Mad Woman!

Today I saw on Facebook a photo that took me back to high school. This photo was part of a series showing gifted students promoting new products in a Shark Tank competition.  But, seeing that photo made me laugh out loud.  If you look carefully, it shows a mummy wrapped in toilet paper.

Television ads have always interested me.  I have actually stopped watching TV shows when the ads didn't "measure up".  When our daughter were watching "junk" TV, I would ask them to analyze the ads. "What is the target audience? "Is this you?  Do you represent this target audience? If not, turn to another show."

Our older two daughters used to sit with little desks watching ads while making magazines with ads.  They even took a video class  one summer so they could "film" TV shows with commercials in our basement. I once heard that watching how children play will determine their future.  While neither daughter currently works in advertising, one majored in Advertising in the School of Journalism and the other majored in Communications. They are both still interested in art and computer graphics.

When teaching German, I even enjoyed showing a video of German commercials.  I still can look at a commercial and tell if it was made in Germany.  Their chocolate and candy commercials target adults, while American ones target children.  So instead of dancing colorful packages and cartoon figures, German commercials show candle light, well dressed beautiful couples and creamy chocolate.  When they taste a piece of chocolate, their eyes light up in delight  and they waltz off together. The implication is that candy is an aphrodisiac whereas our commercials emphasize energy and riotous fun.

That photo of a student promoting toilet paper took me back to my Speech and Drama class---a class that sometimes caused anxiety but sometimes. . . .mirth. I was the class clown, so debates, memorizing scenes from Greek Drama and giving a funeral oration were definitely more anxiety than mirth. The teacher was a tall, thin and strict woman named Mrs. Betancourt who had a look that would freeze you in your track if you tried to joke around during play practice or weren't serious during debate.  But, when our assignment was to create a television commercial, I was all in.

I had several rolls of toilet paper that I was going to promote.  I very seriously talked about the advantages of Norcross toilet paper over other name brands.  I took the paper wrapper off and demonstrated how it was strong and yet it dissolved in water. When I was done extolling the virtues of Norcross TP,  I launched into the jingle to the tune of  The Man on the Flying Trapeze.

It flies through the air with the greatest of ease---

Norcross makes the finest of all the Tps

My actions are graceful, it always does please:

It tears apart in the rain and stays in the trees.

And I began throwing toilet paper around the room weaving in and out of my classmates desks before I finally got to the teacher where I nervously wrapped her in TP like a mummy.  The  class nervously giggled, while watching Mrs. Betancourt as she slowly stood up, unwrapping herself.  First one eye was on me and another and then her mouth---she was SMILING.  The class erupted: her smile giving them permission to enjoy the moment.  I had TPed the class and the teacher and I got a good grade for it!

My Evolving Views on Race , Part III

My first year of teaching was at McCluer High School teaching Sophomore English and first year German.  The theme for Sophomore English was "Confinement" and we kicked off the year with "Raisin in the Sun".  As an English major at Southeast Missouri State College, I had primarily taken classes in language, Greek and British literature with only the required classes in American Literature.  Suddenly I'm teaching "Raisin in the Sun".  It was wonderful---I loved the language and the symbolism of the play, but it was the raw emotion that gripped me like a band around my heart.

The family was struggling with this new life of "freedom" and opportunity, wanting to buy a home.  But a generational divide within the family is one of the main themes.  "

Mama: Oh—So now it’s life. Money is life. Once upon a time freedom used to be life—now it’s money. I guess the world really do change . . .
Walter: No—it was always money, Mama. We just didn’t know about it.
Mama: No . . . something has changed. You something new, boy. In my time we was worried about not being lynched . . . You ain’t satisfied or proud of nothing we done. I mean that you had a home; that we kept you out of trouble till you was grown; that you don’t have to ride to work on the back of nobody’s streetcar—You my children—but how different we done become.

MAMA …Big Walter used to say, he’d get right wet in the eyes sometimes, lean his head back with the water standing in his eyes and say, “Seem like God didn’t see fit to give the black man nothing but dreams – but He did give us children to make them dreams seem worth while. (Act I, scene i)

And of course, this lead me to Langston Hughes and his wonderful poetry, one of which was the basis of the title of "Raisin in the Sun".

Harlem

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore-
And then run?

Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over-
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

I was hooked.  From Langston Hughes, I moved on to James Weldon Johnson, Claude McKay and Countee Cullen:  the Harlem Renaissance Poets.

Teaching in the late 1960's, I also worked under the influence of the protest songs of Joan Baez, Bob Dylan, Aretha Franklin.  I taught that also as poetry and moved on to spirituals to show my students that protest music was nothing new.

In addition to teaching, I started thinking about graduate school.  I really wanted to study Black Literature, but I looked in the mirror and realized that was not in my future.  Even some of my Black students questioned my love of "their" literature.  What did I know of "dreams deferred"?  What did I know about the Black experience?

So, I dutifully signed up for classes in Shakespeare, Romantic Poets and Eugene O'Neill.  But, I was never happy and eventually stopped working on that graduate degree.  

 

My Evolving Views on Race, Part 2

In the mid-1950s, we moved from our South St. Louis City flat  to a new North County house in a subdivision where all of the houses looked alike.  It was a great place to grow up because I had 4 sets of aunts and uncles that lived in the same subdivision.  My school was very new with a real cafeteria which served hot lunches and everything was very clean and white:  the houses, the class rooms, the people.  I no longer "rubbed shoulders" with people of color, but that didn't mean I wasn't influenced by the Black culture.

When I was in junior high school, I began to discover Black entertainers.  Harry Belafonte, Nat King Cole and Johnny Mathis were favorite singers of mine.  They opened the door for me to spend many hours listening to The Temptations, The Supremes and other Black singing, syncopated groups. I spent hours singing and imitating that dancing style in front o the television.   I also loved musicals with two of my favorite songs from Showboat:  "Old Man River" and "Fish Got to Swim and Birds Got to Fly". I even translated Porgy and Bess's  "Summertime" into German for fun. The depths of sadness in those songs reached out to my teenage angst.

Television and Films were also beginning to feature Black performers--- Bill Cosby in "I Spy" and Sidney Poitier in "Lillies of the Fields" a role which earned him an Academy Award.  Locally, we had several wonderful Black broadcasters:  Julius Hunter and Fred Porterfield.  But we were especially proud of Dianne White who was the first Black female weather broadcaster in the country.

Riverview High School in the 1960's was mostly white, but we did have several Black students---2 were siblings Lois and Morris.  Morris played football and was often seen laughing and socializing with the other football players.  His yearbook photo shows a confident and happy young man.  His sister Lois had a more difficult time without the athletic connections opening the social doors.  Her yearbook photo shows an anxiety I don't recall her having or maybe I am better at interpreting facial expressions, now.  I would have said, she was stand offish, but now I see what a difficult role she had as a Black female teen in an almost all white school.

We also had a Black teacher---Mrs. Neal.  Technically she didn't teach any of us and the yearbook calls her a "visiting teacher" which was usually more like a substitute.  She had a degree from Sam Houston College but worked more as a truant officer.  She worked all day in a small windowless room on the phone, calling to see why each student was absent.  I volunteered in the office as a runner who collected the attendance and she was on my regular run.  She was always friendly, cordial and took lots of notes with each phone call.  I didn't think it was odd that we had a Black woman on the staff, nor did I think it odd that she was hidden away in a windowless room.

I could now see that some Blacks could be successful through entertainment or athletics.  The most successful were often those of lighter skin, had special talents or those who were well educated.  But, the vast majority of the Black population still weren't accepted by  everyone or were hidden away in windowless rooms working at jobs below their level of education like Lois or Mrs. Neal.  Athletes like Morris had some social doors opened for them.  He was friends with those on the football team but wasn't selected as an escort for the Homecoming Court, an honor for the Senior football players.  With an all white court, a black male escort was still unthinkable.  But there was a crack in the door.

How We Met: Narrative

 I was about 14 or 15, and I remember meeting my friend Tom’s older brothers Dave and Harry  at church.  I was with my friend Hilda who was infatuated with Dave.  They went to high school together and she undoubtedly knew that he was Senior Class President, but all I saw was a very good looking young man who looked right through us as if we were beneath him.  The oldest brother, Harry, made eye contact and didn’t seem as unapproachable.

Going to the same church, our paths crossed many times.  I even picked Tom up at his home several times to go to MYF (Methodist Youth Fellowship).  But, Dave only remembers my car—a Studebaker that my dad had bought from a neighbor who had totaled it. In retrospect, it was a car that would grab a car-lover’s attention and Dave (like a couple of grandsons) is a car-lover.  

It was about a 1956 Studebaker President that my dad made drivable by wiring  the hood down.  Back in the 1960’s, a trip to the gas station, meant the attendant also opened the hood to check your water and oil.  I was always a little embarrassed but also a little amused when the attendant would try to open it, realize it was held down with a wire and had to try to unwind the wire to get to the engine.  (as another aside, the wire on the hood snapped while I was driving it from my grandparent’s house with the hood folding  over the windshield, making driving hazardous—so I had to move on to another used car, but back to the story. . . .)

Dave went away to college; I went away to college.  Our paths didn’t cross again until we had graduated,  were working and living in the same apartment complex, Whisper Lake.  My sister’s husband was in Viet Nam, so she and I decided to rent an apartment together at Whisper Lake. We lived across the hall from my high school and college friends Margie and Kathy.   I was teaching at McCluer High School with Mary,  Mary along with Arlene were also living at Whisper Lake. Arlene and Mary started having parties inviting many of the single people living there. 

Dave was also living at Whisper Lake apartments and knew Mary and Arlene from high school .  Our paths crossed again at Whisper Lake parties.   I knew who he was, but he never remembered having met before even when, Mary and Dave doubled with me and a date!   In addition to the Whisper Lake group, I belonged to the University Club—a social club of college graduates who partied together at various locations around St. Louis.  Several of us were going to University Club one Friday night.  I had  asked Mary if she wanted to go, but she said she thought she and Dave were going to do something.

I was shocked later that evening to see Dave at the University Club with a friend—I was very angry that he was standing Mary up. His arrogance was more than I could tolerate.  It was one thing to never recognize me, but quite another to have so little regard for Mary.  His friend Elliott must have noticed me looking in their direction because before I knew it, Dave was asking me to dance.  

Stunned, I agreed to dance with him.  I could tell by the conversation he was trying to have with me that he did not remember ever meeting me before: not when we were teenagers, not when we went to the same apartment parties, not when we doubled together.  After the dance was over, he escorted me back to my table and I angrily confronted him with his having stood Mary up that night.  His eyes looked at me, possibly in recognition but more likely stunned that I knew him. “Do me a favor and don’t tell Mary you saw me.”  I responded with, “Maybe I will, maybe I won’t.” He never forgot me after that night.

That Whisper Lake group evolved into a wonderful group of friends who travelled together, went to the theater and concerts together, partied on the houseboat belonging to Arlene’s parents, skied, camped and went on canoe trips together.  Gradually i warmed up to Dave, realizing he wasn’t being “stuck up”, but was just an introvert who didn’t recall people’s faces or names as well as I do.

I was late arriving at one of our canoe trips in September.  They had already been out canoeing and one group was drying off by the fire on that crisp evening. Apparently Dave’s canoe with several of the females had tipped over getting them all wet.  For some reason, the ladies all seemed to be shunning him—my heart cracked open seeing him so forlorn.  So, the next day, when all of the others refused to get in a canoe with him, I volunteered.  That canoe float was the beginning. . . . 

How We Met: Poem

Giddy 14 year old 

Meeting  friend’s older brother—Dave,

Easter Sunday at church—

     Looks right over my head

     So handsome, so stuck-up

Invisible

Silly 16 year old

Picking up Dave’s brother for youth group

In my Studebaker rattletrap.

     Never looks up from his chair

     So handsome, so beyond me

Invisible

 “Mature” 22 year old

Living in Whisper Lake Apartments

Dave, Senior Class President, 17

Introduced at a party there.

    Sipping his scotch, no recognition

    So handsome, so arrogant

Invisible

Disinterested 22.5 year old

Double dating with my friend Mary . . .and Dave

      Four of us:  movies and drinks 

      So handsome, so indifferent

Invisible

Confident 23 year old

Asked Mary to join me at a party

She “has a date”—Dave.

He walks into the party without her,

       Sees me glaring at him,

       Asks me to dance.

       So handsome, so clueless

Invisible

When the music stops. . . .

 Eyes flashing, voice trembling in anger,

“Aren’t you supposed to be with Mary?”

Me, Goofball,14

His friend is amused, I am not.

     Shifting from foot to foot,

     He looks at me. His eyes widen in disbelief

     “Don’t tell her you saw me here”.

     “Maybe I will, maybe I won’t”.

He sees me.

Our children ask,

      “How did you and Dad meet?”

“At church”

Thanks to Bill Tucker for "Invisible" when I told the story.

Travel to Germany in 1960's

My father, Legion Post members
and I

Although I’d travelled by train, car and bus many times, I had never been on an airplane until I was 20 years old.  Having been selected to be an exchange “student” in Memmingen, Germany, an airplane was about the only way to get there.

Since I’d never flown before, I dressed like I’d seen women dress in the ads.  Although it was August, I wore a light-weight blue flowered cotton suit, stockings, heels, white gloves with a hat that reminded me of a stewardesses hat--high crown with a small brim. I was having most of my clothes shipped in a trunk so was able to travel with just one suitcase and my carry-on.

My parents often struggled financially for me to go to college, much less for me to live in Germany for a year.  Fortunately my father’s American Legion Post, came up with a scholarship to pay for my travel, and I became their “Ambassador”.  Once settled in Memmingen, I was to be paid a small salary by the Bavarian government for teaching English in the local high schools.  Previous “exchange students” had already graduated from college, so they were eligible for Fulbright Scholarships to travel to Munich for study in addition to their duties in Memmingen.  Since I hadn’t graduated yet, I was to stay in Memmingen and had expanded teaching roles.

This exchange had been set up by the publisher of the Memmingen newspaper.  He had been to Cape Girardeau on a trip and arranged with the college there to create this exchange program.  One student from SEMO would go to Germany and one university student from Memmingen would go to Cape.  I’d been acquainted with several of the students at SEMO and one of them helped with my arrangements once I got there——Uli had several friends who would welcome me.  I would stay at the Mädchen Wohnheim, a boarding house for young women and girls on Rheineckstrasse.

But, I needed to find the least expensive way for me to get to Memmingen, Germany (my future home for a year).  Flying to New York City was fairly easy—TWA to Idlewild Airport.  But from there, I needed to get to LaGuardia for my flight overseas on Icelandic Airlines! A New York taxi got me to the right terminal.  All I really recall was sitting at a counter waiting for my flight and having a cup of coffee—relieved that I’d made it to the right terminal.  

Shortly after we were airborne on Icelandic, we were served dinner followed by my first legal alcoholic beverage—a liqueur  that burned all the way down. By myself, on an airplane, drinking something I didn’t like—not quite a celebration.   Icelandic Airlines at that time was a prop plane so we had to land in Reykjavik to refuel.  My excitement at landing in my first foreign country, was replaced by fear that we were going to crash land——Iceland has very few trees and it was hard to judge how high we were.  I closed my eyes and began praying.  After a few minutes, we landed safely.  I looked around and saw there were no trees, accounting for my mis-judgement.  I disembarked from the plane went into the airport for short time before again getting on the plane to fly to Luxembourg.

We arrived in Luxembourg in darkness. I had lost one whole day already.  There was no train connecting Luxembourg with Munich, so we had to take a bus to the train station in Germany.  Because so many of us were in our teens and early twenties, it was a riotous ride with lots of laughter and jokes and many of us trying out our limited German on each other.  One female in the back of the bus yelled up to the bus driver, “Ich bin heiss” meaning to say the temperature in the back of the bus was too hot.  The bus driver taking advantage of her limited German, pulled the bus over and started to the back of the bus with a lecherous grin on his face.  What she had communicated had more of a sexual connotation.  She should have said “Mir ist heiss.”  But that was a lesson that we all learned from!

I had met Mary Lou by this time.  With her pixie hair cut, infectious smile and tiny stature we were naturally drawn to each other.  She was from California, spoke no German, but planned on living in Heidelberg for a year.  We exchanged addresses and phone numbers when she needed to get off the train in Heidelberg.  We visited several times during our “year abroad” and she is one of many I regret losing touch with in those days before social media and cell phones.

I travelled to Munich arriving in the morning of day 3 of my adventure.  I stumbled off the train and looked for a hotel where I could catch up on some sleep.  Although I’d studied German for 5 years, I was only fluent in two expressions I’d learned in high school and a few songs.  So, my “useful German” consisted of “I don’t know what it means that I’m so sad”  (from The Loreliei)  “A girl without freckles is like the sky without stars” (my favorite proverb)  and the most useful one “Can you tell me where I can wash may hands?”

More Northland and North County Shopping Memories

While I was getting all nostalgic about Northland, I shared these memories with some friends and family, who also had wonderful memories of Northland Shopping Center in Jennings, Mo. in the 1960's and 1970's.

Photo made at Northland's Vincent Price Studio
Jim, Me, Jane 1964 (?)

First, my brother Jim:

OK where do I start....

• Eating onion soup in the Pickwick located in the basement of Famous Barr.
• Working in the stock room of Famous Barr.
• Mom taking me to the men's department every year to buy me 5 shirts, 5 pairs of pants, 5 pairs of socks, 5 pairs of underwear and one year an orange Nehru Jacket ( not sure I ever wore out the house)
• Buying (Joe Namath style) Dingo boots
• Buying my 74 class ring at Wehmueller Jewlers. ($38 and way cooler than the catalog rings hawked at the high school)
• Buying my James Bond novels and Peanuts books in SS Kresge.
• Going out for luxury dinner at Popes Cafeteria
• Every summer when the Carnival arrived on the upper lot....The carneys swindling me out of $20 bucks with 25 cent chances at winning  stuffed toy on the quarter plate toss.
• Watching the fireworks on the hill above the Cinema.
• Getting my Senior yearbook class pictures taken at Boyd's
• Watching Bonnie & Clyde at the Cinema with Dada...and being really embarrassed when the opening seen was a naked Faye Dunaway

Oh and driving just down West Florissant  to have Jason Pancakes (where I worked) or......a little bit further to Peaches Records (where I spent a boat load of money filling my Peaches Crate with records)..... and little bit further to Tipton Appliance ( where I worked) PS - I got my "turtles" (caramel -pecan clusters) at Famous Barr at often 2 for 1 prices because my Dad was the store Electrician!!

Speaking of carnivals at Northland, my friend Terry confesses: 

One summer (I was maybe 17) when summer work was hard to get, I worked briefly at one of those traveling carnivals that was set up in the Northland parking lot.  Not an especially good job, eventually I got a position working at the Ponticello's on Goodfellows.

Carol recalls:  Loved the Mavrakos Candy store!  And Famous had a great candy counter, too---bought nonpareils there! 

My brother-in-law Tom:

Jaci, you can put a couple of my memories in there:-Mavrakos Candy store:  Dad would buy chocolates at their downtown store on rare occasions, but I don't think he dared take any of us into the Northland store.-Thom McAnn shoes:  Dad took me once and simply told the male clerk he wanted "service shoes" for me.  I had never heard the term before, but the clerk knew exactly what he meant----black, plain-toe oxfords.  When I got my first issue of uniforms, boots and shoes in basic training 20 years later, I was able to put that shoe-shopping trip and Dad's brief statement to the clerk into a much larger context:  I guess most men in the late 1950's had had some connection with military duty, and understood common military uniform terminology.

It amazes me how many people remember the candy and food.  My friend Jane recalled:

• I had forgotten about the candles on the roof at Christmas.  I loved the Heavenly Hash and Bridge Mix from the candy counter. Also loved the French Onion Soup with croutons and wonderful cheese on top.
• Bob and I walked to Northland and back before he had a car.
• I also remember painting the windows at Northland around Halloween

Margie responded to Jane's memories:

Yes, Jane.  The Heavenly Hash was out of this world.  I think on certain days they had it for half price per pound.  I remember on paydays going to Northland, depositing my pay check and then treating myself to Heavenly Hash.  All good memories.

My sister, Jane summed up our feelings:

 When you lose the historical sites you keep the memories, but you can't say, that is where I bought my prom dress, that is where I bought my wedding dress, you can't look at the candy counter and say this is where my dad would get his sweet fix, or climb up on a stool at the dime store and say to your grandchildren, "I used to always get hot fudge sundaes here.  When I was a teen I would shop for my shoes at this store."  Let's just say Target doesn't always hit the target.

Northland Shopping Center

Pictured in pink

The events the past few weeks about Ferguson, had me (who grew up in North County) puzzled when the news talked about the Communication/Command Center being in Buzz Westfall Center or Target Shopping Center.  So, when my son-in-law went to Emerson on business, he said it was across the street. "You mean at Northland Shopping Center?"  "I never heard of that" he said.

What??? Never heard of the shopping center where my dad worked at Famous-Barr.  How many

Mom and Dad September 1965

Thanksgiving holidays was Dad there putting up Christmas decorations?  In the middle of the night, we'd get phone calls from police or security about the alarms going off, and Dad would have to get up and go to the store.  Dad met several celebrities including Carol Channing while working there.  The store electrician was a pretty important man to the Northland Famous-Barr! Being one of the few men working at a Department Store filled with middle aged women brought lots of great stories: the complaints about the air conditioning when they were having hot flashes and how funny they thought it was to spray him with their cologne samples.

Other memories I have are at the dime store on the lower level:  the lipstick and nail polish counter pulled me every time and the lunch counter where I either got a Turkey dinner or hot fudge sundae. I recall walking by Baker's Shoe Store, I saw myself in the reflection of the store window and never wore high heel shoes again---I looked so funny wearing high heels in Junior High, but I did still buy most of my shoes there in high school.

Even after Dad stopped working there (and we stopped shopping there), Northland Famous-Barr was a landmark when flying into or out of St. Louis.  We could see the holiday candles laying down on the roof.  One of Dad's jobs had been to raise them up but the rest of the year they rested on the roof-top. Scroll down on this site to see the candles raised.  Click here.

My friend Terry had more to add about the candles: "My father wired those candles on the roof."  For more of Terry's and other friends' memories, come back tomorrow.

Several bloggers have documented the final days of Northland.  Click here and click the next link to see some ads from the old Famous Barr  Northland Shopping Center

Girl Scout Reunion

Ruth, Joan, Charlotte, Betty, Kathy
Jaclyn, Carol, Pat, Jane, Carol, Jeanne, Kathy, Margie

Sunday after our high school reunion, our Girl Scout Troop 1390 met with our Girl Scout leader, Betty W. and one of our mothers.  Although our troop didn't start until we were in 6th grade, most of us stayed active until we graduated from high school.  

 We shared stories, caught up and shared old photos.  Although we live in Oklahoma, Kansas, Texas, Massachusetts, Missouri with many of us grandmothers of 6th graders now, we were transported back to the many adventures we had through Girl Scouts. 

 Betty was our leader who protected us and healed us on camping trips but she helped make us the women we are today.  Our mothers, reperesented by Joan's mother, helped Betty by driving, assisting with our badges, cookie sales.

Ruth, Eileen, Betty

Charlotte, Jeanne, Carol, Kathy, Betty

One of our troop members wrote this tribute to Betty and Troup 1390

Jackie,

I cherish the time we had together and that Mrs. White made possible. My memories include Mrs. White putting spit and cigarette tobacco on bumble bee stings on my scalp when I interrupted a bumble nest in some long grass where we were pitching tents as I recall. Having lived in North Carolina, she must have applied her knowledge of tobacco!! 

I remember making stoves of large tin cans and tuna cans for the burners. I still think great idea:  parafin over rolled up corrugated cardboard in the tuna can that can be lit with a flick of a dry match, and the large can over it for a burner with some vents punched. 

Mr. and Mrs. Murphy teaching us folk dancing a real highlight and going to Kiel Auditorium with so many other Girl Scouts showed us early on what strength in gals there is. (Click here for more on this)

I just liked being able to get together with girls of all abilities and having fun together. I loved the pagentry of Awards Ceremonies and honoring our U.S. flag. It was not about who is cutest, has the best clothes, who is smartest, etc. Very liberating.

Thank you Mrs. White for making our Girl Scouting experience meaningful and fun.  Love, Joan

Historic St. Louis Hotels

While on a tour of historic hotels in St. Louis, our first stop was the Seven Gables in Clayton, Mo. The photo above is in the courtyard and was actually a street/alley at one time.
Several of the rooms have doors to the courtyard with "house numbers" which helped give the hotel historic status.
Inside is also a Molly Darcy's Irish Pub where we enjoyed delicious cookies, tea and lemonade.
The photo below is of the "breakfast room". I really felt like I was in Europe rather than in St. Louis County.
We also learned a lot about hotels that are long gone (to read about the fire at one of the hotels click here): Southern Hotel, Planter's Hotel (home of two famous drinks Planter's Punch, Tom Collins ) and the Lindell Hotel which was the largest and grandest hotel west of the Mississippi.

Big River Part II

Jane Long, Ron Long, Jaclyn Long

My cousin, Barbara's memories of the Big River Clubhouse:
I have very fond memories of the club house (better than a tent!). I loved sleeping in the upstairs in the club house where grandma and grandpa stayed and waking up in the morning smelling breakfast cooking on the stove (I think it was a wood burning stove). I know the club house was heated by a wood stove. I remember having to walk up the hill to well and pumping it until the water cleared for consumption. I had no problems with the outhouse since I was a girl scout and we camped all the time!!

Bill Wassmund

I remember my dad, grandpa and any other male around putting trout lines out to catch cat fish. If we (girls) were lucky we could go out in the john boat with the man folk to check the lines. When I went it was always grandpa who pulled up the lines; unfortunately if a snapping turtle got on the line grandpa would take his knife out and decapitate the turtle. Sometimes he would keep the turtle but most the time the body of the turtle just fell into the river because they didn't have time to make turtle soup.

Me and Jane

As a small child I thought the Big River was huge until we returned to the club houses many years later and it wasn't more than a small creek that you could walk from one side to the other and the water really didn't go past your waist if you were lucky. We (Wassmund's) continued to go down the club house long after everyone else quit going. It was so sad to see the property in such disarray and the quite empty club houses. The river was so quiet since it was only the five of us on the river.

Big River Part I

Alice Quiel, Norma Adams, Lena Long with Steve Adams and a dog, early 1950's

Big River should NEVER be confused with a big river or the Musical Big River. It's a tributary of the Meramec River which is a tributary of the Mississippi (THE Big River). My family has lived along the Big River since the early 1800's---years before Missouri was even a state.

(Mary Long and Alice Quiel, Lena's daughter)

To most of us Long cousins, Big River means "Uncle Lawrence's Club House". Talking with my cousins this summer, I was surprised they had such warm memories. My memories are of outhouses, muddy river banks, poker games at night, mosquitoes, having to swim in tennis shoes because of the rocks and mud, and Grandpa telling me, "Frog legs taste just like chicken."

L-R: Louise Long, Jane, Michael, Me, Bob, Steve, Norma (standing) and Grandma Lena

I do remember floating in inner tubes with my cousins and our step-grandmother Lena! Lena was a large woman, but she loved to swim---she was never self conscious about how she looked in a swim suit!

Visualizing and Stick-shift Cars

This is for a traditional car---if you look below, you'll see my VW has a different configuration.

I was reading an article on Snopes about a POW who played golf in his head for 7 years. When he was released, he played a better game than he'd ever played before. Studies have been done that the brain "doesn't know any difference in actually practicing something or mentally practicing something." It's called visualization. I've tried to teach it to my reading students for many years. I can attest to it working with me and a stick-shift car.

As a teen-ager, my parents did what most parents in the 1960's did, they found a "rust bucket" for their children to drive. My first car was a Studebaker we called "The Roach", but my second car was "The Green Bomb". I don't remember the model, but it was green, had a muffler that fell off with some regularity, windshield wipers that didn't work when I used the gas pedal, heat only when two wires were clipped together. AND, it was a stick shift on the column!

I can remember the dread of stopping on hills---the fear of rolling backwards or screaming forward if I gave the car too little or too much gas when taking off. Once, my friend/cousin Susan had to get on the floor and help me operate the pedals with horns honking behind us.

Then, I went through a period when I didn't have to drive a stick-shift. Anytime I was with someone with one, I'd watch them and go over the process in my head. I did this for several years: watching and practicing. When I married, one of our cars (like the Volvo pictured above but in a mustard gold color) was a stick-shift and it was like hitting a hole in one! I could drive it with no effort!

Since then, I've heard that boys drive stick shift cars easier than girls because they pretend to drive cars, make the shifting sounds of the motor as children. I think Eli will be an Ace driver! He has been doing this since he could barely stand!

Good-bye Aunt Norma

My Aunt Norma died last week. She was one of a kind---the most generous person I've ever known. But, she was so self-assured that Mother nick-named her "Auntie Mame."
As a young woman she was tall, thin and had darker coloring than her brothers and sisters---I think she was striking and statuesque. Here she is with her first husband Hampton (Bud), Steve's dad.
She was always impeccably dressed---I remember being in awe of her closets and shoes---all neatly stored in shoe boxes in her closet.
She started our tradition of family Easter egg hunts, first at her home in Ellisville but later in her home in Riverview. She always had a few twists to the egg hunts which included prizes---a tradition we carry on today.
Here she is with my parents on the left (Dad was her older brother) and her second husband Eddie.

Maxine, LeRoy, Norma

She loved family weddings---pictured above with her brother (my dad) and sister at her niece's wedding.

Norma with my brother Jim

She never missed a wedding even flying thousands of miles to attend a great-niece's or nephew's wedding after she moved to California.
She spent Easter 2008 with us. My brother gave her a crown and declared her Queen of Easter. Here she is leaning on her cane watching the children hunt for eggs looking every bit the Queen she was.
She is survived by her son Stephen, daughter-in-law Marisella and granddaughter Jacqueline and dozens of nieces and nephew who loved her very much.