Dee's Chapter

The third daughter. The fifth child.

ON NOVEMBER FIRST, NINETEEN FORTY, at Moline Public Hospital, Ethel and Floyd Guild gave birth to a baby girl and their fifth child of seven. I weighed a little over seven pounds. My mom named me Delores Ann despite my dad’s desire to name all the children after his brothers and sisters. Grampa Williams nicknamed me “Pudge.” I don’t know exactly why. I am told by my brother, Bernie, who was barely old enough to remember, that it was because I had pudgy cheeks and deep dimples as a toddler. Daddy nicknamed me “Sputnik” after the first satellite in space. Now, my two grandchildren, Bryce Elizabeth and Annah Lucille, just call me Gramma Dee. I think this name suits me best of all. Having been asked to recall my youth, I find my past is all very vague to me. Somehow, I don’t remember my childhood very well, although what I do remember comes with warm and happy feelings. I hope that through my memories, I can relate how much I love all of you, and how much I thank Ethel and Floyd Guild for giving me life. As I recount my life, I will try to remember the events that occurred; but more important than the events, as I retrieve a feeling from the past, I will try to reflect also on the personalities that lived them with me. Grampa Williams was very comfortable and loving. My dad (my buddy) was ingenious and loyal. My mom was compassionate and kind and very patient. My sister Iris: affectionate and beautiful; my brother, Bernie: worldly, proud, adventurous; my brother, Bob: fun-loving and caring; my big sister, Carol: friendly and understanding; my younger sister Diana: intelligent, very social and courageous; and my baby sister, Barb: funny and easygoing. Iris, Bernie, Bob, Carol, Diana, and Barb. Two brothers and four sisters that I love and adore with all of my heart. We are all alike and yet so individual. I know I couldn’t have picked a better bunch of people to love if I had tried. But the feeling that overshadows the love and adoration I feel for this family is a sense of pride. I am proud to be a part of the beauty of this family. A work of art composed by Ethel and Floyd Guild, portrayed by the children in which their love resides.

My dad was dashing with his dark brown wavy hair and hazel eyes. Daddy always claimed he was one-half Indian. I have always thought of him as the lady-killer type—suave and debonair. My dad was very friendly with a sociable personality and a good sense of humor. He had a great job at John Deere, and all the ladies thought he was quite “The Catch.” But Mom reeled him in, and they lived happily ever after. Do you think Mom and Dad had the slightest notion they would end up with seven kids? It must have been all the dancing they did at the Coliseum—Floyd and his best girl “Tootsie.” Iris was the first child to come along. Daddy did get to name Iris, but Mom had something to say about that and she named the rest of us. Bernie came six years later, and then Bob right after him. I think Iris was spoiled rotten being an only child for six years. I think she even had a horse because I remember seeing pictures of her on one. After Bob came Carol, then me, Diana, and last was Barb. I always felt Barb was spoiled rotten, too, because she was the youngest. But my secret is I always felt I was Daddy’s favorite girl. I remember spending hours with Dad in his shed. In fact, that is where he named me “Sputnik.” I always thought that his shed was his great escape. Actually, this is where Dad could do what he did best. Dad was very inventive. He was always improving household tools to make them more efficient. I always gave him credit for inventing the first riding lawnmower. Dad loved to go to the auction house every Saturday. He would bring home all kinds of things. Then he would take them straight to his shed and make them better. I enjoyed watching Dad in his shed and spent a lot of time with him out there. I must have absorbed a lot from him because I am pretty good at figuring out ways to do new tasks and consider myself pretty handy around the house. There is almost nothing I cannot figure out. I have been told I have a lot of patience and I feel that helps me do things to perfection. Of course, every one in this family is somewhat of a perfectionist, because of the way we were raised. I don’t think any of us will settle for anything less. Dad worked an eight-hour day at John Deere making plowshares, the part of the plow that cuts into the ground. (The guys at work always called him Casey.) The more parts he made the more money he made, so Dad had to compute how many shares he would make every day. Now, you just know he would work his patootie off to make the money. He had ten people to feed including himself. After a long day at work, if you couldn’t find him in the work shed, then most usually you could find him in the garden. His gardens were immaculate. He would be hoeing the weeds, keeping the soil loose or keeping it watered when there was no rain. There was always something to do. I remember that during the spring of the year, Dad would be in the garden in the early morning hours cultivating the whole quarter of an acre with his hand-pushed cultivator. Then Dad would very methodically plant the seeds. We all had a part in taking care of the garden, even Grampa hobbling about with his cane. In the fall, the garden had to be harvested and I remember we all helped out. Dad would let us pack bushels of apples or tomatoes and take them up to Sam’s Market to sell. Dad told us to shine them and put the best ones on top. Then he would let us keep the money. Dad also grew his own popcorn on McFarland’s lot, and I used to spend hours in the basement with Dad shelling the popcorn. Sometimes we’d also sit at the worktable down there and pick the nutmeats out of walnuts. Dad taught me how to love popcorn with salt and butter. After working in the garden and eating supper, Dad would relax in his big chair, and he always had his index finger on his nose and his thumb hooked under his chin. He thought this is how he kept his nose so straight. I don’t think it worked! I vaguely remember that Dad had a rifle and the boys had BB guns. The joy of my Dad’s life was a trip he took out west deer hunting. He shot an elk, brought it home and had it dressed out. He proudly brought it all home to Mom, but she would have nothing to do with it. Mom wasn’t too happy about this at all. I felt so sorry for Dad. I never did know what happened to all of it. I do know I would have never eaten it. Just like I would never eat liver and onions. Dad would try to bribe us into taking just one bite with fifty cents, and that was a lot of money in those days. Of course, he knew he wasn’t going to lose his money. He knew we would never eat it. Daddy had quite a few favorite foods. Odd food like pickled pig’s feet, pickled herring, canned hot tamales, and sardines. After Dad retired, he was ready to really enjoy life. He bought a motor scooter. He loved that motor scooter. He also bought a new car, a turquoise blue Comet, and a travel trailer. Good for him! Who cares what Mom thought, he was gonna do whatever he wanted to do, anyway. Mom wanted nothing to do with any of it. The kids were all grown. Some of us were pursuing our careers, some of us married and raising our children. Now it was Dad’s turn. He worked very hard to provide for us kids and now he was set to enjoy himself. Only three years after Daddy’s retirement, he had a series of strokes. I remember he felt it was very important to be baptized before he died, and he also wanted to see everyone. As I remember, he should have passed on before he did, but there was one person he insisted on seeing: Bill, Iris’ husband. Days later, Bill finally did come to see Dad and all Daddy wanted was to make sure Bill would “take care of Ethel.” Dad must have loved Mom very much to be so concerned about her on his deathbed. I really admire his devotion to Mom during this time.

MOM

My mom was five foot two and a natural redheaded beauty. She had the deepest brown, most flirtatious eyes. Mom’s eyes always spoke louder then her words ever did. With her hourglass figure and gorgeous legs, it is not hard to figure out why Dad was attracted to her. Or could it have been her turned-up nose? I think Mom and Dad were always a very attractive couple. I can only recall a few stories Mom told me about North Dakota. She grew up in North Dakota by the Mouse River. Life in North Dakota was challenging. But true to Mom’s nature, she would always find the upside of a story and tell it with a lighthearted nature, even though it might be the most formidable of tales. Mom would talk about the long winters in North Dakota. Snowstorms and blizzards would completely bury the house. A tunnel had to be dug to get out the front door. But the fun part for Mom was snow-skiing to school. Can you imagine skiing to school everyday? What fun! Mom did very well in school. Of course, it figures, the way Mom loved to read. Mom also recalled the year of the devastation in North Dakota—The Year of the Grasshoppers. She remembered this terrific noise and how deafening it was, followed by thousands of grasshoppers. The grasshoppers ate everything. There was not a green leaf to be seen for miles. Before Mom married Dad, she worked at a button factory, and then for the telephone company for a while as a telephone operator. One day, while she was working, Schmidt Beauty Supply in downtown Moline caught on fire and Mom had to transfer all of the phone calls for the fire. Mom said she was so busy she had to stay extra hours to work the switchboard. Dad courted Mom at Lagomarcino’s ice cream parlor and sandwich shop, a business that is still thriving and unique to the downtown Moline area. The shop still even has the original decor. Years later, Mom and I would have lunch there, and Mom would have a twinkle in her eye as if she was remembering a wonderful time in her life. When Mom and Dad got married, Elva Melton was Mom’s maid-of-honor and witness. After they tied the knot, Mr. and Mrs. Floyd and Ethel Guild went to the movies and then to “Lagos,” their favorite place. After Mom married Dad, it seems to me, Mom immediately started having babies and didn’t work any more. She was a full-time “domestic engineer,” and that terminology doesn’t do Mom’s role as mother, wife, and daughter justice. I have always had a vision of Mom in her crisp housedress and an apron, wiping her hands on each other to shake off the flour dust. Mom would wipe her hands together when she finished any job. I imagine it was Mom’s way of acknowledging the end of something and getting on with something new. Susy recalls Mom’s other little quirk was a true show of her vanity. I think she knew she had very elegant hands and she could grow the hardest, most beautiful nails. In her later years, Mom kept her nails very manicured and polished. When sitting at the table, she would rest her hands on the table as if to display her beautiful nails. If her nails were not painted or a nail was broken, she would sit at the table with her hands in fists. Mom loved to look pretty and enjoyed getting dressed up. She took great pride in the way she dressed. With each outfit, Mom wore a piece of jewelry with matching earrings, and her shoes always matched her purse. Even into her senior years, Mom did not hesitate to wear high heels and show off her sexy legs and petite ankles. As we girls started growing up, Mom taught us some of her beauty secrets. She taught us how to paint a black line up the back of our stockings to make our legs look sexier, and how she used sugar water to make “spit curls.” Remember the day Mom and Virginia decided to give all of we girls, Diana, Carol, me, and Virginia’s daughters Pat and Marilyn a Toni home perm? It took them the entire day, and then I refused to go to school the next day because my hair was too curly. Now I won’t live without curls. Mom never cut our hair. She told me she always took us to a barber shop. I always wore my hair in a straight “bob” or banana curls, and I remember Barbie always wore long braids.

SUNDAYS—

By the time Mom had me, she was pretty set in her ways and always made fried chicken every Sunday. The chickens were always fresh. I think they came from our chicken house because I remember plucking out the feathers. Daddy made plucking the feathers easier by dipping them in hot water after he chopped off their heads. The smell of wet feathers was horrid. (I remember Ruth Reichenberg, a neighbor, chasing a headless chicken around her yard—the most crazy thing you’ve ever seen. The chicken was running wildly around the yard with its head cut off. We were scared to death it was going to run into us. It was possible, since the chicken didn’t know where it was going. Funny, this was all so natural to us then, would we do it now? I don’t think so. Nevertheless, Mom’s fried chicken was the best. First Mom would shake the cut up chicken parts with flour and salt and pepper, then she would brown the chicken in a black cast-iron skillet. Next, she put it all in the big blue roaster and threw it in the oven. Mom served the chicken with mashed potatoes and gravy, homemade rolls, fresh corn on the cob and sliced tomatoes from the garden. There was always a homemade cake or a pie, made totally from scratch, for dessert. When Carol got old enough, she was in charge of making the desserts. Amazingly, there was always enough food for everyone, but Mom was no short order cook. We all ate the same thing at the same time, or we went without. We had our own places at the table, and we were hungry so we were always at the table and ready to eat on time. Not one of us was a skimpy eater. How could we be with Mom’s excellent cooking? Alice Atchison shared her memory of the days before measuring cups and temperature thermometers. To measure ingredients for the homemade cakes or desserts she either had to judge the measurement, or the ingredients were measured with a coffee cup. Alice remembers reading old cookbooks that gave the measurements by coffee cups. To gauge the temperature of the oven, the only means Alice had was to stick her hand in the oven, as there were no temperature controls on the old stoves. Was this true for Mom as well? I remember Mom being very specific about measuring ingredients exactly right (except for her pie dough.) Of course, someone had to do the dishes, and I’ll give you a hint. It was never Dad or the boys. Dishes were strictly a woman’s domain. Mom never had to wash dishes. She had five girls to do them. Well, four girls to do the dishes because my sister, Diana, never, never washed or dried one dish. Diana was too busy either: 1. She was on the phone with friends or, 2. She was in the bathroom reading a book or, 3. She always had to get her homework done. Not one dish, ever! The first telephone we had was a three-way party line. A party line, back then, meant we shared a phone line with two other residents and they shared the same line with us. Three rings meant the call coming in was for us. When we wanted to call out, we had to make sure someone was not talking on the line. It wasn’t very nice but we could listen in on their conversations if we wanted. I wonder who we shared the line with, and I wonder what they could tell us about Diana, being she was on the phone most of the time. Remember Mom’s green parakeet, “Pretty Bird?” I remember when Mom did do the dishes that parakeet would sit on her shoulder and chirp to the clanking of the dishes. He would say his name over and over, “Pretty Bird, Pretty Bird.” Mom loved that bird. Then one day the front door was left wide-open and Pretty Bird flew away. The only other animal I remember we had was a big, white cat named Fluffy. He chased the mice so they couldn’t eat my sister Barb. Barb was terrified of the mice that lived in the attic. Barb and Diana could hear them running around at night while they were trying to go to sleep. Well, Barb was convinced they were going to climb into bed with her. I, personally, was more horrified by the little mouse turds we would find while looking through the boxes of hand-me-down clothes Mom stored in the attic.

MONDAYS—

Monday was laundry day, but first Mom would wake up at the crack of dawn, put on a clean housedress and get Dad off to work. Next, she would make our lunches, usually out of leftovers from supper. She had about an hour before it was time to get us kids up. This was Mom’s quiet time before getting us up for school. I remember Mom sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of black coffee, smoking a cigarette, and crocheting one of her beautiful doilies. An activity we might find very difficult, Mom used as a relaxation. She accomplished a lot in that short hour everyday. Later on, it added up to many family treasures. Breakfast usually consisted of hot cocoa with buttered toast or with peanut butter sandwiches dunked into the hot cocoa. Sometimes we had cocoa wheat and sometimes poached eggs. We had to be at different places at different times, so Mom served each one of us as we came out, so our food would be hot. We kids would wake ourselves up, and rush into the bathroom. After Dad put in the new bathroom, there was a schedule for how long we could be in there. If you missed your turn, too bad. Then we would eat breakfast, grab our lunches and run out the door to catch the school bus. In grade school we took the bus. In junior high we walked to school, until Bob got his first car; then he drove us. After Mom got us off to school I always imagined she would sit at the kitchen table, light a cigarette and take a big breath. How did Mom manage all of us without any chaos? We just must have been really, really good kids. Monday was always the day that Mom did laundry. How she ever got all of this done in one day is beyond me. Mom started very early in the morning. She would go to the well, carry in big buckets of water, heat the water on the stove, and then carry it down to the basement. The clothes were all sorted, and Mom always washed the white clothes first. Dad’s clothes were always done last because they were the dirtiest. I remember one time I was helping Mom with the laundry. I was guiding the clothes through the ringer and my hand got too close, it pulled my hand and arm right through. Mom released the top of top of the ringer so fast. SO FAST! I was startled more than I was hurt. Scared me to death. After the clothes were washed, Mom would dip the collars and articles of clothing she needed crisp-looking into a starch solution she cooked on the stove. While one load was agitating, Mom was hanging another load on the line. Like an artist at work, Mom hung miles and miles of clothes on the line to dry. Towels and sheets, the white clothes and undies blowing in the wind; fresh and clean. The clothes were then folded into ten neat little piles and put away. Embroidering our initials on our underwear and socks made it a lot easier for Mom to match them up. At least three baskets were left behind and sprinkled down with water, ready to be ironed. I wonder if she had any pet peeves like turning socks right side out?

TUESDAYS—

Mom always did her ironing on Tuesday. When we were younger, Mom used to stay up late into the night ironing the clothes. She waited until we were asleep so we wouldn’t get in her way. When we got older, Mom would do the ironing in the day and she would even let us help her. First Mom ironed the pillowcases and Daddy’s handkerchiefs. I remember Mom listening to the radio as she ironed and ironed for hours. Literally everything was made of cotton, and had to be sprinkled down and ironed. In those days you ironed everything: sheets, pillowcases, slips, scarves, crinolines, dresses, skirts, blouses, all of dad’s work clothes, Bob and Bernie’s white shirts—everything. Eventually, Grampa bought Mom a “mangle.” He thought this would help her with all of the ironing she had to do. The Mangle was approximately thirty-two inches long. It consisted of a padded barrel that revolved when a foot pedal was pushed with your foot. Behind the barrel was the heating panel, which when tightened put pressure on the revolving barrel and pressed the clothes. I wonder if the mangle really made ironing any easier for Mom. It sure was intriguing, but Mom kept it strictly off limits to us kids.

WEDNESDAYS—

Every second Wednesday of the month was Mom’s club day. Alice Atchison told me when the card club ladies were younger they called it the P.W. Club (the Pregnant Women’s Club.) As they got older, they just called it The Hot Flash Club. Mom would join a group of other lady friends to play 500 and have their group therapy. These ladies talked about everything. Mom was a “wiff”—always kept the ladies laughing. But they also took the card playing very seriously. It always amazed me how they could keep track of every card played. There were eight players, and each month they took turns having Club at each other’s house. When it was Mom’s turn, she would clean the house from top to bottom. She would go as far as to put clean sheets on the beds and straighten the cupboards. She would even clean the stove and the refrigerator. That house was spotless, top to bottom. You could have taken a white glove to it. Did Mom really think the ladies were going to go through the cupboards? Mom was just very particular about her image, and being a perfectionist, she probably didn’t feel completely comfortable until every last detail was done. Mom also had to make a dessert when Club was at her house. The ladies were always competing to see who could make the best dessert. Then, there were the door prizes. First prize was a one- dollar gift—usually a really beautiful hankie. Second prize was a twenty- five-cent item and called the “Booby Prize”. We were always excited to see if Mom had won a prize. This club started in 1945, and the same still- living ladies are still together 55 years later. All of the card club members had a “Secret Pal.” Each member kept their secret pal for the year. On special occasions, each member would send their Secret Pal a card or gift on special occasions such as holidays, anniversaries or birthdays, signed only: “From your Secret Pal.” After Daddy had his stroke, Mom told me the story of the time Daddy thought Mom had a secret lover. Mom had received a card from her Secret Pal and Daddy found it. He really got all bent out of shape about this. He was absolutely positive Mom had a secret lover. Mom had a chuckle in her voice when she was telling me this after Daddy died. After we kids were all grown, and Daddy had passed away, Ruth and John Reichenberg and Florence Britz, Mom’s neighbors, would get together, often during the week, to play cards. They would take turns going to each other’s house. They’d have supper and play cards until midnight—always midnight. Then they would have a midnight snack and go home. What wonderful friends! Mom belonged to “Friend’s Circle” and the Community Center, too. She would have lunch and play Euchre all afternoon. She always said she liked playing cards at the Circle Club better because the ladies at the Community Center were too “hoity toity.” Playing cards was Mom’s social life and a real blessing for her in her later years. Mom made sure us kids new how to play cards. She taught us how to play 500 and Hearts. I used to go down the street and play Canasta with Mrs. Nicholson. I remember Barb, Diana and some of the neighborhood kids would go down and play too. We use to play 500 Rummy in the basement and I remember Mom enjoyed playing Scrabble with us kids too. Later on, as adults, when we would come to visit Mom, we would always make it a point to play 500. It was a great way to come together, to talk and remember. She passed her love of cards and games onto her grandchildren as well. Susy remembers playing Kings Corners, Cribbage and Bunko with her grandma, and Ruth and Florence in their later night card sessions. It is like a big sin in this family if you cannot play cards.

FRIDAYS—

Friday was cleaning day. Everything was dusted and scrubbed shiny clean ending up with waxing the kitchen floor. Mom used to put chairs in the kitchen to keep us kids off of her freshly waxed floor while it was drying. After the house was done, Mom would take a quickie bath, change her clothes, put rouge on her cheeks and color on her lips. Now she was ready to do the weekly grocery shopping when Daddy got home. We would all pile into the car and head for the A&P Store in downtown Moline. Mom would go do the shopping and Daddy would stay in the car and take a nap with his finger on his nose. Us kids could either go in shopping with Mom or go to the library. Mom never made a shopping list, but she always knew exactly what she needed. We would hurry home and put all the groceries away (everything had its place) and Mom would start making supper. Friday nights, Mom always made pancakes and bacon and eggs for supper. It was quick and easy to make. We would eat, and hurry to do the dishes because company was coming. After a long hard week of work, this was Mom and Dad’s poker night; Dad’s turn to get in on the card playing. I remember the Cordinglys usually came over to play. They would play with poker chips, never money. I remember sitting at the corner of the table and watching them. Mom was a pretty shrewd card player. The couples drank beer and highballs. Mom, I believe, liked to drink whisky and 7-Up. Mom and Dad would play until midnight and then they would have their snacks. How did Mom ever survive all of this? I do not think sleep was an option for Mom.

SATURDAYS—

Saturday was the day Dad, Bernie and Bob would go to the auction sales. Sometimes they came home with quite a lot of stuff. Still, it was always stuff Dad would put to good use. After the auction sales, Dad always stopped in the Highland area to have a beer at a local tavern. The boys ate peanuts and drank a soda pop. Sometimes, on Saturday afternoons, we would all go to the Highland Movie Theatre on 23rd Avenue. The most popular movie stars were Roy Rodgers and Gene Autrey. Most of the time it was a double feature. Dad would always give us thirty-five cents to go to the movie and get a snack. Saturday night was bath night. There was no running water in the house. In the kitchen, there was a pump for the water, which came from a well outside. The water was heated on the stove for laundry, dirty dishes and bathing. During the week, we took sponge baths, but on Saturday nights Mom filled an old gray metal tub with hot water. The tub was placed by the heat register in the corner of the kitchen, and chairs were covered with towels and placed around the tub for our privacy. We were scrubbed clean; even our fingernails and toenails were clipped and cleaned. Our hair was shampooed with “Halo” shampoo, then set in rags for banana curls. Now we were all clean for Sunday School the next day. I have been a hairdresser for over 30 years and still cannot figure out how Mom did those banana curls. I remember Iris rinsing her hair with lemon juice and brushing it out in the sun. She had the most beautiful, shiny hair. After our baths, Mom would fill the big blue roaster with hot popcorn. She would top the popcorn with lots of butter and salt. Or sometimes she made us a huge batch of fudge poured on a buttered platter for our Saturday night snack. Oh, so good! In the summer, the nights were so hot that Mom would lay out a clean, white sheet on the living room rug, and, with the fan blowing on us, we fell asleep.

Late March or early April was the time of year Mom did her spring cleaning. As soon as the coal furnace was shut off, Mom got busy. Every room of the house was cleaned from top to bottom. Everything was covered with black soot, but it really wasn’t noticeable until you started cleaning. The ceiling, the curtains, the walls, the windows, the furniture, the drawers, the floors, the rugs—everything was scoured. The curtains were washed and put on a curtain stretcher, then set outside to dry. The curtain stretcher looked like a picture frame made of wood, but it had thousands of little pins all the way around the edges. The frame stood on four legs and had wing nuts on all four corners that made it possible to adjust it to any shape or size. The idea was to hook the fabric to the pins and stretch the curtain to keep the curtain wrinkle-free while drying in the sun. (The curtain stretcher can be seen leaning against the house on page 8 in Barb’s memories.) The cupboards were stripped bare, and every dish was washed, as well as the inside of the cupboards. Mom would reline the shelves with new shelf paper, and in the cupboards with the glass windows she would put shelf paper with a beautiful border that folded over the edge of the shelf with pretty patterns of fruit or berries with scalloped edges. All the winter clothes were stored away with mothballs. As Mom was sorting through all the winter clothes, she always set aside the clothes that could be used as hand-me-downs. The storm windows came down, and before the screens went up, the windows were cleaned shiny clean inside and out. The mattresses, rugs and our one carpet were taken outside and beaten with a special rug beater. Rug beaters are collectible today. Mom did her spring cleaning religiously throughout her whole life. Whether it needed it or not!

Mom also did all of the sewing. She sewed all of the school dresses and Sunday school dresses, full circle skirts and shorts for us girls. Do you remember the halter tops Mom made us girls for Camp Shebonie? She sewed a lot for the McFarlands, too. While Mom was doing her sewing, Virginia would do Mom’s ironing. I feel Mom enjoyed sewing. She did it with such ease. I was always amazed at how fast she could pedal on the sewing machine. Maybe that is how Mom kept her terrific looking legs and skinny ankles. After Mom got her new electric sewing machine she threw her old White sewing machine out in the garbage. Our next door neighbor at the time, Mrs. Poston, took the sewing machine from the garbage and made it into a table with a marble top. She put it in her restaurant, The Hasty Tasty, and there Mom’s sewing machine stands to this day.

Outside of all of this, Mom did all of her own canning each year, around the time of the harvest. Mom and Dad worked very hard to feed us kids, Dad growing the vegetables and fruit, and Mom canning it. She would can over two thousand jars in the hot summer months, doing most of the canning at night when the temperature was a little cooler and us kids were asleep. Sometimes I think Grampa stayed up to help her. She canned every kind of preserve, pickle and tomato you could imagine. Her apple butter was my favorite. I would have an apple butter sandwich every day, after school. She had thousands of Ball jars and huge crocks. A basement full of what would be very expensive treasures today. I remember the day, after us kids were all grown and Mom was at card club, Dad decided his wife wasn’t going to do any more canning. He packed up every one of those jars and big crocks and hauled them off to the junk yard. When Dad told Mom the wonderful news, she was furious. I am not sure she ever forgave him for that little favor. Just one of those large crocks would bring a small fortune today. (Note: There’s a good list of Mom’s canned goods in Bob’s memories)

Christmas was always Mom’s favorite time of year. She loved giving presents and she always gave the most perfect gift to everyone. The whole season started when Mom started making her Christmas cookies and candies. Mostly, I remember Mom let us kids help her decorate the sugar cookies, and of course, Bernie always designed the best ones. Then, there was Mom’s legendary fudge! She stored all the Christmas goodies on the back porch, where it was cold, and she always made enough to last well into the New Year. Dad loved Christmas too, but for some reason always waited until the last minute to buy the Christmas tree. We always had a real Christmas tree and I’ll just bet Dad wanted it to be fresh. He always heard a lot of stories about houses burning down because of the trees, and it’s my guess that Dad wanted to be safe. On Christmas Eve, Bernie would go stand at the front window and excitedly shout for us to hurry because he could see Santa. Of course, by the time we got to the window Santa had already left. We always made out a Christmas list, and took the biggest sock we had and laid it out. Daddy would always fill our stockings with a huge orange from Lagomarcino’s. During the war, oranges were very scarce and I think us kids liked eating the oranges more than any candy we got. I continued this tradition with my daughter, Susy, and now with my grandchildren. Among all the other goodies they get in their stockings, I always remember to put an apple, an orange and a walnut (and maybe a lump of black coal in memory of my Dad.) Amidst all of the hustle and bustle of the Christmas season, Christmas Eve was also Carol’s birthday. Mom would always make an angel food cake from scratch, as she would for each of us on our birthday. She made the cake using twelve egg whites and with the yolks Mom would make homemade noodles. With the noodles, Mom would make homemade chicken and noodles and yes, Lorrie Retzlaff, we would put the noodles over mashed potatoes! Christmas morning, the very first event was opening our Christmas presents. Mom would make us girls a new dress, but not always, because one year I remember getting a new plaid, pleated skirt with straps that were worn across the shoulder. I remember getting a new doll that had real hair. Mom made new doll clothes for our old dolls. We got paper dolls and a piece of jewelry. I remember the boys getting a new sled one year and BB guns another to go hunting with Daddy. Mom always got twelve pairs of stockings from Grampa, and Daddy continued giving her the stockings after Grampa died. Us kids would always make gifts like clay animals and ashtrays at school for our parents. Daddy insisted on having fried mush on Christmas morning. Mom had to fry the mush very slowly. She had two of her black skillets going at all times. This was an event that would last the whole morning. Mom would get a little perturbed because Dad started inviting all of these people to join in our Christmas breakfast. As if it wasn’t enough she already had ten people to feed. On top of all of this, Mom had a turkey in the oven and was trying to get Christmas dinner ready as well. After Iris was married, Christmas Eve was celebrated at her house. The family was growing fast and her house was bigger. I remember gifts under the tree that piled up to the ceiling.

Easter was another big event. Mom would boil eggs, at least three or four dozen, and we would color them. Bernie always made the most beautiful Easter eggs. Mom would hide the eggs all over the house and outside too. We’d run as fast as we could to find them. Easter Sunday, we girls were dressed in our Sunday best. Mom made us new Sunday dresses and spring coats every year. We put on new shoes, new socks, new undies, new slips, new gloves and a new bonnet. Then we paraded down to wait for the Sunday school bus. Mom would always make a huge Easter dinner: a ham, deviled eggs and candied yams, along with her famous homemade rolls. Mom always made sure each holiday was rich with tradition for us kids.

MOM’S TRUE TALENT

After Dad died, Mom discovered her creativity and found a new love in crafting. Mom was such an artist, and so creative. I guess we didn’t realize how creative she was until she started doing her crafts. She began making pinecone wreaths and turned the basement into a little hobby shop. I remember Carol and I packing up the kids and going nature hunting with Mom. We collected every kind of pine cone and acorn and nut there was. Anything that could be dried or had seeds. Mom made her Nature Trees with the stuff we collected. To this day, I can not pass up a pine cone lying on the ground. Susy always holds me back from my irresistible urge to collect them. I rarely ever do anything with the pine cones I collect. I just like to. I guess it reminds me of happy times I spent with my Mom. Later on, Mom stated making Christmas tree ornaments. The most beautiful balls you have ever seen. She filled her tree, all of her friend’s trees, all of her children’s trees, and all of her grandchildren’s trees. Every year she would have a spread of different balls she had made laying on the dinning room table. During the holidays, when we would visit her, she would have us pick out the one we liked best. Of course she was always very careful to have at least one ornament for everyone, forgetting no one. There was a write-up about Mom and her crafts and her tree in the newspaper. This was something very special Mom did, and she shared her talent so generously. Getting out the Christmas ornaments during the holidays makes the season something very precious to all of us. The holiday season is when I remember Mom the most. And what I remember the most is how much work she had to do and how she loved every minute of it. Mom never complained. My daughter tells me this is the part of Mom I am most like. We both like hard work, doing things for others and not ever having a gripe. I felt Mom’s senior years were very enjoyable for her. Mom always kept herself busy. She had her family, her friends, her card parties, and her crafts. What a pleasure to be able to look back on your life and enjoy seven successful kids. Mom successfully got seven children through school, saw them graduate (which was a tremendous accomplishment for a family of our size), get married or start careers. Carol and I stayed in Moline. We both got married and had a child. Carol worked at the Moline Dispatch and I worked as a hairdresser in my salon. After Daddy died, we both saw to Mom’s well being. Tuesday was my day with Mom. First on the agenda, I took her to my beauty salon to do her hair. Here’s a secret. Mom was a natural light auburn beauty. She never had color on her hair. NEVER!!! HONEST!!! Cross my heart, hope to “dye”, stick a needle in my eye. She only had one white hair and I tweezed that out of her eyebrow every month. Mom would always treat me to lunch. We would sit and chat over coffee. Then I would take her to the bank and then go do her grocery shopping. On Saturday, Carol would take her turn. First she would take Mom to the bank and then to the grocery store to do grocery shopping or any other odd shopping she would need to do and then Mom took Carol to lunch. Sound familiar? It wasn’t until years later Carol and I figured out we had the same routine. It was just like Mom to help both of us feel important to her and needed by her. It was an honor to take care of Mom. I loved every minute. I just wish I could have done more for her. Mom traveled everywhere to visit her children. Coast to coast, from California to Florida, even abroad to Germany when Carol’s husband, Charlie, got transferred from the Arsenal to a missile base. The whole family contributed to Mom’s welfare. Fun money to chic clothes from Bob’s boutique to goodies from Iris and Bill’s Ben Franklin store. Mom didn’t want for anything. We did a darn good job. At times I felt sympathetic toward those that did not live closer to Mom and did not get to enjoy her every day like I did. Still, I am compelled to thank all of my brothers and sisters for helping to take such good care of our mom. She was truly a remarkable woman. Mom, you were the backbone of this family. Mom, you gave us true love, true emotion and true courage. Times being as hard as they were (well, compared to today) you managed to keep ten people well fed, well dressed, clean, and spoiled us in the process. You even managed to have your own personal life. You were truly amazing. But what I remember most is the sparkle in your eye that made me feel special, and the strength it took to never complain or ever say a bad word about anybody. You were a truly honorable and devoted parent. Your legacy lives on in the hearts of your children.

My earliest memory is swinging on Grampa’s leg and sitting on his lap a lot. Grampa nicknamed me “Pudge” because my dimpled, baby-fat cheeks were so appealing to him. Bernie says I was Grampa’s favorite, probably after Bob. Grampa worked nights at the foundry. He fell into a vat of lye and burned his leg. I remember the injury being very serious. There was a one- page article written in the newspaper about a new treatment for this type of burn, it was very successful in the healing, but left an awful scar. I remember Grampa always had a cane, but I am not sure whether he used it because of the accident. Mom told a story of how Grampa, once, almost single handedly took charge of their hometown in North Dakota. During a Swine Flu epidemic, Grampa assumed the duties of judge, postman and coroner. Grampa was apparently immune to the flu. Many, many people died. Mom remembered watching horse-drawn hearses, one right after the other, as they passed by her window all day long. Grampa worked all day and all through the night for a long time. What a courageous man he was. Grampa’s wife died when my Mom was eleven years old. She died of tuberculosis. Grampa raised Mom alone after that. I probably have these facts all wrong, but in my childhood memory, I think I heard a rumor about Grampa having an affair and burning down some house. Supposedly, it’s one of our family’s deepest darkest secrets. I do not know exactly what happened, but I do think it was around the same time that Grandpa relocated himself and our Mom to Moline and changed his name from Lehman to Williams. Diana probably knows more about this story. His other big secret was buried in the cement blocks at the bottom of the basement stairway. Years later, after he had died, we were all gathered at the house for the holidays and the grandchildren were digging in the cement blocks when they came across a stash of buried whiskey bottles. Grampa’s secret stash. Mom kept Grampa’s drinking solely to herself. The only other memory I have of Grampa is his horseradish. Grampa had his own special horseradish garden where he grew the radishes and everything he needed for his recipe. I remember he had to grind the radishes, and he had to do it outside because it was very smelly. I was at home the Sunday Grampa fell over in the hallway from a massive heart attack. He died immediately. I was so panicked, all I could do was stand back and watch as the ambulance took my grampa away. I loved my grampa very much. He was so lovable and very comfortable.

By today’s standards, it amazes me that with ten of us living in the house we weren’t all sick more often. Barbara was just a baby when she got sick with scarlet fever. Scarlet fever is highly contagious and no one could come in or go out. The health inspectors put a big red sign on the front of the house that said “QUARANTINE” and I think Daddy had to stay someplace else because he had to go to work. I remember the awful medicine we had to take to prevent us from getting the fever, but Mom always had some of her homemade applesauce ready for us to eat after. The medicine was so, so bad. Cod Liver Oil was just as bad. Did anybody ever figure out why we had to take it? In junior high school we had to take an oral vaccine for polio. Back then, it was a more of a school function than a state responsibility. They set up tables in the gymnasium and we all lined up. Today it is the total responsibility of the parents to get their children immunized. The old smallpox vaccinations left a scar. We had to have it before we started school, and the big thing was comparing scars with my friends. I remember all of us kids, one by one, lining up to get our tonsils taken out by Dr. Menton. At that time, you did not need to be sick to get your tonsils out. One day, we all just went to the hospital on the same day and had it done. Remember Dr. Menton? He had dark brown hair, around forty years old and good looking. He even came to the house. I remember the scandal with his wife. She was a drug addict, and got caught stealing drugs from her husband’s office. The police finally arrested her, put her in prison and Dr. Menton quit his practice shortly after that. Mom was really upset because she felt he was a very good doctor. However, it was not quite the same story with the dentist. I remember every year a dentist would come to the school and check the students’ teeth. If he found a cavity, he would recommend we go to another dentist and have our teeth worked on. So Mom picked out this dentist, and OH, I HATED HIM SO! He was rough and rude, and it hurt, and it hurt, and it hurt. As a result, I had a horrible time getting myself to go to the dentist as an adult. Though, I must say, Mom and Dad did a wonderful job of keeping us all healthy. ME

All in all, I have fond memories of my childhood and remember it as being wonderful. I learned there were not many pictures of us kids because of the war. There was a shortage of film and what film there was to be bought was very expensive. In the pictures I could find of me, I always wore a Buster Brown haircut and quirky hats or bows. Wasn’t I just the cutest kid! My youngest granddaughter, Annah, reminds me of me as a little girl in her facial expressions. She has this certain look in her eye, and she is always busy playing. Busy, busy, busy! I remember I was always running. I was terrified of birds, flies, big dogs and I was always running to tattle on someone. I could not tolerate arguing. I would just grab my dollies and run home. Like then, in my adult life I still take great strides to avoid arguing. I definitely remember the airplane wallpaper in the boy’s room. I must have been two or three years old. I was napping in the boy’s room and peeled some of the paper off of the wall. Mom was furious. She turned my highchair around at the dinner table that night and did not let me eat dinner. I do not remember getting in trouble much after that. The razor strap, which hung on the wall in the back porch, was always in view. That was enough to keep you out of trouble. I must have been about six or seven when, for some reason, we were staying with Virginia McFarland. She piled Pat, Marilyn and all of us kids into the car and took us to see The Wizard of Oz. I was mesmerized by the movie. I didn’t blink an eye. I was so scared of the Wicked Witch. I didn’t like her at all. I still don’t! We must have gotten home late because we had to go straight to bed. I don’t think I was in bed very long when I stormed into Virginia’s room and climbed into bed with her and Dale. I was still so scared I just could not get that witch out of my head. They let me climb right in between and sleep the rest of the night. It was unusual for women to know how to drive back then. Mom never did learn. I think Dad didn’t have enough patience. He took her out a couple of times and each time they came back Dad was exasperated. He would huff away with this look on his face like he had had “just about enough.” I remember the day all of us kids were playing outside in the McFarland’s front yard and Virginia motioned for me to come in the house. She wanted to play a joke on the rest of the kids. She put ketchup all over my arm and I went running into the front yard screaming, “I’m bleeding! I’m bleeding!” It worked for a minute. All of the kids believed I was seriously hurt, but when they realized it was only ketchup they fell down laughing. Pat McFarland was my best friend. We did everything together. Playing Jacks was one of our favorite passtimes. We would play Jacks for hours—morning, noon and night. “Carol Barrel” was the all-time champ at school tournaments. We had shoe boxes full of paper dolls. We’d cut pictures of gorgeous gowns from the Spiegel Catalog and fit them to the paper dolls. I remember Iris bought me the most beautiful paper dolls I had ever seen when I was having my first ear operation. I remember I liked to play dress up with Mom’s old clothes and high heels. I would pretend I was a movie star and prance down the street. We loved to circle the garden on our bike. We all taught “Diana Banana” how to ride a bike with her new leg. When the ice cream man or “Street Sweets” would come down the street we would all ring the bells on our bikes. With the neighborhood kids we would climb trees, play Double Dutch jump rope, or Twelve O’clock and the Ghost Isn’t Here when it was dark outside. The shack down at the Hancocks was our clubhouse. We had Kool-Aid stands and always fought over who was going to make the Kool-Aid. I was always sneaking down to Eileen Peterson’s house to swing on her swing. Eileen told me recently that she was always so jealous of us kids because we always had someone to play with. I would never go over to Margie Britz’s house because her dad had a gun and big dogs. I was so afraid of the large dogs. I was bitten by Hannah’s dog while I was riding our bicycle to my friend Colleen’s house, down at the end of the street. We played hard as children and were always home before dark. Because we didn’t have many toys, we really had great imaginations. I don’t remember ever getting bored. We could always dream up something to do. In 1949, Mom and Dad went to Chicago for Diana’s leg operation. When they came home, they brought with them our first black and white TV. The wrestling matches were Daddy’s favorite. Mom got hooked on the soap operas and us kids liked watching Howdy Doody. Do you remember the show, Your Hit Parade, the music variety show that came on once a week? American Bandstand was one of my favorites that has withstood the test of time. It was also a favorite of my daughter Susy, years later. Before the TV, we would all sit around and listen to the radio. I remember I had to sit right in front of it. The only radio show I can remember is Amos and Andy. The radio was really instrumental in developing my imagination. You had to really listen and visualize what was happening. I remember Bob and Grandpa listening to the baseball games and Mom listening to the radio soap operas while she was ironing. The Fifties were really a time to remember. The way we lived was changing and changing fast. I remember the Fifties to be the beginning of the rock-n-roll era. Bernie bought the family a record player when he got his first job doing the window displays in downtown Davenport. My favorite song was The Tennessee Waltz by Patty Page. I used to listen to it over and over again for hours. How could the rest of you stand it? I still enjoy the golden oldies. It’s the only music I can understand. I have no clue what kind of noise it is my granddaughter, Bryce, listens to—can’t make heads or tails of it. Bob collected 45’s. I still have some of his collection. I remember Bob going to the “hang out” at the Coolidge Rec with Sue to dance. Bob and Sue loved to dance. Today they call it “Swing Dancing,” and it’s the newest rage in dancing. What’s old is new again! Barb and Margie used to send away for pictures of movie stars. They loved Pat Boone. They went to one of his concerts at Wharton Field House and even got to TOUCH HIM...OOH! I also remember the time Barb and Margie roller-skated on the newly paved 41st Street before it was open to traffic. But I didn’t run and tattle. Barb and Margie were the best of friends. Barbie and Diana both played an instrument. Barbie the flute, and Diana the violin. Mom always said that if the family had had the money we all would have played an instrument. Anyway, Mom had Diana’s violin stored away in the attic for years. One day, she decided to go through all the stuff packed away for us kids and give it back to us. If we didn’t want it, she was going to throw it away. She found Diana’s violin and discovered it was warped, so she threw it away. Mom’s neighbor, at the time, Mr. Sajben retrieved the violin from the garbage and had it fixed. His son learned how to play on that violin and played it for years, but by the time I learned of this from Margie Britz, the Sajbens had already moved. Sorry Diana, I wanted to get that violin back for you so much. Growing up in the Midwest gave us the best of all the seasons. Planting the gardens in the spring, running barefoot in the summer, the harvest in the fall and snowball fights in the winter. As we got older, during the summer months, we girls would see who could get the best tan. We even laid out on top of the shed to get closer to the sun. Bob would come up and compare his tan to ours. Of course, he would always be darker. Mom never tanned; she just got more freckles. Daddy would tell us we were all going to get cancer. He knew then what we know now. Laying out in the sun can give you cancer. He was right. How did he know that? For a really special treat in the summer, we would go to the root beer stands, Roselle’s ice cream store and the drive-in movies. Mom would make the big blue roaster full of popcorn, we would pile in the car and Daddy would take us to the Semri or the Memri drive-ins. Sometimes, some of us would crouch down and hide so Daddy wouldn’t have to pay for all of us. We always went to the drive-in on the Fourth of July because they had fireworks after the movies. Along with seeing the fireworks we had sparklers and rolls and rolls of caps for our cap guns. If we didn’t have a cap gun, we would take a hammer and pop the caps on the cement. The summer I was thirteen, I remember Dad took us to Chicago. I was really fascinated with the Museum of Art and Science. When we first walked in, we watched ourselves on TV. I thought I looked cute. I remember the bottles of babies in different stages of development and the settings of the olden days. Then, we went shopping downtown in The Loop. I bought a full circle skirt with brightly colored fruit. It had a sleeveless turquoise blouse and, of course, I wore the collar straight up. I wore the dress with a black pair of flats the first day of school of my freshman year. The next trip we took, Dad took us to Worthington, Minnesota. Dad’s brother, Clarence, lived on a farm there. I remember riding the tractor, farm-fresh milk, the feather beds and all of the relatives. Mom said if we’d had the money we would have traveled more. Halloween was always fun for us kids. Mom would make popcorn balls and caramel apples for the trick-or-treaters. We wore black eye masks, and the object was to hit absolutely every house we could. We went to houses on 38th, 39th, and 40th Street. Bernie always won top honors painting Halloween scenes on the downtown store windows. In the winter we would make snowmen, have snowball fights, and go sledding. Bernie and Bob made an Eskimo igloo and got their picture in the paper. It was the neatest thing. When I was about eleven I made a snow- man shaped like a woman. I gave it boobies. I thought it was quite brilliant at the time. We would go sledding on a really steep hill over by 38th Street. We had a lot of fun. My earliest memory of school: I was crying because I did not want to get on the bus for my first day of kindergarten at Roosevelt school. I really did not want to go. I was so scared. Somebody must have come along and reassured me because I did get on the bus and I did go. Then, when I got to school, I ended up crying again because they tried to make me drink warm milk. The milk was warm everyday and I think I cried everyday. I never did drink it. My teacher’s name was Mrs. Johnson, and she played the piano. Other than that, all I can remember is that I had to carry a rug to school to take a nap.

In first grade, I needed speech lessons to help me pronounce my “Rs” and “Ss” more clearly. By the time I was in fourth grade, I was sent to a special school for the hearing-impaired because I have a birth defect. My left ear was deformed at birth. There was no opening to the ear canal and there was no eardrum causing deafness in that ear. As a result, my right ear suffered a significant loss due to the strain of having to hear for both ears, so it sort of just pooped out. At that time, the special school was technically called a school for the “deaf and dumb” or the “hard of hearing.” I guess it was a blessing, because at the regular school, I remember being called stupid all the time, but at the new school I was accepted for who I was. The school was mainly trying to teach me to lip read. I never really got any good at it. I was at the hearing-impaired school for one school year and then I went back to regular school. I don’t think the school really worked out very well for me. Next, when I was about eleven years old, Mom and Dad took me to Dr. Williamson. He reconstructed my deformed ear. Taking skin from both legs, the doctor created an opening in my ear with one piece of skin and put the other piece of skin around the top of my ear to make it look more like an ear. Next Dr. Williamson implanted an eardrum. The surgery was somewhat successful in restoring my capacity to hear out of that ear. As a result of all this, however, I missed a lot of school and was held back a year. Guess I should know the fifth grade pretty well, huh? The first time I was caught passing a note in school, I was in the fifth grade. I wanted to ask my friend if she wanted to play jacks at recess. We were studying the judicial system in class at the time. The teacher had the class debate and then take a vote on my punishment. The class agreed I should write, “I will not pass notes” five thousand times. When I told my Mom about this, she was getting ready to go to card club. But before she went, she was going straight up to the school and have a talk with my teacher, Mrs. Plumly. I have no idea what she said to her, but she got my sentence reduced to only five hundred sentences. I never passed another note again. I was twelve when I was fitted with my first hearing aid. When I got home, I sat on the couch in the living room. It was overwhelming what I could hear. I didn’t realize what I was missing. I could hear the family talking in the kitchen, I could hear the birds singing outside, and that evening I was surprised to hear the crickets and the locust. I was so overwhelmed I began to cry. My hearing aid was the very latest in technology, because I was able to conceal it. Daddy nicknamed me “Sputnik,” after the first satellite, the most modern of space technology. I realize that I have tried very hard to cover up my impairment. Someone forgot to tell me it was “okay” to be handicapped. With Diana’s help, I have come a long way. I have learned that my impairment does not mean I am stupid or dumb. Diana has taught me how to caress my inner child and to take myself by the hand when I am feeling low or out of sorts because of my hearing problem. If I had known it was all right to be hearing impaired, I might have just told everyone to slow down so I could catch everything that was going on.

During my teenage years I was active in a 4-H club called the “Peppy Steppers.” We learned how to make tablecloths and napkins with fringe, flower arranging, and how to make full circle skirts, which were the latest fad. The full circle skirts were worn with starched crinolines and a wide cinch belt. The more crinolines worn, the fuller the skirt would stand out. So the goal was to wear a lot of crinolines. We also wore rolled up blue jeans, and neck scarves, Bobby socks and saddle shoes. Remember the white buck shoes and penny loafers with a shiny new penny? Our hair was set in pin curls with Bobby pins. I wonder what ever happened to all of those Bobby pins? In 4-H, I really wasn’t interested in food preparation. Later on, my daughter would vouch for that. However, true to Mom’s excellent teachings, Carol was a wonderful cook and her cooking won her a baking award and a trip to the Illinois State Fair to show off her talent. Carol was so excited. Through junior high I was very shy, but still, I participated in many activities. I wasn’t any good at sports. I couldn’t hit a ball if you stopped it right in front of my nose. So, I got glasses and still couldn’t hit the ball. Guilds are artistic and creative, not athletic. But that was okay because I really liked going to school dances. Mom always made sure we had nice dresses to wear to these occasions. I remember one dress I had that Mom bought me at the Kay Bee store where Bob worked in downtown Moline. The dress was satin with red and white polka dots. I loved that dress. To earn money, my very first endeavor was going door to door selling flower seeds from a catalog. (Now I grow my own seeds.) I sold enough to buy two lamps for my bedroom. I was so proud of myself. I also made money by babysitting for the Hancocks and Iris. Iris met Bill when she was working at Cozy Corners across the street from Coolidge Junior High. She got married when I was about nine. I remember she went over to Ruth and Tom Johnson’s to take a bath. She was so beautiful that day. I was impressed with her wedding ring. It was an emerald and so unique. I was truly impressed. I must have been in junior high school when I babysat for Iris. After the children went to sleep, I was all alone in this huge house. I was terrified. The house had these big wall-to-wall windows that overlooked a mammoth back yard and a ravine. At night, the house made noises I couldn’t identify, so my imagination ran wild. First I closed the drapes, then I sat frozen stiff on the sofa in the formal living room until Iris came home. Oh yeah, under the cushion of the sofa I tucked one of Iris’ biggest knives. Like I was gonna use it, right! I think I only babysat for Iris that one time. I was a sophomore when I had my first crush on Merle Ericson. He had dark wavy hair and was very handsome. My junior and senior year I worked summers at the Tasty Treat root beer stand on Blackhawk Road. The uniform I wore was a very short, pleated navy-blue skirt. I really liked that job because I could have all the root beer I wanted served in a frosty-cold mug. Carol worked at the root beer stand too, but not for very long. With our very first paychecks, we combined our money and redecorated our room. We bought two twin beds with Hollywood frames and matching bedspreads. The bedspreads were a turquoise blue corduroy material and came with long rolled pillows. Mom made us matching curtains out of turquoise blue and white checked gingham. In the corner of our room we hung a swag lamp above our beds and we purchased a big round rug to put on the floor in front of our beds. I was so proud, I loved it. Remember when Bernie plastered his room? He did such a good job his work is still there. My senior high school year was a struggle, socially. We had moved to the newly built Moline High School. I hung out with my sister, Carol, and her friends. We would go to basketball games and we would go to eat at Frank’s Pizza. I had my very first pizza at Frank’s. I graduated from the new school in 1959. I was an average student with straight A’s in art. Of course, with Mom’s creativity and Dad’s ingenuity, we Guild kids all knew we were artistic and very good at it. During the later part of my senior year I entered a contest: “Why would you like to be a beautician?” With the help of my sister, Diana, we composed an essay. The essence of my essay was about my desire to express my artistic ability through designing and sculpturing hair. I received a ton of literature about different colleges and such in my senior year. I just shoved it all in the top drawer of my desk and did not pay much attention to it. After graduation, I was sorting through all of these papers and stumbled onto the paper that stated that I had written the winning essay in the contest. I was so surprised I went running to Mom with the great news. I won a three-hundred-dollar scholarship to Hurley’s Beauty School. From there, I called Hurley’s, enrolled myself and my fate was sealed. Thanks, Diana. You wrote my essay, and won me a very rewarding career. My very first patron in beauty school was a lady with shoulder-length blonde hair. She insisted that I set her hair in pin curls. I had been learning how to set hair with rollers, the very newest trend in styling hair. Now, I never get upset, but I just could not see the logic. Why did I have to go through all the trouble of pin curls when it was so much easier to roll the hair? Well, she persisted and I was stuck doing the pin curls. It took me forever. The lady liked her hair when I was done. She liked it so much she made another appointment with me. Lucky me!

I graduated from Hurley’s six months later and got my first hairdressing job at the Powder Puff Beauty Salon, on 23rd Avenue in Moline. We wore white uniforms and white shoes. That was the law. The white uniforms might have made me look professional, but it certainly did not give me the wisdom and experience I really needed to develop my own style. The majority of the time I spent working at the Powder Puff, I shampooed hair until I established my own clientele. It must have paid off because, my daughter tells me, I give the best, most relaxing, head-massaging, you-will- definitely-fall-asleep shampoos ever. With the first paycheck I got from working as a hairdresser, I went to the most elite store in downtown Moline, The New York Store. I must have thought I’d made the big time like the rich and famous. I purchased a red turtleneck sweater. It was made out of one of the new synthetic materials. I always say, “It pays to buy the best.” I still have and wear that sweater. I was married for thirteen years to Ernie Comstock. Those years were filled with motorcycles, traveling, Susy’s dancing, and my beauty salon. This was my world. I loved Ernie passionately and enjoyed giving Susy everything I did not have as a child. We had a swimming pool, a trampoline, motorcycles, and traveled everywhere. Come to find out later, Susy would have traded everything for just a brother or a sister. After I married Ernie, I established Dee’s Beauty Salon in Coal Valley, Illinois. Hence, my nickname, Dee. As soon as I opened the doors I was successful. It took no time at all for the patrons to start piling in. I guess all those hours of playing paper dolls and dressing up as glamour girls paid off. In a sense, my hairdressing also became my social life. I have made so many terrific lifelong friends through my work. Faye Swears was a customer I attained at the Powder Puff and she has stuck with me through thick and thin, wherever I went, since. Faye is eighty-some years old now, and just as beautiful and active as the day I met her. The past thirty-five years of hairdressing has been the joy of my life. I was so lucky to have stumbled onto a career that enabled me to use my God-given talent. In all of my years, not once have I ever said, “I have to go to work.” I have never considered my career a job. I have always loved what I do. February 4, 1977, my bubble burst. I was divorced. Presently, I have not remarried. Still, I am very content with my daughter Susy, and my two granddaughters, Annah and Bryce, by my side. Currently, my daughter and I enjoy working in the gardens, and hunting for lost treasures at yard sales, flea markets, antique stores and craft shows. In short, we like to go “junking.” I am the official costume maker for my granddaughters, as Susy won’t even touch a needle, and I am getting pretty good at restoring antique furniture. If I have learned anything through the trials and tribulations of my life it would be this: I have survived the worst of times, I have enjoyed the best of times. And I could have conquered it all alone if I had to. But I didn’t have to, because I have family and we have the most precious gift Mom gave us all, unconditional love.

I was two years old when we moved to a four-room house with one acre of land. The address, at the time, was 3209 39th Street. The house and garage with the land originally cost two thousand, seven hundred and fifty dollars. In the back of the house there was a chicken coup that cost an additional hundred dollars. The payments, after a five-hundred-dollar down payment, were twenty-five dollars a month. (The address changed to 3205 39th Street when three-quarters of the land was sold years later.) There were only eight of us then. Diana and Barb came after we had moved in there. Us kids must have thought we were in seventh heaven. There were no locked doors. The wide-open spaces of the yard and the orchard—a wonderland of fruit trees—seemed to go on forever. The apple orchard contained a variety of apples, such as Red and Yellow Delicious, Jonathans, and green apples. Oh, how I loved to climb to the top of those trees! There were cherry and plum trees, pear trees, and Dad’s pride and joy was the peach tree. His peach tree had the biggest, most delicious peaches I have ever seen. Behind all of this, were the grapevines, which defined the back of the lot. Bob used to make wine out of those grapes in the basement. In 1942 the house was completely different than it stands today. There was a kitchen, living room, two bedrooms and a basement. The rooms were small and separated by curtains, as there were no doors. After Diana and Barb were born, there were ten people living in this tiny little house at one time. Where did Mom and Dad put everyone? Making the sleeping arrangements could not have been easy. I remember Mom and Dad had their bedroom with the baby crib. My two brothers, Bernie and Bob, slept in the other bedroom with Grampa, and we girls slept in the living room on a hideaway sofa and a rollaway bed. Compared to today’s standards, I know we all wonder how we ever survived, but we never questioned the inconvenience back then. We knew Mom and Dad did the best they knew how. The kitchen walls were done with green oilcloth, and the other three rooms were wallboard with wallpaper. I remember the airplane wallpaper in the boys’ room and the old ivy wallpaper in the hallway. I believe Bernie had a hand in picking that out. One day, I uncovered the green paint that went with the ivy wallpaper when I was stripping the woodwork. The only running water came from a hand pump in the kitchen, and the used water had to be disposed of outside because there was no drain in the sink. The water came from a well on the north side of the house. I vaguely remember a pump outside the back door. If Mom needed hot water she would have to heat it on the stove. The outhouse was located about twenty to twenty-five feet from the house behind a small one-car garage. During the winter months there was a white porcelain potty with a lid for doing our business. In 1950, Dad added on to the house with no professional help. He built two bedrooms and a bathroom. Bob and Bernie got the pleasure of tipping over the outhouse. Today there stands on that spot a beautiful huge evergreen. Diana planted a seedling that came free in the newspaper one day. Today, over forty years later, the tree still stands and bears fruit. Planting the tree where the outhouse used to be turned out to be a very fertile decision. The furnace was in the basement. Coal, stored in the coal bin, was shoveled into the furnace and heated the house. The furnace had to be filled with coal several times a day in the winter months. Usually the coal was shoveled into the furnace, but Dad eventually improvised a mechanical belt that fed the furnace. The basement was cool in the summer, and I think sometimes we ate down there. The chicken house was about ten feet to the south of the outhouse. I barely remember the chickens but I do remember the rabbits. The rabbit house was on the side of the garage. My rabbit was black and white. I don’t remember what ever happened to the rabbits. One day, I watched as some rabbits were being skinned on a clothesline over at the McFarlands. Did we eat those rabbits? Dad eventually converted the chicken house into his workshed. The workshed is where I spent most of my time with Dad. Dad was never really talkative, but I loved hanging out out there with him, anyway. There have been a lot of changes to this enchanted old house through the years. After my brothers moved out, the wall that separated the living room from the bedroom came down, making that area one big room; a dining area on one end of the room and the living area on the other. In the early seventies, Mom took out the beige wool carpet and replaced it with brand new olive-green carpet. Today the living room is carpeted with a cameo colored carpet, and with the help of my brothers and sisters I have put new siding on the house. The siding the contractors took off the house was a speckled green asphalt siding. It is now white vinyl siding with hunter- green shutters and I am attempting to give the house a cottage look, and hope by preserving this house I am helping to keep memories of home alive for my brothers and sisters. The yard, with the help of my daughter, is quickly becoming a bird and butterfly sanctuary. With our own two hands, Susy and I have landscaped the entire yard. It is very picturesque. I love the landscaping. Susy is helping me to add flowers and shrubs to attract butterflies and next season we hope to tag Monarchs and follow their migration to Mexico. Gardening is fast becoming an avid hobby of mine.

Sometimes, I believe that if human beings could stop seeing each other as beings and more as spirits, there would be no question in our minds how much we should love someone or do for someone or help someone. My heart feels good when I know I have added to someone’s happiness. There is no better feeling in the world for me than to know someone feels loved because of me. It is very clear to me that we chose to be a part of this family so we could love each other and help each other through this very difficult adventure of life. I love you all. Thank you for being a part of my life and letting me be a part of yours. It will always mean the most to me.

Thank you for instilling in me the ideas of working hard, playing fair and never giving up. Whatever success I’ve made of my life, your teachings were the foundation I built it on. I will always remember your gentle acts of kindness, your tender little mercies, and the love of my mom and dad.

Your daughter,

Delores

Barbara wore her hair in braids, Shining bright as the sun in the morning. Your giggles were so bright and gay, Your rosy cheeks so adoring.

The mice were running in the attic, As you were sleeping through the night. Put you and Diana in a panic, Filling your little hearts with fright.

You married your college sweetheart, Norman. Oh, he was so charming. Family and friends would come to visit With gifts for your housewarming.

“How do I scrub the floor and make pumpkin pies?” You ask Mother on the phone. As your children did the laundry, You studied your fingers to the bone.

Traveling the world wide, In Alaska, you went whaling. While visiting France, you admired Monet, And sent us pretty postcards without failing.

Your heart-warming hospitality, So easy and never with a fuss, Hilarity, fun and gaiety, Your bubbling giggle is your gift to us.

The flowers in your garden Are like brilliant angels in waiting, And your hand-sewn quilts— Well, they’re absolutely breathtaking.

So much like our mom. Sincere and truly caring. Your gentle acts of kindness To all are so endearing.

Love you, Dee

If the walls of the Guild residence could speak, Do you know what they would say? “Oh! How that Diana loved to talk. The gift of gab was her forte.”

Remembering the good ol’ days, oh, what games we would play. The mischief, the teasing and the spats. When did we ever behave? On rainy days we played in puddles, and made mud pies to share. On summer days we made May baskets, and hollyhock dolls with care.

Sometimes we needed something new to play, And dandelions were easy to be found, “Do you like butter?” I would rub under your chin, And string the long, long chains all around.

Straight A’s on your report card. Through the night you would study. So smart and intelligent, as well as everybody’s best buddy. Against all odds, you enrolled in college so far away from home. Remember when you drove from Wesleyan, and brought home a cat to debone?

You met him in Chicago, the man of your dreams. With red hair and freckles, and a smile that truely gleamed. A successful entrepreneur was Lee. A man who loved to fish. Taking care of his true love, Diana, was his one and only wish.

Weaving together, your joys and wishes, Diana will paint a portrait of your life. With depth, beauty, sensitivity and feeling, Your spirit, she’ll revive.

I so enjoy the time we spend talking, The hopes and feelings that we share. In the sunshine of your voice, I hear the angels laughing. The best gift that you offer is showing that you care.

With Love, Dee

Carol, Carol, my sister dear, As we grew up all through the years. My playmate, my pal, it’s very clear, My sister Carol was always near.

We are alike in many ways. The reflection in the mirror is clear as day. From our mannerisms, to the way we behave, We understand in unspoken ways.

One sunny day my sister dear was riding her scooter in high gear. Gouged out her knee and began to tear. Going to the hospital was her worst fear. Four clamps and a scar were hers to revere.

Carol loves to cook, no matter what time of the year. She can take any recipe and persevere. The aroma from her kitchen always brings good cheer, And our mother loved her shrimp dipped in beer.

Carol and Charlie relocated because of his career. They married in Germany and spent a few years, Attending wine festivals, eating brauts, And drinking good German lager and also stouts.

We took care of our mom in her later years. What she needed was very clear. A couple of daughters that stood steady and near. Our visits and talks brought Mom much cheer.

Carol, Carol, your love I hold so dear. Though we are miles apart, you’ll always be near. You thoughtfulness and special ways are sincere. And, we will continue the memories throughout the years.

Love you, Dee

Robert Ray Guild you have reaped what you have sown. A river in your back yard. Beautiful, peaceful and all your own.

Original and handsome, you are the utmost. Beware of the wine you made in the basement (Oh, how you would boast!) Remember the igloo you made of snow? And how you almost froze?

Rejoice, you married your high school sweetheart To be cherished like a rose. Totally oblivious, while dancing with Sue. Is that how you proposed?

Respectfully always helping others With your light-hearted approach. A+ for success in your business (Mom loved those beautiful clothes.) Yuletide trimmings, crafts galore, and wedding candles that float.

Miles and miles you have traveled near and far From the Atlantic to the Pacific coast. Okay! There’s a party at Bob’s house. He’ll be the perfect host.

Nature conspires your boat to the waters Bob, so proud and poised. Driving that small, white, hard ball. Will you make par? Yes, I suppose!

Growing red tomatoes and sweet juicy cantaloupe. (What was in that compost?) Utterly delicious and sweet, those pistachio nuts You have eaten by the gross.

Loyal and devoted to your family and friends. Whatever you do, you make it the most. Dearest Bob, I hope you remarry. Here’s to you… let’s have a toast.

Love, Dee

I am going to San Francisco With flowers in my hair. Stopping to see my brother. His Victorian house is there.

Amidst the plants and flowers, I found my brother tending with care, With his eyebrows raised and curled, A friendly smile and a, “Hello, my dear.”

His home is quite extraordinary, With bananas on the wall. Yellow is his happy color, And his orchids will leave you in awe.

Bernie had a vision and through his dreams learns more. He’s created himself a great success with commercials and books and a Clio Award. He tells a great story of all his merry making. The traveling, the dancing, the dining out was all there for the taking.

He took me to an old-time ice cream parlor, We ordered chocolate Yoplait with pears. He reminds me to exercise and do yoga, And I’ll live to be one hundred years.

My day was full and pleasant, My brother is so full of life. His conversation inspiring and interesting. I listened carefully to his profound insights.

I did not want to leave that day, I love the way he helps me progress. I thanked him sincerely for his wonderful ways. He said, “That’s what I do best.”

As I boarded the trolley car, And paid my fifteen-cent fare, I waved good-bye and blew a kiss, And left my heart… with you there.

With love, Dee

The most beautiful sister with the most beautiful name. Growing up for you must have been all fun and games. You were Daddy’s little girl so spoiled and revered. As you were the only child for over five years.

One by one, we came into your life, I doubt this was foreseen, You were like our second mother, So unselfish to Mom’s needs.

Bernie, Bob, Carol, Delores, Diana and Barb. Twelve more feet for running Six more heads and seven more beds. You must have thought your mom was just funning.

We needed to be fed, bathed, held and hugged. As you so caringly wiped away our tears, And washed our faces, And so gently calmed our fears.

You were always there To bandage up our knees, To give us a hug and all of those kisses. I remember you most when I think of these.

It is love that brings a family close. The kind of love you shared. I am indebted to the special way You showed our Mom you cared.

Mom was a busy lady, then, With cooking and canning, and all those clothes. But you were always willing to be there When Mom needed you the most.

I will always remember your gentle ways, And give thanks for the role you so graciously accepted. You have been generous, kind, concerned and devoted. I love you with all my heart. Absolutely no exceptions.

Love, Dee