More 4th Street Memories

                        

I cannot figure out why mom is showing us these shorts.  Did she make them?  Are they shorts?  That is not her happy face so why?  Who took this picture?I think she looks like she is about Junior High age.

Is there anything better than summer when you are a kid?  Having a long free time to do whatever you want, no structure, no supervision.  When it was hot, Mom closed all the windows and pulled all the drapes to keep out the heat and it worked better than you might think.  My brothers and I would take out the monopoly game and play until we were tired of it or something better came along.  We left the game set up in the corner of the living room.  We played ball in the front yard, rode our bikes, walked the dog, went to our friends house. 

I think I was about 9 or 10 when I discovered the piano.  My mom and I were visiting a lady whose name I cannot remember.  She had a piano.  I sat down and started messing around, picking out tunes by ear.  The one I remember was "Onward Christian Soldiers".  My mom must have been impressed because next thing I know she bought me a piano.  It was an old upright and it was painted army green.  I started my piano lessons with the preacher's wife.  I was not a great student but I kept at it long enough to learn to read the music and my teacher let me play contemporary songs so I started practicing more.  I am sure my brothers will tell you that I played the same songs over and over and I did.  That is how you learn!  I also took organ lessons and soon I was playing at church.  I never was any good at the organ.  My Aunt Carol and my cousin Jean were much better musicians than I was.  I played for myself.  When I left home at 18 I did not have a piano for almost 10 years.  Finally I had enough money to buy a used piano for myself and I started playing again.  Still not that good, but good enough for my own enjoyment.  I placed the piano on the wall that adjoined the kids bedroom when we lived on 25th Street in Milwaukee, WI.  I played long after they were asleep and to this day I am sure that BK know the words to "Don't let the Sun go down on me" and others.  In 5th grade, music classes and band instruments and choirs started.  I did not play a band instrument but I sang in the Early Bird choir at Milford.  Why can't I remember the director's name?  I know Mrs. Hale was our music teacher in kindergarten and first grade.  Oh, wait!  It was Mrs. Bush.  We sang "This land is your land" for sure, but I can't remember the rest right now.  I did 5th and 6th grade at Milford, a school that was out in the country.  Nevada had a habit of busing city kids to the country and country kids to the city.  On the bus we would sing "From the Halls of Milford Prison to the shores of bubble gum bay.  We will fight our teachers in battle with spit balls, gum and clay.  First to fight for wrong and freedom and to keep our desks a mess.  We are proud to claim the title of the teachers number one pests!" 

My 5th grade teacher was Mrs. Gallagher.  She had red hair in a French roll.  She loved to tell us horrible stories of traffic accidents where people had their head cut off.  I loved her

My 6th grad teacher was Mr. Wolf, my first male teacher.  He had bad breath, dandruff and a habit of invading my personal space.  I hated him.  We did get to go to Mrs. Osmundson's class for math.  She was a great teacher and a welcome respite from Mr. Wolf. 

Milford was where I figured out that I was not going to be an athlete, at least not one that had to run. I am quite sure I was the slowest runner there.  Boys after girls, girls after boys was not a game I could compete at!  I went to the bars and twirled around and hung upside down!

I want to go back to 3rd grade at Central for a minute.  They used to bus the kids from North into Central for lunch.  The Central kids had a game that we had to get off the ground before the North kids got off the bus or we would get cooties.  Imagine my horror when I had to go to North the very next year!

I lived on 4th Street from the time I was in 4th grade until I graduated High School and left home for good.  I have lots of stories.  When we moved there I was a little girl who still believed that grown ups knew what they were talking about and that they always did the right stuff.  During that time I learned that my parents did not know everything, that they could be weak and foolish and make mistakes.  I went from my mom and dad are the smartest to my mom and dad don't know anything.  Both positions are equally foolish, but it was a long time after I left home before I learned that parents just do the best they can and hope for the best. 

Memories on 4th Street

We moved again after I finished 3rd grade.  My mom and dad bought a house!  It was painted red and had a nice front porch and a screened in side porch that you accessed through French doors in the living room.  There was an old swinging couch left over from the previous owners and we had a milk box on the front porch.  We still had a milk man in the mid sixties.  My dad still worked for Iowa Department of Transportation and my mom worked at the grocery store in Nevada.  Our doctor's office was right across the street from the grocery store.

We had a crab apple tree in the back yard and a huge elm tree in the front yard.  3 bedrooms upstairs and 1 on the main level, 1 and a half baths and an addition that held our dining area and family room.  The family room was paneled and we still only had one black and white TV.   My brothers and I had many an argument over what to watch!  Our next door neighbor used to invite us over to watch the holiday parades in color! There was a metal, free standing fireplace in the family room.  At Christmas we burned our wrapping paper and wondered at the colorful flames produced.  Our kitchen had a pass through window into the dining area in the family room.  There were built in bookcases and a desk on one long side and closets on the other.

There were no girls that I knew that were my age in the neighborhood, but the boys found other boys to play with right away.  I was a solitary creature and well able to entertain myself most of the time and willing to play with boys when I needed company!  Mom got rid of our cats when we moved but soon after we got a dog named Missy.  I loved to read, I loved to draw and I loved music.  I was a dreamer and spent many hours in my day dreams, telling myself stories of how thing might be someday. 

I went to the 4th grade at old North School.  I rode the bus to school.   My teacher was Mrs. Jacobsen. that school had windows that let the cold wind blow right in.  Many times in the winter there was snow on the window sill.  Mrs. Jacobsen read books to us, a chapter a day.  How I loved that. Starting in high school and through much of my adult life I read a book a day (unless I was too poor to buy a book).  After I turned 45 I stopped reading books.  I am not sure what changed, the books or me, but I stopped reading books.  Now occasionally I listen to a book on tape, but I don't have any favorite contemporary authors.  A funny ending for a former book worm!  Well I am not done yet so maybe I will learn to love to read again.

Shortly after moving in to the house on 4th street, I was running the my bath water and when I tried to turn off the water I couldn't figure out how!  I was already naked and sitting in the water.  I got so worried and scared that the water would overflow and make a big mess that I started screaming for help!  Luckily, I did not lock the door so my Dad could come in and rescue me.  How embarrassing! 

Mom and Dad had the biggest upstairs bedroom ( of course) and a window AC.  I used to go into their room after my baths to put on lotion and powder and just generally admire myself in their dresser mirror.  Dad had a stash of "Dirty" novels on the shelf in his closet.  Very racy.  Parents, you should never think you can hide stuff in your closet.

My room was the smallest and was down the hall from them.  The boys shared the 3rd bedroom which was next to mine.  I had a single bed, a dresser and a bookcase.  My only carpet was the clothes I left all over the floor.   For a while my Aunt Sheila came to live with us and she got my room.  I was sent to the spare bedroom in the basement.  Aunt Sheila had married Uncle Jerry and he got drafted and almost sent to Viet Nam.  There was a lot of family politics on my Dad's side and I do not really understand why she came to live with us but I didn't mind.  My Dad worked for Rhodes Bread at night as a second job and always brought home Rhodes Rolls.  Aunt Sheila made us cinnamon rolls and baked. 

In our basement we had a pool table and a wall full of book shelves.  My dad loved to read and so did I.  Dad and I used to put puzzles together on a card table in the basement.  He was and is a quiet guy so there was not a lot of talking.  One day he said to me " I think Mom and me might have to get a divorce".  I did not ask questions and it didn't really bother me since I knew why he said it.  Even when you don't talk much you can know a lot. 

More stories from 10th Street

Most people my age or older remember where they were when Kennedy was shot.  I was in the 3rd grade and I don't remember where I was-probably at school.  I did not understand any of it.  We stayed home from school and watched the funeral on our TV but I don't remember being sad or shocked or mad or any feeling about it.  Same with Martin Luther King and Robert Kennedy.  The riots in other places did not effect me.  I lived in a small Iowa town with only white Christian people.  I was 16 or 17 before I ever saw a black person. In church we sang "Jesus loves the little children, all the children of the world.  Red and yellow, black and white, they are precious in his sight.  Jesus loves the little children of the world."  I believed every word of that and assumed my family, friends, neighbors, classmates and fellow Iowans all believed it too. 

 My first memory of feeling sad or outraged about the unrest, the war, the state of the country was when the music hit me.  "Has anybody here seen my old friend Bobby?  Can you tell me where he's gone?  I thought I saw him out walking over the hill with Abraham, Martin and John."  Now when I hear some of the political songs from the 60's it fills me with sadness.  My childhood until the age of 11 was a time of innocence and isolation from the real world.  My teen years were full of drama and personal traumas which left me no time for world affairs.  I have many stories to tell but I am not sure which ones I will have the courage to record here.  I know there will be gaps because some secrets are not mine to tell.