bread broken into a bowl, sprinkled with sugar and covered with milk. This was a favorite bed time snack. Leftover pie dough. When Mom baked pies there was usually some dough left over from the crust. She’d roll it out, brush it with butter, sprinkle on sugar and cinnamon, cut it into bite-sized pieces, and pop it into the oven with the pies. I always thought this leftover dough delicacy was far superior to the pies themselves. Popsicles made from Kool-Aid. We poured the liquid into ice cube trays and stuck toothpicks in to hold onto when we ate them. Fried bologna sandwiches. Salmon patties and fried potatoes. Sometimes Mom made a cream sauce with peas that we poured over the salmon patties. Goulash with warm homemade bread. Pork roast with sauerkraut. Mom always made mashed potatoes with this meal so the sauerkraut could go on top of them. Homemade chicken and noodles. Once again, mashed potatoes with the noodles on top. Mom’s noodles were the best. Daddy would pay us ten cents to eat a piece of liver. I never did. I don’t care for liver to this day. I sure wanted the dimes, but couldn’t force myself to eat even a little bit. The first oleomargarine came in a heavy, clear plastic bag that had a red button in the center. The button was pressed and an orangish-red dye was dispensed. The bag was kneaded until all the margarine was a pretty yellow color. When we first moved to 39th Street, Mom raised chickens, Bob had a pig, and Grandpa Williams raised rabbits. I remember Mom catching a chicken and chopping off its head on a stump with a hatchet. I watched in terror as it flopped around in the yard, blood everywhere. After the chicken was killed, it was dunked into hot water to make plucking off the feathers easier. After feasting on one of Mom’s fabulous chicken dinners, we fought over whose turn it was to get the wishbone. We had wiener roasts with toasted marshmallows in the backyard. Daddy would build the bonfire and cut down tree branches to hold the wieners to roast. He sharpened the ends of the branches with his pocketknife. We never ate in a restaurant. In fact, we were rarely asked to anyone’s house for a meal. Who would cook for ten extra people? But once Ruth and Tom Johnson invited us over for Sunday dinner. She made a ham with all the trimmings. I remember it clearly because she made ham gravy, which Mom never did. We ate in their dining room and it seemed very special.

Sundays were reserved for family. Mom got up at the crack of dawn and started baking the pies for dinner using pure lard for a flaky crust. Then she would make crescent rolls and cinnamon rolls and set them out to rise. One of my favorite Sunday meals was Swiss steak and mashed potatoes. Mom took a large thick round steak and pounded flour into it with a meat mallet to make it tender. About the time she finished pounding, I would awaken to the wonderful aroma of pies cooling, rolls baking and Swiss steak simmering on the stove. Another Sunday favorite was fried chicken and mashed potatoes and gravy. I always tell the story that we were so poor we had to share one chicken among the ten of us. (Surely, we really had at least two chickens!) Mom always ate the wings and Dad ate the back, the liver and gizzards. I know they saved the meatiest pieces for us kids, but actually, today I find I enjoy the wings the most. So maybe Mom really did get the best part of the chicken. We ate right at noon on Sunday. There were always lots of dishes to do after these big Sunday meals. It was up to us girls to help Mom do them, but usually Barb would run over to Margie’s house to play and Diana would pretend she had to go to the bathroom, lock herself in, and sit there reading a book until the dishes were done. That left me and Dee doing the dishes while Bob stood there and tormented us by snapping towels at us. After the dishes were done we would read the Sunday paper Dad picked up in town. I loved the funnies.

Little Orphan Annie Etta Kett Muggs and Skeeter Blondie Felix the Cat Popeye The Katzenjammer Kids Archie Ella Cinders The Phantom Mutt and Jeff Little Lulu Superman and Batman Betty Boop Fritzi Ritz (later became Nancy) The Little King

Birthdays were small family affairs. Mom would bake our favorite cake, usually angel food, and we had ice cream. Birthday celebrations were about the only time we had ice cream. Mom would buy three pints; one vanilla, one chocolate and one strawberry; and cut each into four slices. Remember, I said pints, not quarts or half gallons like we buy today. I don’t remember much about any presents I might have received for my birthdays. There are few photos of us from the early years to help us remember. I did get a book once called 365 Bedtime Stories. Mom read me the stories in this book over and over again. I also remember getting a View Master with several reels showing various fairy tales and children’s stories. The only other birthday present I remember is a doll made out of bisque, which I still have. It had yellow braids, eyes that opened and shut, and a cute little pouty mouth. It was the last doll I received, and I must have been eight or nine years old. I treasured that doll and played with it a lot; dressing and undressing it in the little outfits Mom made for it. But, it was finally put away in a box where it remained for many years; all but forgotten. When I moved to 11th Street in Moline, I found it while unpacking boxes and talked to Dee about what a miracle it was that I still had it as only a few precious things were saved at our house while growing up. A few years later (about 1986), Dee took my doll, unbeknown to me, and had one of her friends refurbish it. She mended the body, made her a new dress and gave her a new wig, shoes and socks. Dee put it on a stand and surprised me with it on my birthday. I was very surprised and very happy to see my doll all fixed up. It was one of my best birthday presents ever, and I know it pleased Dee to see how happy I was with it. My doll is now over fifty years old and proudly displayed on my dresser.

Every Saturday we had the same routine. After breakfast all of us girls would help Mom with the weekend cleaning. We were each responsible for changing the sheets on our beds and cleaning our rooms. This included washing the windows on the inside each week. My specific task was dusting all the curliques on Mom’s foot-treadle sewing machine. I didn’t like doing it, but I did it! By noon we’d be done and we would all take a little sponge bath and get our hair combed. We’d put on a nice dress and Mom would take us downtown shopping. We always went to the New York Store so we could ride the elevator. What a treat! We’d hit Penney’s and Block and Kuhls. But we would always end up at Kresge’s dime store, where we’d get a small toy and a sack of candy to take home. The candy was stored in small glass bins lined up next to each other. We would point to the one we wanted and Mom would get a quarter pound of each for us to share. That small sack of candy would last us a long time. We savored each piece and tried to make it last. The day would end by going to the A&P for the weekly groceries, or perhaps to Shinner’s Meat Market for a supply of meat. There was a big scandal when they were caught selling horse-meat right after the war when everything was scarce, including good meat.

One year, when I was about twelve or thirteen years old, I saved all my baby-sitting money to buy a new coat for Easter Sunday. I went downtown to Penney’s and found just the coat I wanted. I sat my wallet down on a chair while I tried it on. It was a pink, short, lamb’s wool coat. Oh, I thought it was so pretty. So I started to reach for my wallet to pay for it, but it wasn’t there! I looked up and saw a lady running away with my wallet in her hand. I was crushed and started to cry. The clerks couldn’t catch the woman and I had to go home without my coat. I was crying when I got home and ran to Mom to tell her what happened. It was Saturday afternoon and the next day was Easter. Mom said, “Don’t cry honey,” and she went into her bedroom and returned with the twenty-five dollars I needed for the coat. How Mom could spare that twenty-five dollars I will never know. I’m sure she did without something that week, but never once mentioned it.

Mom was an excellent seamstress. She sewed all our clothes when we were little on her White treadle sewing machine. She also made most of Marilyn and Patty’s clothes. Sometimes we all had similar outfits. Virginia would do Mom’s ironing while Mom sewed for her girls. Mom not only made our little dresses, she also made our slips, pajamas, and coats. How she found time for this will always remain a mystery to me. I remember one three-piece dress she made for me when I was in first or second grade. There was a white blouse with puffy sleeves that buttoned onto an orange skirt and a short bolero-type jacket in orange. I just loved it. All the buttonholes were made by hand. Sometimes Mom had Mrs. Vandergeist (Kenny’s mom, down the street from us) make the button holes with her button hole attachment. Daddy was so fascinated with this gadget that he bought Mom one soon after. I don’t remember that Mom ever used flour sacks to make our clothes, although it was often done in the Thirties and Forties. Mom also sewed for Iris’ daughters when they were small and made them many cute outfits. I remember her making them each a blue velvet dress. She also crocheted a baby dress for Linda. We wore many hand-me-downs and occasionally received boxes of used clothing from friends. I was never too sure if these clothes were “in style” but Mom always assured me they were fine, and so I wore them.

Movies were a fantasy for all us little kids growing up in the Forties. We went to the Saturday matinee at the Highland Theater almost every week. It cost twenty-five cents to get in and popcorn was a nickel. I saw many, many cowboy movies. Roy Rogers, King of the Cowboys, was my hero. He had a beautiful golden Palomino named Trigger and a dog named Bullet. His sidekick was Gabby Hayes and he was married to Dale Evans. His signature song was Happy Trails To You (until we meet again). I liked The Lone Ranger, Hopalong Cassidy and Gene Autry, but I especially liked cowboy movies that had Indians in them. They fascinated me, somehow. Cowboy movies were like morality films; the good guys wore white hats and the bad guys wore black hats. Good always triumphed over evil in those days. There was always a double feature with lots of cartoons in between (Th-th-that’s All Folks!). I remember seeing clips on World War II on the news reels between the two movies. Virginia McFarland took us girls to see the Wizard of Oz once, but we were all so scared of the witches in it, we ran out to the concession area and she had to take us home.

Bernie and Bob used McFarland’s vacant lot to grow popcorn one year. Daddy said they could keep whatever money they made selling it. Daddy had a special way of soliciting our help when it came time to harvest the corn. As he and the boys planted the corn they interspersed a little Indian corn. If we came to an ear of Indian corn while picking, he would give us fifty cents. The boys would put the ears of corn on the garage roof to dry. Daddy bought them a popcorn sheller and they shelled the popcorn in the basement and sacked it up for sale. Daddy drove them around to the various movie theaters where they sold the popcorn.

One of our family’s favorite things to do was have picnics at Riverside Park. After we ate, we went swimming at the Moline Swimming Pool and played on the playground equipment. While we played, the grown-ups played cards. Some of the best picnics we had were with the families from Mom’s 500 Club, They each had their specialty food they prepared and we eagerly looked forward to it all. Mom’s specialty was cinnamon rolls. She would get up at 5:00 a.m. to make them and set them out to rise. She knew the art of making light, perfectly textured yeast rolls. To quote her: “The secret to making perfect cinnamon rolls is in the kneading of the dough. There’s a sort of magic in your hands as you knead the ingredients into a bouncy round of dough.” She usually served them warm, and it was impossible to just eat one! Bernie and Bob would go to the park early to save as many tables as they could. There was always a big, cold, juicy watermelon to eat before we went home. I used to go with Daddy to pick out the watermelons. He would use his pocketknife to cut a deep wedge out of the watermelon and taste it for ripeness. Another of our regular family outings was going into the woods to find black walnuts and hickory nuts. We would dry them out on the roof of the garage. Grandpa Williams would spend his evenings picking the nuts out of their shells and then Mom would bake them with butter and salt. A wonderful treat!

On Friday nights, after supper was over, you could find Mom once again at the stove stirring up a big batch of cocoa fudge. When it was done, she poured it onto her mother’s hand-painted platter to cool. Then we would all sit around the kitchen table and play a favorite board game. It might be Tiddlywinks, Chinese Checkers, Parcheesi, or Monopoly. We would finish off the evening eating the best tasting fudge in the world.

Mom would put on the Christmas records—she loved Bing Crosby’s White Christmas and anything by Kate Smith--and start the Christmas baking right after Thanksgiving. She would continue baking right up to Christmas. The back porch was very cold in the winter and became a perfect freezer for all her goodies. As we kids moved out of the house to start a life of our own, she would mail us large boxes full of her cookies, candy, and breads. Her famous Depression Fruitcake was a family tradition each year. She made it early and continuously soaked it in brandy until Christmas. She would bake it in various sized containers, small coffee cans, loaf pans, and round pans. Then she would glaze the top and decorate it with candied fruit. Daddy dearly loved it and so did I. Still do.

SOME OF MOM’S BEST CHRISTMAS DELICACIES

Marshmallow Creme Fudge, Mexican Fudge Creams, Martha Washington Candy, Divinity, Toffee

Banana Nut Bread, Date Nut Bread, Cranberry Bread, Sour Cream Coffee Cake, Pumpkin Bread

Almond Cherry Braid, Cinnamon Rolls

Sugar Cookies, Chocolate Nut Revels, Sugarplum Cookies, Hedge Hogs, Holiday Fruit Drops, Puffs, Date Pinwheels and Bars, Candy Cane Cookies, Peanut Butter Rice Krispy Balls, Russian Tea Cookies, Cherry Coconut Bars and Drops, Refrigerator Cookies, Spritz Cookies, Thumbprint Cookies with Jam, Pfeffernuesse, Gingersnaps, Hermits, Bon Bon Cookies

Daddy bought the Christmas tree each year. He would wait until very close to Christmas to buy it because that was when they were the cheapest. He bragged about paying fifty cents for a tree one year. It didn’t matter if it wasn’t the most beautifully formed tree because Daddy would drill holes in it and rearrange the branches to make it look balanced. We thought our trees were the most beautiful possible. We made garlands out of colored construction paper loops, glued together with library paste. We strung popcorn, hung the family ornaments, and used lots and lots of tinsel and angel hair. Angel hair was a white material that sort of looked like spun cotton candy and was intended to make the Christmas tree appear snowy. It was made of fiberglass and after hanging it on the tree you itched from handling it. We saved all the tinsel from year to year even though it was cheap enough to buy, even back then. We got big red apples, juicy oranges, walnuts, and candy in the socks we hung for Santa to fill. When we were older, we discovered that it was Daddy who went to Lagomarcino’s each Christmas to find the biggest oranges and apples they had. The socks were the actual socks that we wore, not the big, beautifully decorated socks that are purchased or made today. Daddy always gave Mom two pairs of nylon stockings for a Christmas present—a tradition of his for years. After the family became too large for our house, we had many wonderful Christmas Eve’s at Iris and Bill’s. Mom’s favorite holiday was definitely Christmas. She loved her tree and homemade ornaments and, after we’d all left home, usually had it up by the first week in December. She started shopping for the perfect gifts for all of us right after Thanksgiving. She often went to Barb’s in Normal, Illinois to finish up her shopping. Barb would take her to the Garlic Press and other specialty shops and then they would have lunch at a quaint little tearoom. Mom loved all this attention. On the weekend Norm would take them all to the Apple Barn to load up on apples and cider. She would take her Christmas ornament supplies to Barb’s to finish up the last of that year’s balls and taught Amy and Jenny how to make them. I think Mom especially loved Christmas because it drew the entire family together.

One of the first radios I recall us having was a Philco. It was a large old- fashioned-looking table radio with a dome on top. There was an illuminated dial to locate the stations.

Yukon King (my favorite) and Sky King The Amos N’ Andy Show (Very funny, Dad would laugh and laugh) Fibber McGee and Molly Arthur Godfrey Gang Busters Charlie McCarthy The Quiz Kids Kate Smith Hour (Mom worshiped her and had all her records) Lux Radio Theater One Man’s Family (Mom’s favorite soap-opera) The Lone Ranger Adventures of Jack Armstrong (the all American boy)

In the Forties we attended the movies. In the Fifties it was television all the way. The McFarlands had the first TV in the neighborhood. It was a big console model, but had a small screen and, of course, it was black and white. It must have been around 1950 and I would have been about twelve years old. We went to their house everyday and watched Howdy Doody with Buffalo Bob Smith. I still remember the opening routine of the show. Bob Smith would shout out, “What time is it, kids?” The kids in the Peanut Gallery would answer in song:

“It’s Howdy Doody time. It’s Howdy Doody time. Bob Smith and Howdy, too, Say Howdy Do-o-o to you.”

Howdy Doody was a freckle-faced marionette dressed in cowboy clothes. Other characters in the show I remember were Clarabell The Clown and Princess Summerfall Winterspring. We got a TV shortly after the McFarlands. Daddy was very smitten with it and watched endlessly from his favorite chair. Today, he would probably be called a couch potato. We were never allowed to sit in his chair when he was home. Mom seldom watched TV. I can’t think what her favorite show might have been except for Arthur Godfrey. She also liked the game shows; What’s My Line, I’ve Got A Secret, and To Tell The Truth. Daddy and I both loved to watch Wrestling From Hollywood on TV. There was always a hero and a villain. Gorgeous George was one of the heroes in the Fifties. He had his hair permed and wore a long silk robe when he entered the ring. One of the villains was Mad Dog Vershon. He was short and stocky with hair all over his body. He was mean, fought dirty, and yelled at the TV camera. Verne Gagne was another “good guy.” He was clean cut, fought fairly and was the heavyweight champion. I think this form of wrestling is more entertainment than sports, but Barbara always says, “To this day, Carol believes it is real.”

Howdy Doody, Rin Tin Tin, Captain Kangaroo, Leave It To Beaver, Kukla, Fran and Ollie, Father Knows Best, The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet, Lassie, The Mickey Mouse Club with the Mouseketeers, and cartoons, cartoons and more cartoons.

Hopalong Cassidy, Zorro, Roy Rogers, Gene Autry, The Lone Ranger with Tonto, and the crime show Dragnet (“Just the facts, Ma’am.”)

Your Show of Shows with Sid Caesar and Imogene Coco, Jackie Gleason (“And, away we go!”) and Audrey Meadows in The Honeymooners, The Texaco Star Theater with Milton Berle as “Uncle Miltie”, George Burns and Grace Allen in Burns and Allen, I Love Lucy (my all-time favorite), The Red Skelton Show (Daddy laughed and laughed at Red Skeleton), Jack Benny, and Bob Hope.

$64,000.00 Question, Twenty One, Beat The Clock, What’s My Line? I’ve Got A Secret, To Tell The Truth (Mom liked these shows). The Quiz Kids and Groucho Marx in You Bet Your Life (one of Daddy’s favorites.)

The Today Show with Dave Garroway, The Ed Sullivan Show (“Tonight, we have a really big shew!”), Art Linkletter’s People are Funny, Your Hit Parade with Snooky Lanson (another of Daddy’s favorites), Arthur Godfrey (Mom’s favorite), The Lawrence Welk Show (“Ana one, Ana two…”)

I was very active in 4-H Club activities, even though we didn’t live on a farm. Our club was called the Peppy Steppers, and I belonged for many years, starting when I was nine years old. Our leaders were Mrs. Earl Holder and Mrs. Earl Bustard.

To Make the Best Better

I started cooking and sewing when I joined 4-H. Though I learned much about sewing and cooking through 4-H, Mom was there too, guiding and helping me every step of the way. I had my picture published in the newspaper many times for 4-H events I attended, and for sewing projects I completed. I entered food and clothing projects at the Rock Island County Fair many times over the years. Diana and I won a trip to the Illinois State Fair in Springfield for demonstrations we gave. Mine was on how to make perfect baking powder biscuits. Diana won for her demonstration on how to make coffee-cake. I practiced making biscuits over and over until the whole family was sick of them. I was even on WOC-TV giving my demonstration. I thought the ending of my demonstration was so cute and still remember it: “If you follow these instructions carefully, your biscuits won’t be as hard as the proverbial bride’s biscuits, which were as hard as stepping stones.” So Diana and I were off to the state fair, and oh, what fun we had. The best part was spending time at the midway. We rode the double Ferris wheel. We were scared to death, but we did it. Diana wanted to play the games where you throw darts at balloons or try to toss a plastic ring around a pop bottle. But I was the big sister and “knew” that all the midway games were rigged so I told her, “No.” One of the barkers heard me tell her this, called us over and handed her the biggest teddy bear he had.

I pledge my head to clear thinking, my heart to greater loyalty, my hands to larger service and my health to better living, for my club, my community, my country, and my world.

I also went to camp at White Eagle 4-H Camp with Dee and Eilene Peterson. Mom made all three of us halter tops to wear. It was rustic camping as I remember it. We slept in tents and ate in a communal dining room. There were latrines down a long path and into the woods. We swam in the river, made crafts and sang around a sunset campfire. We toasted marshmallows and made S’mores. It rained all week, but we didn’t care. I was also a Brownie, then a Girl Scout. Daddy drove me to Camp Shabone in Port Byron many summers. I guess you could say I was the “camper” in the family. Some of the camp songs I remember were: “Make new friends and keep the old, one is silver and the other is gold...”, “We’re on the upward trail, we’re on the upward trail, singing, singing, everybody singing, as we go...”, and Tell Me Why and Down in the Valley.

I started attending Sunday school at Calvary Lutheran Church at a very young age, maybe five or six. They had a Sunday school bus that came to our neighborhood and all the little kids would pile on. Oddly enough, not many of our parents attended church. Daddy never did attend church, but Mom joined Calvary when Dad passed away, and she and I attended every Sunday until she passed away. I belonged to Luther League, taught Sunday school, sang in the choir, and worked in the office preparing the Sunday bulletin and monthly newsletters. I belonged to the Women’s Group and served on the council; you name it, I did it. I was baptized and confirmed there May 16, 1954, when I was fifteen. I was married to Don Boney, my first husband there, and Chris was baptized and confirmed there, also. I belonged to Calvary for over fifty years, transferring to our current church in North Port, Florida in 1995.

The McFarlands—Virginia, Dale, Marilyn, and Patty—were our next door neighbors and closest friends. We played with Marilyn and Patty everyday and attended school with them through high school. Mom and Virginia were close from the beginning, helping each other cope with the trials and tribulations of daily living. Life was hard and money was scarce. They would visit back and forth and commiserate over a cup of coffee and a cigarette. Even though Virginia worked outside the home, she helped our family many, many times in many, many ways, for which we owe her a big debt of gratitude. She helped Mom with her housework and ironing and she helped take care of us kids. She baby-sat for us and we often spent the night at her house. Once she washed we girls’ hair outside using rainwater she had caught in a bucket. Mom and Virginia belonged to the same 500 Card Club for over forty years. The club was started in 1948, and they were charter members. The McFarlands moved into town in 1952, when I was about fourteen. Pat moved out of town when she got married, but Marilyn and I have remained close friends through the years. I loved Virginia as if she were my favorite aunt, so it was a very sad day when she passed away in 1996. Dale, her husband, passed away in 1994. Marilyn’s beloved husband, Bill, passed away in March of 1998.

1944 -1951 (First to Sixth Grade)

“School days, school days, dear old golden rule days, reading, and writing and ’rithmetic, talk to the tune of the hickory stick . . .” When I started Kindergarten in 1944, at Roosevelt Grade School in Moline, Mrs. Hogland, the mother of Erladine and Jean, picked us up in her station wagon and took us to school. She had improvised extra seating in the back of the car by placing a long board on two blocks of cement, and that’s where I sat. I wore skirts with straps and crisply starched blouses with puffy sleeves. I also wore pretty little cotton dresses with big bows that tied in the back. Mom made them all. I wore my hair in banana curls. Mom would roll my hair in strips of dampened cloth before I went to bed, and then she would brush my hair around her fingers to make ringlets every morning. I brought a small rug from home, and took a short nap on it at school. I made a handprint out of plaster of Paris, which I still have. I remember we played Drop the Handkerchief in kindergarten: A tisket, a tasket, A green and yellow basket. I wrote a letter to my love And on the way I dropped it. I dropped it once, I dropped it twice, I dropped it three times over.

While we sang, someone was “it” and skipped around the circle of people and dropped a handkerchief near someone. That person picked up the handkerchief and ran after the person who dropped the handkerchief. We also participated in the war effort during World War II. We had little Savings Bonds stamp books (I still have mine) and once a week the teacher would sell us as many stamps as our parents could afford. Each book held eighteen dollars and fifty cents worth of ten-cent stamps, which could be exchanged for a twenty-five dollar War Bond, redeemable in ten years. Another part of the war effort was rationing. Mom and Dad had little books of stamps regulating the amount of food and gas we could buy. Meat, coffee, sugar, and butter were some of the foods rationed. I was playing with Carolyn Reichenberg in her yard when it was announced on the radio that the war was over. Ruth and John (Carolyn’s parents) were sitting on chairs outside and tried to explain to us what had happened. We jumped up and down, clapping our hands and shouting, “The war is over, the war is over.” I was about six years old, but I remember this very clearly. It was August 15, 1945, and the war was officially over. In first and second grade I learned to read. Our first book was about Dick and Jane, Baby Sally, their dog, Spot, and their cat, Puff. I have scoured used bookstores for years trying to locate a copy of this book. I’ve been told it would cost a fortune if I did find one. I rode the school bus after kindergarten. The only thing I remember about third grade is that Marilyn, Bob, and I had our tonsils removed on the same day by Dr. George Cook. My fourth grade teacher was Mrs. Grafton. I just loved her and thought she was wonderful. She was young, pretty, and nice. I discovered boys in fourth grade. I learned to tell time and memorized my multiplication tables that year. I also started wearing glasses. We had a contest in fifth grade to see who could read the most books during the school year. I won, reading over sixty books and doing a written book report on every one. I also started reading comic books about this time. They were very popular, cheap to buy, and I entertained myself for hours reading them.

Donald Duck Wonder Woman Mickey Mouse Archie and Jughead Little Lulu Felix The Cat Popeye Spooky, The Ghost Batman Superman

To this day, reading a good novel is my favorite thing to do. My favorite books then were Little Women and The Five Little Peppers and How They Grew. I also read the Nancy Drew mystery stories. Bernie and Bob had copies of the Hardy Boys books and I read them, too.

I played Jacks endlessly in fifth grade and received a blue ribbon for one of the contests held at school. I still have it in the family scrapbook. This is how I remember playing Jacks: The basic Jacks game was onesies, twosies, threesies. Seated, the first player scatters the jacks on the floor or sidewalk. In onesies, the player picks up one jack at a time, with one toss, bounce and catch of the ball. After picking up all ten (one by one), we moved on to twosies. In this round we picked up the jacks two at a time and so on. When a player missed a jack or the ball, their turn was over, and the other player began. The first player to make it successfully through basic tensies won. Once a player had successfully completed basic Jacks through tensies, they went on to more difficult variations, again starting with onesies and proceeding through tensies. (You can see all of the Jacks variations we played in the Our Childhood Games section on page 427.)

Here’s everybody’s signature. What do you see in common and who’s is the most different? Bernie told me Dad’s name was spelled Floyde on his birth certificate. Was that a mistake, or did he change it? Owning a class autograph book was popular when I was in fifth and sixth grade. I still have mine tucked away with my other grade school memorabilia. Some of my family and friends wrote these verses in my autograph book.

I love you little Yours ’til the Mississippi I love you big wears rubber pants I love you like to keep her bottom dry! A little pig, Ha, Ha! —Iris —Marilyn McFarland

Roses are Red Roses are red Violets are Blue Violets are blue God made me beautiful Sugar is sweet What happened to you? And so are you —Bernie (I hope you are good) —Pudge (Dee)

Roses are Red Violets are Blue My pen is poor When I see a sweet pea My ink is pale I think of you I’m writing this —Eilene Peterson With a monkey’s tail —Lila Lambert

Carol, Carol in the tub When you get married Your mother forgot And have twins To put in the plug Don’t come to me Ha, Ha, Ha! For safety pins! —Carolyn Reichenberg —Diana

YOURS You R MY 2YsUR TILL 2 good 2YsUB IDK 2 B ICUR —Jean Hoglund 4 gotten 2Ys4ME —Sharon Carlson 4U —Bob —Barb RAH! RAH! RAH!

I was a cheerleader in the sixth grade. My cheerleading outfit had a very short blue satin circular skirt and a gold satin blouse with long sleeves, which Mom made. Being a cheerleader made me feel like I was part of the “in” crowd. I would give anything to have a picture of me in my cheerleading outfit. Here are two of our school cheers. It’s hard to believe I still remember them!

Coolidge Cheer:

Dribble that ball Blue and gold fight, fight Right down the floor Blue and Gold fight, fight Left side, right side Who fights? We don’t care We fight See that basket Blue and Gold Put it there Fight, fight!

Mrs. Shadle, the school nurse, checked us all periodically for ringworm. She used an ultraviolet lamp and parted our hair with toothpicks. She was probably checking for lice, also. When I would meet a teacher for the first time and tell her I was a “Guild”, she would reply, “Ah, another Guild, we can always tell them because they are scrubbed and starched within an inch of their lives.” There were very few disciplinary problems at school. We all feared teachers, the principal, and our parents, so we behaved. Since there was no cafeteria, we always brought a sack lunch from home or some kids went home to eat, if they lived close enough. Mom knew what each of us wanted in our lunches. She knew who wanted butter and who preferred mayo, who liked peanut butter and who would eat nothing but bologna. Oh, how she spoiled us all! When we got out to the kitchen each morning there would be six sacks, each with our name on it and ready to go. In order for us to occasionally have a hot lunch, the room mothers would cook up a huge batch of spaghetti, bring it to school and serve it from a big electric roaster.

1951 - 1954 (Seventh to Ninth Grade)

I often walked to Coolidge Junior High School. Sometimes I took the shortcut through the woods, which was a little scary. There was nothing but trees, quiet, and my imagination. On the way home I often stopped at King’s Apple Orchard for a taffy apple. Today the apple trees are gone, replaced by King’s Shopping Center. As far as academics were concerned, it was pretty uneventful in my case. I took the usual subjects. Seventh and Eighth Grade: English, Speech, Arithmetic, History, Geography, Science, Home Economics, Music, Gym, and Art. Ninth Grade: Journalism, Math, Civics, GBT (General Business), Choir, Health, Gym, and Dramatics. I got good grades (A’s and a few B’s) without studying very hard. I was the teacher’s pet in seventh grade Home Economics. My teacher was Mrs. McManus and she really liked me for some reason. Daddy sold her bushels of apples to use in her cooking classes. I had lots of friends and we had slumber parties, and put our hair up in pin curls fastened with bobby-pins. We bought 78 RPM and 45 RPM records and danced to a jukebox at the sock hops held in the school recreation room. These records were later replaced by 33 RPM records. When we purchased records at the record shop, we could go into little enclosed soundproof booths and listen to the records before we bought them. I knew all the words to all my favorite songs, and played my records until they were worn out. I purchased my first pair of nylons in seventh grade for my first dance. They had seams in the back and it was a real challenge to put them on straight. They were held up with a garter belt. I went to football and basketball games and played intramural sports after school.

1954 - 1957 (Tenth to Twelfth Grade)

Bob drove us girls to high school in his car. We would pick up his girlfriend, Sue Warner, on the way. (Sue later became his wife.) I always liked Sue and we were always friends. After she married Bob, I grew to love her like another sister. She was our only sister-in- law, but she blended perfectly with all of us. Sadly, Sue passed away on my birthday, in 1996. I’ll always remember her zest for life, bubbly smile and her good heartedness. After school we would walk down the hill to the A&P Store where Daddy would be waiting to take us home. He would call Mom and ask her what groceries she needed before heading home. I didn’t worry about my grades. A’s and B’s were good enough for me. I had no particular interest in trying for all A’s. Some of the classes I took were: English, History, Biology, Literature, Spanish, Geometry, Government and an array of business courses, including shorthand and typing. One of the things I did enjoy was going to the library to do research for a term paper. I liked searching for details. Bernie drew all the covers for my papers. I would ask him to just quickly sketch on the title for me, but he would always take his time and draw a beautiful cover. I usually got A’s, A+’s and once an A++. I knew the beautiful covers helped my grade. I was a member of the Future Nurses Club, Civic Club, Home Economics Club and Spanish Club. I thought I wanted to be a Nurse, but Mom and Dad just didn’t have the money. I don’t remember being that disappointed. I really don’t think I knew what I wanted to do at sixteen, seventeen or eighteen years old. But, in retrospect, I’m glad I’m not a nurse. When I was in high school the worse discipline problems were: 1. Talking in class, 2. Running in the hall, 3. Chewing gum. 4. Passing notes. Smoking was a big no-no, but a few kids did try to sneak a smoke. As a teenager I did everything possible to dress and act like everyone else. I certainly didn’t want to appear “square.” We wore blue jeans with the legs rolled up to our calves and white long-sleeved shirts. We wore full-circle skirts (I made all of mine) with crinolines under them that were stiff enough to stand up on their own. Some of these full skirts had poodles appliquéd on them and became one of the trademarks of Fifties teenage dress—the Poodle Skirt was born. To complete this outfit, we wore white blouses with the collars turned up and a cinch belt at the waist. We also wore matching skirts and sweaters with detachable white collars or small square scarves tied in a square knot around our neck. We wore white bobby socks and saddle shoes or penny loafers. Barb and Diana loved to wear my clothes to school and would sneak them when I wasn’t looking. I didn’t realize they were doing it for a long time. But I finally noticed that there were wrinkles around the waistband of my skirts where they rolled them up to make the skirts shorter. The Clothes Snatchers were caught! Some of the guys wore their hair slicked back in a “duck tail.” They wore v-neck sweaters over plaid shirts, jeans and plain cotton pants. Their shoes were white bucks and penny loafers. Most of the guys had crew cuts. ROCK ‘N ROLL

We loved our records and plugged nickel after nickel into jukeboxes playing our favorites. We listened to the Top 40 on the radio religiously.

Elvis Presley, of course. Rock and Roll started in the 50’s and he was The King. Parents didn’t like him because he swiveled his hips while he sang, but he was every teenager’s idol. I liked his Heartbreak Hotel, Don’t Be Cruel, Hound Dog, All Shook Up, and Jailhouse Rock. Tab Hunter—Young Love. Everly Brothers—Bye, Bye Love Paul Anka—Put Your Head On My Shoulder. Debbie Reynolds—Tammy. Pat Boone—Love Letters In The Sand. Bobby Darin—Dream Lover, Mack The Knife. Neil Sedaka—Oh! Carol (This was a hit after I graduated from high school. Since my name is in the title, it was always a favorite. In fact, it is the only 45 rpm record I still own.)

I don’t recall going to the movies very often in high school, but these were some of my favorite stars:

Elizabeth Taylor Jane Russell John Payne John Wayne Susan Hayworth Lauren Bacall Marilyn Monroe Doris Day Betty Grable Jimmy Stewart Ginger Rogers Bob Hope Rita Hayworth Audrey Hepburn W. C. Fields Grace Kelly Barbara Stanwick Claudette Colbert Humphrey Bogart Tony Curtis Jeff Chandler James Cagney Roy Rogers Gene Autrey

I also liked Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis, Abbott and Costello, and Johnny Weismuller as Tarzan. I just loved any movie with Esther Williams. I remember how she would have her hair wrapped around her head with flowers woven into it. Her movies had a lot of synchronized swimming and underwater extravaganzas, which I thought were beautiful.

I took Driver’s Education in tenth grade. Out of a class of about fifteen, only four of us survived to finish and get our permits. The driving teachers were also the Industrial Arts instructors and as mean as they came when teaching us to drive. They would kick out two or three kids each week. My right leg would shake so hard when we practiced parallel parking, I don’t know how I survived. Daddy didn’t want us to get our driver’s licenses because he didn’t want us to drive his car. He said he needed it for work and we couldn’t afford to get a second one or to get his fixed if we had a wreck. I didn’t get my licenses until after I had graduated and gotten a job. I lived with Iris and Bill and saved all my earnings for three months and then Daddy helped me find a car. It was a green 1948 Chevy and cost three hundred dollars. My first car. I was in heaven! I used this car to get my driver’s license. My sisters drove this car for years also. We loved cruising around town with a carload of our friends. I think gas cost about twenty-five cents a gallon then. In the end we were driving the car without one of the gears, but we didn’t care! It was our ticket to freedom!

My good friend Lila Lambert (now Becker) and I did almost everything together from grade school through high school. We attended the same church and belonged to Luther League, the youth program at church. We are still dear friends today. We attended all the high school football and basketball games on Friday night together. Our team was called the Moline Maroons. There was a fierce rivalry between Moline, East Moline, and Rock Island. Our home football games were at Browning Field and our home basketball games were at Wharton Field House. Wharton Field House had a very large seating capacity, but basketball was so popular someone had to die in order to buy a reserved seat.

We are Moliners. We’re from Moline. Our team’s the finest you’ve ever seen. Tra-la-la. You do your best boys, We’ll do the rest boys. Fight now for old Moline! Rah, Rah! Rah, Rah, Rah! Team, Team, Team!

We would use Lila’s dad’s pick-up truck and go to the pep rallies and football games. After the games we would load the back of the truck with our friends and head for a chocolate marshmallow malt at Iowanna Dairy in Davenport.

Drive-in movies were very popular. In the beginning the staff would wash your front window before the movie started. They had what they called “Buck Night.” It cost just a dollar for as many people as your could cram into your car. One time we put a couple of our friends in the trunk because the front of the car was full! I tried smoking a cigarette for the first time while at a drive-in. Sharon Carlson, another lifetime friend, brought a pack with her and we all lit up and took a puff. Ugh! It was awful! None of us liked it and none of us ever smoked. My family also loved drive-in movies. We would make lots of buttered popcorn at home to take with us and put it in Mom’s blue enamel roasting pan. Sometimes we wore our pajamas there.

I had my first boyfriend at seventeen. His name was John Clyde and he was the first boy I ever kissed. I wore his class ring around my neck. He was a neighbor, a member of my church and I had known him my entire life. I had my first taste of a pizza while on a date with him. It was at Mama Bosso’s, downtown Moline, the year was 1956.

I did my share of baby-sitting to make spending money in junior high and high school. I baby-sat for neighbors and friends of Mom and Dad, but mostly, I baby-sat for Iris and Bill. In the summer I would move into their house and become a “mother’s helper” while their children were on summer vacation. They always invited me to go on vacation with them to their summer cottage in Wisconsin. I just loved this. I don’t remember doing that much baby-sitting, just having lots of fun boating, swimming, and fishing. Iris and Bill were really good to me, and I’ll always remember their kindness and the special things they have done for me through the years. Their son, Jeffrey, passed away July 7, 1987. I loved Jeff so much. He had a great sense of humor. Whenever he would greet me, he would give me a big bear hug and teasingly call me “Auntie Carol Mae.” I had my first part-time job between my junior and senior years in high school. I was a carhop at the Tasty Treat drive-in on 36th street and Blackhawk Road in Rock Island. Root Beer, hamburgers, and malts were the main fare. Mrs. Mary Poston, our next door neighbor at the time, owned and operated the drive-in. She cooked the food and I delivered it on trays that hooked to the car windows. She hired me, Dee, and Marilyn McFarland and we made about seventy dollars plus tips that summer. I still have my check stubs to prove it. Mrs. Poston also owned the Hasty Tasty Restaurant on 16th Street in Moline. Barb worked there as a dishwasher on the second shift. She got home around one-thirty in the morning and was always scared to death prowling around the house at that hour. She always said, “Don’t worry Carol, I’m saving you from all the Peeping Toms in the neighborhood.”

It seems to me that a school should be forever. Just to pass by your school gives you a feeling of belonging. I feel sad that my high school is now an architectural firm, and no longer a school. But somehow, in my heart it is still my school; the memories are still there. I find myself driving by it whenever I return to Moline. I timidly entered its doors in the fall of 1954 and boldly emerged, diploma in hand, in 1957. I still have the gold tassel I got to wear on my graduation cap because I was in the top fourth of my class. The new Moline High School was completed in 1958. Ironically, it was located so close to where I grew up I could have walked to school each day.

(AFTER IT WAS FINISHED) THAT BERNIE SAID THERE JUST WASN’T ENOUGH ROOM FOR

BACK THEN… Mom reading the funnies to us. Indian burns. DeKalb Hybrid cornfield signs. Noogies. Wedgies. “Say uncle.” “You creep.” Red Ryder cock- lever BB guns and round BB boxes. Ice cream we made in ice-cube trays from a powder. Fly paper. Comb and waxed-paper harmonicas. Lucky toothpick in the cake. Sugar sandwiches. Apple dumplings. Silver pennies. Flat tops. Butch Wax. Sock Hops. Studebaker—Dad said, “It looks like a two-row corn picker!” Cigar band rings. Bob’s Davy Crockett hat. Bernie’s stilts. Dixie Cups. Grape pop. Sadie Hawkins Dance. Peddle Pushers. Duck-tail hair. “Brylcreem—a little dab’ll do ya.” Zoot suit, pegged pants, and a long key chain. Ally Opp. Sen-Sen. Duncan Yo-yos. James Dean. The Senior Prom. Fall Homecoming. “I’ve got a date with Judy, a big date with Judy. Oh, jeepers and gee!” Rock ’n Roll. Tootie Fruitie and Little Richard. Cracker Jack prizes when they were good. The Boogie Man. Kool-Aid popsicles. Red M&Ms when they were poison. Getting your tonsils out. Polio vaccine. Quarantines. Air Raid drills. Ringworm and silk stocking caps on our brothers’ heads. Charm caps. Cigarette Loads. Hand buzzers. Plastic puke. Secret Decoder Rings. S&H Green Stamps. 41st Street. 23rd Avenue. 15th Street Hill. Selling seeds door to door. Clover Salve. Dairy Queen. Rootbeer stands. Speigel catalog. Cinch belts. Mandrin collar shirts. Crinolines. Everybody’s mom always being at home. Waiting for the TV to warm up. “You’re a Dirty Bird!” “Don’t be a Fink.” Double dip. Black Cows. Banana splits. Steering wheel spinners. Car seat covers. Lyceum programs. Flunking a grade. Heel or toe taps, Streamers on a string with a rubber band harp that made it hum. Walnettos. M-80s. Ladyfingers. Whirligigs. Rural Route #2. Cowboy and Indian movies. Igpey Atinlay. Buzz bombs. Buzz cuts. Hula Hoops. Bike sirens. Cooties Catchers. Ovaltine. Mom’s aprons. Cocoa Wheat. Poached eggs and strips of buttered white bread to dip. Tilt-a- Whirl. Royal American Shows. Charles Atlas Course. Red Ryder and Lil’ Injun. “Only the Shadow knows.” Going steady. Class rings. Archie, Jughead, Veronica, and Betty. White Bucks. Blue suede shoes. Knock, knock jokes. “Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men? The Shadow knows.” The Green Hornet and Kato. The William Tell Overture, and The Lone Ranger’s, “Come with us now to the thrilling days of yester-year, when out of the past came the Lone Ranger and his great horse Silver. Hi-yo Silver, away!”

Mom and Dad met on a blind date arranged by Mary Hill, a close family friend. She asked Mom, “Would you like to meet a really neat guy?” Ethel and Floyd went roller-skating on their first date. They were married in Moline, Illinois on November 6, 1928. Elva and Frank Melton stood up with them. Frank Melton and Dad worked together at John Deere Plow Works and were good friends. Elva and Frank and their four children were close family friends through the years. Elva told me years after Mom and Dad died that they didn’t go on a honeymoon, but the four of them went out for dinner and a movie after Mom and Dad got married. Mom was a stay-at-home mom and ran the inside of the house. She managed the cleaning, cooking, sewing, painting and caring for the children. She didn’t consult Dad about colors for painting, what to cook for supper or how to care for the children. She just made the decisions and did the work. Dad brought home the paycheck and ran the outside of the house. He took care of the garden, yard, car, repairs, and building projects, and seldom consulted Mom. Life was no bed of roses in the Forties. Mom and Dad worked very, very hard every minute of every day. That’s what people did in those days. I used to kid Mom in later years saying, “Mom, why didn’t you just run away?” Her simple reply, “Where would I have gone?” They were always there for our neighbors, helping whenever they could. Eilene Peterson told me Dad would help her start the mower after her parents passed away and Mom helped her with 4-H sewing projects. Our parents promoted a solid sense of family values long before the term became popular. They didn’t talk about family values such as honesty, integrity, and duty, but they lived them every day of their lives. Mom and Dad raised kids that today not only love one another, but are good to one another. What better legacy could your parents leave? WHOSE DEAL?

Mom and Dad played a lot of cards. They liked: Poker, Pinochle, Euchre, 500 Rummy. Also Dad played a lot of Cribbage with Grandpa. In the early years, they played poker every Friday night with our neighbors, the McFarlands, Nickelsons, Vergaines, and others. They played Pinochle with Art and Eilene Cordingly and Ruth and John Reichenberg. After Daddy died, Mom played cards with Florence Britz almost every night.

DON’T FORGET TO VOTE

Mom and Dad were strong Democrats all their lives. Franklin D. Roosevelt and Harry S. Truman were their idols. They listened to Roosevelt’s Fireside Chats on the radio and had confidence we would win the war. Mom cried when he died in April of 1945, just before the war ended. For one full minute all radio transmissions stopped in the entire United States as a tribute to him. We had a picture of him hanging on the wall in the living room for years. Mom worked on election day by phoning people to arrange rides to the polling places and reminding them to go and vote. She worked with Virginia McFarland and Mrs. Welander, mother of Pat and Lois. She was always up on all the candidates and knew the issues and never failed to vote.

Mom and Dad loved to dance in the early years of their marriage. When Daddy was single and first came to Moline, he joined the Turner’s Club so he could work out in their gym. He became a tumbler and was in a Minstrel show held there. He also joined because they held dances there, and it was a good place to meet girls. He took Mom to many dances there over the years. MOM

Mom was born Ethel Kathrine Williams on January 28, 1911, to Edward and Agnes Williams in Newburg, (north of Minot) North Dakota. Mom never had a copy of her birth certificate and the official records were burned in a fire. So when she needed a passport to go to Germany and visit me, she went on a search for her baptismal records. She located the church where she was baptized and that record stated that her middle name was spelled Kathrine. I have seen several variations through the years, but my birth certificate spells it Kathryn. Her father’s first name was listed as Edwin (not Edward as we have always believed). Since Grandpa Williams changed his complete name as a young man, there is no way to know which name he actually gave himself. Her birth-date was actually 1911, not 1909 as she always believed. Her grave marker was engraved with her statistics at the time of Daddy’s death, before she knew of this error. It will forever be incorrect, but Mom was happy to know she was two years younger than she thought. Mom was what we would call today a “stay-at-home” mom. She never held an outside job after she had her first baby and she never learned to drive. She had boundless energy, was devoted to her family, and worked as hard as was necessary every day to provide for us. She nurtured us, supported us, and guided us. She did it all!

She was the glue that held our family together. She was patient, had a quiet manner, and remained calm no matter what the situation. She was a very private person and held her emotions in. She was warm, kind, and never spoke ill of anyone. She never complained, even though she probably had plenty to complain about. She never had a vacation or even a day off when we were growing up. She was seldom ill. She loved to read a good novel. Her favorite book was The Thorn Birds. She loved her Pepsi. She was an impeccable dresser, from her hair to her clothes to her accessories. She had style and good taste. Every Tuesday Mom was “Queen for a Day.” This was Dee’s day off and she devoted it to Mom. She would shampoo and set Mom’s hair, take her to lunch, and then they would shop and run Mom’s errands. One of the highlights of Mom’s life was coming to visit me and Charlie and Chris when we lived in Germany. She was there three months and what a wonderful time we had. Bernie also came to visit us while Mom was with us and we all traveled throughout Germany, Denmark, and Holland. Some of her favorite places we visited were Anne Frank’s house and hideaway in Amsterdam. The art museums such as the Rijksmuseum where Rembrandt’s Night Watch hangs, Tivoli Gardens, where Chris, then ten, got lost, The Little Mermaid statue in Copenhagen and Hans Christian Andersen’s home and the Museum in Odense, Denmark.

I would certainly be remiss (and in the doghouse with my sisters) if I didn’t write about the wild 500 card games we have had through the years. Whenever we were all home for holidays we always had as many card games as we could squeeze in. We would scurry around the house improvising prizes. No fun to play without prizes! We would have such fun laughing, giggling and carrying on! Mom would always say, “Now, you girls settle down and play cards.” I’ll never forget—and I know my sisters will never forget—the time we stacked the cards and gave Mom a perfect 500 hand. We had planned to tell her the little trick we played on her, but she was so excited about her perfect hand we didn’t have the heart to tell her.

One of my most lasting and enduring and favorite memories of Mom is of her sitting at the kitchen table every morning crocheting. There was a period of time every day, between Daddy leaving for work and us kids getting up for school that Mom used for crocheting. She made hundreds of doilies, potholders, tablecloths, bedspreads, lace for the edges of pillowcases, and on and on. As I got out of bed each morning, I always peeked out into the kitchen to see Mom quietly sitting at the table crocheting. When we were small, I think crocheting was Mom’s way of relaxing a little and readying herself for coping with the coming day. In later years, I think her craft-making and sewing were ways to express her creativity and provided a way of doing something productive. If she felt down or lonely or if she needed to fill an empty spot in the day, she would get busy and create something she could feel proud of. Everything she made was an original design and a thing of beauty. Each Christmas ornament she made was different. She could take a white Styrofoam ball, cover it with a piece of colorful velvet, add sequins, pearls, old jewelry, and a bit of braid and create a masterpiece. I have every ornament she ever made for me. I won’t even part with the ones that are old and faded and fallen apart. They are each a part of my mother. She didn’t just churn out her crafts assembly-line-style. Each one had to be pleasing to her and pass her high personal set of standards. She not only crocheted and made Christmas ornaments, but she also created beautiful wall hangings and wreaths from pinecones and other natural materials. She made painted bread dough figures with Diana. I still have an Amish man and woman that she created to match the wallpaper in my kitchen. These few words don’t begin to do justice to her creativity. She truly had a God-given talent. Mom had been having severe abdominal pain for a couple of years before she passed away. She had many tests and x-rays, but the doctors just couldn’t pinpoint what was wrong with her. In April, 1988 she decided to visit Diana and Lee in Florida. She loved going there. Diana and Lee knew how to get her to relax and really have fun. Diana took a picture of Mom riding her exercise bike that I just love. Mom has on a sweatsuit and headband and is laughing so hard. We were all saddened when Lee passed away on Mom’s birthday on January 28, 1996. He was one of those soft-spoken Southern guys with sparkling eyes and a big smile, and I loved him a lot. On this particular April visit, they took Mom on a fabulous cruise, but her pain persisted. Diana was determined to take her from doctor to doctor until the cause of her pain was found. Finally, one of these new doctors took an x-ray from a slightly different angle than the others and found a large ovarian cyst wrapped around some blood vessels. She had a complete hysterectomy and no cancer was found. We were all so thankful; even the doctors thought it was a miracle there was no cancer. Unfortunately, she just couldn’t rally back from the surgery and passed away from heart failure at age seventy-seven, April 22, 1988, in Coral Springs, Florida. As Mom lay dying, I would often just stand by her bedside. She couldn’t talk because she was on a respirator, but would reach out and tenderly caress my hand and I would caress hers back. The love and comfort I felt from this simple act is something I will forever remember and cherish. I pray it also brought her peace. Mom is buried next to Daddy at Riverside Cemetery in Moline, Illinois. When I go back home and kneel by her grave I know that her legacy to me is “A love taught,given, and shared.”

DAD

Dad was born Floyd Raymond Guild on December 15, 1904, in St. Mathias, Minnesota, County of Crow Wing, to Dan W. Guild and Olive A. Wooster. (Some family documents state he was born in Fort Ripley, Minnesota. In any case, both towns are near Brainerd, Minnesota where most family members have always said he was from anyway.) He had ten brothers and sisters. (Some were half-brothers and sisters as his father was married twice.) He worked at John Deere Plow Works in Moline for thirty-nine years, and retired in 1965. He held a number of positions at the plant, but was a hot press operator on the plow share line when he retired. They called him “Casey” at work. He arrived at work a half-hour early everyday so he could get the same parking space close to the building where he worked. Mom packed his lunch in a black lunch bucket with a thermos. He would take six sandwiches, and eat three at his break and three at lunch. He loved to take fried egg sandwiches. Daddy’s whole life was devoted to his family and providing for us. There wasn’t much recreation for him. Life was tough for a man whose entire being was consumed by the daily demands of work and worrying about providing for such a large family. I’m happy I wrote my memories down, for I now feel connected to Daddy in a new, loving way and appreciate, for the first time, how really hard he did work to provide for us. Daddy was a horse trader. He had a good friend, Hugh Chase, and they were always trading things back and forth. If he needed a tool or other equipment he would trade for it. Once he needed a chain saw to cut down a tree in the front yard. He traded something for a broken one, fixed it, used it to cut down the tree and then resold it at a profit. Oh, how he boasted about that deal. I talked to Herb Spahn, another of Daddy’s friends, on a recent trip home and he told me what a good inventor Dad was. He could make anything he needed. One of his inventions was a riding-sprayer to spray the fruit trees in our orchard. (What has all that DDT he used to spray done to our respiratory systems?) He also made a motorized plow to plow our garden. Herb said he helped all the neighbors plow their fields with it, and was very proud of it. Another anecdote Herb relayed to me was about one of the times when several of the neighborhood guys were going to our house to see something Daddy had made. As they entered our yard Daddy said, “Now, no cussin’ you guys, I’ve got five girls here.” He was always very protective of us. Daddy was also mechanically minded—a jack-of-all-trades. If something was broken and needed repairing, he could actually make the parts needed to fix it. He had all the hand and power tools necessary to do both metal and woodworking. He kept our old cars running, did the electrical work and any plumbing that needed to be done. He was a superb carpenter. We never hired anyone to do anything. Daddy did it all. He was also an excellent carver. He carved shotgun handles out of walnut and finished the wood by staining it with homemade stain he made from walnut husks. He was very familiar with walnut and its unique characteristics as his father owned and operated a commercial walnut grove. Daddy’s three sisters from Brainerd, Minnesota, came to visit us one summer. Their names were Edith Larson, Myrtle Dilly, and Gertrude Jones. Now, you have to remember we didn’t visit back and forth with our relatives very often in the Forties. With seven kids you just didn’t go traveling much, so I had never met them before. As I recall, they seemed eccentric and outspoken and their dress was what I would call outlandish. Daddy told us all to be very careful what we said and did while they were visiting because he thought they would think we were rich and they would want to stay with us forever. (Believe me, we were not rich, so just what must their circumstances in Minnesota have been!) They were the only relatives of Dad’s I met except for Uncle Clarence, his wife, Francis, and their five children. They came to visit a few times in the years just before Daddy got sick and passed away. I did get to know them pretty well. Cigarettes were hard to come by during World War II. Most of them were shipped overseas to the GI’s. But there was plenty of loose-cut tobacco so everyone rolled their own cigarettes. I can still picture Dad putting tobacco on thin cigarette paper, rolling it all together, twisting the ends and lighting up. At one time, Daddy had a little machine that rolled the cigarettes. We were delighted when Daddy blew smoke rings for us. (Little was known then about the dangers of smoking.) In later years, he quit smoking, but chewed tobacco. I can still see him spitting! Daddy would take Bernie and Bobby hunting for rabbits and squirrels for us to eat. They would bring them home, nail them to a post in the backyard and skin them. It was very impressive to a small child. He had a shed in the backyard where he retreated most evenings. He had a workbench, lots of tools, a radio, and a heater to keep himself warm in the winter. We used this shed to play house in after he moved his workshop into the new garage.

Didn’t want Mom to wear shorts or slacks. Loved Spam, headcheese, hardtack, pickled pigs feet, and the liver and gizzard of the chicken. Didn’t like milk. Mom would be sure he was out of the kitchen when she made gravy and macaroni and cheese, or anything with milk. Made us use Sayman Salve on all our sores, cuts and bruises. Told us to stay out of the sun or we’d get cancer. (This was way, way before anyone knew this was true.) Held onto money. Made all the money decisions. Told us not to chew so much bubble gum, that it would stick to our intestines if we swallowed it. Kept canaries. Bought a motor scooter to ride around the neighborhood. Slept in his chair while watching TV. He always had one finger over his nose and his thumb under his chin as he slept. Loved to roam the neighborhood talking to his friends. Mom would send us kids out to find him at dinnertime. Daddy had a stroke on Christmas Eve, 1967. We didn’t know how seriously ill he was so we all went to Iris and Bill’s for the holiday. Mom stayed home with Daddy. Mom called Iris later that evening and said Daddy was worse, so Lee and Bob took him to the hospital. He stayed there two weeks, but the stroke had left him in a very agitated state, and the hospital said we had to find another place for him to stay. They suggested St. Anthony’s Hospital in Rock Island, but one look and we knew that was the wrong place. All the patients were smoking and Daddy was having a difficult time breathing. Mom decided she could care for him at home. All of us girls came to help when we could and Virginia came everyday, but it was just too exhausting to care for him day and night. We finally had to take him to East Moline State Hospital. He didn’t really belong there, but there didn’t seem to be a facility that would take him. He passed away at age sixty-three on May 23, 1968 with Mom and all of us kids around him. He is buried next to Mom at Riverside Cemetery, in Moline, Illinois.

My first full-time job after graduating from Moline High was at the Augustana Book Concern in Rock Island. Vendla Solmonson, a good friend from church, got me a job in her department handling the subscriptions for Sunday School lesson material for all the Lutheran churches in the United States. I made a dollar an hour to start with and stayed until December 1966, a month before Chris was born. Eilene Peterson, a very close friend of mine, also worked at the book concern, so we rode to work together every day. I’ve known Eilene since we were pre-schoolers. She lived behind our orchard and, as kids, we ran back and forth between our properties to play everyday. We’ve managed to keep in touch and stay close to each other throughout the years and get together whenever we can. She and her parents, Oscar and Jeannette, and her brothers, Melbert and Bill, were good neighbors and close friends of our entire family. I married Donald M. Boney on July 3, 1965, when I was twenty-six. Chris was born January 27, 1967. I always thought that to have a child was a very precious gift. Chris is, and always has been, the sunshine of my life. He makes each of my days on earth special just by being who he is: kind, sensitive, successful, loyal friend, creative, and loving. He has enriched my life in more ways than I can count and has always made Charlie and me proud. I divorced Don in 1972 after seven years of marriage. I was thirty-three and Chris was five. Don passed away on June 13, 1988, after battling cancer for many years. He was always a good father and supported Chris in all his endeavors. Chris can always be proud of his Dad’s accomplishments. While Don was serving as a Navy Corpsman during World War II, he was awarded the Purple Heart in 1944 for injuries he received during the Invasion of Iwo Jima. He also received the Silver Star while serving as a Navy Corpsman during the Korean War. Chris and I moved in with Mom after his father and I divorced. I worked at the Moline Daily Dispatch newspaper and at Franciscan Hospital before starting at the Rock Island Arsenal in 1973. I worked for the Department of Defense, first as a secretary, and later as a budget analyst. This is where I met Charlie. I was his secretary, but didn’t get to know him on a personal level until we both attended a dinner-dance in January of 1975. We sat next to each other and he asked me to dance. It was instant love and we’ve been together ever since. We were married in Berne, Switzerland on April 30, 1976, and spent two years overseas.

Charlie was born April 21, 1931, in Troy, Kansas. He was the oldest of six children. His mother’s maiden name was Grace Earhart. She was a first cousin to Amelia Earhart, the famous woman pilot who disappeared on the last leg of her around-the-world flight in 1937. Charlie’s grandfather and Amelia Earhart’s father were brothers. Charlie graduated from high school in 1949, immediately joined the service, and spent the next four years in the Air Force (one year of which was spent in Korea). Using the GI Bill, he enrolled at the University of Kansas in Lawrence and graduated in 1959 with a degree in geology. He spent twenty-seven years working for the Department of Defense as an ammunition inspector, and retired in 1986.

If I could save time in a bottle, it would be the time we were living in Germany. Without a doubt, it was the happiest time of my life. We lived in a small town nestled in the Rhine River Valley called Ingelheim, near Mainz, Germany. I worked as a secretary for the commander of a Nike Hercules Missile Battalion, which was right next door to the 28th Ordnance Company where Charlie worked. Chris attended Mainz American Community School, learned German, played soccer and football and also learned to ski. Just a few fun times I remember during out years in Germany: Skiing in Garmisch. Visiting King Ludwig’s castles. Attending the Fasching (Pre- Easter celebration) Parade in Mainz. Many, many Wine Fests. The Farmer’s Markets every weekend. Vacations to Denmark, Austria, Holland, Luxenbourg and Switzerland. Visits and touring with Mom and Bernie. After we left Germany in July of 1978, we were assigned to the 31st ADA Brigade at Homestead Air Force Base in Florida where we both worked. But it was to be a short stay. We returned to Moline in September of 1979 and both resumed our careers at the Rock Island Arsenal.

I wanted Chris to attend the same schools in Moline that I had attended, so it was imperative that we locate a home in the Coolidge Junior High School district. Little did we know that my determination to have Chris go to Coolidge would turn out to be a decision that shaped Chris’ friendships for the rest of his life. As it turned out, our little house at 2525 11th Avenue would be situated within two or three houses in three different directions of three young men that Chris would soon befriend and keep in contact with into adulthood. He grew up playing soccer, basketball, and wiffleball in whatever backyard was available. After learning soccer on the playgrounds of Germany, Chris promptly joined the Moline Soccer Club and played, ate, and breathed soccer every waking moment until he was eighteen. The highlight of his soccer career was when he kicked the fourth longest field goal in Quad-City football history (twenty-three yards) while playing for the Coolidge Chiefs undefeated football team in 7th grade. Remember, this was in the age when soccer-style kicking in American football was still a novelty, and to watch my thirteen year-old son blasting soccer-style kick-offs into the end zone was thrilling. Charlie and I were so proud of him that day. He also had the historical opportunity to not only play on, but also be the captain of the first soccer team ever established at Moline Senior High School during his senior year, 1985. As Chris headed off to Northern Illinois University in DeKalb, his interest in soccer started to wane and his fascination for rock stars and loud, hard music flourished. “If the burn-outs in high school can play the guitar, so can I,” he said. He spent months growing his hair to a respectable, heavy metal length, practiced his guitar, and joined a college band. After playing his first show ever in front of three hundred people, he understood what the allure of super-stardom was all about. He was hooked. Between jam sessions, Chris received a Bachelor’s degree in English along with minors in music and sociology. And he did it all in four short years, graduating in 1989. Chris is not one to sit idly, but must have three or four projects brewing at all times. Besides holding down a full-time job, he loves to write music. He released his first full-length CD, Where Have I Been All My Life. In July of 1997, he started SMEC (Slow Moving Earth Creature), his own record company. He put together an Easter Seals Benefit CD featuring Quad-city musicians and bands, and he also helps struggling young bands. He works as a free-lance writer doing music reviews and feature articles for two Chicago music newspapers. Chris compiled the Guild Family Recipes Remembered cookbook, which captures all of Mom’s delicious recipes as remembered by her adoring family. It was presented at the Guild Family Reunion held July 10, 1999, at Bob’s house on the Rock River in Janesville, Wisconsin.

NOW

I retired from the Rock Island Arsenal in October, 1993, and we moved to Florida in July of 1995 to enjoy what we call “Phase Two” of our lives. We now live in a cozy home in a nice small town called North Port located on the western coast. We have made many new friends and enjoy the slower pace of retirement and the Florida sunshine. Much of our life here centers around church and our church friends. I now have more time to enjoy my hobbies. I still love to read and have learned to play the keyboard. I enjoy making Christmas ornaments like Mom made, and I also make Christmas ornaments from seashells. I have a large swan collection that’s still growing. Charlie gave me the first three on our first three anniversaries. After that, the family and friends started giving swans to me, and today I have over one hundred, one more beautiful than the next.

Charlie has two daughters from a previous marriage, Megan and Paige. Megan is married and she and her husband Ron have four children, one daughter Ellie and three sons, Mitchell, Scott and Troy. Paige is currently divorced and has a daughter named Anna. I adore my grandchildren. They are pure joy, enchanting and fun to be with. I want to watch them grow up and be there to inspire them in whatever they choose to do in life. I want them to feel loved and just a little spoiled. Some of my happiest moments have been spent with my grandchildren. Already they have taught me a lot about laughter, curiosity, and wonderment. They have forced me to listen more carefully and be more patient. I hope my gift to my grandchildren can be to be there to encourage them to try new things, to take risks, and to explore life.

The pictures in this folio forever capture each member of our family on a wonderful day together in time. I was the photographer, so although my picture wasn’t taken that day in a very personal way I am recorded, too. It all started when I borrowed a Leica camera from a professional photographer to take some pictures of my new place in San Francisco. It had this fantastic German lens that took really clear, razor-sharp pictures. On a whim, I brought it home to Moline with me at Christmas. In a fit of art direction, I suppose, I tacked up a piece of funky orange and green fabric in the girls’ bedroom, posed everyone against it, and snapped their picture. I’ve included a picture of myself taken by Jerry Edlund, a high school chum, from that same trip home to complete the family photo folio. Study these images. I think you’ll agree that a great deal, if not all, of everyone’s personality is pretty clearly revealed. Later that day we celebrated Carol’s 23rd birthday. And hey, kids, I think we all never looked better. —Bernie

Our ages that day: Barbara - 16 Diana - 19 Delores - 21 Carol - 23 (that very day) Bob - 24 Bernie - 25 Iris - 31 Dad - 57 Mom - 50