Back to Runnemede circa 1950

That's our "little" family. Weren't we cute? My mother is holding my youngest brother Carl (Diddle), whose birthday I missed again this year. He was born on January 2, 1949. It was a Sunday. And I've written about that before. To rehash: My mom informed me prior to Sunday school that we would have a new baby before the day was out. She let me feel her belly as she had a contraction. Like an almost-six-year-old cared. I pretended I did. And Dad took us (my sister and other brother, Mark) to church. He preached, while messengers went between the house and church keeping him informed of mom's progress. Actually, it was one messenger, Mrs. Aspling, who was attending her. After church we children were hustled off to people's homes to await the birth. He was born around 1:00 in the afternoon and we were all home by 2:00 p.m.

Anyway, he's probably two or almost two in this picture.

You can see some greenery on top of the bookcase, so it was around Christmas time when this was taken. I recall the incident. Mr. Fisher, a member of the church got a new camera for Christmas and wanted to try it out, so he came over to take the "preacher's family's pictures."

We children weren't very still and I recall it was quit difficult to keep my two brothers still long enough to get a decent picture. So why am I surprised when my younger grandchildren don't want to sit still to have a picture taken?

We are all sitting on THE LOVE SEAT. The LOVE SEAT that has seen more wear and tear in the past 65 plus years than I can remember. My niece Lori, who sent me the picture, asked several questions about the history of the still-in-existence loveseat. Her sister Emily now houses it.

My father's Uncle Orf and Aunt Mary gave the three-piece set (love seat and two chairs) to my mother and father, I'm guessing for Christmas, because I sort of remember it being cold when the furniture arrived. Our old furniture was put in the basement and we used it for a "family" room/playroom for years. Anyway, the seat is made of a mahogany frame (very sturdy) and the material that covers the seat and chair in the picture went the way of four children and was replaced in the early 60s with the covering that now is on the seat -- a sage green material.

You might ask why the material is still in fairly good shape. Well, mom kept it covered and only exposed it when we had company. I always thought it had a baby-poop colored yellow cover on it. Obviously, I was wrong.

One of the chairs in the set had low arms -- arms below where you would normally think arms should be. That's because it was a lady's parlor chair, and they were purposely made that way so that ladies billowy skirts wouldn't either get squished or their hoops wouldn't bounce up exposing all their undies! That particular chair is just out of the picture on the lower right-hand side.

Also in the picture is my dear sister, Debbie -- she's on the left end. I'm squished in between her and my brother Mark. And Mom, the controller, the trying to keep us still enough to get a fairly good picture. She succeeded. This is one of about three of what seemed like a hundred pictures that were taken of us that night. I do remember asking, "Are we through yet?" And being told to "Behave, Judith." Ah, yes, I do remember those things.

The wallpaper gives the illusion that we had high ceilings. We didn't. The house had 8-foot ceilings and the room was very small. On the wall opposite us is the piano, which, of course, you can't see.

On the left as you look at the picture is the Magnavox radio/record player. I can't tell you the hours I spent in front of that non-television watching pictures in my mind of what I was hearing on either the radio or from the recordings.

I think it's no wonder my generation was so prolific in inventions and moving this country (and world) forward in so many areas. We had only our imaginations to motivate us. Today's children, for the most part (Jon & Kate plus 8 an exception) don't get much chance to use their imaginations.

There's a whole world out there yet to be explored by children. Too bad they depend on others (such as cartoon and TV producers) to do that exploring for them.

mtf

What I remember most about summer

This could be a very long BLOG. If it gets too cumbersome, I'll cut it off and make it into several parts.

Now, you have to remember that my rememberer is not functioning as good as it used to. But I shall attempt to recall several things that I remember about summer, which was always a favorite time of year for me. But then, growing up in Runnemede, each season held a specialness.

Winter's endearment was the snow, which I loved; Christmas and walking the main street looking in the windows of the few shops; New Year's day parade in Philadelphia. Spring brought the anticipation of summer -- so spring wasn't so special. Summer was the best growing up, even with the heat and humidity, and I'll get to that. And, of course, fall -- the colors of the trees are what I remember most about the fall, and the movement toward winter which required at least a sweater to be worn all the time.

Back to what I remember most about summer. I think I'll leave out the "most" and just talk about what I remember about summer.

I was thinking about this earlier today and I thought of the front door being always left open so we could enjoy what little breeze there was. Dad had strategically positioned the fans so that we would get the most circulation -- those were the days before ceiling fans, by the way -- and he would draw in the cool air from the front and push out the hot air through a fan in the bay window.

I recall several trips to the shore with one of my Uncles Joe taking us there and eating "sand"wiches -- literally, the blowing sand made them gritty with sand.

I recall practicing the piano a lot during the summer. My two favorite things to do -- practice and play the piano, arranging hymns with frills and runs and chords and different rhythms, and that the piano was located right by that open front door, so the whole world could hear my efforts. Those efforts weren't presented as a brag, more likely as something hurtful to the ear!

I recall waking early on a Tuesday morning so that I could get to my piano lesson at 8:30 a.m. followed by my violin lesson. It was a long walk and I opted for the early start time because I didn't want to walk in the heat. In fact, my friend from up the street, Linda Wallace suggested that to me when I was about 10 years old. She was 11, and of course would know this better than I. She said she always took her lessons early in the morning so that she didn't have to walk to or from in the heat of the afternoon. I thought, what a great idea. So, I, too, took my lessons early. Then I would head home and start practicing.

I recall summer as being the time I would excell in my piano playing efforts because there was sort of a competition between me, Sue Youngblood, Linda Wallace, and Kathy Kenders to see who could learn the most NEW pieces of music. I think in the end it was a wash, but it was a fun competition. I had the smallest hands, so my pieces had to be Bach or Mozart, some composer that didn't use a lot of chords. The girls with the larger hands learned the heavier, louder pieces. So in the noise category, they won. But in the speed category, I won!

I recall the smell of the an incoming thunder storm -- about which I have written several times.

I recall sitting on the front porch reading my favorite books. Did I have favorite books back then? Yes, I did. I read Little Women at least once every summer until I reached 16. I read Hans Brinker and Black Beauty, almost every summer. And I read my most favorite, The Secret Garden, again until I was 16, then my favorite author became Grace Livingston Hill, who wrote stories of young women struggling through the depression and meeting the most wonderful men in the world, all Christian and serving the Lord, which was their main purpose. Sappy stuff, but I loved them.

I recall walking through mom's garden at least once a day, smelling the roses, enjoying the ones that were just getting ready to open.

I remember going to the Little League field Monday evening through Thursday evening to watch the little league game (mostly I watched the boys, let's be honest here). I always had a nickle or a dime to spend, and my favorite treat was a frozen Three Musketeers bar -- that cost a nickle. Add french fries for another nickle -- and I have to tell you, they were the best french fries ever -- and there went my dime. Where I got these precious nickles and dimes I don't recall, but I know if I didn't have a nickle or a dime I didn't go to the ball field. I probably finagled my dad into giving me a nickle or dime and he was probably glad to get one kid out of the house for a few hours. Just kidding. I NEVER felt like either of my parents wanted me out of the house for relief from the burden of raising four bratty, spoiled, preacher's kids.

I recall going to church and how warm it always was in the sanctuary. We had only those fans that the funeral homes handed out to keep ourselves cool. No air conditioning back then.

I recall getting new shoes before school started -- two sizes too big -- and stuffing cotton in the toes so I could wear them without them flipping or flopping off my feet.

I recall the best part of summer being new school supplies -- that meant a new notebook -- three-ring and the most beautiful I could find, a new box of pencils, and a new pen nib for my fountain pen. We didn't get to use ink until we were in third grade, and I don't recall that we had Bic ballpoints back then. We always used fountain pens. And I got a new bottle of ink, my favorite color was teal.

Ah, those were the times. I really did love summer. And that's what I remember most.

Memorial Day

Memorial Day was a day set aside to honor our military -- living and dead -- those men and women who had fought to make our country the best in the world. Memorial Day was always on May 30th until Congress got it in its head that Monday holidays were better than Tuesday or Wednesday or Thursday or Friday, or any other day holidays, and decided that all holidays, would be on the Monday that fell nearest the date set up originally for that holiday.

Alan and I were and still are watching the Indianapolis 500. Traditionally it was held on Memorial Day, May 30. Since the holiday was changed to a Monday holiday, however, the race has been held on the Sunday before the holiday, which will never be on May 30!

My oldest child, Phil, was born on May 30th, when it was still Memorial Day. Who won the Indy 500 that year? Mario Andretti!!! So the Andrettis have been our favorite since then. Right now, which is near the end of the race, Marco Andretti (Mario's grandson) and J. Andretti (another grandson?) are NOT winning, but the race is not over.


Tomorrow is a picnic day for our family and that's what brought this to my mind. Our Memorial Day Celebrations as a child were on MEMORIAL DAY, May 30, not the last Monday of May as they are now. And I've talked a lot about those special days. No matter what day of the week, everything shut down, and we celebrated the day. The VFW had a memorial service at the VFW center on Clements Bridge Road early in the morning. And our community will have a short service at our flagpole to honor those who have served our country.

As we were driving down to Tennessee I noticed all these irises along the road and that, of course, brought back Memorial Day memories because it was a tradition that we would visit the Iris farm in Allen, Pennsylvania on that day. Mom, me, Aunt Anne, and whomever else wanted to go piled into Uncle Joe Egitto's car and off we went.

Poor Uncle Joe, and sweet Uncle Joe, he just was the driver, and he had to wait patiently in the car while we tromped through the iris beds oohing and aahing at the old and new varieties of this wonderful plant. I just love irises. I think they are beautiful, stately, and the colors are fantastic.

After we had our fill of iris looking we would pile back in Uncle Joe's car and go back to Aunt Anne's for the annual picnic. Every Italian lady (all were Italian) brought something yummy to share with everyone else. Actually, I think each lady brought stuff for their family making enough for at least a dozen more of each dish. We did not go hungry.

We enjoyed the day visiting with cousins, aunts and uncles -- catching up on the past year's events in each other's lives. It was a happy, fun day. The Evangelistas kept us laughing with their good humor and jokes. They still have that ability -- the wonderful ability to make people happy.

So, tomorrow we shall gather -- the Hahn clan -- and continue our own family tradition -- a picnic in the afternoon on Memorial Day. The difference is that we always go to a park for this event. We've been doing this for at least 7 years now. We started doing that the year we moved to Cold Spring and we've been here that long. This is our 8th summer at our final earthly home.

Have a good day tomorrow, and remember to pray for those in service people in our family -- Peter Hahn serving on a submarine somewhere in the Mediterranean.

The Picnic Basket

My family (that is my growing-up-years family) didn't have a Coleman ice chest, or a styro-foam container, but we did have a picnic basket.

I loved that thing. It was made of wicker and it had a hinged top -- it was hinged in the center on two sides of the center post that held the handle. These two images are similar to the one we had. the one on the left is almost dead on, except we weren't fancy and didn't have a lining in ours. The one on the right is the same style, except ours had a wooden handle. You get the picture.

We had another basket which I found out is called an "English Tea Basket" but it was empty of any of the "tea" stuff that comes in those types of baskets. Mostly that basket was something we children played with when we played "picnic."

So, whenever we went on a picnic, we didn't have a "cooler" to keep the potato salad from going bad. But I don't recall that we ever got ill from warm potato salad either. Maybe we built up a tolerance to whatever you can get from bad mayonnaise.

When we went on our picnics --which were few and far between -- mom would pack the basket carefully and would get everything in the basket including paper plates, cups, plastic utensils and she did have a LARGE thermos container for drinks, which I recall was usually some sort of Kool Aid.

So many things were "invented" as I was growing up. Thermoses of the non-glass type were new on the market when I was growing up. Prior to that there were thermoses, mostly the two cup variety which had a glass liner. How well I remember taking my thermos to school in the morning and finding that someone had dropped it, and I had a glass milkshake! It was a happy day when the new "extruded plastic" thermoses were put into lunch boxes. Our family went through the glass-type thermoses very quickly. It seems that no matter how careful we were, we were always braking them.

So, mom had one of the newer type heavy-duty "Thermos" containers. It held two gallons of drink -- enough for our family of six for one day.

Of course, Tupperware was coming out about the time I hit the teenage years, and mom was happy to get in line and get her fair share of that product, including pitchers in which you could carry drinks to picnics that were guaranteed NOT to spill in transport. NOT!!! They all leaked a little!

But that picnic basket. It was stored on a shelf (built in under the bay window in the upstairs) in the basement along with a few other rarely used items, such as the English Tea Basket, skates, some Christmas things (most Christmas things were in THE TRUNK), and I think I recall my first doll stroller, which was really something my father's cousin Alberta had when she was a girl, so it was really old when I got it, and it lay in a heap waiting for someone to fix it on that shelf with the picnic basket and the picnic thermos.

Just out of reach

Today was a wonderful day weather wise. It was sunny, high in the high 60s, and a gentle breeze. The sun porch was the place to be.

Alan decided to join me today -- a first since we enclosed our deck/veranda/lanai -- and it was so pleasant just sitting out there reading -- he his book, me mine.

Then something happened that reminded me of something I don't think I've BLOGged before about my father's teasing. Oh, I've BLOGged about his teasing but not this particular stunt.

My brother Mark and I are masters at this one!

When we were sitting at a table and someone would ask for, say, the salt, if it was near daddy he would hand it to you just out of reach, and as you grabbed for it he would slowly pull it back until you almost lay sprawled across the table!

So, today I was handing Alan a Dr. Pepper and didn't even realize I was pulling that trick that dad pulled on us so often, and which when I get together with my brother Mark, we reprise. I handed him the can, and as he reached for it, I pulled back and started to leave the room. He said, "Your just like your father." I stopped. I knew what he meant, and I laughed. Then I really pulled the stunt on him with the glass of ice -- on purpose!!!!

Now, it's almost dinner time, and I asked him where we were going for supper. He said, "Waffle House" knowing that I will never, even if I am starving to death on a deserted island where the only place to eat is a Waffle House, enter a Waffle House. Been there, done that, hated it, still feel greasy!

So, where are going for dinner? No where. That's the response when he doesn't want to go anywhere for dinner. Guess he's having frozen pizza for supper. I might even heat it up in the oven.