Mary’s Musings
Mary’s Musings
Tape recorded by Mary in January 1994,
Transcribed and printed by Linda Humberd Osti,
Typed in this format , with italicized comments by the typist!
Final edit, May 15, 1994
Seventy-six years ago, three miles east of Flora, Indiana, Mary Elizabeth Humberd was born on January 3, 1918. There was lots of snow, and it was very cold. They later told me that Papa thought it had to be as warm in the house where I was now, as where I had been, so he nigh-on burnt the house down! Mama’s doctor was Dr. Kennedy, a lady doctor whose office was at Camden. When we moved back to Flora in the 1950’s, I went to her for doctoring, and so did Mama. (Dr. Kennedy is mentioned in Papa’s Diary in both the nineteens, and the 1950’s.)
One day a lady telephoned and said, “How’s Mary?” Mama said, “Mary? We don’t have any Mary here.” She said, “Didn’t you name your baby Mary?” “Oh,” Mama said, “You mean Mary Elizabeth.” Mama had never thought of just “Mary” because she always said that she wouldn't have a “Mary” or a “John” (often called John Mark) -- but as time went on, she had one of each.
One day someone from the First Brethren in Flora called our house. Papa was talking to them, and they were telling that the Kentucky Mission was having a bad time, and that they needed help down there. And Mama hollered to him and said, “Let’s go.” Well, I guess it surprised Papa so, he just couldn’t imagine such a thing, but that’s how it happened.
They went to Kentucky, to work with Mr. Drushal at the Mission. I must have been about a year old or something like that, I don’t know, but anyhow they said that I used a bureau drawer for my bed. When they went to visit a Mission up the river a ways (right now I forget the name of that Mission), they had to go by the river bed. They usually took a donkey with them when they went to the other mission, so they put me in a gunny sack on one side of the donkey, and that’s how we went up to the Mission. (Papa’s Diary says they left for Lost Creek, Kentucky on December 26, 1918, about a week before Mary’s first birthday, and returned to Flora on March 22, 1919. )
A few months later Papa visited Moody Bible Institute in Chicago. When he returned to Flora, they had a sale (August 29, 1919) where they sold their animals and everything, then moved to Chicago so he could attend the Institute. Around Flora, especially at the Bank, Papa was known as one of the most promising farmers, especially a pig farmer, in this area.
The folks rented an apartment across from Moody’s main building at 830 North LaSalle Street. They told me that I would stand on the back porch and sing “Jesus Loves Me” just as big and lusty as I possibly could. I remember another experience from living there. I had noticed, through the years, that the back of my hands weren’t quite the same color as the rest of my hands, or my arms. I don’t know how old I was when I finally asked Mama, or said something, but she said, “Well, when we lived in Chicago there was a boy who used to tease you and just kept after you all the time, and one time you put your hands behind your back and backed up against the stove, and burnt the back of both of your hands.” It took years and years for that to clear up.
Paul was born at Grandma Black’s, on October 19, 1919. I don’t remember any of that, and I don’t remember much about the time we lived at Sydney, Roanoke and Roann (Indiana). Jesse was born in Roanoke, Johnny in Roann. Papa preached in those places, and he went back and forth to Ashland, Ohio, while he was studying at Ashland College.
A little later we moved to 621 Grant Street, Ashland, Ohio, which was just down the street from the college. The school house where I started first grade, was just across the street from the college. I just had to walk part of the block to get to school.
I remember one time, it was either in the Spring or Fall when the weather was wet, I had to wear boots and everything, but I didn’t want to. So the folks said, “Well, if you get home and there isn’t anything on your shoes, you don’t have to wear ‘em.” And, oh boy, I was sure glad that worked out all right -- I didn’t have to wear my boots!
I remember the people next door, Mrs. Waite, I think she’s the one who gave Mama her now famous sugar cookie recipe. In that house, to get hot water to wash clothes, we had to put water in the big copper boiler and heat it, then put it in the washing machine. I remember a time when I got up and the hot water boiler was just a hissin’ and steamin’ and going on, and I could tell something unusual was happening. They had just got word that Grandpa Humberd had died. Papa went back to Flora for the funeral.
While we lived in Ashland, Mama was so busy because she cooked dinner for some of the young college men. They would just come running down the street, and come in the house for dinner. She was so busy at that time, and Johnny was just starting to walk, but she didn’t have time to do much for him. He just hung on to her skirt and walked with her as she cooked. That’s the way he learned to walk by himself.
While we lived at Ashland, Paul was very sick. It was while Mama was in the hospital giving birth to Esther. Several of us, including Paul, had the German measles, but Paul also had double pneumonia. He was in one of the upstairs bedrooms that was kept dark. In that old house, when someone walked in the hallway outside his room, the house would jiggle, and even that little jiggle would make him hurt so bad. I wonder how Papa managed at that time. Mama in the hospital with a new baby, several sick kids, and one very, very sick Paul! (Page 117, April 1926 in Papa’s 1910 - 1930 Diary, tells about this, and Mary just answered one of my questions printed there.)
Esther was born in a hospital on April 2, 1926, and Grandma Humberd came a couple of days later to help take care of us. Mama had to go to some friends of ours (Maude Landis) to stay with Esther for a few days, to keep away from the measles. When she got home, it took Johnny a little bit to remember who she was.
I remember the Christmas (1925) in Ashland, when Johnny was real sick. (Whooping cough) He got a rolly-polly clown that was heavy on the bottom. When he would tip it, it would go back and forth.
I remember the Yoder girls who lived with us in Ashland. They were daughters of missionaries in South America. One of them, Grace I believe, had a boyfriend Raoul Meningay, a native of South America. He would stand at the bottom of the steps and he would holler up to her in their language. It must have been Spanish, as Mama learned some words just by listening to him. I started taking piano lessons in Ashland. Grace Yoder would be upstairs, while I practiced the piano downstairs. I had to count loud enough for her to hear me upstairs. I remember when we came home from school in Ashland, our snack was a slice of bread with butter, and we sprinkle sugar on it.
Another thing I remember real plain (I have used it a lot of times as an illustration) was that about a block or so from where we lived, they were building a church. I noticed a lot of colored glass around. I remember hearing that if you looked at one red piece of glass and through another red one, it would look white. That would illustrate that when God looks down upon us with our sins (red), and through Jesus' blood they would look white. And so that says, “Our sins will be whiter than snow.” I remembered that all my life.
Now the next thing in our life, I guess, is when we moved to Michigan. We lived first in a house on Michigan Route-50. It was a large farmhouse, and it wasn’t too far from the church. Papa started to build a garage, and I don't know if that was the reason or not, but anyhow the owner came out and said he didn’t want that.
We soon moved to what we called the Sands Farm, and there was a lot of living on that farm. A lot of crawling too, because it was a sandy farm and we grew potatoes. We kids picked the potato bugs, and the leaf of the potato plant that had the eggs on them. We would put them in cans of kerosene to kill them, and we would get a penny for every five that we got.
And what a time we had spending those pennies! It just took me forever to buy a can of orange pop when we’d go into Lake Odessa for the Bible Conference, that was so difficult. I would think, well what if I don’t like it, and there I’d spent all that money. I’d like to have tried other flavors, but I would have to wait a whole year to make enough money to buy another bottle, if I didn’t like the one I spent all my money on this year. That was just life, I guess.
We sure had a lot of fun on that farm. The one thing that I thought was carefree or fun, was out back of the barn there was a hill, and it had -- oh, I don't know -- maybe about three paths on it that would go to the pasture. The cows would make these paths, and it was so much fun to run up and down those hills. We hollered at each other while we ran, and it was just childhood fun.
One time one of the boys found where a large turtle had dug a big hole and had buried its eggs. I thought that was real strange, I just never knew that’s what they did.
You know, we were poor I guess by a lot of people’s standards -- and ours too, maybe -- but we didn’t realize it. We made homemade ice cream and had fried chicken a lot. We had that because we grew the chickens and we had the cows for the milk. And the ice, well in the wintertime when the creek was frozen, Papa and the boys would go and chop up blocks of ice. They would go over to Price’s and put it in the ice house and cover it with sawdust. Then when we needed ice in the Summer, we’d go over there and get what we needed.
I remember when the snow was too deep for us to walk to school, of course no cars or anything went by on the road. Papa would put on his big tall boots and he would walk ahead of us and scoot his feet so we would be able to walk to school. There was hill near the school, and we used to slide down that hill and slide out onto the frozen creek.
James was born while we lived near Lake Odessa. You know, it seems strange but when we think about where we lived over the years, we can just about tell where somebody was born, here or there. That’s where we had moved since the last time. (No two of the 7 children were born in the same place. Mary at home East of Flora, Ind., Paul at Grandma Black’s West of Flora, Ind., Jesse at Roann, Ind., Johnny at Roanoke, Ind., Esther at Ashland, Ohio, James at Lake Odessa, Michigan, and Martha at Martinsburg, Pennsylvania.)
My goodness, we moved every two years, and when we moved, they had to crate the furniture and things and put it on a train, or else, I suppose by truck sometimes. Talking about moving, we always kept, on the back porch or in some nearby building, this great big piano box so we could crate the piano and move it from place to place.
Before James was born the folks kept telling me that I’d helped Mama so much, that I’d have a surprise one of these days. (The surprise that keeps on surprising!) I was so naive, I didn't realize what (who) was coming. I had told my girlfriend, Leah, that I was going to have a surprise, and she was so excited.
So when James was born that Friday (I always did like to be around for weekends.), I hurried to school and saw Leah coming from the other direction. I yelled across the road to her, “I have a baby brother.” She was so disgusted that I hollered it out in front of all the other kids, ‘cause it was supposed to be a secret between us. Well, he’s no secret now!
You know, when I think about the age that Papa and Mama were when we lived at the Sands Farm, with all of us kids and the snowy winters and everything in our lives, you just wonder how they kept it going. When we moved into the town of Lake Odessa, Papa often went on trips to give Bible lectures. We were allowed to keep a cow in our little barn in town, and Mama would look after the cow and us kids, but with Papa being away, and not much money, I just don’t know how we did get along.
Paul, you remember the barn door coming down on you, right? (Well, those of us who weren’t there will never know!)
A couple of years ago, in the summertime, Paul, Jesse and I, just the three of us, went to Lake Odessa and drove around past the different places where we had lived, and past the homes that we knew, and visited in the neighborhoods where we lived. That was a wonderful time of recollection. I really did enjoy that day.
Do any of you remember the time we had the flue fire in the kitchen out at the Sands farm? The flames came out the chimney hole in the dining room. What Excitement! While we lived at the Sands farm, Esther had the whooping cough (Page 120, Papa’s 1910-1930 Diary) so bad, it was sometimes hard for her to get her breath. I remember one time when nothing seemed to help her start breathing again. It was raining, so the folks ran outside with her and held her face under the cold rain water running out of the eaves trough from the roof of the house. That worked! We were afraid she would never start breathing again.
Then do you remember, any of you, the time that we had the fire at the house in Lake Odessa? (There were two fires while we lived in Michigan -- a kitchen fire on the Sands Farm, and a roof fire at the house in the town of Lake Odessa.) One Sunday morning the roof caught fire from sparks from the chimney. The man across the street from us worked at a greenhouse. He had gone to check on things and when he came back up the street he saw the fire. And, oh how the folks really did fight and work to put out the fire. What a catastrophe that would be, if they hadn’t been able to take care of it.
That fire caused a lot of excitement for a while, but it was seen in time to put it out before it caused to much damage. The fire came from the stove in the living room and that pipe went up through my bedroom. When they started a fire, and as the wood would burn in the stove, I could hear every crackle in my chimney. For years, I would go outside before I went to bed to look up to the roof to see if everything was all right. That fire just affected me that much. And it still does. When we moved to Flora, this house had an old furnace. I would just be so scared and so anxious about the fires.
Then in Lake Odessa where we kids played, we had a certain block on the sidewalk that we could not go any further, we couldn’t have playmates across the street, and our playmates could only come to play once in a great while. Papa said that Mama had enough to do with all of us, let alone having to watch some others. We had our boundaries, but we didn’t know any different, I guess, and we played with each other, and that was a wonderful time. We didn’t have far to go to school, which was a big help, I know.
Before we left Lake Odessa for Martinsburg, Pennsylvania, we had a sale. And, you know that was hard to see some of our things being sold to someone else. One experience that left a bad taste in Papa’s mouth. We had some appliance, I forget what it was, maybe they had bought it new, but it was in excellent condition. Someone stood behind the person who bid on it and kept talking against it and it just went for almost nothing.
That was pretty hard to take because we needed all the money we could get, because the other furniture and things that we took with us had to be all crated up and put on a train. I believe that when we got to Martinsburg the furniture and the things were already in the house. Some church members had gone and picked it up and brought it to the parsonage in Martinsburg.
(I was only three when we moved from Lake Odessa, but I remember Mrs. Bainbridge’s home just up the hill from our house. I remember going past her house, through a park or a woods, and to the Creamery. If we turned left at her house, we were in downtown Lake Odessa, and I remember there was a railroad track that ran across the main street. I also remember the greenhouse just across the street and down a little towards the lake, from our house. I remember the man who owned it, hung himself. I just telephoned Mary and she said I am right about all this, and she also said it is OK for me to put this in her Musings, so there!)
By the time we moved to Martinsburg I was in the seventh grade, or just finishing the seventh grade. Papa “had” (was the pastor of) two churches, one in Martinsburg, and one at Vicksburg, about 8 miles away. Of the two churches, I think we all looked forward to going to Vicksburg because the people there just seemed to be more interesting, or we just enjoyed being with them.
(In Papa’s Diary he always referred to this church as McKee. The typist has never understood the different names used for that church. Seem to remember it was called Vicksburg sometimes, and Sharpsburg, sometimes. While we still lived in Lake Odessa, Papa held some meetings at both McKee (Vicksburg) and Martinsburg in May 1929, a couple of years before we moved there.)
We lived in the parsonage at Martinsburg. One of the things I remember at that house -- well one thing that I never knew -- that so many wood piles could be moved to so many places. Papa would go out and cut wood for his health’s sake and for our needs to keep the house warm. He would have us change the wood piles and move it over here and over there -- just to keep us occupied, I guess. Of course, there was always plenty to do in the house, too, with that many in the family.
I went to High School in the old white, wooden, three-story Martinsburg High School building that was just a block from the parsonage. (But a mile from the farm where we moved while Mary was a junior. The fire escape was a large metal tube on the outside of the building, that could be used as an escape slide, and if no one was looking, it was the nearest thing to Disneyland, in Martinsburg!)
Our Senior class was the last to graduate from that building, in ‘36. The next year, after I graduated, I went to the new school and took some post-graduate lessons. I took second year French, shorthand, business arithmetic, and so forth that year.
In the Fall of 1937, I guess it was, I attended Moody Bible Institute in Chicago. I was there that Fall and the Spring of 1938. I worked in the old homestead of Dr. Gray, the President of Moody for years and years. And did I ever work! It just seems like people who had lived there didn’t do any real house cleaning, so I really did scrape off a lot of dirt.
For my other job, I got on the “El” (the same Elevated Streetcar system that Papa worked on while he attended Moody years earlier) and I went north to Evansville where Dr. Fitzwater lived, and I would clean at his house. If they would have any company or a special dinner in the evening, I would go and help get that ready and do up the dishes and then go home.
I did a lot of studying and memorizing, while going back and forth on the “El.” That was an awful hard time in my life because being a large family like we were, and always so close and so much going on, and then to go off by myself, it was pretty hard. And I can tell it now, when I look at my lessons, my marks were awful low.
Another thing I did at Moody, was to wash and iron clothes for some of the other girls. Some of them even still owe me money. But, do you know, I wish that I could remember some of the names. One of these days (if not now, when?) I’m going to look back at my notes, if I still have some like that, and see if I can remember some of the names of the people who were at Moody when I was there. Another thing that I wanted to mention, when I was a student at Moody, I enjoyed so much going to Pacific Garden Mission in Chicago. I would be the piano player for their meetings. And I really liked that, too.
But, I came home in the Spring of ‘38. (April 22, 1938) Fitzwaters were going to Europe and the other people couldn’t afford to have anyone clean the house anymore. That was during the Depression, you know, so I had no way to make enough money to continue at Moody, so I came home.
I worked in the Nibblets Canning Factory just outside Martinsburg. (The Can Lady! She would unload “millions” of cans from freight cars, and stack them in the warehouse. I remember that much!) I also took care of a lady who had cancer ‘till she passed away. Then Harold and I got married on April 9, 1939. This year (April 9, 1994) is our 55th anniversary.
To go back a little, when we lived in the parsonage in Martinsburg one winter, in February some of the kids got chicken pox and mumps. Papa was scared of the mumps, especially. (See his Diary, May and June 1964! He had the mumps a year before he died, and was not happy about it.) The house was arranged so there were stairs from the kitchen up to a bed room on the second floor. We kids lived in the other part of the house for what seems like months.
Mama would fix our meals and take them out on the back porch and pass them through the back window to us. I kept house -- that part of it -- slept with most of them ‘till they got over all this, and it was at least a month. (The neighbor boy was told that Paul couldn’t come out of the house as long as the quarantine sign was posted at the front door. So he tore it off.)
I remember I raised one window just about an inch, and my girlfriend would come and give me my school lessons so I could keep up with them. I didn’t get the mumps, or anything, I just took care of them. Papa was afraid if any of us came over to that side, he would catch anything we had.
We moved out to the Ebersol Farm, outside of town (Martinsburg), a little over a mile on the right-hand side of the road. It seems like at the different places we lived, we wallpapered and cleaned and fixed up. The kitchen and dining room here, used to be two rooms. A beam was still in the middle of the ceiling where the wall had been. It made a nice large area for our large family. (The dining table for nine, also served as a table tennis table, in the “corner” of this huge room.)
The walls of this room were covered with a brown oilcloth. We tore that off -- pulled it off -- and Papa and I worked to wallpaper the room. We put the ceiling paper on, and the rest of it, too. The others helped, but we worked hard. After we got done it just looked so bumpy, it just about made us sick. But, you know, the next morning we got up and it was just as nice and smooth, and oh, did it look nice, in contrast to that brown oilcloth.
Oh, there’s a lot of memories from when we lived there. I know I remember the day Martha was born. Daisy Fishel was there to help Mama. Daisy was around a lot while we lived in and near Martinsburg. We thought so much of her, we called her “Aunt Daisy.” I didn’t have to go to school that morning because I had high enough marks, so I didn’t have to take the last test. I was ironing and Mama was having little problems, so I left my ironing and went out back of the barn. Later Papa came out and asked, “Would you like to have a baby sister?” Well, I sure would, and I’ve had her ever since. I have her now, I don’t know what I’d do without her!
To go back to the time that Mama was pregnant with Martha, I had to fix whatever vegetables or anything that had to be worked ahead of time for our meals. Each day, I fixed them, then walked over a mile to school. (And at times it really was below zero, and there really was six feet of snow!)
I had my first date with Harold on the day Martha was born. We were High School Juniors and we were going for our Junior “outing” at Cypher Beach, the Friday Martha was born. We rode in the rumble seat, with James McKerihan and Mildred in the front seat.
You know another thing, we just used the washing machine once a week. The rest of the time we washed diapers, and whatever, by hand. We used a big tub to heat the water on the stove, and we had a washboard. I had to use that an awful lot for diapers and so forth. While Mama was still down with Martha, the rest of the bunch, I forgot how many of them, got measles one at a time.
Papa was teaching at the Altoona School of the Bible on Monday nights, and I remember I had to get supper for Mama and Papa. And there was another thing, with all the different meals and everything, anything the kids touched I had to scald, on account of the measles. That went on for pretty close to a month, I guess. That was really something.
You know, come to think about it, I shouldn’t have said “Martha,” I should have said “Lois” or “Martha Lois.” She doesn’t use that name now, she just uses “Martha.”
I must go back and tell about the day Harold and I were married, Easter Sunday, April 9, 1939. We went to church at Vicksburg and I taught my Sunday School class and played the piano for church. Right after church I went over to Mary Dively’s and changed my dress and came back, and we were married right after church. A lot of the people from another church, close to Vicksburg, came in and stood around the pews in the back. There was a pretty good group of people there.
Mary Dively, who lived next door to the church, was a dear, dear friend. We were so close. She married later in life and was so happy the last few years of her life. (When Mary E moved away, a new church pianist was needed. I remember that it didn’t take Mary Dively long to learn to play well enough, to play for church.)
Harold and I lived with Harold’s folks when Joyce was born -- May 13, 1942 -- the day after Mother’s Day. Dr. Snyder was my doctor. Harold had been taking a correspondence course with an Institute in Chicago, and a little later, soon after Joyce was born, Zenith Radio called him to work in Chicago.
Harold worked in Chicago a few months before Joyce and I went out. We first lived in the Gardener apartments, as we called them. A little later we moved to an apartment at 5635 Washington Boulevard. It was a real nice apartment on the bottom, or first floor. And Patty Ann was born while we lived there. Cousin Marjorie and her husband Vernon were at Bethany College in Chicago at that time. (Church of the Brethren College and Seminary) They took care of Joyce when I went to the hospital for Patty.
Harold was called into the Service (US Army during WW II), so we packed up and moved down to Flora. A little later we moved to Pennsylvania so that when Harold would get to come home, his folks and the girls and I would be there and it wouldn’t take so much of his time going back and forth all these miles.
We moved to a little house in Martinsburg. Since this was war-time, I couldn’t have an oil stove because the little house had chimneys. If a house had a chimney, you couldn’t use an oil stove. I had to have a big old-fashioned coal and wood burning pot-bellied stove upstairs in the living room.
I had an old-fashioned cook stove down in the kitchen. Well, it looked like “down” in the basement. The way the house was built just off the street, you’d come into the living room, then down some steps to the kitchen, and on out the back to the garden. Of course, I was just petrified to even build a fire, it just scared me so, and I just had to watch all the time.
I remember when sitting in the living room I could hear such crackling and going on. I was just so scared, I crawled on my hands and knees to look to see where the noise was coming from, I was afraid the house was on fire, but it was just wallpaper getting warm. (I never knew that, even when I lived with you!)
I remember that I had kind of a “breakdown” one night. I went down to the kitchen and looked out toward the mountain, then I pulled the blind down like I usually did, and then I just went to pieces. And I use that as a devotion, too, where Psalms 121, “I will lift up mine eyes into the hills from whence cometh my help.” My help cometh from the Lord which made heaven and earth. He made the hills, and that’s where I got my health and the ability to come through all of that time.
It’s a good thing, too, that it’s the Creator that I trust, because what would I do in Indiana where there are no mountains to look at and to get my strength from. I like the mountains, and I like to go through mountain country. It comes from the Lord who made the mountains. And I think that’s a wonderful illustration.
After Harold came back from Service we moved back to Chicago, in Franklin Park, on the west side of Chicago, and we moved into a brand new house. It wasn’t all finished yet when we moved in. And, let’s see, Joyce and Patty both went to school while we lived there. We didn’t have any car at first, so when we went to get groceries, we’d go on the bus and get our groceries and carry them home that way. (Papa’s Diary: On Feb 25, 1949, “Drove Paul’s old ‘36 Chevy to Mary’s.” The typist and Emmy later owned that same car.)
The neighbors were great friends. Most of the people in that area of new housing were WW II veterans so everyone had a lot in common. They worked hard and played hard. On one side of us was Glenn Teeter. He was a nice man and a jolly man, and the fellows took advantage of him and his ways. Virgil and Charles had a water fight with him once. They went up on our roof with the water hose and kept him on the jump -- 2 to 1 isn’t fair, is it, even though he used a garbage can lid as a shield. They sure had Teeter going crazy. Charles bought a Buick convertible and drove up to our house one evening, top down, Virgil with his feet up, big cigar, the whole show.
On the other side was Jim Barthoff. He had a little car (Austin). He didn’t change from summer to winter oil one year, and to get his car started one cold day, he build a fire under it to warm the oil. His wife started hollering and the fellows rushed out and pushed it away from the fire. James bought a car too. It was a ‘31 Chevy, and one time when he turned left, one back wheel came out just a little, and the car wouldn’t run. He jacked it up, pushed the wheel back in, then made sure he only turned right until he could get it fixed. (I’d forgotten all about that!)
Harold’s two brothers, Charles and Virgil, lived with us for some time. Esther was in Chicago going to school at Moody. Then James was living near Chicago and would come out once in a while. Harold’s sister came up and worked for Zenith too. So, we had a lot of people around us and had a full house a lot of the times. (An understatement, if there ever was one!)
One time Harold’s brothers Charles, Virgil, and my brother James were looking for an apartment. They had me call different places (well, you were the one who had the most to gain!). One day I answered an ad and the lady told me that she was a widow, her daughter was divorced, and they wouldn’t rent to three single men, because they would probably bring in girlfriends and have wild parties on the daughter’s good furniture. (The three of us would often joke about which one of us would get to pay the rent if we lived in the apartment above the widow and the divorcee! ) Sometime later we (especially me!) found that the daughter in the story was Emmy! She and her mother had the apartment for rent. I guess by now Emmy knows that at least one of those fellows doesn’t have “wild” parties, etc. She has lived with him for nearly 43 years, (and who says the “parties” haven’t been wild! There were a few times in those 43 years when it would have been nice if Charles or Virgil had been around to help me pay her rent!)
To get back to the “3 musketeers” and their apartment. They finally found one and they kept it a nice place. They would have trouble once in a while getting a meal, so they would call - one at the phone, one relaying the message, and one at the stove while they made the gravy, or whatever was on the menu.
We came down to Flora in December of ‘51 and sold our home up there in ‘52. We moved to Flora, right next to the school house, and that has sure been good, in a lot of ways. There’s been so many school activities, and if we lived some distance from school, I would have had to drive the girls back and forth a lot. I’m afraid that would have been much more of a burden. We like being this close to the school, for the girls sake.
We had some hard times over the years, because Harold would fix television sets and people wouldn’t pay what they owed, so it was awful hard.
In 1953, in January, I was called to come up to the grocery store of Bob and Lavoun Duncan and they asked if I would like to work for them. I had worked out at Pioneer Corn where I would watch the corn as it came down the belt, and separate and check it and so forth. I had worked there for some time, and one of the men knew I was a good worker, so when Lavoun, up at the store, had to go to the hospital, he recommended me.
They called me, so I went. I worked there for seven years and just started on the eighth year when they decided to sell.
Then I was called the other direction, up by the park to the IGA store, because the cashier was going to the hospital. That’s the way that turned out, and I’ve been with the IGA ever since. I start 34 years January the 20th, 1994, and it has been wonderful. I’ve enjoyed it, and I’ve been so thankful for the job. All those years I walked to work, and came home for lunch and back again, both direction. When the IGA built a new store uptown, it had a concrete floor, so I learned to drive, and we got a second car. I drive to work now, because if I walk that far on concrete and stand that long on concrete, it is just a little too much for my feet. I guess I am getting older.
And I’ve had wonderful bosses. Both the Bobs, Bob Stephan at IGA and Bob Duncan years ago, were the most considerate, friendly and wonderful people to work for.
Another thing I would like to tell about was when I worked up here at the IGA. One day someone who knew our family came in the store, and was asking questions. I was telling about the boys (my brothers) and said they were all tops in their field! Boy, I didn’t know whether I was supposed to be dumb or what, I don’t know what they thought being a cashier was, but I said nothing. (Well, you are a girl.) Anyhow, I’ve enjoyed it all these years.
Now Trent Stephan is the owner as well as manager of the store now. Some of us older workers kind of kid him that we brought him up, because he was just a little fella when they first came to town and I started to work there.
I’ve worked there longer than anyone else, and there are several of us who have worked over 25 years, and that’s quite a record, I think. I think it’s to their advantage and to their good record that they’re good people to work for. They’re very considerate people.
We have always gone to the Grace Brethren Church in Flora. I’ve held just about every office that you could thing of. I’m still on the Flower Committee, the Music Committee, I’m the Sunday School Superintendent, the Prayer Chairman of WMC and I work with the SMM, the young girl’s who meet on Tuesday nights. Right now, and for several years, I’m the Indiana District WMC Prayer Chairman.
Last Monday we had a meeting at Winona, so we went up for that, then went to see Jenny (Joyce’s daughter) and her new baby boy that was born last week. That’s our seventh great-grandchild.
To go back a few years, Joyce and Patty both graduated from the school building next door, and Joyce then went to Grace College. Patty Ann took a business course at Lafayette. They both were married in the Flora church. Joyce has four children: Loni, Don, John, and Jenny.
Patty Ann and Charles have Doug, and the twins Jeff and Sheryl. That makes seven grandchildren, and now we have seven great-grandchildren. Let’s see now, one, two, three, four, five, we have five girls and two boys. They are all well, they are all right, and we’re so thankful.
Sheryl and her husband Jim and their little girl Elizabeth, are in Okinawa right now. Jim is in the Air Force and works in an office, I believe. She is substitute teaching. They have to be there about three years, and they’ve only been there about six months, I think.
There’s one other thing that I want to tell you about, and that is “Mary’s Shoppe.” I have had the store since 1953. I started out with some boxes of greeting cards that Mama had, but then they went on so many trips, I just took them all, and started the store. It was located at the end of the living room for several years, and after Harold’s mother moved to her own apartment, we put everything in our spare bedroom. I enjoy the contacts with all the people. I sell mostly Bibles and greeting cards, although I have a lot of Sunday School awards and little gifts and cards, and books, and different things like that. I enjoy it, and I hope I can keep it going for a while.
Another thing I enjoy is my flower garden. (Remember on the farm near Martinsburg when our home-made skis were broken into pieces and used to prop up the fence to keep the cows out of Mary’s flower garden!) I have many different varieties outside in my garden. I’m on the Flower Committee at church, so in summer time especially, I make one to three bouquets every Sunday morning. I enjoy that, and I have learned a lot about how to arrange flowers, and what ones will hold up the longest, and so forth. That’s just a little side thing that I enjoy.
Another thing I enjoy looking forward to in about October, is that Martha and I start doing our Christmas shopping. She works during the week, so we go on Saturday morning. We go early and try to get home by the middle of the afternoon. We go at least once or twice a month ‘till Christmas, trying to get it done before the weather gets bad. I look forward to that, ‘cause we enjoy the time together.
And the good times we have figuring out where to go next. She’s usually real good at having her list and everything ready, so we really go to town, I'll tell you. When I go shopping with Harold, he says, “Slow down!” I say, “Well, if you ever went shopping with Martha you wouldn’t slow down like that, because when we go, we know just where we want to go and what we want to get.” But, we have lots of fun.
Another thing we are enjoy: When the county newspaper comes out on Thursday, we look to see how many “Garage Sales” there are to visit this weekend, to see what “NEAT” things we can find. Sometimes nothing, but it is fun to find something and not have to spend much. We spend our time, not our money.
Now there’s two other things that I have kind of waited to tell, that I’ve enjoyed so much. One was our 50th Wedding anniversary. We held it at the Flora Grace Brethren Church. Joyce and Patty and Martha and (Martha’s) Mary took care of it. They arranged a nice display table, and everything. They made a Video tape of it so we can still see the people who came to see us. That is so nice to have. (Loni, Jenny and Sheryl helped serve.)
Then one other thing that was so important to me and I didn’t want to forget, was the time that I went to California and visited with James and Esther. I visited with each of them at their homes, and enjoyed being with them, to see where they lived and to see the surrounding country.
Esther and Gus drove me around part of the Mohave Desert near their home, and we visited the area where the Space Shuttle lands on the large airport nearby. We also took pictures of cactus along the road.
The mountains are so different than here (“Here” means Pennsylvania, there are no mountains in Indiana!) Ours has “hair” on ‘em, and their’s are all bald. Is that one way to put it? Well, anyhow the mountains are beautiful and very different. They just reflect the sun in many colors when it shines on the different minerals. They are just beautiful in their own way. It’s a very different part of the country altogether. I enjoyed the sunsets from James and Emmy’s patio, I often think of the colors of those mountains. (Our house is about 50 feet above sea level, and one mountain we see from our patio is over 13,400 feet high, The mountains near Martinsburg are 2,500 to 3,500 feet high.)
The flying part of the trip was something I had dreaded. Never thought in all of my life I’d ever want to be in an airplane, but you know the Lord just took care of that. As the time to fly got closer, my fear went and I wasn’t afraid as I went to and fro.
A highlight of the trip was when James and Emmy took me on a long Trip. One Sunday morning, on our way to San Francisco, we drove over 10,000 foot high Tioga Pass, and down into Yosemite National Park. While in the midst of all that natural beauty, we just burst into song, “How Great Thou Art.” We didn’t have to go to church to worship, we could do it right there in the midst of God’s creation. That was a wonderful time, and I could never thank you two for the wonderful time that you gave me.
We then went on to San Francisco. I never thought I would want to visit there, but it was great! We rode on the Trolley (Cable) cars, drove down Lombard Street, that beautiful crooked street, and spent the night in a motel at Fishermen’s Wharf. (San Francisco is not about to invite her back. One week later they had that horrible earthquake. Who else can they blame it on?) Our return trip was along the coast, but it was so foggy that we didn’t get to see the vastness of the Pacific Ocean. (When Mary saw the Pacific Ocean, she said, “I thought it would be bigger than that!” Well, maybe it was someone else who really said that.)
Linda (with two month old Christiana) took Emmy, Jim and I to Disneyland, then we ate a chicken dinner at Knotts Berry Farm. Papa and Mama talked about eating at the Berry Farm many time when they visited California.
We also stopped to see Dr Schuller’s Glass church (Crystal Cathedral near Disneyland and Knotts Berry Farm). I wasn’t impressed at all. All those frames to hold the glass, girders all showing all over the ceiling. Nothing beautiful to it -- just spectacular.
I want to close with a word to all of you. I long for each of you to know the love of Christ which passesth knowledge that you might be filled with the fullness of God. Ephesians 3:19. I want you to remember that He is able to do exceedingly abundantly above all that we ask or think according to the power that worketh in us. Ephesians 3:20. He is able to keep you from falling and at present you faultless before the presence of His glory with exceeding joy. Jude 24. So made your calling and election sure, II Peter 1:10, so that when the ‘Roll is Called Up Yonder” this ‘Home Circle’ will NOT be broken.
I love you each one and pray for you by name regularly. I will still continue my usual ‘MUSINGS.’
Wed, Apr 1, 1998, and this is not an April fool’s joke!!!
Linda sent Mary a letter asking her about life on the farm with nine people. This is not about any one person, just about living, all those years ago. It can be about washing, baking, ironing, running the printing press, milking cows, picking potato-bugs, making hay, thrashing, husking corn, or what ever. What happened, and when and how did it happen. As in so many things these days, many “things” can’t be remembered by only one person.
Mary talked into a tape recorder, then Linda transcribed from the tape (that’s what she does for a living), printed it out on her computer, FAXed it to the Typist, who printed it, then scanned it on the scanner, OCR’ed it, then with the help of the spell checker, supplied the missing characters and words. (Don’t even ask what all that means!) Then it was edited, added to, changed, etc., etc.
SOME MEMORIES OF MARY STAYER,
dictated 2/21/98
Let's see. I'm thinking about this letter from Linda - she wanted to know how Grandma could do it with seven children. Well, I’ll tell you, we all did it. We all helped.
I think some of the first things that the little ones learned as they came up was washing dishes. I remember in Lake Odessa, I think it was Jesse and Johnny, and they were on chairs standing up, and the first one had the dishpan and the other had the rinse pan — I don't know what happened, but the dishpan, water, boys, and everything came down. I’ll never forget that. So I think that was one of the first jobs in the house that they learned to do.
It would be nice if all of us could get together and talk because I have a different outlook — I was on the inside looking out, and the boys were outside. They were carrying wood — oh, I did my part in that too! But we lived on a farm and they had to take care of things on the farm, and the animals and everything. So that made a difference.
I remember we always washed on Mondays, and then ironed Tuesday or the rest of the week. That was done the hard way, what it would seem like today. We had put a big wash boiler on the stove to heat the water and usually had an old kitchen cook stove and there was a reservoir over on the right-hand side that held hot water. Then we'd have to carry it over to the washing machine and then to the tubs. Then, of course, we had to empty it out. There were drain holes underneath the washing machine to fill the buckets, and then we would carry them outside.
We used a wringer-type washing machine, and I used one up to just about three years ago. We would put the ringer over in the first tub which would have cool water, then you wring them over into the second tub that had some bluing in, and that helped keep the white clothes white. Then you'd wring them out, and always hung them outside. In real bad weather Mama used to put on white cotton gloves and take sheets and different big pieces outside, even though they froze before she got them hung, up, why, they would eventually blow out and dry.
I don't remember the specific time that Mama got up in the morning. It was always sooner than she wanted to. I remember Mama was not a morning person. She always said that about four o'clock in the afternoon was when she got her “sprint,” and would feel like she could just keep on going. And Papa was just the opposite. He'd like to get up early in the morning, and he was about ready to go to bed when supper was over, or a little after.
Our breakfast was usually maybe oatmeal and Post Toasties, and I remember we had that big box on the table. One had a picture of a fireplace, and there was little girl out on the oval rug in front of the fireplace and had a kitty sitting there, and the girl was eating her Post Corn Flakes.
For our different meals — of course we always had chickens and we always had a cow for milk, and whenever we had company, it was always fried chicken. Mama had a cast iron skillet about twelve inches in diameter, and would fry the chicken — of course make gravy and noodles — made the noodles ourselves. Always had biscuits.
Even though we had just a common plain home (most of the time we had linoleum on even the living room floor), we had a lot of important people in our house for meals, like L. S. Bauman. Some of the well-known Bible teachers of the United States visited with us, and they always seemed to have a good time, and just kind of relaxed.
Sometimes we had rugs, and this is how we got some of our rugs for the living room. We would keep our rags or old clothes, and things like that, and we'd send them to Chicago. The Olson Rug Company would make the rugs, and send them to us. The value of the old material, would help pay for the cost of the rug. They were reversible, the same on one side as the other. We could turn them and they just lasted for years.
We had a cook stove in the kitchen and then a heater (small wood or coal-burning stove) in the living room, and that’s all the heat we had in the house. And as far as being cold, upstairs in the bedroom, why that was just natural. And we still — Harold and I still have a cold bedroom compared to the rest — but the only time any heat got upstairs was if we would open the stair door, or in a couple of houses there was a register in the floor and whatever heat came up through the ceiling, warmed it up a little bit.
As far as trading eggs or milk or something for things, I don't remember anything like that. Now I know Mama had to shop carefully — Papa would only give her $3, and that was all she had to spend at the store. You can imagine 25 cents worth of hamburger for 9 people — she really stretched things!
For birthdays, lots of times we made ice cream. We had eggs from the chickens, we had milk from the cows, and ice. In Michigan, Papa and the boys would go over in the wintertime and help them chop the ice out of the lake, then they would put it in a ice house and cover it with a very thick layer of sawdust. When we wanted ice cream in the summer, we would go over and get a chunk of ice, and make ice cream, using a hand-cranked ice cream machine. (What was it really called?) Usually there was a cake or something for birthdays.
Christmas was always big. We didn't have a big Christmas like some do now. One thing that was really appreciated, and what made it so nice, was that Papa would write notes and put the first one in our stocking hung by whatever passed for the fireplace. We followed the rhyme or puzzle on the note, and we were sent different places all over the house to find the next note. Then eventually with the last note, we found our gift. We really enjoyed that.
There was never any special celebration at home for Easter. (I remember colored eggs, a little.)
Fireworks on the Fourth of July. In Martinsburg, when we were allowed, we went up to the park and they had a celebration of fireworks up there. We got to see them, but I don't remember much whether the boys had any — they could probably tell about that.
Then in the evenings for our devotions Papa would lay down on the floor and put his arms out and we would all lay on his arms on both sides and he would start from Genesis and tell us stories of the Bible, all though the Bible that way.
Discipline - Papa did that. Mama did some too, but maybe just because I remembered Papa’s, I don't know, but they were in agreement about doing the discipline. And I remember different things. We three older ones especially would know enough not to do some things before we even did it because of what we knew would happen. And then some of the younger ones came along and they kind of pushed over the barriers and tried to do some other things. So I remember some of them really got disciplined for that.
As far as we older ones, well, we would never think to do such a thing! Of course Papa was always home — so as far as waiting ‘til your father gets home to discipline, that wasn't necessary, ‘cause he was there all the time. Maybe that made the difference. Maybe that's why we didn't try to “do” different things, because Papa was always there.
I want to mention going back to the ironing days. We didn't always have an electric iron. We had those iron bottoms, I don’t know what you would call them (flat-irons, maybe) — you've seen them, they're pointed, shaped like the bottom of an iron. And we'd heat them on the stove. They got hot, then we had a handle with a shell that went over the top of it, and fastened it and brought it over to the ironing board, and we ironed until it got cool. Then we went back and got another one. And this was all in the days before air conditioning. We had that hot cook stove going, year round, and that iron, and we didn't have fans or anything. But we got it done. Can you imagine ironing a linen tablecloth with those irons?
And that reminds me too. we hung the clothes outside, they got dry, then we brought them in. Remember the clothes — the materials in those days — were just cotton and rayon and linen and silk. They wrinkled easily, and stayed that way. So everything we brought in had to lay out on the table, so we could sprinkled it. Mama used her fingers mostly (dipped her fingers in a bowl of water, then shook them over the clothes).
A little later, we picked up a Coke bottle and put a little — well I don't know what you'd call it — a spray head on it. It's like a sprinkling can, but this is only about an inch across, and it had a cork to put in the mouth of the bottle, then you sprinkled with that. And I’ve got a spray-head in my cupboard now from those days. But we sprinkled every piece and we rolled it up real tight and put them all together in a basket. Then we ironed (of course you had to iron every inch of everything), and the shirts were special, all that took a lot of time.
Talking about shirts. I remember when Harold's brothers lived with us in Chicago. I ironed 20-some shirts a week. But when it came to ironing linen tablecloths, — I'd a lot sooner do the shirts, I think. But now we have different kinds of materials where you wash and wear and just run them through the dryer and hang them up and they don't even look like they've been messed up. It sure is a lot different than it used to be.
I don't remember all that much — we just lived through the times, and I didn't think our lives were extraordinary or anything. Of course I was the oldest, so I just did a lot of things. I remember in Martinsburg — they had an open stairway in the parsonage — and it seemed like every day I had to take a rag and dust down the steps. Of course there was always cleaning and sweeping to do, and dishes, and pick up after the other kids, and just normal living. But we all had our own chores to do and had to watch our own things, too, we just had to do that. We each were relied on for different things. I remember Paul and Jesse were good at baking cookies, and I think it was Paul who popped corn. And, so it was different things like that, that the different ones were responsible for, or enjoyed doing.
In addition to Papa laying on the floor, as mentioned earlier, he would tell us the stories from the Bible. We had devotions where the Bible was read and we'd all kneel down at our chairs and pray. And that wasn't the only thing. At supper time, for a few years, we would start learning scripture verses. And I remember especially Psalms 1. We just did just a little bit at a time and kept at it a little bit every night until we had it learned, and it's a good thing, too, because I remember them, where now I can't memorize.
Our big meal was at dinner unless we had company, then we'd have the big meal for supper, but we usually had it at noon time. Supper was mostly, I don't know, soup or milk and bread. I mean, it wasn't the big, meal like so many have now at night.
This is just the way we lived then. And everything was just the way it was supposed to be. Of course I was busy most of the time, ‘cause there were little ones to look after, and a lot of cooking and dishes, and lot of cleaning.
I would run the sweeper and help get meals and so forth. There's something I want to mention here; The flies we so bad out on the Shriver farm — that's across from Eversoles, outside of Martinsburg — that many times Mama, and one or two of us, would take tea towels (of course they were always made out of feed sacks), and somebody would go over to the screen door and hold it and we would wave the towels, and chase the flies toward the door. Swarms of flies went out the door. We would do it two or three times. We usually didn’t have any fly-spray or anything, didn't use anything out in the barn — and so there was a lot of flies.
I just don't see how Mama really did it all anyhow, ‘cause Papa was kind of demanding of her time. He wanted her to read to him and help him do this and that and so forth. I remember there's a picture in an album where she was sitting on the porch of the parsonage in Martinsburg. Papa took a picture and said that he just wanted to see who he lived with. Well, she was awful tired-looking and everything, and I just didn't blame her at all. She didn't get a chance to sit down and rest much.
One thing I do want you to read, is the announcement in the local paper about my retirement. This was in the paper (The Hoosier Democrat) the 14th of January 1998.
“Mary Stayer of Flora has retired from Stephen’s IGA after 37 Years of service. She retired January 2, a day before she turned 80. Add the seven years she worked at the grocery owned by Bob and Lavon Duncan and she says she spent over half of her life at a grocery store. Not totally retired, Stayer continues at a shop she runs in her home, Mary's Bible Shop. She started the business in l953 for contact with people. She sells mainly Bibles and greeting cards. She also volunteers at the Brethren Home Care Center, ironing fabric to be cut into quilt squares, plays the piano, gardens, and is active in Grace Brethren Church.”
And I wrote a “thank you,” published the next week in the paper, to all the friends and for all the cards, and everything, that I got. I thanked Bob and Trent for being the best employers. I said I could verify that because I worked for them 37 years. Out on the, oh I forget what you call it, out in the corner of the parking lot they have the big .sign where they advertise specials. They put on it, “Thanks Mary for 37 years.” I thought that was kind of nice!
I am helping out at the Brethren Home. I don't know whether you know this or not, but I probably am the only one around who was there at the very, very beginning when it was an orphanage and a home for old people — just the one big building there. Papa was preaching, I think it was in Roann, and there was a little old lady, her name was Tiny, and I came with him (I don't know maybe the rest of the family did too) when he brought her down here — the first occupant of the Brethren Home just outside Flora.
I go out some days, not too often, because when I iron I have to stand, so I don't do it more than a couple hours. But I enjoy being with the ladies out there. They work on different parts of the blankets that they make.
Last week they asked if I would like to play the piano at the dinner hour on Wednesday, from 11:00 to 12:00. I said I would enjoy it. Then they called me the day before, and asked if I’d lead the singing for the Bible study period at 6:30 that evening, and I said, “Well I don't sing much anymore,” but since I play the piano, I said okay. Then they called and said they really had a problem. The man who was going to give the scripture lesson for Bible study is sick. So they asked if I could bring something. So that day was pretty well filled. I led the singing and then I had some devotions then for the ladies. Of course, for many years I was the cashier at the grocery store where many of those women shopped, so it’s not like being with a bunch of strangers.
Now it is the Typist’s turn to tell a few little comments about things Mary said, and some other things.
I remember that the women in Martinsburg would try to be the first one with washing on the line, on Monday morning, then they would spent the rest of the day complaining about how early they had to get up on Monday mornings. Of course there had to be time for the clothes to dry, but they were up at four in the morning doing the washing .
Now to try and describe a “ringer” washer. The washer itself was much like today’s automatic washer, that is a large tub, with an “agitator” inside that goes back and forth, to move water through the clothes. Grandma Humberd had a washer that was operated by hand. Someone we knew (maybe us?), had a washer that was run by a small gasoline engine, but the only one I remember at home, was electric. For the ringer part, there were two rollers covered with rather hard rubber, and they were positioned one just above the other, close together. When you turned a crank (and sometimes it was electric), and “fed” a piece of clothing between the rollers, the rollers would turn and squeeze the water out of what ever you were washing.
The ringer could swing around in a circle, so it could be positioned over the washing machine, or over the other tubs. That meant the water that was being removed from the clothes, went back into the proper tub, and the clothes would go to the next stage of the operation. That is, from the washing machine and the wash water, to a rinse tub filled with rinse water. There was washing water and rinse water, just like the different wash and rinse cycles on the automatic washers of today. (Did you ever stop to think that maybe someone will be reading this write-up many years from now, when what we call an “automatic washer” is considered as ancient as the ringer washer is today, in 1998)
These days, removing the water from the wash load, is what the washing machine is doing while it is spinning and “throwing” the water to the outside tub, then out the drain. In Europe, many places they have a special spin machine, that goes even much, much faster than our washing machines, it removes more of the water and it takes even less time to dry the clothes, either in a dryer, or on the clothes line.
Often wondered, why let the clothes get so dry on the line, if they were just going to sprinkle them with water right away?
I tell the story about the hardship we at home suffered during the war. Since sugar was rationed, I was only permitted about half the sugar I wanted on my cereal. Emmy’s German cousins, didn’t think that was much suffering. I remember that Mama had a sugar bowl for each of us still at home, and at certain times of the month, the individual ration of sugar was parceled out. We could use it as fast or as meager as we wanted, but when it was gone it was gone until the next ration was available.
I seem to remember that bread was baked twice a week, but I have no idea how many loaves were baked. I remember some round loaves, some in regular loaf shape, but all rose high above the pan. Sometimes there were cinnamon rolls that were the best there was. Mama would start with the big aluminum pot, maybe 18” in diameter. She would mix the ingredients, then put it out on a board to knead and knead, then into the pans to raise, then into the oven of the wood-fired stove, to bake.
On rare occasions, when pies were being baked, the extra pie dough, and some of what was cut off the edges, were covered with sugar and cinnamon. Delicious. On rare occasions I can get Emmy to fix that very thing. I always make sure there is pie dough in the refrig, and sometimes she will take the hint. I know, I know, I can bake it, and sometimes I do, but she has to earn her way somehow …… … !
I remember -20° in the bedroom. Of course anything less than 100° seems cold to me, that’s why I live in the desert.
I do remember coloring eggs, and can’t imagine that was for anything but Easter.
Do you remember how the snow would pile high on the roof, then slide off with a rushing sound, from time to time. I remember, in the parsonage in Martinsburg, at bedtime on Christmas eve. Papa was telling everyone to get in bed because Santa was about to land on the roof, and stomped his feet to make us think of reindeer on the roof. The strange thing was, at that exact moment, a huge snow drift slid off the roof, with a terrible sound. Papa just about jumped out of his skin.
Popcorn was better known as “Butter on mine!” and you can just guess who “mine” was. And once in a while the big pan used for mixing bread, was used for cracker-jack, made with the famous Humberd receipt.
Christmas was about the only time we saw an Orange. I remember that once in a while we got a wooden box, maybe 6” high, a foot wide and long, and filled with dates, all carefully stacked. For the past many years, I have three or four dates for breakfast every morning. When we travel in Europe, they are always available from Algiers, or some such place. Within 30 miles from where we live in the California desert, they grow tons and tons of dates each year, so they are plentiful around here.
I know, I know this is to be about how we lived when we were kids, but this story must be told somewhere. When dates are growing, they must climb the tree and put a paper cover around the dates, to protect them from birds and bugs. We see this all the time, tall palm trees, with big paper sheets wrapped around the large bunches of dates among the date fronds. The local college has many trees lining the streets, and dates are harvested from them. One time a lady asked Jim what those paper things were, high up in the trees. Jim informed her that was a paper-bag orchard, where the supermarket grew the paper grocery bags. And she replied, “Oh, I didn’t know that.”
This next story doesn’t fit here either, except that “dates” is the subject at the moment. One of Emmy’s cousin was in North Africa during WW II and said that a delicacy for breakfast was a slice from a loaf of pressed-seedless dates. While walking through the local town one day, they noticed a man tramping around in a small tub, as if he were stomping grapes to make wine. Closer inspection revealed that the man, with dirty bare feet, was stomping on dates to remove the seeds. Well, what
Tidbit by Jim and Emmy HumberdSimilar tidbits in: Humberd Chronicles, Travel Tidbits
Email this Travel Tidbit to a friend
Email this page to a friend
