Poems my mother told me

 

I was a lucky little girl because I had a mother who read to me.  Every night before bed, she would gather her little brood on the sofa and read aloud to us.  She did this even though she was tired for her day began often before dawn as she helped with the farm chores before her children were up.  There were eggs to clean and milk to place in cans before deliveries could be made.  I remember her dozing off in the middle of the page and we would gently nudge her awake so she could finish the story.  She didn't just read picture books.  We also were introduced to Black Beauty and Robinson Caruso and other big books.  A love of reading was a special gift she gave us.

She also had a repertoire of memorized poems which she would share as we worked together.  I've been thinking about that lately and so I found the two I remember most to share.

 Little Orphant Annie

by James Whitcomb Riley

Little Orphant Annie’s come to our house to stay,
An’ wash the cups an’ saucers up, an’ brush the crumbs away,
An’ shoo the chickens off the porch, an’ d ust the hearth, an’ sweep,
An’ make the fire, an’ bake the bread, an’earn her board-an’-keep;
An’ all us other children, when the supper things is done,
We set around the kitchen fire an’ has the mostest fun
A-list’nin’ to the witch-tales ‘at Annie tells about,
An’ the Gobble-uns ‘at gits you
             Ef you
                Don’t
                   Watch
                      Out!
        
Onc’t they was a little boy wouldn’t say his prayers,--
So when he went to bed at night, away up stairs,
His Mammy heerd him holler, an’ his Daddy heerd him bawl,
An’ when they turn’t the kivvers down, he wasn’t there at all!
An’ they seeked him in the rafter-room, an’ cubby-hole, an’ press,
An’ seeked him up the chimbly-flue, an’ ever’wheres, I guess;
But all they ever found was thist his pants an’ roundabout--
An’ the Gobble-uns’ll git you
             Ef you
                Don’t
                   Watch
                      Out!
        
An’ one time a little girl ‘ud allus laugh an’ grin,
An’ make fun of ever’one, an’ all her blood an’ kin;
An’ onc’t, when they was “company," an’ ole folks was there,
She mocked ‘em an’ shocked ‘em, an’ said she didn’t care!
An’ thist as she kicked her heels, an’ turn’t to run an’ hide,
They was two great big Black Things a-standin’ by her side,
An’snatched her through the ceilin’fore she knowed what she's about!
An’ the Gobble-uns’ll git you
             Ef you
                Don’t
                   Watch
                      Out!
        
An’ little Orphant Annie says when the blaze is blue,
An’ the lamp-wick sputters, an’ the wind goes woo-oo!
An’ you hear the crickets quit, an’ the moon is gray,
An’ the lightnin’-bugs in dew is all squenched away,--
You better mind yer parents, an’ yer teachers fond an’ dear,
An’ churish them ‘at loves you, an’ dry the orphant’s tear,
An’ he’p the pore an’ needy ones ‘at clusters all about,
Er the Gobble-uns’ll git you
             Ef you
                Don’t
                   Watch
                      Out!

I Love You, Mother

“I love you, Mother,” said little John,
Then forgetting his work, his cap went on
And off to the garden he went to the swing,
Forgetting the coal and wood to bring.
“I love you, Mother,” said little Nell,
“I love you better than tongue can tell.”
Then she teased and pouted full half the day
So her mother rejoiced when she went out to play.
“I love you, Mother,” said little Fan,
“Today I’ll help you all I can;
How glad I am that school doesn’t keep,”
And she rocked the baby ’til it fell asleep.
Then stepping softly she took the broom,
And swept the floor and dusted the room.
Happy and busy all day was she,
As helpful and busy as a child could be.
“I love you, Mother,” again they said,
Three little children going to bed.
How do you think that mother guessed
Which one of them really loved her best?
                                        (Author Unknown)

Water fun memories

I follow a FB page called "Remember in Tempe."  This week a picture of Tempe Beach popped up.  That is exactly how it looked back in the days when I would spend hours there as did many of the kids living in Tempe.  Often my friend's mom would drop us off in the early afternoon and my mom would pick us up on her way home from her work also on Mill Avenue at Broadway.  I have so many good memories of this pool. The following blurb accompanied the picture.

Memorial Day weekend is the traditional start of swimming season in Arizona. The Tempe Beach swimming pool was the favorite place for kids to keep cool for decades. Built in 1923, the pool was remodeled dramatically in 1964 into the smaller version shown here. The pool closed around 1975, and the site was eventually remodeled into the entry of the current Tempe Beach Park. Today, families still gather here in the summer to cool off at the very popular splash pad.

Here is a picture I found of the original pool built in 1923.  There were also lots of old trees at Tempe Beach Park which is on the south bank of the Salt River which used to be a flowing river in 1923.

When I was in high school, Big Surf was built.  It was the biggest wave pool in the world at the time.  This was exciting stuff for land locked Arizonans.  Now we sort of had an ocean.

My old neighborhood is in the background.  It was tradition at Tempe High to have a Senior Ditch Day in the early spring.  My senior year, Ditch Day was planned to be at Big Surf.

 

My group of friends decided to ditch Ditch Day and went to the Salt River to tube instead.  The plan was to be the first group on tubes to float down the Salt that year.  It was really, really cold but we did earn bragging rights.  Isn't it fun how water flows through summertime memories?

Now I have grandchildren who come to Provo for a visit and walk just down the street to the Seven Peaks Water Park.  The water fun continues on.

50th Anniversaries

50th anniversaries and celebrations seem to be popping up everywhere, at least in Arizona.  My family left Idaho for warm Arizona in 1964.  My father, the constant farmer, could no longer tolerate cold Idaho winters.  Taking care of all those dairy cows had become too hard as his health declined.  He and my mother had honeymooned in February of 1952 in Arizona and my mother knew it would be the right place for us.  We moved into this house in November of 1964.

It was a rental home on Laird Street in Tempe, Arizona.  Back then the yard was in much better shape and it had something new for us, a sliding glass door.  My brother walked through that glass door soon after we began unloading the cattle truck filled with our belongings that my uncle Keith had driven from the farm to our new home.  This home was also near my mother's Army buddy, Ruth Staddon's home where she had welcomed us as we waited for our beds to arrive.  She had also planned a birthday party for me as I was turning 12.

This home was also near schools, both elementary and middle school, and we would no longer be bus riders but walkers.  This is where I walked, Gilliland Middle School, which was then know as a junior high.  I went from what was essentially a country school with a classroom for each grade to this school which was larger than my old home town's high school.  I was in one of several 6th grade classrooms and there were also 7th and 8th grade homerooms and math, science, chorus, home ec, and art rooms.  It was a bit overwhelming at first.

But Gilliland became a happy place for me.  My new teacher, Irene Benedict, showed me extra attention and life was new but good.

This notice popped up on Facebook and I realized that I would be in Arizona that Thursday so made the effort to go.  My sister, Becky, went with me, not because she also went to this school, but because this was also a feeder school for Tempe High School which she did attend.  We only lived in the home on Laird for about a year and then my mother purchased a home on Bluebell Lane in north Tempe on the other side of the Salt River bed.  With that move, I once again became a bus rider.

Until I saw this notice, I don't think that I realized that my 1964 arrival was to a brand new school.  I knew the trees were little, but it just didn't register that the school was new.  It was a boom time for Tempe.  New sub divisions were popping up all over which called for new schools.  This is also the year of the 50th anniversary celebration of McClintock High School which I attended my freshman and sophomore years.  That new home in the north was bused no matter what, so it was easy to change us from school to school.  It shifted back to Tempe High my junior year and I was still homesick for my old friends so that was the school from which I graduated in 1971 and also spent two years.

It was so fun to walk these halls again and remember my days as a Gilliland Roadrunner.  I could remember where my classes were and what used to be where.  All those great teachers' faces came back to me.

There were new buildings like this gymnasium.  Back in my day, all PE classes and sports were outside.  It was Arizona after all.  There was also a newer wing off the back for 6th grade.  Back when I arrived several of the 6th grade rooms were in portables.  Mayor John C. Moeur, who was mayor at the time, just passed away at 91.  More about that here. You can read his great interview about growing up in Tempe and this time period here.  Arizona really began to grow after World War II when all the service men, English pilot trainees, and even German POWs who had been stationed or in camps here, returned for the good weather and chance at a good life.  I guess that included my Women's Army Air Corp mom who had attended college using the GI Bill and also bought our home with a GI Loan.

I participated in student government as well as served as a cheerleader while attending this school.  It was fun to see this picture in the trophy case.  They played and won the championship basketball game in the Phoenix Coliseum at which I cheer leaded.  They were just the warm up act to an NBA game to be played even though Arizona didn't have a team at that time.  I was chatting away and walked right into Wilt Chamberlain on my way off court.  It was my first true celebrity experience.  Number 10 was my crush at the time and he returned as a teacher and coach to Gilliland where he spent many years before retiring.  That is why the court is named for him.

I loved this great poster in the hall and recognized many of the faces.

Susan Bradley, the Valentine dance sweetheart, was my best friend and also my close neighbor in the new north Tempe neighborhood.

Of course, the retired teacher was in attendance.  It really was good to see him again and we needed this picture just because he was student body president and I his secretary.

Most of my teachers are no longer with us but Jim lead me to Mr. Babcock in the library.  He was my math teacher as well as the sponsor of student council.  He, too, retired from Gilliland. He doesn't look 84.  I loved that library (which had been expanded.)  I was a library assistant but it was also the place I went to each day before leaving school to pick out a new book.  When I think of Teacher Appreciation Week, I remember many of my teachers at Gilliland, Mrs. Benedict, Mrs. Hamilton, Mrs. Wright, Mrs. Coghill, Miss Janis, Mrs. Smith, and even the principal, Frank Houston, who also went to my church.  Those were great years for me and I was there longer than either high school.  It was good to go home for an evening.

50 years and it still hurts

I have talked about John F. Kennedy on my blog before.  He was the first president I remember well as a child.  I used to confuse Eisenhower with the president of my church, David O. McKay, but at age 9, when President Kennedy was elected, I definitely knew and was mesmerized by the new, young family in the White House.  I was also more aware of current world events such as the civil rights protests, the Bay of Pigs, and definitely the Cuban Missile Crisis.  That last one kept my worry wart (my parents' nickname for me) self up nights.  I wrote about that time in this post.

Fifty years ago today, Jackie was dressed in a pink suit and pill box hat and exiting a plane in Dallas, Texas in company with her husband.  It would become the worst day of her life.  I was in my 5th grade classroom at Edmunds Elementary located on a quiet country corner across from the church in Plano, Idaho.  Edmunds was several miles from my home near Sugar City.  It was a daily school bus ride.  Some years ago I tried to find this school again for I have many happy memories of my 3rd through partial 6th grade year.  I drove this way and that, but never found it.  I googled it today and found out why.  Here is a copy of the history.

Edmunds Rural High School # 1

Edmunds is in the northwest corner of Madison County. Its western border is desert. There is mention made in the histories of the Brown family, who moved to the area in 1889, of attending school in log building located out in the field owned by the Edward Hemsley family. Later this building was moved to Egin.
The next building was a white frame building located on a corner now where the Plano Community Park is. It was in use in 1906. Some time after this, a building was erected on this corner. It was a red frame school consisting of a large room that could be divided with a curtain to make two classrooms. It also had upstairs rooms.
In 1925 this school was torn down and another built on the site. It was built of yellowish brown brick and was intended to house both elementary and high school students. At this time the districts of Plano, Edmunds, and Egin joined together to form a district, Joint Rural High School # 1. This was a large building with a gym and a stage. When the Sugar City Central Elementary School was built all students went to Sugar City. The Edmunds building was later sold and torn down.

I remember the interior of this school well. Four classrooms (one for 3rd, 4th, 5th, and 6th grades) and the Principal's office opened onto an open hallway which in turn surrounded the gym which was a godsend for kids during cold, cold Idaho winters.  The stage was on the south end of the gym and a lunchroom and kitchen were through a door on the east side of the stage.  There was a "media" room on the west side, or media as we had in those days.  We watched educational shorts from a projector on a white screen every Friday afternoon. I can still hear the whap, whap at the end as the last frames of film left one reel for the other.  Now in retrospect, I am sure our movie time was teacher prep time for the next week.

We did not watch movies on Friday, November 22, 1963.  We had our daily yummy lunch (our lunch ladies cooked from scratch and it was good food), enjoyed lunch recess, and then returned to our classrooms.  The 5th grade room was located on the northwest corner of the school.  Mr. Clements was my teacher.  It was he who told us of the terrible event that had occurred in Dallas, Texas and that our beloved president was dead.  I will never forget the sick feeling that overcame me.  I really just wanted to go home to my mother, but we had a couple of hours to endure before that long bus ride through the country side.  Mr. Clements seemed to be in shock.  He sat silently at his desk with his head down for the remainder of the day. Looking back on this as an adult and a teacher who dealt with students during 9/11, I understand his pain, but I think he failed us as a teacher that day.

In 1963, our family did not own a television.  My father, the ever busy farmer, dairyman, and night shift worker during the winters in the lab at the sugar factory, felt that TV watching was a waste of time.  The assassination of President Kennedy was a time of great national mourning and the nation was watching it together.  My mother went and rented a television set with option to buy.  Thus, we watched on live TV as Ruby shot Oswald, a riderless horse clip clopped down Pennsylvania Avenue, and John John saluted his father one last time.  My mother also purchased a hard cover picture filled memorial book which was later delivered by mail. I studied that book intently.  Over the years I have listened to, pondered, and watched the many theories of why and who and was it a conspiracy.  This month I have watched, listened, and pondered more as this 50th year has arrived and many documentaries have been produced.  It was truly a defining moment of my childhood.

Earlier this year, I read a memoir by Clint Hill, secret service agent assigned to Jackie Kennedy.  I talk about that book in this post.

This is a picture I found of Mr. Hill as he clung to the back of the car after running to it as shots rang out.  He has been talking on many of the shows I've watched during this 50 year anniversary.  I think that the writing of his book, Mrs. Kennedy and Me, has finally enabled him to talk about that day publicly.  He still feels that he failed the President and his wife some how.  I remember my pain and wonder about his.  How would you deal with such an event when it was your job to protect?

Happy New Year!

Happy New Year to all!  I am in Arizona enjoying the sunshine but took this picture of the Red Barn in Santaquin last weekend in Utah because it reminds me of the red barn on the farm where I spent my first years in Idaho.  This is how New Year's Day looked during my childhood.  Today I am making ham and navy bean soup using the leftover ham bone just like my mother did on New Year's Day so long ago.

Big sister

Being the big sister has been a role I have enjoyed, mostly.  I love this Christmas card photo of Gary's and Velva's little family in 1958, left to right: Lynette, Janis, Laurel holding Becky, and lone brother Farrell.  Youngest sister Jolene would not arrive until the early part of 1960. We were a fifties family and they had them fast back then.  Farrell and I are 13 months apart in age and with those "L" names we were often asked if we were twins.  Lynette and Becky were 11 1/2 months apart.  I look at Lynette and think, "Why she is still just a baby, too."  But we all survived and continue to love one another.

Things about myself I notice in this picture:

-French braids which my mother put in my hair on Saturday night (very tightly) with the assumption that they would last a week.
-Bandaid on my knee which is a regular feature as I always had skinned up knees.
-Wart on the other knee and those warts were my childhood bane.  I still have scars where some were burned off.
-Clothes made by my mother who was at her Pfaff sewing machine almost daily.  I would sit on a little round stool next to her sewing table and watch her sew and ask lots of questions.

I love that people are still sending family pictures with their Christmas greetings.  Isn't that what Christmas is all about, celebrating the gift of the Savior with friends and family?

 

This is what I included in my Christmas Card this year, pictures of my family who are my treasure.