The night Walter arrived home he awakened me by tapping on my bedroom window, and when I opened the door to let him in the house the first words he said was, "I have some bad news!" I thought, "Darn, I'll bet they've told the glider pilots they can't get married until after they graduate, as that was the rule for the air force cadets." Instead, Walter pulled his empty wallet out of his pocket saying that even though he'd been in the Service for almost six months his pay voucher hadn't caught up with him, so he hadn't been paid. I gave a sigh of relief, and said, "Oh, is that all?" I knew that my parents had given Jack $ 100 when he was married, so we could count on the same, plus there was 500 dollars in the bank which belonged to Walter, which we hoped to keep as an emergency fund, since it was from his brother's insurance. We agreed to leave that intact, to be sent for if needed at a later date. So, the wedding plans proceeded as scheduled. The account in the paper read as follows: COUPLE EXCHANGE WEDDING VOWS IN GARDEN RITUAL-Before 50 reltives and close friends Miss La Verne Boone and Staff Sgt. Walter Heffner exchanged wedding vows Sunday afternoon in the garden of the Boone home. The Rev. Frank Kepner officiated at the ceremony. (Then, the paragraphs about parents, descriptions of decorations, attendants, etc.) For the occasion the bride chose a street length dress of black bengaline faile trimmed in white lace with black accessories. A corsage of orchids and bouvardia and a gold locket, a gift of the bridegroom, completed her costume. (A little more about the ceremony, where we attended school, etc.) Then; The young couple left immediately for Albuquerque, N.M., where Sgt. Heffner is stationed as a glider pilot with the advanced glider training unit at the army field.
Thus started the most important chapter of my life....
the wedding was very simple, as was the custom during wartime, plus the short span of time that was available to engineer the plans, and went off without a hitch. Jack had been assigned the task of picking up the punch from the Betsy Ross ice cream parlour, which he managed to get as far as the front porch of our house before it slipped out of his hands. I might add that he was on furlough from the air force. Anyway, he assured me that he could make the punch just as good as Betsy Ross, which he proceeded to do, and it turned out fine. That was the only crisis. And, thus started our lifetime together.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Sunday, November 18, 2007
I really enjoyed the courses at Woodbury, but as I approached the halfway point, in the travels to a degree, my conscience was bothering me more and more. I knew I wasn't cut out to be an interior decorator. While most of the students were going into fits of ecstasy over a Louis XIV chair or some other intricately carved object, I'd be standing in the background thinking it looked like a dust-catcher, or was hideously ugly. It more and more seemed to be a waste of my time, and family money, to be having such a good time, accomplishing very little of benefit. It was ery doubtful that I would ever use the knowledge gained in my own home someday, as the only homes we were learning to decorate were mansions. So, after some soul searching, and quite a bit of regret, I informed Dad that I wanted to quit Woodbury and enroll in Beauty College. He sort of groaned and said, "You went halfway through junior college taking a business course, now you go halfway through Woodbury College and you propose to quit that; What guarantee do I have that you'll complete the beauty school course?" I assured him that if he paid the entire fee when I enrolled I'd finish the nine month's schooling if it killed me! The fee was $100, plus a bit more for supplies and books. The school was in Ontario, just seven miles east of Pomona, and I never worked or studied harder in my life, nor enjoyed it more. Some nights i'd drag myself home, too tired to eat, before dropping into bed, but I'd fond something that I had a natural atitude for, and when that happens the work is so exhilerating. On Monday, December 8, 1941 I was standing at my station, doing some lady's hair, while listening to President Franklin D. Roosevelt make a eclaration of war against Japan, as they had attacked Pearl Harbor in Hawaii the day before. Thus started the war years......
I'm sure the other students were like myself, that day, inthat we didn't realize what it meant to have our country go to war, and what an enormous change it would make in all our lives. The women, who were in the chairs, having theit hair done seemed to be much more affected, as some had boys who were in the age group that would be called upon to fight that war, and some could remember the trauma of World War 1. As for myself, it didn't seem logical that any war with Japan could possibly last more than six months. After all, that was such a tiny country and we were much larger and more powerful. Of course, we hadn't been informed that our Navy had been nearly destroyed at Pearl Harbor, or the situation would have seemed much more serious. Walter immediately started talking about joining the air force, since he was already flying anyway, and that possibility brought up the subject of marriage once more. We decided to become engaged at Christmas time, so went shopping for a ring. We kept is a secret, though, so after the ring was chosen we wrapped it in sucessively bigger boxes until it looked anything but what it was, and put it under the tree at my home. On Christmas Eve, when the family and relatives were assembled for the gift opening ceremony, my Aunt Norma kept brining that box to me to open, and I kept sending it back saying I wanted to open it last. Finally, the time came when that was the only gift left unopened, and everyone watched as I slowly began taking the wrappings off. When I reached the small ring box everyone, but Dad, gave out squeals of delight, and ran over to look at the ring. When I glanced over at him his eyes were full of tears. Later when Walter brought me home after we'd gone out for awhile, Dad was waiting up to talk to me. He wanted to know when we planned to get married and I said, "Oh, not until the war is over!" That seemed to make a big difference in the way he accepted the news, and he erased the frown from his face. Since Walter and I really did intend to wait that long to get married, he tried to find a solution to our being seperated by long distance while he was in the service. We still thought the war was going to be a short term affair, even thought we were not only fighting Japan, but had also entered the war in Europe against Germany and Italy on December 11. Walter heard about the call for men to join the Glider Corps, and the most appealing point being that the training would be at Twenty Nine Palms, in California. So, he signed up for that branch of the air force, and was shipped off to Ft. Sumner New Mexico (crossed out), by train, in June. That day was also the day that Jack, my brother, was married to Eulalie Nesbit. That event was welcomed by our parents as a "step" towards getting Jack a deferment, as they intended on putting Jack's name as part owner of the cattle ranch in Bly, Oregon. That would automatically make him eligible to escape the draft, the ambition of almost every father of a son at that point. Lalie and Jack lasted just a month on that isolated ranch when we received a phone call from Jack, one night, saying he had joined the Air Force and he wanted Mother and I to drive up to Oregon to get Lalie. I was just completing my beauty school course, so soon as I took the State Board tests, we went up and brought her home. After receiving my license, I started working in a beauty shop, writing letters to Walter, and looking for his in the mail, filled the days until early September. He phoned one evening to say he was now stationed in Albuquerque, New Mexico, and would be getting a week's furlough in about a week and why don't we get married? So, I quit by job, shopped for the wedding ring to match the engagement ring, purchased some luggage, and then waited for Walter to break the news to his parents. Time was flying and they were the only ones who didn't know that their only child was getting married within a week! Fearing they would hear from someone else I dragged myself over to their house one night to break the news. His Mother immediately started to cry, but his dad started talking about how much nicer it would be for him to have a home to come back to each day, instead of living in the barracks on the field, etc. etc. So, even though his Mother wasn't too thrilled, she pulled herself together and tried to be resigned to the idea.
I'm sure the other students were like myself, that day, inthat we didn't realize what it meant to have our country go to war, and what an enormous change it would make in all our lives. The women, who were in the chairs, having theit hair done seemed to be much more affected, as some had boys who were in the age group that would be called upon to fight that war, and some could remember the trauma of World War 1. As for myself, it didn't seem logical that any war with Japan could possibly last more than six months. After all, that was such a tiny country and we were much larger and more powerful. Of course, we hadn't been informed that our Navy had been nearly destroyed at Pearl Harbor, or the situation would have seemed much more serious. Walter immediately started talking about joining the air force, since he was already flying anyway, and that possibility brought up the subject of marriage once more. We decided to become engaged at Christmas time, so went shopping for a ring. We kept is a secret, though, so after the ring was chosen we wrapped it in sucessively bigger boxes until it looked anything but what it was, and put it under the tree at my home. On Christmas Eve, when the family and relatives were assembled for the gift opening ceremony, my Aunt Norma kept brining that box to me to open, and I kept sending it back saying I wanted to open it last. Finally, the time came when that was the only gift left unopened, and everyone watched as I slowly began taking the wrappings off. When I reached the small ring box everyone, but Dad, gave out squeals of delight, and ran over to look at the ring. When I glanced over at him his eyes were full of tears. Later when Walter brought me home after we'd gone out for awhile, Dad was waiting up to talk to me. He wanted to know when we planned to get married and I said, "Oh, not until the war is over!" That seemed to make a big difference in the way he accepted the news, and he erased the frown from his face. Since Walter and I really did intend to wait that long to get married, he tried to find a solution to our being seperated by long distance while he was in the service. We still thought the war was going to be a short term affair, even thought we were not only fighting Japan, but had also entered the war in Europe against Germany and Italy on December 11. Walter heard about the call for men to join the Glider Corps, and the most appealing point being that the training would be at Twenty Nine Palms, in California. So, he signed up for that branch of the air force, and was shipped off to Ft. Sumner New Mexico (crossed out), by train, in June. That day was also the day that Jack, my brother, was married to Eulalie Nesbit. That event was welcomed by our parents as a "step" towards getting Jack a deferment, as they intended on putting Jack's name as part owner of the cattle ranch in Bly, Oregon. That would automatically make him eligible to escape the draft, the ambition of almost every father of a son at that point. Lalie and Jack lasted just a month on that isolated ranch when we received a phone call from Jack, one night, saying he had joined the Air Force and he wanted Mother and I to drive up to Oregon to get Lalie. I was just completing my beauty school course, so soon as I took the State Board tests, we went up and brought her home. After receiving my license, I started working in a beauty shop, writing letters to Walter, and looking for his in the mail, filled the days until early September. He phoned one evening to say he was now stationed in Albuquerque, New Mexico, and would be getting a week's furlough in about a week and why don't we get married? So, I quit by job, shopped for the wedding ring to match the engagement ring, purchased some luggage, and then waited for Walter to break the news to his parents. Time was flying and they were the only ones who didn't know that their only child was getting married within a week! Fearing they would hear from someone else I dragged myself over to their house one night to break the news. His Mother immediately started to cry, but his dad started talking about how much nicer it would be for him to have a home to come back to each day, instead of living in the barracks on the field, etc. etc. So, even though his Mother wasn't too thrilled, she pulled herself together and tried to be resigned to the idea.
Sunday, November 11, 2007
After graduation from high school I wasn't sure what direction I wanted to go, so enrolled in the first year of junior college, still concentrating mostly on a business course. Walter started flying lessons, which was one of the choices in junior college. He earned flying time by ferrying planes each morning and evening from one airport, on the south side of town , to another north of town. I was his first passenger after he received his pilot's license, and we made regular hops, mostly on Sundays, using up flying time that he'd earned during the week. We'd fly down to the beach, always careful to have plenty of altitude so when the motor would periodically quit we could dive to get it to start again! Usually, when Walter would be on his evening flying run he'd dive at our house as he passed over. Since our family was at the dinner table about that time, my father would glare at the ceiling when that awful noise would be decending, then say to me, "You don't go up in the air with that crazy nut, do you?" I recal those words very well as it was one of the few times I failed to tell the truth to my father. I'm pretty sure he knew the truth, but felt it was his duty to let me know he didn't think it was such a great idea.
After one year of junior college, I decided it would be kind of exciting to go away to college, so started looking around for something more interesting and exciting than business courses. I don't know how I heard bout Woodbury College, in Los Angeles, but it grabbed my interest, especially the interior decorating course which was offered there. Woodbury was a professional school, that one could earn a diploma in the period of two years, as it was a year-round session of classes with no vacations, sports program, or anything else which might prolong the quest. Dad finally said "yes" to my proposal, especially when we located THE EVANGELINE RESIDENCE FOR WOMEN, located just a block from Woodbury College for me to stay in. It was a four story brick building run by the Salvation Army. The first floor was occupied by the lobby and large dining room. No males were allowed on the upper floors where two girls, or women, were assigned to each room. My first roomate was a girl named Robertellen Corbin, from Oklahoma, who was also attending Woodbury. She was only there for a couple of months as her boyfriend showed up and persuaded her to return home. Then, I returned from home, after spending the weekend, one Sunday Evening and my new roommate had moved into our room. She was also from Oklahoma and her name was Dorothy Jo Cathey, enrolled as a business major at Woodbury. Little did she, or I, know what a great influence on each other's lives we'd have, especially on hers, as I will explain later.
Just prior to Dorothy Jo becoming my roommate, I had pledged to Sigma Iota Chi Sorority. I'd been invited to parties from all three of the sororitys, but when the invitations arrived, I chose Sigma Iota Chi, because I liked the girls in it best. I'd been at Woodbury just a short while when Jack decided to go there, and enrolled as a business major. That gave D.J. and I the brilliant idea of moving into an apartment, since I knew my parents would never consent to that, unless Jack was with us. There was a hotel right by the college, which also had apartments to rent, so we chose one in that. The rent was $60 a month, completely furnished and all utilities paid, and besides being quite nice it was very convenient to school. I don't think that arrangement lasted much longer than a month, since we soon discovered that the buying of food and preparation of meals took up more time than we thought it would. Jack moved into his fraternity house, and D.J. and I moved into my sorority house just a few doors away. It took a little persuation to get D.J. in as she was a member of another sorority, but since I wouldn't move in unless she came too, it was o.k.'d finally. Jack and I drove home to Pomona each Friday, after school, to spend the weekend, and sometimes D.J. came home with us. Walter would round up one of his flying friends to take D.J. up in the plane, and we'd get in another, and off we'd go into "the wild blue yonder". D.J. was supposed to be engaged to a boy back in Oklahoma; even had the engagement ring which she kept in the dresser drawer, but they'd agreed to date others while they were seperated by so many miles. One day one of my friends, at school, was notified that her father was very ill and she must go home immediately, so I helped her pack up her things. That evening she showed up at the house, and had me come downstairs to meet two young men from her hometown in Oklahoma, who were living in Long Beach now. They asked me to go with them to the Ice Capades, then we'd take Betty to the bus station afterwards as she had a ticket for midnight. We had a really nice time and, I think, managed to cheer Betty up a little as she was not only saddened about the news of her father, but hated to be leaving school, probably for good.
Their names were Doug and Charles. When they took me back to the sorority house Doug asked me for a date the folowing Monday night, as that was the only night they had off from work. I started to explain that I was going steady and Betty must have neglected to mention that fact. He replied, "Oh, you mean the love life in the old hometown? Well, Squirrel Top (my sorority nickname), I'm not asking for love, just a date. You see, we're finding it difficult to meet nice girls here in California and maybe through you, living here in a sorority house, maybe we can meet some. Now, will you please go with me Monday, and can you get a date for Charles?" Well, to tell the truth I was so impressed with that approach, plus they were such nice fellows with those delightful southern accents, not to mention southern charm, I readily agreed. Unfortunately, I didn't realize what the results would be, when I approached some of the unattached girls in the house, about going on a blind date on a Monday night. They all turned me down, saying they had to study, or rest up from a grueling weekend, or whatever. Finally, I turned to Dorothy jo with my plea, as Monday was rapidly approaching and I still didn't have a date for Charles, and had no way of contacting him about my bad luck. At first, Dorothy jo flatly refused. She had left Oklahoma after a very traumatic experience there; something about seeing a terrible accident with a bus in which many people had been killed, and she didn't want to meet anyone from there as it might bring back those memories, plus going on a Monday night date was just plain crazy. Finally, when she saw how upset I was getting, she agreed to go "Just this once" and I shouldn't get myself into such a situation ever again!
Well, this rambling dissertation has to come to a close, so I'll just say, we went out, and when we returned home and I asked her how she liked Charles she replied, "He's the nicest, most refined young man I've ever met, and he's the one I'm going to marry. My engagement ring will be in the mail tomorrow back where it came from!" Sometime later they were married, and still are. Have two sons, a daughter, and several grandchildren.
I might as well add that I continued to see Doug for quite some time, since Dorothy Jo and Charles were dating, and, yes, Walter eventually found out about my "infidelity" and was quite unhappy about it. However, Doug joined the airforce so faded out of the picture.
(Insert, or afterthought)
Sometime, either in my junior or senior year in high school, I joined a civilian rescue team. During the mid "30's" we had quite a serious flood in our area, and the road gong up to the nearby mountains was washed out, making it impossible for the people living up there to get out, or even to get any food or supplies. So, someone had the bright idea of training a rescue team on horseback for any such future emergencys, and WOW, that sounded really great to me. Never mind that I had no idea what such a project entailed, and hardly one end of a horse from the other! There were approximately 15 young people who responded to the request for volunteers, so we proceeded to meet once a week at a rental stable outside of town with a drill instructor. One of the things we had to learn was how to lift an unconcious person up on our horse. That was a real dilly. I never conquered my fear of horses and, I suppose the fact they were rental horses which had a tendency to want to stay in the stables munching hay, rather than participate in the foolish shenanigans we were putting them through. After getting them saddled, enroute to the arena, they required all kinds of friendly persuasion to get them to move, then after drilling for an hour we turned them towards the stable and they took off at full gallup, making it a necessity to hang on for dear life.
One night, I returned home late after our training session and my parents weren't home to help take off the English boots we had to wear. Jack had gone to bed, and as was his custom, had his bedroom door locked. I requested his aid, then pleaded, then threatened dire retaliations, to no avail. As a result, I went to bed with boots and jodpurs on, smelling mighty horsey and dreaming up terrible deeds to pay Jack back. I imagine the novelty and romantic notions of actually participating in a rescue mission finally wore thin, or I grew tired of trying to lift supposedly nconcious persons up on the horse, since I never received a completion diploma. Anyway, the project slowly fizzled as people came to realize it was an impractical idea.
After one year of junior college, I decided it would be kind of exciting to go away to college, so started looking around for something more interesting and exciting than business courses. I don't know how I heard bout Woodbury College, in Los Angeles, but it grabbed my interest, especially the interior decorating course which was offered there. Woodbury was a professional school, that one could earn a diploma in the period of two years, as it was a year-round session of classes with no vacations, sports program, or anything else which might prolong the quest. Dad finally said "yes" to my proposal, especially when we located THE EVANGELINE RESIDENCE FOR WOMEN, located just a block from Woodbury College for me to stay in. It was a four story brick building run by the Salvation Army. The first floor was occupied by the lobby and large dining room. No males were allowed on the upper floors where two girls, or women, were assigned to each room. My first roomate was a girl named Robertellen Corbin, from Oklahoma, who was also attending Woodbury. She was only there for a couple of months as her boyfriend showed up and persuaded her to return home. Then, I returned from home, after spending the weekend, one Sunday Evening and my new roommate had moved into our room. She was also from Oklahoma and her name was Dorothy Jo Cathey, enrolled as a business major at Woodbury. Little did she, or I, know what a great influence on each other's lives we'd have, especially on hers, as I will explain later.
Just prior to Dorothy Jo becoming my roommate, I had pledged to Sigma Iota Chi Sorority. I'd been invited to parties from all three of the sororitys, but when the invitations arrived, I chose Sigma Iota Chi, because I liked the girls in it best. I'd been at Woodbury just a short while when Jack decided to go there, and enrolled as a business major. That gave D.J. and I the brilliant idea of moving into an apartment, since I knew my parents would never consent to that, unless Jack was with us. There was a hotel right by the college, which also had apartments to rent, so we chose one in that. The rent was $60 a month, completely furnished and all utilities paid, and besides being quite nice it was very convenient to school. I don't think that arrangement lasted much longer than a month, since we soon discovered that the buying of food and preparation of meals took up more time than we thought it would. Jack moved into his fraternity house, and D.J. and I moved into my sorority house just a few doors away. It took a little persuation to get D.J. in as she was a member of another sorority, but since I wouldn't move in unless she came too, it was o.k.'d finally. Jack and I drove home to Pomona each Friday, after school, to spend the weekend, and sometimes D.J. came home with us. Walter would round up one of his flying friends to take D.J. up in the plane, and we'd get in another, and off we'd go into "the wild blue yonder". D.J. was supposed to be engaged to a boy back in Oklahoma; even had the engagement ring which she kept in the dresser drawer, but they'd agreed to date others while they were seperated by so many miles. One day one of my friends, at school, was notified that her father was very ill and she must go home immediately, so I helped her pack up her things. That evening she showed up at the house, and had me come downstairs to meet two young men from her hometown in Oklahoma, who were living in Long Beach now. They asked me to go with them to the Ice Capades, then we'd take Betty to the bus station afterwards as she had a ticket for midnight. We had a really nice time and, I think, managed to cheer Betty up a little as she was not only saddened about the news of her father, but hated to be leaving school, probably for good.
Their names were Doug and Charles. When they took me back to the sorority house Doug asked me for a date the folowing Monday night, as that was the only night they had off from work. I started to explain that I was going steady and Betty must have neglected to mention that fact. He replied, "Oh, you mean the love life in the old hometown? Well, Squirrel Top (my sorority nickname), I'm not asking for love, just a date. You see, we're finding it difficult to meet nice girls here in California and maybe through you, living here in a sorority house, maybe we can meet some. Now, will you please go with me Monday, and can you get a date for Charles?" Well, to tell the truth I was so impressed with that approach, plus they were such nice fellows with those delightful southern accents, not to mention southern charm, I readily agreed. Unfortunately, I didn't realize what the results would be, when I approached some of the unattached girls in the house, about going on a blind date on a Monday night. They all turned me down, saying they had to study, or rest up from a grueling weekend, or whatever. Finally, I turned to Dorothy jo with my plea, as Monday was rapidly approaching and I still didn't have a date for Charles, and had no way of contacting him about my bad luck. At first, Dorothy jo flatly refused. She had left Oklahoma after a very traumatic experience there; something about seeing a terrible accident with a bus in which many people had been killed, and she didn't want to meet anyone from there as it might bring back those memories, plus going on a Monday night date was just plain crazy. Finally, when she saw how upset I was getting, she agreed to go "Just this once" and I shouldn't get myself into such a situation ever again!
Well, this rambling dissertation has to come to a close, so I'll just say, we went out, and when we returned home and I asked her how she liked Charles she replied, "He's the nicest, most refined young man I've ever met, and he's the one I'm going to marry. My engagement ring will be in the mail tomorrow back where it came from!" Sometime later they were married, and still are. Have two sons, a daughter, and several grandchildren.
I might as well add that I continued to see Doug for quite some time, since Dorothy Jo and Charles were dating, and, yes, Walter eventually found out about my "infidelity" and was quite unhappy about it. However, Doug joined the airforce so faded out of the picture.
(Insert, or afterthought)
Sometime, either in my junior or senior year in high school, I joined a civilian rescue team. During the mid "30's" we had quite a serious flood in our area, and the road gong up to the nearby mountains was washed out, making it impossible for the people living up there to get out, or even to get any food or supplies. So, someone had the bright idea of training a rescue team on horseback for any such future emergencys, and WOW, that sounded really great to me. Never mind that I had no idea what such a project entailed, and hardly one end of a horse from the other! There were approximately 15 young people who responded to the request for volunteers, so we proceeded to meet once a week at a rental stable outside of town with a drill instructor. One of the things we had to learn was how to lift an unconcious person up on our horse. That was a real dilly. I never conquered my fear of horses and, I suppose the fact they were rental horses which had a tendency to want to stay in the stables munching hay, rather than participate in the foolish shenanigans we were putting them through. After getting them saddled, enroute to the arena, they required all kinds of friendly persuasion to get them to move, then after drilling for an hour we turned them towards the stable and they took off at full gallup, making it a necessity to hang on for dear life.
One night, I returned home late after our training session and my parents weren't home to help take off the English boots we had to wear. Jack had gone to bed, and as was his custom, had his bedroom door locked. I requested his aid, then pleaded, then threatened dire retaliations, to no avail. As a result, I went to bed with boots and jodpurs on, smelling mighty horsey and dreaming up terrible deeds to pay Jack back. I imagine the novelty and romantic notions of actually participating in a rescue mission finally wore thin, or I grew tired of trying to lift supposedly nconcious persons up on the horse, since I never received a completion diploma. Anyway, the project slowly fizzled as people came to realize it was an impractical idea.
Saturday, November 3, 2007
ON TO HIGH SCHOOL
During the first or second week of the tenth grade I noticed that the boy who had the role of the pilot in the ninth grde play was in my geometry class. One evening, Bob Heffner stopped by our house for a visit, as he sometimes did. Bob had a list of girls as long as your arm that he kept on his string of "pleasant diversions". I asked him if he had a brother named Walter, and when he replied in the affirmative I said," Hey, he's pretty cute, why don't you bring him over here with you sometime?" the very next evening Bob showed up on the doorstep with Walter in tow! That occured maybe two more times, and after that Walter came as a single. Our first date consisted of meeting him after a high school band concert, in which he was playing, at the Fox Theater. He walked home with me, and that was the beginning of a six year friendship which eventually blossumed ino much more. There was a period, during those years, when the situation became too confining and we broke up for about a year. During that time we both dated other people, in fact, Walter was going steady with another girl when we started looking at each other once more. I neglected to mention that previous to the "breaking up", near the end of summer vacation after tenth grade, in fact, just the first week of school in the eleventh grade Bob, Walter's brother, was killed in a bicycle, car accident. The two boys had been over to our house looking at pictures our family had taken on a Canadian vacation, that we'd just returned home from. Bob went home early to work on his bike, which he was making into a racing bike, and Walter soon followed. When he got home Bob, and a friend, were just finishing the project, so they asked Walter to get his bike, so the three of them could go riding around a few blocks to try out Bob's bike. A few blocks from home Bob was racing down the street with his head down in a racing posture, with Walter and the other boy following behind, when coming to an innersections a car came around the corner. Bob struck the car, his head hiting just above the door on the passenger side. He never regained consciousness. What a terrible loss of a very fine young man.
Walter and I were driving out around Puddlestone Lake one evening, sometime during the eleventh grade period, when Walter brought up the subject of marriage. Needless to say, a girl always remembers her first marriage proposal and the time and place it occurred! It came as a complete surprise to me, and all I could say was, "Don't you think we're a little young?" he replied, "Oh, I don't mean now, I'm thinking about maybe ten years in the future!" Then, he added, "I like to make plans quite a while ahead." I found myself answering, "The person that I marry has to have ten thousand dollars in the bank." Walter thought about that for a minute, and said, "Well, it will probably take me that long to accomplish it." To my recollection, the subject never came up again until after World War 2 started!
Walter and I were driving out around Puddlestone Lake one evening, sometime during the eleventh grade period, when Walter brought up the subject of marriage. Needless to say, a girl always remembers her first marriage proposal and the time and place it occurred! It came as a complete surprise to me, and all I could say was, "Don't you think we're a little young?" he replied, "Oh, I don't mean now, I'm thinking about maybe ten years in the future!" Then, he added, "I like to make plans quite a while ahead." I found myself answering, "The person that I marry has to have ten thousand dollars in the bank." Walter thought about that for a minute, and said, "Well, it will probably take me that long to accomplish it." To my recollection, the subject never came up again until after World War 2 started!
A GIANT STEP TO JUNIOR HIGH
This next chapter in my life deserves its' own title, with the words underlined, as I look back on those three years with such great pleasure. Perhaps there were snags along the way in my early teen years, from time to time, but I can only recall the happy times. I had a special girlfriend, named Anita; academics proved to be easy for me, so my grades were no problem; I loved sports, so physical education classes were the highlight of each day; I took dancing and acrobatic lessons once a week which I loved; Joined the Campfire Girls, and the group turned out to be so congenial that we stayed together for years, going on camp outs to the mountains or beach, thanks to a wonderful woman and leader who stuck with us. She was "an old maid school teacher" and looking back now, I realize we must have been the family she never had, for how else could that good woman put up with that rowdy bunch of girls for so long?
Boys became a "minor" interest during those years, but formal dates were unheard of, except among the few girls who were considered to be "kind of fast". Occasionally a boy might walk home with you, and quite often they;d show up on Saturday if they just happened to be in the neighborhood! notice that I said they because they usually appeared in pairs; courage in numbers, I guess. We'd moved out of the apartment, and now lived just around the corner on Gibbs Street in a small frame house which had a cement porch just perfect for Anita and I to practice our tap dances on.
When I started ninth grade my homemaking teacher had been mistakenly assigned both a sewing and a cooking class during the same period and I was asked to teach the seventh grade class sewing. They just made aprons and potholders, but I was so proud of that assignment. That year I was elected President of the Girls' league which consisted of all the girls in the school, nd besides coordinating various events we held a girls' assembly in the auditorium once a week. It gave me a little public speaking experience which is definitely helpful. Our physical education teacher had all the girls compete in a series of elimination races to see who was the fastest runner. On the last day of the races it had come down to myself and another girl named Kathryn Tomlinson. One look at Kathryn's long muscular legs adn few gave me even a slim chance of winning. Our teacher had been boasting to the boys' coach about how fast her girls could run, so he showed up with his stopwatch, along with about half the school. We ran a fifty yard sprint, and doggone if I didn't nose out Kathryn with a time of 6.0 seconds flat!
Near the completion of the ninth grade some of us were chosen to take dramtic roles in the Ninth Grade Play. I don't recall the name of it, or what role I had in it, so it must have been a minor part, but I remember that Anita had the feminine starring role. She was the girlfriend of a bot who was a pilot in the play. One day, as I stood below the stage, watching our drama teacher giving instructions to Anita, and the pilot, she stopped instructing for a moment to say, "my, you make a nice looking couple!" And, I thought, they certainly do. Little did I know that at that moment I was looking at my future husband!! Walter was in another homeroom, and since the three ninth grade homerooms were rather competitive we seldom intermingled, so that was really the first time I gave him a second look. About a week before the ninth grade graduation I was called out of class to report to the Principal's Office, and as that usually meant TROUBLE, it must have been a very scared little girl who showed up at his door, because when he looked at me he hastened to assure me that nothing was wrong. He just wanted to let me know that I had been chosen to receive the American Legion Award during the graduation ceremonies! One boy, and one girl, plus two runnersup, were honored each year, and we were informed early enough to have our pictures taken for the account which would be in the local paper, but we were instructed to tell no one except our parents. What a proud and happy little gal flew back to the classroom, in marked contrast to the one who earlier went dragging down the hall, trembling from head to toe, wondering what awful fate awaited in the Principal's Office. I still have the bronze medal that was presented to me on graduation day by the head of The American Legions. On one side is embossed a lady holding the flag surrounded in large letters FOR GOD AND COUNTRY. On the other side is embossed an eagle with wings spread wide, and underneath, the words AMERICAN LEGION SCHOOL AWARD. Under those words it says: COURAGE CHARACTER SERVICE COMPANIONSHIP SCHOLARSHIP with the American Legion insignia on the bottom. To this day part of what thrilling day returns every time I think about it!
Boys became a "minor" interest during those years, but formal dates were unheard of, except among the few girls who were considered to be "kind of fast". Occasionally a boy might walk home with you, and quite often they;d show up on Saturday if they just happened to be in the neighborhood! notice that I said they because they usually appeared in pairs; courage in numbers, I guess. We'd moved out of the apartment, and now lived just around the corner on Gibbs Street in a small frame house which had a cement porch just perfect for Anita and I to practice our tap dances on.
When I started ninth grade my homemaking teacher had been mistakenly assigned both a sewing and a cooking class during the same period and I was asked to teach the seventh grade class sewing. They just made aprons and potholders, but I was so proud of that assignment. That year I was elected President of the Girls' league which consisted of all the girls in the school, nd besides coordinating various events we held a girls' assembly in the auditorium once a week. It gave me a little public speaking experience which is definitely helpful. Our physical education teacher had all the girls compete in a series of elimination races to see who was the fastest runner. On the last day of the races it had come down to myself and another girl named Kathryn Tomlinson. One look at Kathryn's long muscular legs adn few gave me even a slim chance of winning. Our teacher had been boasting to the boys' coach about how fast her girls could run, so he showed up with his stopwatch, along with about half the school. We ran a fifty yard sprint, and doggone if I didn't nose out Kathryn with a time of 6.0 seconds flat!
Near the completion of the ninth grade some of us were chosen to take dramtic roles in the Ninth Grade Play. I don't recall the name of it, or what role I had in it, so it must have been a minor part, but I remember that Anita had the feminine starring role. She was the girlfriend of a bot who was a pilot in the play. One day, as I stood below the stage, watching our drama teacher giving instructions to Anita, and the pilot, she stopped instructing for a moment to say, "my, you make a nice looking couple!" And, I thought, they certainly do. Little did I know that at that moment I was looking at my future husband!! Walter was in another homeroom, and since the three ninth grade homerooms were rather competitive we seldom intermingled, so that was really the first time I gave him a second look. About a week before the ninth grade graduation I was called out of class to report to the Principal's Office, and as that usually meant TROUBLE, it must have been a very scared little girl who showed up at his door, because when he looked at me he hastened to assure me that nothing was wrong. He just wanted to let me know that I had been chosen to receive the American Legion Award during the graduation ceremonies! One boy, and one girl, plus two runnersup, were honored each year, and we were informed early enough to have our pictures taken for the account which would be in the local paper, but we were instructed to tell no one except our parents. What a proud and happy little gal flew back to the classroom, in marked contrast to the one who earlier went dragging down the hall, trembling from head to toe, wondering what awful fate awaited in the Principal's Office. I still have the bronze medal that was presented to me on graduation day by the head of The American Legions. On one side is embossed a lady holding the flag surrounded in large letters FOR GOD AND COUNTRY. On the other side is embossed an eagle with wings spread wide, and underneath, the words AMERICAN LEGION SCHOOL AWARD. Under those words it says: COURAGE CHARACTER SERVICE COMPANIONSHIP SCHOLARSHIP with the American Legion insignia on the bottom. To this day part of what thrilling day returns every time I think about it!
Before the beginning of the etntrace into the sixth grade our family moved to Pomona to be closer to Dad's work. Jack and I attended Kauffman School. I think the highlight of that year in school was the fire escae which led from our sixth grade room on the third floor of that old wooden building. It was a steel tube, which we were allowed to slide down to the ground, if the teacher felt the class had behaved properly during the day. A fine tool for the teacher to keep us in line, and a special reward for the children. Our first home, in Pomona, was an apartment house on Fifth Ave. My bed was in the living room, which disappeared during the day into the wall, and slid out like a drawer each night. Guess that detail is etched in my memory, because that was the year of the BIG earthquake in California. It happened one evening about five o'clock. I had been visiting a girlfriend who was sick and was walking home from her house. At first I thoght something was the matter with me until I saw people running our of their houses. I had seen a movie about the San Fransisco quake, which showed the earth opening up an people falling into the gaping cracks, so I started running very fast in order to jump those cracks! We had more quakes of lesser intensity all night, but still my bed kept threatening to roll back into the wall which made me a little uneasy; also, the fire whistle blew at intervals all night trying to persuade men to volunteer to go down to some of the beach cities, to dig out people who were buried under demolished buildings. Long Beach was particularly hard hit.
Thursday, October 4, 2007
BACK TO CALIFORNIA:
1929: THe BIG depression was just getting underway, and California beckoned once more, for whatever reasons I don't know, but I presume financial conditions seemed rosier inthe sunshine state. Picture this: A Model T Ford touring car, with side curtains, piled within a couple feet of the roof in the rear seat with blankets, clothes, and all possessions worth taking. Dad built a tall box with cupboard doors which was tied on tht driver's side of the fender and the dishes and cooking utensils were stashed in that. Jack and I took turns, one lying flat on top of the blankets, etc. in the back seat while the other sat in front with the folks. The trip took six days, and nights we stayed in cabins scattered along the way. I can recall narrow winding roads, some hugging the side of a mountain with sheer drops of thousands of feet on the cliff side, and sometimes long periods of time when we'd never see another human being. Finally, the day arrived when we drove into the driveway at my grandparents' property. They'd built a new house, so Mother's sister and her husband, Andy, plus their four year old son, Frank (or "Buster", as he was called) lived in the older house, next door. They all came bounding out the door to greet us, and Buster jumped up on the fender box, which promptly went crashing to the ground breaking a good portion of Mother's dishes. That calamity was soon forgotten, since it was just so great to be at the end of our journey.
First problem was to find a place to live, and that was accomplished in short order when some neighbors of the grandparents ofered to rent us their garage! It was a regulation-size double garage with partitions inside which didn't go all the way to the roof seperating the cooking, sleeping, and bath areas. We didn't stay in it very long, as Norma and Andy used our arrival as a convenient time to return to Los Angeles where Andy had a job as a street car conductor, so we moved into their house. That Fall I was in the third grade, and my teacher's name was Mrs. Brooks, whom I adored. Chino was a very pleasant little town, and we proceeded to grow and thrive on the friendly atmosphere. I neglected to mention that Dad found a job almost immediately after we arrived in Chino, at a meat processing plant between there and the nearby town of Ontario. He had been working there just one week when some federal inspectors arrived, and arrested everyone in the place. It seems they'd been processing meat that hadn't passed any inspection, but Dad hadn't been there long enough to know about it. Fortunately, the owner told the agents that Dad was innocent, so they let him go. Of course, that was short-lived job since the meat packing plant was closed forever. Soon after, Dad decided to into business for himself by buying into a meat market in Pomona, which took an over-abundant amount of courage, considering he didn't have much money, and markets were folding right and left in those early days of the depression. Come to think about it, he didn't have much to lose. However, that started a string of years when Jack and I saw very little of our father. He left for work before we were awake, and returned long after we were asleep. That was mostly seven days a week, as well, but living next door to our grandparents seemed to fill that gap somewhat. We lived in Chino for three years and I attended the third, fourth, and fifth grades there. I was completely unaware that millions of people all over the world were suffering as the result of that terrible depression. None of us had very much money, but I never saw any family actually go hungry, so I guess the best place to be in such a situation was a small town, surrounded by farms, where food is grown and dispersed locally. My grandfather always had a big garden and grew his own chickens. Gosh, how I'd run and hide when my grandmother went out the the chicken yard to round up a couple of chickens and proceed to wring their necks. Can remember sitting out in the back yard helping her pick off the feathers after she dunked them into a pail of boiling water.
About a block down the road from us some "rich people" lived, who had a swimming pool, which they generously invited the neighborhood children to share. All of us spent entire summers in that pool, and since it sported a wonderful slide at the deep end, most of the time was spent under water, and I can remember winding up one long summer with green hair. It remained green until it grew out enough to cut it all off, but I was hardly aware of it since I hadn't reached the age of caing about such minor details. I was not a child to play with dolls, or have tea parties, or even dress up in my mother's high heels, much to her regret. One Christmas, or I should say before Christmas, on one of our shopping trips to Ontario, and I remember it was in the Penney's store, I spied a baby doll that just enthralled me. However, the price was $5.00, far more expensive than I could hope would be spent on a present. However, just before we started home I saw Mother slip some money into Grandpa's hand and whisper something to him. Right then and there I knew I was going to get that doll, especially when he returned with just the right size box which let out a little cry when he tipped it while putting it in the trunk of the car. Well, I was truly thrilled to get that doll, but doubt if I played with it more than a half dozen times in all the years I had it. Mother used to take it out of it's little box once or twice a year to wash and iron it's clothes , and I s'pose try and inspire me to play with it, but I was always in the walnut orchard, across the street, climbing trees, or trying to join a boy's baseball team. It was great fun when "Buddy", our cousin fromSan Diego came, and "Buster", from Los Angeles, so I could tag along after Jack and the cousins. One day we were playing in the park, in downtown Chino, climbing on the slanted legs which held one of the swings. We'd climb to the top, then drop off. On one of my dropoffs my tongue must have been sticking out because I darn near bit it in two. As soon as I saw the blood I started howling, and the three boys started laughing, not realizing what a terrible would I'd suffered. I grabbed one corner of the hem of my coat and held it over the cut and ran the mile and a half home as fast as I could, knowing full well I would bleed to death before I got there! Well, the coat was a mess when I reached home, and when I was assured of living after a cold washclothe was put on the wound I finally relaxed. Sometime later the three boys arrived with a nice bouquet of flowers they'd picked on the way home in fields and people's yards, trying to show me how sorry they were abou laughing when I had such a life-threatening accident. Instead of smiling pitifull and accepting the flowers in the spirit in which they were proffered I threw them on the floor, stamped my foot and yelled them to leave me alone!
1929: THe BIG depression was just getting underway, and California beckoned once more, for whatever reasons I don't know, but I presume financial conditions seemed rosier inthe sunshine state. Picture this: A Model T Ford touring car, with side curtains, piled within a couple feet of the roof in the rear seat with blankets, clothes, and all possessions worth taking. Dad built a tall box with cupboard doors which was tied on tht driver's side of the fender and the dishes and cooking utensils were stashed in that. Jack and I took turns, one lying flat on top of the blankets, etc. in the back seat while the other sat in front with the folks. The trip took six days, and nights we stayed in cabins scattered along the way. I can recall narrow winding roads, some hugging the side of a mountain with sheer drops of thousands of feet on the cliff side, and sometimes long periods of time when we'd never see another human being. Finally, the day arrived when we drove into the driveway at my grandparents' property. They'd built a new house, so Mother's sister and her husband, Andy, plus their four year old son, Frank (or "Buster", as he was called) lived in the older house, next door. They all came bounding out the door to greet us, and Buster jumped up on the fender box, which promptly went crashing to the ground breaking a good portion of Mother's dishes. That calamity was soon forgotten, since it was just so great to be at the end of our journey.
First problem was to find a place to live, and that was accomplished in short order when some neighbors of the grandparents ofered to rent us their garage! It was a regulation-size double garage with partitions inside which didn't go all the way to the roof seperating the cooking, sleeping, and bath areas. We didn't stay in it very long, as Norma and Andy used our arrival as a convenient time to return to Los Angeles where Andy had a job as a street car conductor, so we moved into their house. That Fall I was in the third grade, and my teacher's name was Mrs. Brooks, whom I adored. Chino was a very pleasant little town, and we proceeded to grow and thrive on the friendly atmosphere. I neglected to mention that Dad found a job almost immediately after we arrived in Chino, at a meat processing plant between there and the nearby town of Ontario. He had been working there just one week when some federal inspectors arrived, and arrested everyone in the place. It seems they'd been processing meat that hadn't passed any inspection, but Dad hadn't been there long enough to know about it. Fortunately, the owner told the agents that Dad was innocent, so they let him go. Of course, that was short-lived job since the meat packing plant was closed forever. Soon after, Dad decided to into business for himself by buying into a meat market in Pomona, which took an over-abundant amount of courage, considering he didn't have much money, and markets were folding right and left in those early days of the depression. Come to think about it, he didn't have much to lose. However, that started a string of years when Jack and I saw very little of our father. He left for work before we were awake, and returned long after we were asleep. That was mostly seven days a week, as well, but living next door to our grandparents seemed to fill that gap somewhat. We lived in Chino for three years and I attended the third, fourth, and fifth grades there. I was completely unaware that millions of people all over the world were suffering as the result of that terrible depression. None of us had very much money, but I never saw any family actually go hungry, so I guess the best place to be in such a situation was a small town, surrounded by farms, where food is grown and dispersed locally. My grandfather always had a big garden and grew his own chickens. Gosh, how I'd run and hide when my grandmother went out the the chicken yard to round up a couple of chickens and proceed to wring their necks. Can remember sitting out in the back yard helping her pick off the feathers after she dunked them into a pail of boiling water.
About a block down the road from us some "rich people" lived, who had a swimming pool, which they generously invited the neighborhood children to share. All of us spent entire summers in that pool, and since it sported a wonderful slide at the deep end, most of the time was spent under water, and I can remember winding up one long summer with green hair. It remained green until it grew out enough to cut it all off, but I was hardly aware of it since I hadn't reached the age of caing about such minor details. I was not a child to play with dolls, or have tea parties, or even dress up in my mother's high heels, much to her regret. One Christmas, or I should say before Christmas, on one of our shopping trips to Ontario, and I remember it was in the Penney's store, I spied a baby doll that just enthralled me. However, the price was $5.00, far more expensive than I could hope would be spent on a present. However, just before we started home I saw Mother slip some money into Grandpa's hand and whisper something to him. Right then and there I knew I was going to get that doll, especially when he returned with just the right size box which let out a little cry when he tipped it while putting it in the trunk of the car. Well, I was truly thrilled to get that doll, but doubt if I played with it more than a half dozen times in all the years I had it. Mother used to take it out of it's little box once or twice a year to wash and iron it's clothes , and I s'pose try and inspire me to play with it, but I was always in the walnut orchard, across the street, climbing trees, or trying to join a boy's baseball team. It was great fun when "Buddy", our cousin fromSan Diego came, and "Buster", from Los Angeles, so I could tag along after Jack and the cousins. One day we were playing in the park, in downtown Chino, climbing on the slanted legs which held one of the swings. We'd climb to the top, then drop off. On one of my dropoffs my tongue must have been sticking out because I darn near bit it in two. As soon as I saw the blood I started howling, and the three boys started laughing, not realizing what a terrible would I'd suffered. I grabbed one corner of the hem of my coat and held it over the cut and ran the mile and a half home as fast as I could, knowing full well I would bleed to death before I got there! Well, the coat was a mess when I reached home, and when I was assured of living after a cold washclothe was put on the wound I finally relaxed. Sometime later the three boys arrived with a nice bouquet of flowers they'd picked on the way home in fields and people's yards, trying to show me how sorry they were abou laughing when I had such a life-threatening accident. Instead of smiling pitifull and accepting the flowers in the spirit in which they were proffered I threw them on the floor, stamped my foot and yelled them to leave me alone!
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
Soon after entering first grade we moved back to Centralia, where Dad had a job selling Essex cars. I vividly recall some events in that school. My teacher was very strict, ad one day I was talking when I was supposed to be listening so she marched down the aisle, yanked me out of my seat, turned me over the desk and spanked me. I was mortified, and terribly afraid that my parents would hear about it, so bribed my little best friend for weeks, until the same experience befell her on one of my luckier days. Needless to say, the lessons learned in that classroom were etched in my memory from that day to this.
The second grade found us "out in the country" where Dad was working in a slaughter house processing beef and pork. Jack and I were playing around near where Dad was killing hogs one day, when all of a sudden we heard a commotion and Dad yelling at us to get home right now. We ran out of the room where we'd been playing and just before I jumped into a pile of manure I could see out of the corner of my eye that Dad was crouched under the scraping table and a huge hog was on top of the table trying to get hold of any part of Dad that he could see poking out from under the table. We ran for home yelling at the top of our lungs, but before help could get back to Dad he'd managed to get hold of a big knife and slit the hog's throat, since the only rifle handy had been broken in two places by the hog when he stepped on it while he was circling that table in his frenzy of rage. Another time, one of the sows in the feeding pens, had given birth to a dozen pigs, but had killed all, but one, when my Dad found them, so he jumped into the pen and grabbed the remaining pig. He brought it home and we raised it in the house by feeding it with a baby bottle first, then scraps as time went on. When it grew too big to keep in the house Dad gave it to the yeast salesman, who called onthe small store next door, and became absolutely entranced with that pet pig. he promised over and over hat the pig would always be just a pet, and would never be eaten.
The two-room school house that Jack and I attended was certainly an unique experience, for sure. Our teacher's name was Katie Peters, and just the fact that I remember her name says a lot. There were five grades in her classroom. Jack sat in the first row, since he was in the first grade, and I sat in the second row as I was in the second grade. We had lots of spelling tests and if you received 50 perfect spelling tests you were invited to choose a book out of a large trunk she had, full of all kinds of books. Also, each time you received a 100% on the test you could go outside for thirty minutes and play on the swings. Spelling was always very easy for me, and I was always out there, all by myself, trying to convince myself I was having fun. That year I was awarded two books and the ones I chose was a music book and a small red New Testament, each inscribed as follows: Presented to La Verne Boone for fifty perfect spelling lessons by K Peters. My first awards duly noted.
Miss Peters had a habit of taking out her large black lunch box from her desk about thirty minutes before we got out for lunch, and she would proceed to eat with great relish in front of thirty starving pupils. One day, when she opened the lunch box, a rather large snake crawled out of it. I think it had been put in there by some of the older boys from the other classroom, because when the screams and yells brought them to our door the investigate some of them seemed to be trying to stifle grins.
I'll have to back up a bit for sometime in the preschool era, probably when I was about three, or thereabouts, we came to California for a short period of time. Dad brought my maternal grandfather to the Pomona-Chino area. He was seriously ill with asthma and his doctor advised him to get out of the rainy northwest. They decided to settle in Chino as my grandmother had a sister living nearby. Dad went back to Washington and gathered up his family to head south once more. We lived in Victorville, California during this time, where a friend obtained a job for Dad in the cement plant. Apparently that type of work didn't appeal, or perhaps Mother and Dad missed Washington, anyway, it was rather a short stint, and back the trekked. For awhile we lived in Chealis, then came the short move to Winlock, followed by another to Centralia, then, came the move outside of Chehalis where Jack and I attended the country schoolhouse. Is it any wonder that I have the sequence of jumping from place to place a bit out of order? From now on the old memory will be a bit sharper, I hope.
The second grade found us "out in the country" where Dad was working in a slaughter house processing beef and pork. Jack and I were playing around near where Dad was killing hogs one day, when all of a sudden we heard a commotion and Dad yelling at us to get home right now. We ran out of the room where we'd been playing and just before I jumped into a pile of manure I could see out of the corner of my eye that Dad was crouched under the scraping table and a huge hog was on top of the table trying to get hold of any part of Dad that he could see poking out from under the table. We ran for home yelling at the top of our lungs, but before help could get back to Dad he'd managed to get hold of a big knife and slit the hog's throat, since the only rifle handy had been broken in two places by the hog when he stepped on it while he was circling that table in his frenzy of rage. Another time, one of the sows in the feeding pens, had given birth to a dozen pigs, but had killed all, but one, when my Dad found them, so he jumped into the pen and grabbed the remaining pig. He brought it home and we raised it in the house by feeding it with a baby bottle first, then scraps as time went on. When it grew too big to keep in the house Dad gave it to the yeast salesman, who called onthe small store next door, and became absolutely entranced with that pet pig. he promised over and over hat the pig would always be just a pet, and would never be eaten.
The two-room school house that Jack and I attended was certainly an unique experience, for sure. Our teacher's name was Katie Peters, and just the fact that I remember her name says a lot. There were five grades in her classroom. Jack sat in the first row, since he was in the first grade, and I sat in the second row as I was in the second grade. We had lots of spelling tests and if you received 50 perfect spelling tests you were invited to choose a book out of a large trunk she had, full of all kinds of books. Also, each time you received a 100% on the test you could go outside for thirty minutes and play on the swings. Spelling was always very easy for me, and I was always out there, all by myself, trying to convince myself I was having fun. That year I was awarded two books and the ones I chose was a music book and a small red New Testament, each inscribed as follows: Presented to La Verne Boone for fifty perfect spelling lessons by K Peters. My first awards duly noted.
Miss Peters had a habit of taking out her large black lunch box from her desk about thirty minutes before we got out for lunch, and she would proceed to eat with great relish in front of thirty starving pupils. One day, when she opened the lunch box, a rather large snake crawled out of it. I think it had been put in there by some of the older boys from the other classroom, because when the screams and yells brought them to our door the investigate some of them seemed to be trying to stifle grins.
I'll have to back up a bit for sometime in the preschool era, probably when I was about three, or thereabouts, we came to California for a short period of time. Dad brought my maternal grandfather to the Pomona-Chino area. He was seriously ill with asthma and his doctor advised him to get out of the rainy northwest. They decided to settle in Chino as my grandmother had a sister living nearby. Dad went back to Washington and gathered up his family to head south once more. We lived in Victorville, California during this time, where a friend obtained a job for Dad in the cement plant. Apparently that type of work didn't appeal, or perhaps Mother and Dad missed Washington, anyway, it was rather a short stint, and back the trekked. For awhile we lived in Chealis, then came the short move to Winlock, followed by another to Centralia, then, came the move outside of Chehalis where Jack and I attended the country schoolhouse. Is it any wonder that I have the sequence of jumping from place to place a bit out of order? From now on the old memory will be a bit sharper, I hope.
Monday, October 1, 2007
Another small recollection was a short period of time that my parents were in partnership with another man in a candy-making venture. Apparently Mother spent a lot of time helping in the production, since Jack and I played in the building, where the work was going on, a good deal of the time. I remember playing hide-and-sek amongst the barrels of chocolates, and when it was my turn to "seek" I found that if I was patient I'd discover where Jack was hiding by watching for a little hand reaching over the top of a barrel to sneak a chocolate. There was an empty building next doo which had an open connecting door to our building. The previous tenents had been a soda fountain, and possibly a drug store. Anyway, the fixtures were still in place at the soda fountain, and still contained various flavors of syrup, which Jack and I made good use of by concocting all sorts of drinks. Between that sweet syrup and all the candy consumed during those preschool days, is it any wonder that I wound up with thirteen fillings in my teeth at the age of seven?
Another event which sticks in my mind was something that happened when we were living in the two-story house , in Centralia, and this was the period when Dad was selling Essex cars. One night, after Jack and I had gone to bed, a friend of the folks showed up, very drunk, and he was seeing snakes crawling all over everything. He caused so much commotion that we awoke and stood at the top of the stairs to watch this unusually exciting "show". Mother was hurriedly trying to make a pot of coffee, and Dad was trying to calm the man down. At one point, the man grabbed a butcher knife and was going to chop the snake he thought was crawling on his leg, until Dad managed to pry it out of his hands. When the folks spied us taking all this in they ordered us back to bed, but we kept inching back down the stairs to watch. This went on for quite some time, then the man looked up at us and told us if we'd go back to bed he'd give us each a dollar. Well, that did it! We'd never had a whole dollar in our lives, so off we troted. Naturally, the man never remembered that he'd promised us a dolar, and I never forgot that promise unkept.
Another event which sticks in my mind was something that happened when we were living in the two-story house , in Centralia, and this was the period when Dad was selling Essex cars. One night, after Jack and I had gone to bed, a friend of the folks showed up, very drunk, and he was seeing snakes crawling all over everything. He caused so much commotion that we awoke and stood at the top of the stairs to watch this unusually exciting "show". Mother was hurriedly trying to make a pot of coffee, and Dad was trying to calm the man down. At one point, the man grabbed a butcher knife and was going to chop the snake he thought was crawling on his leg, until Dad managed to pry it out of his hands. When the folks spied us taking all this in they ordered us back to bed, but we kept inching back down the stairs to watch. This went on for quite some time, then the man looked up at us and told us if we'd go back to bed he'd give us each a dollar. Well, that did it! We'd never had a whole dollar in our lives, so off we troted. Naturally, the man never remembered that he'd promised us a dolar, and I never forgot that promise unkept.
La Verne Estelle Boone was born in Chehalis, Washington on March 24, 1921, the first grandchild in the Martin and Margaret Boone branch of that family tree. Martin died some six or seven years previous, and Margaret had continued raising their eight children on the family ranch, on the cowlitz prarie, outside of Chehalis. Margaret was in attendance at the birth of her first grandchild to Harry Neal Boone, her third eldest son, and his wife, the former Gladys Winifred Roughton. The birth took place inthe apartment where they lived, and was attended by a midwife at 7:30 a.m. I'm told that Dad's seven brothers and sisters all arrived soon after to get a look at this latest red-headed addition to the Boone clan.
When I was a few months old the little family moved south to Hood River, Oregon where Dad purchased a filling station, since his greatest ambition was to be in business for himself. Unfortunately, that first winter it snowed so much that cars were useless for five months and five days. So much for the filling station business. Finances must have been very lean, since they couldn't afford to put a rug on the floor, so I never crawled. (I don't recall feeling deprived.) There was no such thing as welfare benefits, unemployment benefits, or whatever, in those "good old days", but all survived somehow.
When I was 16 months old, Jack Martin Boone arived to complete our family. With the addition of a boy, my Dad celebrated for days.
My first recollection was visits to the Boone ranch, where Jack was born, and my Uncle Dan and Aunt Pearl now lived. There was no electric lights and no running water, but no end of fun things for children. While the men would be milking cows, we could jump into the stacks of hay in the barn, feed the chickens, and gather eggs, watch baby chicks being hatched, or gather vegetables from the huge garden.
My next recollection was living in Winlock, and entering first grade there. Mother and Jack walked to school with me that first day, then Mother cried all the way home because her firstborn was starting school. (There was no kndergarten then) Jack cried also because he couldn't go to school too. They must have made quite a picture! A few years ago, when we visited up in Washington Walter and I drove into Winlock and I found the street that we lived on, but couldn't pick out the exact house.
When I was a few months old the little family moved south to Hood River, Oregon where Dad purchased a filling station, since his greatest ambition was to be in business for himself. Unfortunately, that first winter it snowed so much that cars were useless for five months and five days. So much for the filling station business. Finances must have been very lean, since they couldn't afford to put a rug on the floor, so I never crawled. (I don't recall feeling deprived.) There was no such thing as welfare benefits, unemployment benefits, or whatever, in those "good old days", but all survived somehow.
When I was 16 months old, Jack Martin Boone arived to complete our family. With the addition of a boy, my Dad celebrated for days.
My first recollection was visits to the Boone ranch, where Jack was born, and my Uncle Dan and Aunt Pearl now lived. There was no electric lights and no running water, but no end of fun things for children. While the men would be milking cows, we could jump into the stacks of hay in the barn, feed the chickens, and gather eggs, watch baby chicks being hatched, or gather vegetables from the huge garden.
My next recollection was living in Winlock, and entering first grade there. Mother and Jack walked to school with me that first day, then Mother cried all the way home because her firstborn was starting school. (There was no kndergarten then) Jack cried also because he couldn't go to school too. They must have made quite a picture! A few years ago, when we visited up in Washington Walter and I drove into Winlock and I found the street that we lived on, but couldn't pick out the exact house.
Monday, September 24, 2007
Journal of My Life
I have been debating about doing this, but it's a nice way to share this. Some of you may not even know I have it!! This is a Grandma Vernie's life story. I will have to do a bunch of installments. -Mandi
"WHY AM I DOING THIS??? (A JOURNAL OF MY LIFE)
From time to time it has occurred to me that it would have been really nice if my grandparents had left a chronicle of events in their lives. It was special when we discovered that Walter's mother saved so many letters, written by members of her family dated more than one hundred years ago. After reading, and rereading those letters, one felt as though you knew the people who wrote them, and could visualize the trials and tribulations of that day, as well as the happy events. Well, perhaps some of the future descendents of this Heffner clan will wonder about the life's journey this one ancestor traveled. On the whole, up to now, the trip has been pretty smooth, and most will find it quite boring. As with all lives, there are parts I'd never want to live over, and some I'd give almost anything to repeat. Now that I'm in the 61st year of my life, the fact that astounds me is the number of insignificant, at the time, decisions one makes which alters the entire course of events that follow. In many cases, not just the lives of you, and your family, but other people sometimes. Occasionally, I hear someone refer to the past as "the good old days" probably because times were simpler. There's no question that each generation enters a world far more complicated, where every individual has to better prepare themselves for the challenges life brings. But, advances in medicine, technological advances, and progress in dozens of other fields more than makes up for that so-called simpler life. I'm sure if I could somehow get a peek at the world one hundred years from now I'd see far more improvements than regretful events. Oh, certainly, I worry about such things as over-population, for instance, because it may lead to wars. However, another world war seems unlikely since everyone knows the consequences of nuclear war for all of mankind.
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