Saturday, October 31, 2009
Happy Halloween!
Nathan came over today and helped Grandma Lois frost cupcakes for Grandpa Merle's Cub Scout Group. They went to see a program at WSUV presented by the Bat Lady. She had a real bat. Now Nathan wants Grandpa Merle to make him a bat house!
Friday, October 30, 2009
Remembering Veterans' Day
November holidays remind me of the many blessings I have to feel grateful for. I love the brilliant colors of autumn from the reds, oranges, yellows and greens of the sugar maple trees to the vibrant rust and gold chrysanthemums my dad used to raise. I'm also thankful for red-white-and-blue, the stars and stripes of our nation;'s flag. It symbolizes all we hold precious and dear.
It was a Sunday evening when I came into the house from roller-skating. I was six years old and wondered why both of my parents were huddled up next to our big floor model Philco radio. They shushed me and we listened to President Franklin D, Roosevelt talking about the bombing of Pearl Harbor that morning. It meant our country was at war.
I recall the books of rationing stamps our family was allotted. They were for gasoline, rubber tires, sugar, meat and butter. When mom bought a pound of oleomargarine it came in a white block that had to be dumped into a big mixing bowl. Then mom would break open a capsule of dark yellow coloring and have to stir it a lot until it was evenly mixed to a yellow mass which we could put on our toast instead of butter.
Once or twice we had to practice air raids. We had to cover all our windows with black fabric or turn off all the lights. We sat in the dark until the all-clear siren sounded.
I remember walking down Browning Avenue, where we lived in Salt Lake, and noticing that several homes displayed a star on a dark blue background, either white for a living serviceman or gold for one who had died in the war.
Portland was a very busy city when we moved there. Many families had moved from the midwest to work in the shipyards. There was one in St. Johns, one on Swan Island and one or more in Vancouver. They lived in little defense homes that had been hurriedly constructed. All the buses going to the shipyards were filled to capacity, people standing shoulder to shoulder.
My Portsmouth Grade School became the most populated school in the state. We attended classes in shifts; either seven am to noon or one to five pm. We were on daylight saving time all year round, so I walked to school on dark, rainy mornings during the winter, but I wasn't afraid.
I collected newspapers and tin cans to help the war effort (for recycling), and bought a 10-cent Victory stamp each week. I pasted the stamps into a book and when it was filled I turned it in for a U.S. Savings bond.
We lived across from Swan Island up on the bluff which provided us with a perfect view for watching the ships being launched, usually about one a week. For daytime launches a string of brightly colored pennants was strung from the bow to the highest point in the middle of the ship and then back down to the stern. The night launches were decorated with colored lights, sort of like the outdoor Christmas lights of that time.
I remember hearing my dad tell how people of Portland were dancing in the streets and kissing complete strangers when the war was over. I knew it was almost over in June of 1945. I was given a new balloon-tired bicycle for my 10th birthday on June 4th. My parents said that the factories had stopped making war materials and had switched to peacetime manufacturing.
My dad was too old to be drafted inWorld War II but his brother Clifton was a Chief Petty Officer in the Navy, and my mom's brother, Ken, served in the Canadian Air Force. My husband was about to be drafted when he enlisted in the Army near the end of the Korean War, and my brother Jerry served in Vietnam. I am glad that my five sons have not had to serve in the military and I hope none of my grandsons have to either. But, if they do it should be for the right reasons--to protect our homes, families and freedoms.
As I lay down at night I give thanks that I live in a peaceful part of this world. I hope the people of our country will find ways this Veterans' Day to thank a military person for their service to our country, especially those in veterans hospitals who have sacrificed parts of themselves to protect all of us.
It was a Sunday evening when I came into the house from roller-skating. I was six years old and wondered why both of my parents were huddled up next to our big floor model Philco radio. They shushed me and we listened to President Franklin D, Roosevelt talking about the bombing of Pearl Harbor that morning. It meant our country was at war.
I recall the books of rationing stamps our family was allotted. They were for gasoline, rubber tires, sugar, meat and butter. When mom bought a pound of oleomargarine it came in a white block that had to be dumped into a big mixing bowl. Then mom would break open a capsule of dark yellow coloring and have to stir it a lot until it was evenly mixed to a yellow mass which we could put on our toast instead of butter.
Once or twice we had to practice air raids. We had to cover all our windows with black fabric or turn off all the lights. We sat in the dark until the all-clear siren sounded.
I remember walking down Browning Avenue, where we lived in Salt Lake, and noticing that several homes displayed a star on a dark blue background, either white for a living serviceman or gold for one who had died in the war.
Portland was a very busy city when we moved there. Many families had moved from the midwest to work in the shipyards. There was one in St. Johns, one on Swan Island and one or more in Vancouver. They lived in little defense homes that had been hurriedly constructed. All the buses going to the shipyards were filled to capacity, people standing shoulder to shoulder.
My Portsmouth Grade School became the most populated school in the state. We attended classes in shifts; either seven am to noon or one to five pm. We were on daylight saving time all year round, so I walked to school on dark, rainy mornings during the winter, but I wasn't afraid.
I collected newspapers and tin cans to help the war effort (for recycling), and bought a 10-cent Victory stamp each week. I pasted the stamps into a book and when it was filled I turned it in for a U.S. Savings bond.
We lived across from Swan Island up on the bluff which provided us with a perfect view for watching the ships being launched, usually about one a week. For daytime launches a string of brightly colored pennants was strung from the bow to the highest point in the middle of the ship and then back down to the stern. The night launches were decorated with colored lights, sort of like the outdoor Christmas lights of that time.
I remember hearing my dad tell how people of Portland were dancing in the streets and kissing complete strangers when the war was over. I knew it was almost over in June of 1945. I was given a new balloon-tired bicycle for my 10th birthday on June 4th. My parents said that the factories had stopped making war materials and had switched to peacetime manufacturing.
My dad was too old to be drafted inWorld War II but his brother Clifton was a Chief Petty Officer in the Navy, and my mom's brother, Ken, served in the Canadian Air Force. My husband was about to be drafted when he enlisted in the Army near the end of the Korean War, and my brother Jerry served in Vietnam. I am glad that my five sons have not had to serve in the military and I hope none of my grandsons have to either. But, if they do it should be for the right reasons--to protect our homes, families and freedoms.
As I lay down at night I give thanks that I live in a peaceful part of this world. I hope the people of our country will find ways this Veterans' Day to thank a military person for their service to our country, especially those in veterans hospitals who have sacrificed parts of themselves to protect all of us.
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