There were memorable experiences at Olympus Jr. High School...some good, others I would just as soon forget or at least not have to confess. I guess I don't have to admit to anything, I just choose to just in case you think I never yielded to temptation. I was once asked by one of my children if I ever did anything wrong in my life to which I answered, "Of course". But when I told her the first thing that came to my mind she began to laugh. You'll see why when I told her that once some friends and I got off the bus before reaching school one morning because we decided to walk. It was a beautiful morning and we just felt like walking. Of course we were late to school and had to go to the office. We were reprimanded, our parents were called, and we were sent to class. "Was that the worst thing you ever did?" my daughter asked as she began to laugh out loud. What made it bad in my mind was that I had to face my parent's disappointment in me when I got home. They expected strict obedience and conformance to rules, and I knew I had let them down. Since this was a minor infraction of the "be on time" rule, I got off "free" at home this time.
"Wasn't there anything worse than that?" I was asked. "Well.......(I tried hard not to remember) there was this one time when I got caught cheating. But I really wasn't cheating, I was just checking the answers I had already written down. (Am I rationalizing? Probably so.) It happened like this. It was in my eighth grade English class. Miss Jones was the teacher - one of the teachers I remember mainly because of this incident. Miss Jones was probably in her forties, had black hair, and a large hooked nose that you couldn't help but notice. One day she gave us a surprise quiz on grammar, one right out of the book. Since it was one of those self-help quizzes, the answers were in the back. Grammar has always been my strongest part of English, so the quiz was no problem for me. But temptation came when the teacher left the room and most of the students quickly turned to the back of the book where they knew the answers were. I had already finished the quiz, but had just turned to the back of the book to check my answers when the teacher walked in and told everyone to put their hands on the desk without turning a page in their books. Then she walked around the room to see where our books were open. I was caught! I didn't say anything to my parents about this incident until they received my report card and I had to explain why I received a "C" in citizenship. My academic grade was still an "A" which was a surprise because I really expected that would be the grade to drop. But the low grade in citizenship was just as disappointing to my parents. I can honestly say that I NEVER cheated or even gave the appearance of cheating again in my whole school experience, including college. I never wanted to feel that guilt again and I didn't want to disappoint my parents either. It's kind of like having to face our Heavenly Father knowing of all the mistakes we have made in our lives. Thank goodness for repentance! I may not have ever cheated again, but I certainly have made many other mistakes. Miss Jones was a good teacher, and I remember her also for introducing us to Shakespeare. We studied the Merchant of Venice that year and I not only understood it, I still remember it even though I haven't read it since. She must have done something right. She also taught diagramming sentences which they don't do any more. That is how I not only learned parts of speech, but the correct use of words such as "I" or "me", "they" or "them", etc. I have been known to mentally diagram a sentence to know what form to use. I think it is a great tool, and can't quite understand why they don't use it anymore. How many students today actually know what a gerund, or an infinitive is? I do because I learned to diagram.
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My very favorite science teacher ever was Mr. Todd...eighth grade science. Why? Because he made us think. He taught us science and problem solving way beyond an eighth grade level and made us believe we could do it. And we did. Have you ever felt that wonderful feeling of accomplishment when you do something beyond what you thought you ever could do? Mr. Todd made us feel that way all the time. He gave us the tools and the self confidence to try difficult things and solve difficult problems. I still remember one of those problems...kind of. He said their was a boat that sunk in X feet of water. It was lying on it's side. The deck was X number of square feet in size. We were asked to find the average pressure per square inch on the deck. I remember that so well because I was the first one to get the right answer. I know I couldn't do that now. His way of giving quizzes was to play a game that went on for at least a week. He would start by asking the first student in row one a question. If he answered it correctly the second student in that row was asked a different question. If number one answered incorrectly the second student could try and if he were right they had to change places. This would go on up and down each row, the goal being to try to move up as close to the first seat in the first row as possible. This would go on for a week or so, and at the end all those in row one would get an "A" on the test, row two "B", row three "C", etc. I'm sure he made some adjustments because those who started on the last row had less of a chance to move up as those in the first rows. Anyway, I thought it was a fun way to take a test.
My ninth grade math teacher was a "hoot". That is why I remember her. She was tall, and I mean tall. I would say about six feet one or two. She was older with wrinkles and white hair, and did I mention that she was tall? When we got a little too rowdy her favorite saying was: "If you don't settle down, I'm going to sit on you and your mother won't know you when you get home." That always got our attention even though I never saw her sit on anyone. She could be very strict, too, if it was needed. Although math has never been my strength, basic math was easy for me. And basic math is all we had in Jr. High. There was no algebra, or even pre-algebra as there is today. That didn't come until high school.
These are the teachers I remember along with Mr. Weight, my orchestra teacher, and Mr. Henefer, my art teacher. I guess I remember them mostly because I loved the subjects. Academically I was a good student, and I loved learning. I think a great deal of our attitude towards learning comes from dedicated teachers who love to teach and have a genuine interest in their students. At least that was the case with me. My hat is off to those who take on the great challenge of teaching youth today. It is much more difficult than it was back in my day. But what would we do without you?!!!!
Sunday, July 8, 2007
Sunday, July 1, 2007
Oh, Oh!
I think (actually I know) that in my last blog I got some dates confused. You'll have to remember that I'm getting older by the day, and with age comes lost brain cells. So I 'd better hurry and finish my life history before I lose them all. Anyway...the war did end in 1945 (you probably already knew that), but I still had one more year of elementary school and one more year before the decision was made to sell our house and move. So now I'll just fast forward a year to 1946 when I did graduate from Sherman school, when our house went up for sale, and when I did begin junior high school.
Being twelve was exciting for me. It was the beginning of a new phase of my life as a "teenager" which in my mind was a "near adult". I know you might not consider twelve a teen, much less an adult, but I did. Maybe that's because I was now permitted to wear a little lipstick thanks to my sister, Claire, who fought the battle with my dad. By the time I reached this age he had just given up. He hated any kind of makeup because in his mind only the cheap "ladies of the night" as he called them, painted their faces. That was the case in Holland when he was on his mission. Even though I'm sure it was Mom who softened him towards us girls, she honored his feelings by not wearing any makeup at all until the last year of her life.
This new phase of my life meant joing my older sisters in the Young Women's Mutual Association at church. No more Primary on week days...it was YWMIA on Tuesday nights and
being able to choose two elective classes at school. Both made me feel "older" but the latter gave me a feeling of being grown up enough to make some decisions about my education. My two electives I chose were the same for all three years...orchestra and art. Yes, our school actually had an orchestra and a band. I really enjoyed the cello by this time, enough so that my parents bought me my own cello for $50.00. You couldn't get one now for that price, but in our financial circumstances even that was a lot of money. The condition was that I practice. And I did. Most of the music we played was classical, and I learned to love it. My art class was my first introduction to the principles of color, technique and different art mediums. I loved it and continued to take classes the next two years and on into high school. The rest of our classes were the usual math, English, science, history and P.E. It's kind of funny that the teachers you remember are the ones that made you hated because they made you work the hardest and expected the most from you. One of these was our P.E. teacher. Her name was Lisle Lindsey. She was middle aged, very small (I would say under five feet), single, and dynamic. We were expected to energetically participate in all activities planned, practice good hygiene and shower after every class and she checked to make sure you did. If you were having your period you were excused from class because of the shower requirement but required to do written work which she also checked. The reason I appreciate her now was that she was always smiling and pleasant and made you feel that she really cared about you personally. I think to this day that she did. She always reminded us to stand tall, hold in that stomach, and tuck under that booty I remember her making us practice how to pull our hip and pelvic bones underneath our diaphragm which would achieve these goals. She always told us to be proud of who we were and show it by the way we carried ourselves. It was not unusual for her to walk past us and say, "Tuck it in", and we knew what that meant. She was the only P.E. teacher at the school for girls, so we had her for three years. By then we had the "tucking in" and the "standing up straight" down cold. I still think of her when I look in the mirror and see that bulging belly, and I even practice that technique she taught us to see if it still would work for me. It doesn't. I guess my body is just too far gone at 73.
Then there was Mr. Todd, my eighth grade science teacher. He was truly amazing at what he taught us and how. Oh yes, and Mrs. Rapp my math teacher, and Miss Jones, an English teacher. I remember each of them for other reasons. But that is my next blog.
Being twelve was exciting for me. It was the beginning of a new phase of my life as a "teenager" which in my mind was a "near adult". I know you might not consider twelve a teen, much less an adult, but I did. Maybe that's because I was now permitted to wear a little lipstick thanks to my sister, Claire, who fought the battle with my dad. By the time I reached this age he had just given up. He hated any kind of makeup because in his mind only the cheap "ladies of the night" as he called them, painted their faces. That was the case in Holland when he was on his mission. Even though I'm sure it was Mom who softened him towards us girls, she honored his feelings by not wearing any makeup at all until the last year of her life.
This new phase of my life meant joing my older sisters in the Young Women's Mutual Association at church. No more Primary on week days...it was YWMIA on Tuesday nights and
being able to choose two elective classes at school. Both made me feel "older" but the latter gave me a feeling of being grown up enough to make some decisions about my education. My two electives I chose were the same for all three years...orchestra and art. Yes, our school actually had an orchestra and a band. I really enjoyed the cello by this time, enough so that my parents bought me my own cello for $50.00. You couldn't get one now for that price, but in our financial circumstances even that was a lot of money. The condition was that I practice. And I did. Most of the music we played was classical, and I learned to love it. My art class was my first introduction to the principles of color, technique and different art mediums. I loved it and continued to take classes the next two years and on into high school. The rest of our classes were the usual math, English, science, history and P.E. It's kind of funny that the teachers you remember are the ones that made you hated because they made you work the hardest and expected the most from you. One of these was our P.E. teacher. Her name was Lisle Lindsey. She was middle aged, very small (I would say under five feet), single, and dynamic. We were expected to energetically participate in all activities planned, practice good hygiene and shower after every class and she checked to make sure you did. If you were having your period you were excused from class because of the shower requirement but required to do written work which she also checked. The reason I appreciate her now was that she was always smiling and pleasant and made you feel that she really cared about you personally. I think to this day that she did. She always reminded us to stand tall, hold in that stomach, and tuck under that booty I remember her making us practice how to pull our hip and pelvic bones underneath our diaphragm which would achieve these goals. She always told us to be proud of who we were and show it by the way we carried ourselves. It was not unusual for her to walk past us and say, "Tuck it in", and we knew what that meant. She was the only P.E. teacher at the school for girls, so we had her for three years. By then we had the "tucking in" and the "standing up straight" down cold. I still think of her when I look in the mirror and see that bulging belly, and I even practice that technique she taught us to see if it still would work for me. It doesn't. I guess my body is just too far gone at 73.
Then there was Mr. Todd, my eighth grade science teacher. He was truly amazing at what he taught us and how. Oh yes, and Mrs. Rapp my math teacher, and Miss Jones, an English teacher. I remember each of them for other reasons. But that is my next blog.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
1945 Was An Eventful Year
In May of 1945 I "graduated" from Sherman Elementary School. There was no special programs, no sixth grade dance, no celebrations, and none were expected. All the "hoopla" was saved for high school graduation. Completing grade school was not considered that big an accomplishment. Anyone can do that without much effort. But I was excited to be going on to junior high school for the next three years where we would rotate classes (no boring teacher for a whole year) and could choose some electives. Actually, I had mostly good teachers that I liked at Sherman and can still name most of them. I was a conscientious student and found school to be quite easy, so I was not fearful of taking the next step up. But I think the best part of going to Olympus Junior High School for me was that it was located in Holladay which was about four miles from where I lived...too far to walk. For the past six years I had walked over a mile to and from school every day no matter how rainy, snowy, or cold it was. Now I would ride a bus that would pick me up at the top of my street. And back then it was free.
That summer my parents made the decision to sell our house and half of the property (the half where we kept the animals) and build a new house on the other half (the orchard and garden half). Our two bedroom house was just not big enough for J.D., my brother who was now almost five, to have a room of his own. It would take us over two years to complete the house as my dad did as much of the work as he could in his "spare" time to save money. Work began that fall shortly after school started. Since our old house was sold, we had to move back to Grandma Knapp's house until the basement, framing, and roof of our new one was completed. Then we would move into the basement until the rest of the house was finished. Life in that basement for over a year is another story I'll tell you about later.
The very best part of 1945 came in September when it was announced that Japan had surrendered and the war was over. My Dad was never one to voluntarily place himself in crowded or rowdy situations, but when that announcement was made he packed us all up in the car and drove to downtown Salt Lake. What a sight greeted us once we were able to get our car parked in Dad's printing shop parking lot. It was absolute bedlam in the streets. People were jammed shoulder to shoulder screaming, yelling, waving flags, blowing horns, laughing, crying, hugging, kissing. I will never forget that sight as long as I live. I am so grateful that Dad made what I know was a sacrifice to give us this opportunity to celebrate our country's victory over the evil powers that had plagued the world for so long. But I really think he enjoyed it, too, even if he didn't admit it. Things would slowly get back to normal. No more rationing and collecting, and "war" bonds now became "victory" bonds because money was still needed. Oh how I wish that this generation and all new generations could experience peace in the world as we had then. But I'm afraid that there will be no end to war somewhere in the world until the Savior comes again to bring it to an end. I look forward to that great day.
That summer my parents made the decision to sell our house and half of the property (the half where we kept the animals) and build a new house on the other half (the orchard and garden half). Our two bedroom house was just not big enough for J.D., my brother who was now almost five, to have a room of his own. It would take us over two years to complete the house as my dad did as much of the work as he could in his "spare" time to save money. Work began that fall shortly after school started. Since our old house was sold, we had to move back to Grandma Knapp's house until the basement, framing, and roof of our new one was completed. Then we would move into the basement until the rest of the house was finished. Life in that basement for over a year is another story I'll tell you about later.
The very best part of 1945 came in September when it was announced that Japan had surrendered and the war was over. My Dad was never one to voluntarily place himself in crowded or rowdy situations, but when that announcement was made he packed us all up in the car and drove to downtown Salt Lake. What a sight greeted us once we were able to get our car parked in Dad's printing shop parking lot. It was absolute bedlam in the streets. People were jammed shoulder to shoulder screaming, yelling, waving flags, blowing horns, laughing, crying, hugging, kissing. I will never forget that sight as long as I live. I am so grateful that Dad made what I know was a sacrifice to give us this opportunity to celebrate our country's victory over the evil powers that had plagued the world for so long. But I really think he enjoyed it, too, even if he didn't admit it. Things would slowly get back to normal. No more rationing and collecting, and "war" bonds now became "victory" bonds because money was still needed. Oh how I wish that this generation and all new generations could experience peace in the world as we had then. But I'm afraid that there will be no end to war somewhere in the world until the Savior comes again to bring it to an end. I look forward to that great day.
Monday, June 18, 2007
Appreciating my Father
As we celebrated Father's Day this week my thoughts drifted back in gratitude to my own father, what he taught me by word and example, and the many ways he showed his love to his family. It is a shame that too often we don't realize the impact a parent has had in our lives until we are adults and maybe even not until that parent is dead and it is too late to express our gratitude. In both those situations I have to plead guilty. As a child I mostly feared my dad because he was a strict disciplinarian. I was obedient because I feared the consequences if I didn't. I had seen those consequences with my oldest sister because her strong personality often challenged and once in a while even rebelled against the rules and directions given by my father.
But as I look back I am truly grateful for the lessons he taught us and for the often overlooked good acts of love and kindness.
What I Learned From My Dad
But as I look back I am truly grateful for the lessons he taught us and for the often overlooked good acts of love and kindness.
What I Learned From My Dad
- How to work and to find dignity and value in any kind of work
- To always do your very best in anything you undertake to do (That included school work)
- To appreciate what you have no matter how humble your circumstances
- There is never an excuse not to be neat and clean. Even if you don't have much, what you do have should be clean and cared for. (My dad was raised by a Dutch mother)
- To respect parents (especially Mother) and all adults
- To love the Lord and keep His commandments <><>To accept and be committed to whatever calling you receive from the Lord
- Good priesthood holders should accept and carry out the responsibility to support their families even if it meant working more than one job which my Dad often did. I remember him working nights at a drive-in theatre.
- Keeping your body healthy and strong is important
- The needs of your spouse should always come first
- Love can be expressed in many ways other than words
- Taking us to work with him (one at a time) on a Saturday when he had to work. I loved to watch him hand feed those presses. I worried just a little that he would get his hand caught and marveled that he never did.
- Taking us to eat across the street from the print shop at a little diner when we went to work with him. This was a real treat because we rarely got to eat out.
- Sunday afternoon drives which always included a stop at Laurel Larsen's ice cream store for a five cent cone.
- Packing our lunches for school and fixing our breakfast every morning.
- Playing with us the best he knew how which was usually tickling. I hated it because he didn't know when to stop. I guess because I couldn't help but laugh he thought I was having fun when actually I was miserable. I can't stand being tickled to this day...not even for a second.
- Taking us sleigh riding in the winter and to the Black Rock Beach in the summer.
- Washing our hair over the bathtub even when we were teenagers. His big hands were gentle but strong enough to make feel sooo good.
- In the evening when the family was just relaxing we could bring him a brush, sit at his feet, and he would brush our hair. Loved it!
- Giving us the security of a loving home. Because he loved Mother so much and showed it in so many ways, I felt our family was secure.
- Taking time to me teach me how to shoot with a bow and arrow. He even made me my own bow. (He was an archer who also made his own bows and arrows.) I became good enough that I was the champion intramural archer my first year in college.
- Buying me a white, yellow, and black plaid pleated skirt and a white sweater for Christmas when I was in junior high school. This was so special to me because Dad considered me a "tomboy" and a typical teen who didn't take care of my clothes. Not only were the clothes white, they had to be dry cleaned. I loved that outfit!
- Quietly giving me a treasured heirloom, his mother's wedding ring, because he said I was the one who showed him the most love and respect. I was honored.
- Being humble enough to ask me if I would cut his toe nails when he was elderly and living alone. I knew how strong and independent he had been his whole life and how difficult it must have been to ask for help with such a small task. It almost brought me to tears. I was the one who felt humble to be able to pay back in such a trivial way all the things he had done for me throughout his life. Thanks, Dad for all you did. I love you.
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Tuesday, June 12, 2007
More Holidays
You might think that August has no special holidays. And I guess according to the calendar you are right. But as a child I considered "Dutch Lagoon Day" the best holiday of the year. I'll bet you all that Christmas was my favorite. It definitely is now, but as a child it was "Dutch Lagoon Day".
Dutch Lagoon Day - For those that are not familiar with "Lagoon" it is an amusement park north of Salt Lake City. It was the "Disneyland" of Utah in my day. Once a year all those who had emigrated from Holland would reserve one of the large picnic areas at the park to gather, eat, and of course enjoy all of the fun things that the park offered. There were rides, including a roller coaster which by today's standard would be considered a "dwarf". But we thought it was scary and considered ourselves very brave if we rode on it. There was an enormous swimming pool (or so it seemed to me as a child) in which I would have drowned had it not been for an alert lifeguard. My favorite rides were the "Dodgems" or bumper cars as we call them today, and the "Fun House". In the Fun House were huge slides, some straight and some bumpy. You had to sit on a gunny sack provided at the slides to keep from getting "floor" burns. There were also huge turning barrels you could try to run through without falling down. The hardest barrels in which to stay upright were two connecting ones, each turning in opposite directions. If you fell down, it was very hard to get back on your feet without being rescued by and adult. Then there was the "saucer" - a large turning wood disc that slanted from the center down to the edges. The object was to try and stay on without sliding off. If you were lucky enough to find a position near the center of the disc you could usually stay on, but you didn't have a prayer if you were towards the edge. You could spend hours in the "Fun House" because there were so many things to do. Dutch Lagoon Day was an all-day affair, ending only when we were all exhausted. And that was because Grandma and Grandpa Bernards provided what seemed to be an endless supply of cash to pay for the rides and treats. I think this was their fun day as well as ours, just watching their happy grandchildren.
Labor Day - No real holiday for us. Even Dad had to work.
Halloween - We always celebrated Halloween like most other children. Before Mom got sick, she must have made costumes for Georgia and Claire because I've seen pictures of them in black crepe paper outfits carrying pumpkins. From the time I remember, Mother would put together costumes from things she could find around the house. There were no pre-made costumes like we see in the stores today. I'm sure we could not have afforded them if there had been. With Dad as a chaperone, we went trick or treating in the evening to houses on our street. Our favorite place was the home of the Vents at the bottom of our street because they always gave away whole five-cent candy bars - the ones we pay almost a dollar for today. We thought that they must be really rich to be able to afford such and expensive treat. The one Halloween that really turned out to be a bummer for me was a year that Halloween fell on a Sunday. Since nearly all of our neighbors were LDS, it was generally understood that children would not come around that night. Besides it had been snowing and very cold the whole weekend. Mother said we could go trick or treating on Monday night so we put on our snowsuits with hoods (our costume that year because of the cold) and a half mask. As we went from door to door almost everyone said, "Most of the children came Saturday night, and we are all out of candy." Some said, "Let me see what I can find", and that would turn out to be an apple or orange...just what we wanted! There was very little candy that Halloween.
Thanksgiving - Since television hadn't been invented yet, there were no Macy's Christmas Parade or football to watch. My family wouldn't have watched anyway. No one was into sports. But we did always have the traditional turkey dinner at one of my grandparent's home. We rotated each year. When it was at Grandma Bernards' place we always ate in the basement because their upstairs living area was so small. But that was OK because the basement was always spotless (remember my grandma was Dutch). My aunts, uncles and cousins from Dad's side of the family were usually there, but Grandma prepared all the food. She was a great cook and used only real butter in all her cooking which was a real treat and tasted so good. After the dinner the adults visited and the cousins all played. Grandma wouldn't even let anybody help with the clean-up. She would do it after everybody left.
Christmas - What child doesn't love Christmas? As a matter of fact, what adult doesn't love Christmas? It's definitely my favorite now, even though it can be the most busy and, at times, stressful time of the year. But the end results are worth it. Now it's all about family, but as a child it was all about Santa Claus. I was not so different. Mom worked hard at trying to make Christ the center of the holiday by including a little pageant with us and our cousins as part of the Christmas Eve celebration. As my sisters and I were the oldest cousins on both sides of our family, we always had to let the younger ones be the favorite angels, and Mary. We always ended up as the Three Wisemen. Being a girl, and loving "girly" things I wasn't too excited about being a wiseman year after year.
Christmas Eve was always spent with Mom's side of the family which included traditional Danish food. Sweet soup and ableskivers were what we always ate. I never liked the sweet soup (what kid likes cooked raisins and prunes which were part of this "soup", but l like ableskivers even today. I never slept at all on Christmas Eve which made for the longest night ever. By six a.m. we were throwing shoes against the wall to wake up our parents because we were not allowed to go out to see what Santa had brought without Mom and Dad. (Sound familiar, Kids?). By today's standards our Christmas's were pretty modest. Each of us got just one "big" gift (usually a doll for me because I loved dolls). I remember one doll I received that was the most beautiful one I had ever seen. She was life size and was dressed in a white dress with a pink satin coat and bonnet. Her soft body made her so cuddly. I was kind of bad that year because I found that doll BEFORE Christmas under my Mom's bed and played with her when Mom and Dad weren't home. I could hardly wait for Christmas that year. But not too much later I think I paid the price for cheating (at least that's how my guilty conscience felt)) when I accidentally scratched the cheek of that doll. I tried to cover it up by putting some pink nail polish over the scratches. That looked even worse, so I took nail polish remover and tried to take off the polish. Not only did the polish come off, but so did all the original paint. Now it really was a mess, and because I didn't want Mom to see what I had done, I hardly ever played with her again. Back to Christmas morning.
One year Dad made all three of us little doll beds which was an "extra" gift. Besides our "big" gift, there were always our well stuffed stockings with an orange in the toe (now my kids know where that tradition came from)and small practical gifts like socks, underwear, hair clips, new tooth brushes, etc. But there was always some candy, too. It was our tradition on Christmas morning to take our one big toy and go visit all of our friends on our street to see what Santa had brought them. Then if was off to Grandma Bernards' house for dinner which included traditional Dutch treats and to open gifts. I loved going there because the first thing Grandma would say as we walked in the door was, "Let's open presents before we eat." None of us objected to that because Grandma always gave us the most wonderful gifts...toys, not clothes. All three of us girls and our cousin, Carlene, always got the same thing. The one gift I still remember was a huge box of art supplies including a "zillion" crayons...every color under the sun. It was absolutely magnificent.
By the end of the day we were exhausted from no sleep the night before. But the day was always perfect in my mind. I never felt that any of our Christmases were less than wonderful. I guess a lot of the happy feeling of the season came from the family preparation before the big day, like decorating the house and the tree, making popcorn balls and cookies, walking down the snow covered sidewalks of downtown Salt Lake to shop for gifts for our parents and siblings, and just riding down Main Street in Salt Lake to see the lights. I loved that, and I loved the snow. I will never get used to the sunny Christmases in California. Then there were the music of Christmas. Of course I loved "Jingle Bells", "Up On the House Top" and "Rudolf", but even as a child, the traditional carols were my favorite, and still are.
I am still like a small child when Christmas season comes along. I still love the decorating, seeing all the beautiful lights, making and buying gifts, and baking. But the two things that make Christmas so special at this time in my life are 1) the time I take to reflect upon the great and wonderful gift God has given to us - His son, Jesus Christ and 2) My special family. You are what my life is all about. I love you.
Dutch Lagoon Day - For those that are not familiar with "Lagoon" it is an amusement park north of Salt Lake City. It was the "Disneyland" of Utah in my day. Once a year all those who had emigrated from Holland would reserve one of the large picnic areas at the park to gather, eat, and of course enjoy all of the fun things that the park offered. There were rides, including a roller coaster which by today's standard would be considered a "dwarf". But we thought it was scary and considered ourselves very brave if we rode on it. There was an enormous swimming pool (or so it seemed to me as a child) in which I would have drowned had it not been for an alert lifeguard. My favorite rides were the "Dodgems" or bumper cars as we call them today, and the "Fun House". In the Fun House were huge slides, some straight and some bumpy. You had to sit on a gunny sack provided at the slides to keep from getting "floor" burns. There were also huge turning barrels you could try to run through without falling down. The hardest barrels in which to stay upright were two connecting ones, each turning in opposite directions. If you fell down, it was very hard to get back on your feet without being rescued by and adult. Then there was the "saucer" - a large turning wood disc that slanted from the center down to the edges. The object was to try and stay on without sliding off. If you were lucky enough to find a position near the center of the disc you could usually stay on, but you didn't have a prayer if you were towards the edge. You could spend hours in the "Fun House" because there were so many things to do. Dutch Lagoon Day was an all-day affair, ending only when we were all exhausted. And that was because Grandma and Grandpa Bernards provided what seemed to be an endless supply of cash to pay for the rides and treats. I think this was their fun day as well as ours, just watching their happy grandchildren.
Labor Day - No real holiday for us. Even Dad had to work.
Halloween - We always celebrated Halloween like most other children. Before Mom got sick, she must have made costumes for Georgia and Claire because I've seen pictures of them in black crepe paper outfits carrying pumpkins. From the time I remember, Mother would put together costumes from things she could find around the house. There were no pre-made costumes like we see in the stores today. I'm sure we could not have afforded them if there had been. With Dad as a chaperone, we went trick or treating in the evening to houses on our street. Our favorite place was the home of the Vents at the bottom of our street because they always gave away whole five-cent candy bars - the ones we pay almost a dollar for today. We thought that they must be really rich to be able to afford such and expensive treat. The one Halloween that really turned out to be a bummer for me was a year that Halloween fell on a Sunday. Since nearly all of our neighbors were LDS, it was generally understood that children would not come around that night. Besides it had been snowing and very cold the whole weekend. Mother said we could go trick or treating on Monday night so we put on our snowsuits with hoods (our costume that year because of the cold) and a half mask. As we went from door to door almost everyone said, "Most of the children came Saturday night, and we are all out of candy." Some said, "Let me see what I can find", and that would turn out to be an apple or orange...just what we wanted! There was very little candy that Halloween.
Thanksgiving - Since television hadn't been invented yet, there were no Macy's Christmas Parade or football to watch. My family wouldn't have watched anyway. No one was into sports. But we did always have the traditional turkey dinner at one of my grandparent's home. We rotated each year. When it was at Grandma Bernards' place we always ate in the basement because their upstairs living area was so small. But that was OK because the basement was always spotless (remember my grandma was Dutch). My aunts, uncles and cousins from Dad's side of the family were usually there, but Grandma prepared all the food. She was a great cook and used only real butter in all her cooking which was a real treat and tasted so good. After the dinner the adults visited and the cousins all played. Grandma wouldn't even let anybody help with the clean-up. She would do it after everybody left.
Christmas - What child doesn't love Christmas? As a matter of fact, what adult doesn't love Christmas? It's definitely my favorite now, even though it can be the most busy and, at times, stressful time of the year. But the end results are worth it. Now it's all about family, but as a child it was all about Santa Claus. I was not so different. Mom worked hard at trying to make Christ the center of the holiday by including a little pageant with us and our cousins as part of the Christmas Eve celebration. As my sisters and I were the oldest cousins on both sides of our family, we always had to let the younger ones be the favorite angels, and Mary. We always ended up as the Three Wisemen. Being a girl, and loving "girly" things I wasn't too excited about being a wiseman year after year.
Christmas Eve was always spent with Mom's side of the family which included traditional Danish food. Sweet soup and ableskivers were what we always ate. I never liked the sweet soup (what kid likes cooked raisins and prunes which were part of this "soup", but l like ableskivers even today. I never slept at all on Christmas Eve which made for the longest night ever. By six a.m. we were throwing shoes against the wall to wake up our parents because we were not allowed to go out to see what Santa had brought without Mom and Dad. (Sound familiar, Kids?). By today's standards our Christmas's were pretty modest. Each of us got just one "big" gift (usually a doll for me because I loved dolls). I remember one doll I received that was the most beautiful one I had ever seen. She was life size and was dressed in a white dress with a pink satin coat and bonnet. Her soft body made her so cuddly. I was kind of bad that year because I found that doll BEFORE Christmas under my Mom's bed and played with her when Mom and Dad weren't home. I could hardly wait for Christmas that year. But not too much later I think I paid the price for cheating (at least that's how my guilty conscience felt)) when I accidentally scratched the cheek of that doll. I tried to cover it up by putting some pink nail polish over the scratches. That looked even worse, so I took nail polish remover and tried to take off the polish. Not only did the polish come off, but so did all the original paint. Now it really was a mess, and because I didn't want Mom to see what I had done, I hardly ever played with her again. Back to Christmas morning.
One year Dad made all three of us little doll beds which was an "extra" gift. Besides our "big" gift, there were always our well stuffed stockings with an orange in the toe (now my kids know where that tradition came from)and small practical gifts like socks, underwear, hair clips, new tooth brushes, etc. But there was always some candy, too. It was our tradition on Christmas morning to take our one big toy and go visit all of our friends on our street to see what Santa had brought them. Then if was off to Grandma Bernards' house for dinner which included traditional Dutch treats and to open gifts. I loved going there because the first thing Grandma would say as we walked in the door was, "Let's open presents before we eat." None of us objected to that because Grandma always gave us the most wonderful gifts...toys, not clothes. All three of us girls and our cousin, Carlene, always got the same thing. The one gift I still remember was a huge box of art supplies including a "zillion" crayons...every color under the sun. It was absolutely magnificent.
By the end of the day we were exhausted from no sleep the night before. But the day was always perfect in my mind. I never felt that any of our Christmases were less than wonderful. I guess a lot of the happy feeling of the season came from the family preparation before the big day, like decorating the house and the tree, making popcorn balls and cookies, walking down the snow covered sidewalks of downtown Salt Lake to shop for gifts for our parents and siblings, and just riding down Main Street in Salt Lake to see the lights. I loved that, and I loved the snow. I will never get used to the sunny Christmases in California. Then there were the music of Christmas. Of course I loved "Jingle Bells", "Up On the House Top" and "Rudolf", but even as a child, the traditional carols were my favorite, and still are.
I am still like a small child when Christmas season comes along. I still love the decorating, seeing all the beautiful lights, making and buying gifts, and baking. But the two things that make Christmas so special at this time in my life are 1) the time I take to reflect upon the great and wonderful gift God has given to us - His son, Jesus Christ and 2) My special family. You are what my life is all about. I love you.
Wednesday, June 6, 2007
I Loved the Holidays
I always looked forward to holidays when I was a child. Some were more special than others, but all bring back memories of traditional observances and celebrations.
New Years - Staying up until midnight when we were "old enough" to bang on pots and pans when the new year rolled in. My parents never went out to celebrate.
Valentines - Sharing cards with friends at school and in the neighborhood. At school each class room had a large valentine box which was decorated either by the teacher or the students. It had a slot in the top where we could drop in the cards which we had brought for our friends. Back then we didn't have to bring one for each student, only to those we chose. On Valentine's Day the cards were passed out and we usually enjoyed cookies and punch. What was really different in my day was the way we purchased our valentines. There were no packaged, cheaply produced cards in quantities of twelve or more. Instead each card was purchased individually from counters located in "five and ten cent" stores like Ben Franklins or Woolworth's. The counters in these stores were organized by types of merchandise and each counter had its' own sales clerk. Several weeks before Valentines Day, three or four counters were designated for valentines. Actually they were more like large flat trays, each containing hundreds of different valentines. Each tray held either one cent, five cent, or ten cent cards. We would spend hours shuffling through all those cards to find just the right one for each friend. If you were willing to pay five cents, the cards were larger and would have moving parts, and for ten cents you could really get an elaborate card with moving parts, lace, ribbons, and other amenities. We usually just bought the penny cards, but loved to look at all the others. There would eight, ten, or even more children rummaging through the cards at a time. Valentines were distributed to friends at school, but also "ding-dong-ditched" on doorsteps in the evening. Fun Day!
St. Patrick's Day - We just wore green to school and those who didn't were subject to be pinched. And kids could be brutal with those pinches. No special food like corned beef and cabbage.
Easter - Easter always meant a new dress, usually home made. But sometimes Grandma Bernards bought us all dresses to match. And of course there was always the coloring of eggs and baskets full of candy, but no Easter Bunny. We were never told about a bunny who brought all the goodies. And as I look back now it seems strange that we didn't have some religious commemoration at home since my mother was so in to doing things for the right reason. I'm sure she must have tried to teach us the true significance of the day, but I don't remember it. Maybe I was just like most kids...to "in" to the new clothes and candy.
Mother's Day - Breakfast in bed and gifts for Mom...usually something we had made in school. I don't remember Dad ever taking us shopping to buy something for her. But we always bought Mom a gift on our birthday. That was tradition. I don't know where it came from, but I think it was a good one. It was a symbol of our love and gratitude for giving us birth.
Memorial Day - We called it "Decoration Day" because that was the day we went to the cemetery to put flowers on the graves of our dead loved ones. I never remember connecting it to remembering our servicemen who gave their lives for our country until I was much older. I just remember going to the cemetery, cleaning around the headstone of Grandpa Knapp's grave and leaving flowers there. Joined by Grandma Knapp and Aunt Dorothy we would then have a picnic at some one's house and play the rest of the day.
Independence Day - "The Fourth of July" was celebrated with a community children's parade. A "King" and "Queen" were selected in a contest to rule over the parade...children, of course. Young Jesse (Jean and Jesse's son) won the king contest one year. Following the parade it was off to the cool canyons for a picnic. But the high light of the day was in the evening when we were each given a whole box of "sparklers" to light and to draw pictures in the air. There were no other fireworks...just sparklers, but we thought they were wonderful. The city did put on a fireworks show, but we lived too far away from where they were set off to really enjoy them.
Pioneer Day - "The Twenty-Fourth of July" This was a Utah holiday, and it was a big one; huge parade, queen and court (had to be descendants of a Utah pioneer), ward assigned floats which usually depicted a pioneer event or lifestyle, bands, vendors selling all kinds of "goodies"...you know, everything that goes along with a parade. Because we had reserved parking at my dad's print shop right close to the parade route and the post office we always had a good view of the parade. Dad would set us up on the marble window sill of the post office (they were deep) where we could see above the crowd. After the parade there were always activities at Liberty Park near downtown Salt Lake. We didn't go to those, however, because we went home so Mom would not be there alone so long. Then it was picnic and play the rest of the day.
Since Carrie has advised me not to let each blog get too long (and this one definitely is) I'll quit here and finish the rest of the holidays tomorrow, or the next day, or the next. I still haven't told you what my favorite holiday was as a child. Can you guess?
New Years - Staying up until midnight when we were "old enough" to bang on pots and pans when the new year rolled in. My parents never went out to celebrate.
Valentines - Sharing cards with friends at school and in the neighborhood. At school each class room had a large valentine box which was decorated either by the teacher or the students. It had a slot in the top where we could drop in the cards which we had brought for our friends. Back then we didn't have to bring one for each student, only to those we chose. On Valentine's Day the cards were passed out and we usually enjoyed cookies and punch. What was really different in my day was the way we purchased our valentines. There were no packaged, cheaply produced cards in quantities of twelve or more. Instead each card was purchased individually from counters located in "five and ten cent" stores like Ben Franklins or Woolworth's. The counters in these stores were organized by types of merchandise and each counter had its' own sales clerk. Several weeks before Valentines Day, three or four counters were designated for valentines. Actually they were more like large flat trays, each containing hundreds of different valentines. Each tray held either one cent, five cent, or ten cent cards. We would spend hours shuffling through all those cards to find just the right one for each friend. If you were willing to pay five cents, the cards were larger and would have moving parts, and for ten cents you could really get an elaborate card with moving parts, lace, ribbons, and other amenities. We usually just bought the penny cards, but loved to look at all the others. There would eight, ten, or even more children rummaging through the cards at a time. Valentines were distributed to friends at school, but also "ding-dong-ditched" on doorsteps in the evening. Fun Day!
St. Patrick's Day - We just wore green to school and those who didn't were subject to be pinched. And kids could be brutal with those pinches. No special food like corned beef and cabbage.
Easter - Easter always meant a new dress, usually home made. But sometimes Grandma Bernards bought us all dresses to match. And of course there was always the coloring of eggs and baskets full of candy, but no Easter Bunny. We were never told about a bunny who brought all the goodies. And as I look back now it seems strange that we didn't have some religious commemoration at home since my mother was so in to doing things for the right reason. I'm sure she must have tried to teach us the true significance of the day, but I don't remember it. Maybe I was just like most kids...to "in" to the new clothes and candy.
Mother's Day - Breakfast in bed and gifts for Mom...usually something we had made in school. I don't remember Dad ever taking us shopping to buy something for her. But we always bought Mom a gift on our birthday. That was tradition. I don't know where it came from, but I think it was a good one. It was a symbol of our love and gratitude for giving us birth.
Memorial Day - We called it "Decoration Day" because that was the day we went to the cemetery to put flowers on the graves of our dead loved ones. I never remember connecting it to remembering our servicemen who gave their lives for our country until I was much older. I just remember going to the cemetery, cleaning around the headstone of Grandpa Knapp's grave and leaving flowers there. Joined by Grandma Knapp and Aunt Dorothy we would then have a picnic at some one's house and play the rest of the day.
Independence Day - "The Fourth of July" was celebrated with a community children's parade. A "King" and "Queen" were selected in a contest to rule over the parade...children, of course. Young Jesse (Jean and Jesse's son) won the king contest one year. Following the parade it was off to the cool canyons for a picnic. But the high light of the day was in the evening when we were each given a whole box of "sparklers" to light and to draw pictures in the air. There were no other fireworks...just sparklers, but we thought they were wonderful. The city did put on a fireworks show, but we lived too far away from where they were set off to really enjoy them.
Pioneer Day - "The Twenty-Fourth of July" This was a Utah holiday, and it was a big one; huge parade, queen and court (had to be descendants of a Utah pioneer), ward assigned floats which usually depicted a pioneer event or lifestyle, bands, vendors selling all kinds of "goodies"...you know, everything that goes along with a parade. Because we had reserved parking at my dad's print shop right close to the parade route and the post office we always had a good view of the parade. Dad would set us up on the marble window sill of the post office (they were deep) where we could see above the crowd. After the parade there were always activities at Liberty Park near downtown Salt Lake. We didn't go to those, however, because we went home so Mom would not be there alone so long. Then it was picnic and play the rest of the day.
Since Carrie has advised me not to let each blog get too long (and this one definitely is) I'll quit here and finish the rest of the holidays tomorrow, or the next day, or the next. I still haven't told you what my favorite holiday was as a child. Can you guess?
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