Jacks, Paper Dolls, and a Childhood Full of Imagination

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.