As mentioned in my previous blog “I felt the effects of war more in school than at home.” Now let me explain. Routine schedules and even some curriculum changed so war-supporting projects and patriotism could be introduced. Every Friday was now designated as “War Bond” day. Each child was given a stamp book which when filled with ten cent stamps equaling $18.00 was traded in for a War Bond which could be cashed in for $25.00 if held to maturity (I think ten years). Every Friday we were encouraged to bring dimes to purchase stamps for our books. Mother always made sure each of us had at least one dime, sometimes more if the budget allowed. But I never completed a single stamp book, so I never even saw what a bond looked like.
All of us children were encouraged to be the responsible ones in our families to save tin cans for the “scrap drive”. Scrap metal of all kinds was recycled because so much was needed for weapons and machinery of war. We were taught how to wash out the can, remove the label, place the round end pieces inside the can and then stomp them flat. We would bring these cans to school where they were stacked in the front enclosed entrance of the school. Periodically they would be picked up by a processing company to be melted down for re-use. I remember those cans being stacked to the ceiling before being picked up.
At one time we were also asked to collect kapok (a cotton-like substance surrounding the seeds of some trees and plants) from the milkweeds that grew abundantly in the fields around where we lived. We were told that it could be used to fill life jackets for our service men. I since have wondered if that was really accurate since it was so tedious to collect even small amounts of the fiber. Surely science could have, and probably did, come up with a synthetic that could be mass- produced for this purpose. I think now that asking us to collect this substance was just to make us feel that we were doing something to help our country.
There were more patriotic assemblies held and patriotic songs became part of all musical programs presented by the school. Red, white and blue became the favored colors to decorate rooms and each room had a flag to which the Pledge of Allegiance was recited each morning. And “Uncle Sam”, became a familiar figure to all of us. Some people today may call this “brain washing”, but I would call it giving us love for country, and a needed realization of the cost of freedom which we took, and still take, for granted. When that freedom became seriously challenged a country came together to do whatever it took to preserve it. I never remember having any negative or depressing feelings about the war, only feelings of love of country wanting to help the soldiers. In fact, a group of girls would get together one day a week to make “scrapbooks” for them. We would bring magazines, newspapers, joke books, crossword puzzle books, etc., cut out the cartoon-type jokes, articles of interest from the local papers, jokes, and puzzles, and paste them in scrapbooks provided by some cooperative parents. I wasn’t able to go to too many of these work sessions because of other responsibilities that I had at home. I’m not too sure that my mother thought that this was a worthwhile project, and as I look back now, I never was aware of how or to whom these books were sent. But at least we believed that we were doing something special to show our support for the soldiers.
A common sight now appeared in the windows of many, many homes. It was a small banner with one or more stars that represented the number of men or women serving their country in military service. I remember sometimes seeing as many as four or five stars on banners. A gold star meant that someone had died in that home defending their country. As we have just celebrated Memorial Day, my thoughts have turned to the millions, of men and women who have died while serving their country in wars throughout the world. War is never good, but it will continue to exist until the Savior, Himself, will once again bring peace to the earth at His Second Coming. But I honor the brave men and women who sacrificed so much to maintain our freedoms and to help bring democracy to the oppressed people of the world. I feel blessed that no one in my immediate family has been lost in battle, and only one uncle, LeGrande, served during World War II. So I can only imagine the pain of those families who have lost loved ones. My heart goes out to them, and I hope they feel as I do that those who have made the ultimate sacrifice have a special place in Heaven.
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Sunday, May 20, 2007
War Impacts Many Things
Just as "9-11" immediately brings back to memory the horrifying events in New York City when the Twin Towers were brought down by terrorists, so does Dec. 7, 1941 bring back to my memory the surprise attack on Pearl Harbor by the Japanese which catapulted the United States into World War II. I was only seven years old at the time, but I remember well the reaction of my parents when the news came over the radio that Sunday morning. I remember after seeing the shock in their faces, they tried to explain to us kids what had happened and what would probably be the result. We would be at war. Up until that time I was hardly even aware that a war was going on in the other side of the world. But that would all change and change very fast. It not only affected us at home, but at school as well.
At home the biggest concern was the draft into military service. Every eligible adult male between the ages of 18 and 40 was subject to being drafted into the army. Many enlisted in the Navy, Marines, or Air Force rather than be inducted into the Army which was considered the most risky. By age and fitness, my dad was eligible for the draft which was a real concern to him because he was needed so much at home to take care of the family. Mom was just not able to go it alone. He immediately applied for a deferment on that basis which was granted on the condition that he would have to change his employment to what was considered a "critical" war industry. A small print shop was not considered critical to the war effort, but a newspaper was. I guess that was because it was considered important for people to be kept informed about the war. So Dad began to work for the Deseret News in Salt Lake City. He was also appointed the neighborhood Air Raid Warden which meant he was a first contact if enemy planes were sighted headed for Utah. It was his job to then alert the neighborhood by sounding off a siren that was kept in our basement. People were supposed to take cover in a basement or in a pre-arranged shelter when they heard that siren. We had helmets and food supplies provided by the government in our basement in case of need, and occasional surprise drills were held to test the program. The seriousness of a possible attack really didn't enter my mind at that time. I just thought of it as a game as I ran to the basement and put on a helmet during one of those "raids".
Other things in our household changed when we entered the war. There was "rationing"! That meant that certain commodities that had been readily available were now being used to support the war effort and the soldiers. Such things as gasoline, sugar, shoes, required allotted "stamps" to purchase while other things such as anything made out of nylon were just impossible to get. So women would paint their legs with a special dye introduced by a creative enterprenaur which made them look covered by hosiery. Nowadays, most women no longer wear hose so it would have been no big deal. But back then hose were considered necessary if you wanted your legs to look "sexy", and most women would do almost anything to get a pair. They became a big "black market" item.
The amount of gasoline you were able to get depended on how far the provider of the family had to drive to work, necessary medical appointments, distance to church, etc. Mileage was calculated and you were given a sticker with an "A", "B", or "C" to put in your car's front window. This sticker told the gas station attendant how much gas you were allowed to buy and how often. There were no allotments for vacations or special trips. To buy sugar and shoes, stamps were required. So many pounds of sugar per person in the family determined the number of stamps you received. (I can't remember how much that was, but I don't remember feeling deprived of sweets.) Shoes were a different story. Stamps for shoes were issued according to the number in the family as well. But as I remember, that was about one pair of shoes per person per year, and you know how hard kids can be on shoes. We had to wear the same shoes on Sunday that we wore all week, and by the time we were eligible for a new pair of shoes, ours were pretty much "gone". I wore a lot of shoes with holes in the soles. No one really complained about the shortages or other sacrifices that were made because at that time there was an abundance of patriotism. Citizens loved their country and were willing to sacrifice whatever it took to protect our liberty. I've never felt such patriotism since. Many women went to work to replace men who were called into the service and to man new factories producing war materials. I'm sure this was difficult for some families, but again, it was that feeling of patriotism that made women to also make great sacrifices.
Banners with stars began appearing in windows showing that someone in your family was serving his country in the military. I remember seeing banners with as many as four or five stars. The only one who went to war in our family was my dad's brother, LeGrande who had joined the Navy before Pearl Harbor and was stationed there when it was bombed.
I think I felt the effects of the war more in school than at home. But that's my next blog.
At home the biggest concern was the draft into military service. Every eligible adult male between the ages of 18 and 40 was subject to being drafted into the army. Many enlisted in the Navy, Marines, or Air Force rather than be inducted into the Army which was considered the most risky. By age and fitness, my dad was eligible for the draft which was a real concern to him because he was needed so much at home to take care of the family. Mom was just not able to go it alone. He immediately applied for a deferment on that basis which was granted on the condition that he would have to change his employment to what was considered a "critical" war industry. A small print shop was not considered critical to the war effort, but a newspaper was. I guess that was because it was considered important for people to be kept informed about the war. So Dad began to work for the Deseret News in Salt Lake City. He was also appointed the neighborhood Air Raid Warden which meant he was a first contact if enemy planes were sighted headed for Utah. It was his job to then alert the neighborhood by sounding off a siren that was kept in our basement. People were supposed to take cover in a basement or in a pre-arranged shelter when they heard that siren. We had helmets and food supplies provided by the government in our basement in case of need, and occasional surprise drills were held to test the program. The seriousness of a possible attack really didn't enter my mind at that time. I just thought of it as a game as I ran to the basement and put on a helmet during one of those "raids".
Other things in our household changed when we entered the war. There was "rationing"! That meant that certain commodities that had been readily available were now being used to support the war effort and the soldiers. Such things as gasoline, sugar, shoes, required allotted "stamps" to purchase while other things such as anything made out of nylon were just impossible to get. So women would paint their legs with a special dye introduced by a creative enterprenaur which made them look covered by hosiery. Nowadays, most women no longer wear hose so it would have been no big deal. But back then hose were considered necessary if you wanted your legs to look "sexy", and most women would do almost anything to get a pair. They became a big "black market" item.
The amount of gasoline you were able to get depended on how far the provider of the family had to drive to work, necessary medical appointments, distance to church, etc. Mileage was calculated and you were given a sticker with an "A", "B", or "C" to put in your car's front window. This sticker told the gas station attendant how much gas you were allowed to buy and how often. There were no allotments for vacations or special trips. To buy sugar and shoes, stamps were required. So many pounds of sugar per person in the family determined the number of stamps you received. (I can't remember how much that was, but I don't remember feeling deprived of sweets.) Shoes were a different story. Stamps for shoes were issued according to the number in the family as well. But as I remember, that was about one pair of shoes per person per year, and you know how hard kids can be on shoes. We had to wear the same shoes on Sunday that we wore all week, and by the time we were eligible for a new pair of shoes, ours were pretty much "gone". I wore a lot of shoes with holes in the soles. No one really complained about the shortages or other sacrifices that were made because at that time there was an abundance of patriotism. Citizens loved their country and were willing to sacrifice whatever it took to protect our liberty. I've never felt such patriotism since. Many women went to work to replace men who were called into the service and to man new factories producing war materials. I'm sure this was difficult for some families, but again, it was that feeling of patriotism that made women to also make great sacrifices.
Banners with stars began appearing in windows showing that someone in your family was serving his country in the military. I remember seeing banners with as many as four or five stars. The only one who went to war in our family was my dad's brother, LeGrande who had joined the Navy before Pearl Harbor and was stationed there when it was bombed.
I think I felt the effects of the war more in school than at home. But that's my next blog.
Tuesday, May 1, 2007
Dreams Do Come True!
Tomorrow I leave for Hawaii! What is it about Hawaii that seems to make going there almost everybody's dream? Maybe it's because everyone that goes there comes back with pictures of green plush countryside, waterfalls, and flowers growing everywhere. Maybe it's because that is where so many couples honeymoon, so that must make it someplace very romantic. Maybe it's because it seems that everyone who goes there wants to return. As for me, I think the desire to go to Hawaii began as a child when my Uncle LeGrande (my dad's younger brother) returned home from a mission to the Islands bringing each of us girls a real grass hula skirt. We loved those skirts. We would stick a flower in our hair, swing our hips back and forth, wave our arms gracefully in the air, and for a while became beautiful hula dancers. By the way, that is another thing to love about Hawaii, the culture. That same uncle who grew to love the native islanders as well as the many Japanese people who lived there, returned to Honolulu as member of the US Navy. He was there when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor in 1942. Fortunately, he was not on a ship at the time. I remember him telling us that as the planes flew over they were so low that many of the Japanese Americans working out in the fields began throwing potatoes at them. They were so hurt that their native country would do something so horrible.
As I grew older, I always had a desire to see this "mystical" wonderland. I used to say to my Jim, "Before I die the one place I really want to go is Hawaii." But as time passed, I realized that my chances were getting more and more slim. Jim was doing a lot of traveling for his work, including several times to Hawaii, and was getting very tired of it. He just didn't enjoy it any more. And with seven children at home, neither finances or baby sitting made such a trip realistic. As those deterrents became less of a factor, Jim's health problems became more of one. So little by little I let go of that dream. It became easier when plans were made to rebuild the Nauvoo Temple. My goal now shifted to visiting Nauvoo when the temple was finished. That seemed more within the realm of possibility because it wasn't so far away and Jim had never been there. I felt I could talk him into taking me there or if not I was sure I could tempt one of more of my young'uns to go with me. Debbie already said she would go. In fact, we talked about going this summer. That trip is now on hold, but not forgotten.
When Carrie called a month or so ago, her first words were, "How much money do you have saved, Mom?" "What?" was my answer. Then she explained this wonderful deal she found for a one week trip to Hawaii. She didn't push (too hard) but said to talk to Dad and think about it. With a lot of encouragement from both Dad and Carrie, and a lot of detail planning by Carrie, this once forgotten dream is now a reality. This is going to be one great Mother's Day except for not being able to talk to each of my special children who have made being a mother such a joy. I'll be thinking of you.
As I grew older, I always had a desire to see this "mystical" wonderland. I used to say to my Jim, "Before I die the one place I really want to go is Hawaii." But as time passed, I realized that my chances were getting more and more slim. Jim was doing a lot of traveling for his work, including several times to Hawaii, and was getting very tired of it. He just didn't enjoy it any more. And with seven children at home, neither finances or baby sitting made such a trip realistic. As those deterrents became less of a factor, Jim's health problems became more of one. So little by little I let go of that dream. It became easier when plans were made to rebuild the Nauvoo Temple. My goal now shifted to visiting Nauvoo when the temple was finished. That seemed more within the realm of possibility because it wasn't so far away and Jim had never been there. I felt I could talk him into taking me there or if not I was sure I could tempt one of more of my young'uns to go with me. Debbie already said she would go. In fact, we talked about going this summer. That trip is now on hold, but not forgotten.
When Carrie called a month or so ago, her first words were, "How much money do you have saved, Mom?" "What?" was my answer. Then she explained this wonderful deal she found for a one week trip to Hawaii. She didn't push (too hard) but said to talk to Dad and think about it. With a lot of encouragement from both Dad and Carrie, and a lot of detail planning by Carrie, this once forgotten dream is now a reality. This is going to be one great Mother's Day except for not being able to talk to each of my special children who have made being a mother such a joy. I'll be thinking of you.
"And they shall also teach their children to pray and walk uprightly
From as early as I can remember, our family went to church together, had family prayer every night, and we children were taught at home to love the Savior. Mother loved the gospel of Jesus Christ and she was our main teacher and role model. I know that my Dad had a strong testimony, too, having served a mission in Holland. But as is the case in homes today it was Mother who spent the most time with us. It seems that she always had a scripture on the tip of her tongue to fit any occasion that would arise. Some of the time we hated that because how could you argue with the words of the Lord. You could disagree with parents, but how could you claim to know better than God? One of scriptures she often quoted to us that has been embedded in my mind all my life was. "I, the Lord am bound when you do what I say; but if ye do not what I say, ye have no promise." (D&C 82:10). "Have you prayed about it?" and "You and the Lord can do anything", were other of her favorite words of counsel to us (not scripture, but good counsel). Prayer has remained a very important part of life. Mother loved the scriptures and had a lot of time to read and study. She also read us stories from the Bible and the Book of Mormon when we were small. One of the books I remember her reading was "Voice From The Dust". We as a family didn't read the actual scriptures together as we are encouraged to do today. (Children are much smarter and more spiritually mature today than we were. You are raising the "Saturday's Warriors" and it is very evident.)
We always attended church, Sunday School, Primary, and Young Women Mutual Improvement Association(YWMIA) as it was called. The schedule for these meetings was much different when I was young. Priesthood meeting was held early Sunday morning followed an hour later by Sunday School. This allowed fathers to get home and pick up their families. Sunday School was for everyone, including the children. I 'll never forget one of my Sunday School teachers, Sister Mae B. Glazier. I was probably about eight years old when I was in her class. She kept a scrapbook for each of her students with summaries of every lesson, pictures to go with the lessons, an attendance chart for the year and a personal message for each individual student. All this was hand written and presented to each of us at the end of the year. She must have spent hours and hours on those books. Sacrament meeting was held in the late afternoon or early evening on Sunday, so we would come home from Sunday School, have dinner, rest a while, and then go back to church. Primary, Relief Society, and YWMIA were held during the week. We would walk directly from school to the church on Primary day, a distance of a little over a mile, and then walk home afterward, another mile. The whole primary program was quite different when I attended. The classes each had a name like they do today including Moonbeams, Sunbeams, Stars, and I can't remember the rest of the younger ones. The nine, ten, and eleven-year olds were called Homemakers with the individual classes named Larks, Bluebirds and Seagulls. During these last three years we had felt bandlos on which were placed felt awards that were earned by meeting certain requirements. The were in the shape of circles, triangles, and diamonds with "links" in between each. These were in the shape of a link on a chain. I still have my bandlo, although it has a few holes in it courtesy of some hungry moths.
All classes met for opening exercises before going to class. We learned songs (some of the same ones children sing today...do you still sing "Little Purple Pansies?) and listened to short stories. But the best part was marching around the chapel to deposit our pennies for the Primary Children's Hospital in the chimney of a small wood replica of the hospital. As we marched, we sang this song:
"Five pennies make a nickel. Two nickels make a dime.
Ten dimes will make a dollar, And we'll make it shine.
It's for the crippled children, who cannot walk or run,
Who have to lie in bed all day, and cannot join our fun.
So let us be unselfish and bring our pennies here
To help the crippled children to become stronger year by year."
I still remember the words and music to this song. We would bring our pennies to school on Primary day and try not to lose them before we got to the Church. Primary would sometimes put on special programs for the family...not for Sacrament Meeting as they do today...but small musical productions. They would even rent costumes for everyone. I never got a main part (I envied those who did because they got the prettiest costumes). Primary was a very important part of early Christian upbringing.
Young Men and Young Women programs were also very different. I'll write about that at a later time. I just want all my posterity to know how important Christ and His restored church has been in my life. It has given me strength, hope, peace, comfort, guidance, and an eternal perspective to, all the challenges of this life. It has given me knowledge as to who I am, why I am here on earth, and what lies ahead. I am especially grateful for the atonement of Jesus Christ, making it possible for me to return to my Heavenly home to be with Him and my Father. I am grateful to my parents and teachers who taught me the gospel and to my progenitors who first joined the church in Europe and sacrificed much for what they believed. I feel blessed to have such a great heritage.
MAY DAY - MY DAY
Memories began flooding back into my mind today as I realized it is May Day. Not much happens anymore on this day to make it anything special other than it is the first day of May. Well, maybe we associate it with the real beginning of spring because we actually see things blooming all around us. You know the old familiar saying that says, "April showers bring May flowers". Actually we didn't have many April showers here in California this year, but somehow we still have some beautiful May flowers blooming all around us today. Back to my memories.
May Day was a huge celebration day when I was in grade school. Weeks before this day every grade in school began learning special dances which would be performed along with other schools in and out of our school district at Liberty Park in Salt Lake City. Simple, colorful costumes were made to go with each dance. The students of each participating school would be bussed to the park for the all-day affair. Each grade would perform their dance for the many spectators. But the highlight of the day was the dance around the May Pole. We all envied the fourth grade classes because they were the ones that always got to do that dance. It was tradition. We all just LIVED to be fourth graders in order to have this opportunity "wind" the May Pole. In case you've never seen the "winding" of the May Pole, I'll try to explain. A tall metal or wood pole (probably around 12 feet) was attached to a sturdy base so it could not tip. To the top of the pole were attached a number of colorful ribbons...one for each student dancing. Every other dancer was faced in the opposite direction, and each holding the end of a ribbon. When the waltz music began the dancers would begin waltzing around the pole lifting their ribbon first over and then under the ribbon of those facing them. This would continue until all the ribbons were wound around the pole in a beautiful braided design. There would be probably ten or twelve of of these May Poles being "wound" at the same time. I thought the sight was spectacular!
During the day, children were treated to free drinks and ice cream to go along with the packed lunches they brought from home. It was just a super fun day that we looked forward to all year. I guess it was my memory of May Day being something special that motivated me to have the children make little baskets, fill them with flowers and take them to a few homes on May 1. We did this several times when they were young, and just maybe doing this will give them some fond memories of May Day, too.
Happy May Day!!
May Day was a huge celebration day when I was in grade school. Weeks before this day every grade in school began learning special dances which would be performed along with other schools in and out of our school district at Liberty Park in Salt Lake City. Simple, colorful costumes were made to go with each dance. The students of each participating school would be bussed to the park for the all-day affair. Each grade would perform their dance for the many spectators. But the highlight of the day was the dance around the May Pole. We all envied the fourth grade classes because they were the ones that always got to do that dance. It was tradition. We all just LIVED to be fourth graders in order to have this opportunity "wind" the May Pole. In case you've never seen the "winding" of the May Pole, I'll try to explain. A tall metal or wood pole (probably around 12 feet) was attached to a sturdy base so it could not tip. To the top of the pole were attached a number of colorful ribbons...one for each student dancing. Every other dancer was faced in the opposite direction, and each holding the end of a ribbon. When the waltz music began the dancers would begin waltzing around the pole lifting their ribbon first over and then under the ribbon of those facing them. This would continue until all the ribbons were wound around the pole in a beautiful braided design. There would be probably ten or twelve of of these May Poles being "wound" at the same time. I thought the sight was spectacular!
During the day, children were treated to free drinks and ice cream to go along with the packed lunches they brought from home. It was just a super fun day that we looked forward to all year. I guess it was my memory of May Day being something special that motivated me to have the children make little baskets, fill them with flowers and take them to a few homes on May 1. We did this several times when they were young, and just maybe doing this will give them some fond memories of May Day, too.
Happy May Day!!
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