Dear $$firstname$$,

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Remember contraptions like the one in the picture at right? When wearing one of these, sisters and brothers would be sure to get teased by their siblings for resembling a Martian with an oversized brain.

Shirley Mietla, who shared the slide, calls the picture “A Bad Hair Day.” Her daughter, Jodi, was “getting her long hair dried, 1963-style,” says Shirley. “Her little friend, ‘Grindl’ is keeping her company, as Jodi wasn’t always happy about this ordeal.”

Hope you enjoy the rest of the memories we’ve stacked up for your reading pleasure. Also make sure to check out the nostalgic tours survey in this issue of the newsletter. It’s your chance to help design future trips offered by World Wide Country Tours. Happy reading!

—The Folks at Reminisce

In this issue:

• ‘Aunt Jane’ and the Fromanettes
• Treat yourself or someone special to Reader’s Digest Large Print!
• Getting Away to Rockaway
• Souvenirs from Aunt Betty: Laughter and Love
• You Decide! Help Select Future Tours
• Poem: The Class of ’54
• Over the Back Fence
• Time Capsule Trivia
• A Thought to Remember

‘Aunt Jane’ and the Fromanettes

By Deena Meiner
Manorville, New York

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On April 12, 1952, when I was 12 years old, a few friends and I went to the Roxy Theatre in New York City to see the Jane Froman biography, With a Song in My Heart. Little did I know then that this would launch friendships with people from all over the country and a bond with Jane that lasted until her death in 1980.

With a Song in My Heart starred Susan Hayward as Jane Froman, the courageous singer of the 1930s and ’40s who, while on a 1943 USO tour, was severely injured in a plane crash in Lisbon, Portugal. In 1945, Jane returned to Europe to finish the job she had started 2 years earlier. Supported by crutches and wearing a heavy brace on her right leg, she traveled 30,000 miles to entertain wounded servicemen. The movie ended with Jane still unable to walk alone.

Although we had never seen Jane Froman, her story touched our teenage hearts. Sight unseen, she became our heroine, inspiration and role model.

In October 1952, we learned that Jane was to star in her own CBS television program, USA Canteen. We persuaded a parent to take us to the show. It was then that we saw the real Jane Froman for the first time.

Attending a 49th birthday party for Jane Froman at the Waldorf-Astoria hotel in New York City, in 1956, were (faces showing, from left) Babs, Joany, Jane, Flo, Deena, Jackie, Dolores, Joanne, Carol, Natalie and Win. Another guest brought the young girl.

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Her rich contralto voice enthralled us. Believing that she still was unable to walk, we gasped as, clad in a black velvet gown, blue eyes sparkling, she whirled around the stage in the arms of Peter Birch, the show’s choreographer. During the 3 years her show was on the air, we regularly attended the broadcasts and were invited to sit in on rehearsals.

Jane lived in a brownstone on New York’s East 93rd Street. Hoping to see her and get to know her, we began to spend practically every Saturday afternoon on her stoop. Soon, she was calling each of us by name. We met other fans and formed a fan club, The Fromanettes.

Jane always greeted us with a warm smile and kind word. When our youthful exuberance became a burden, she scolded us, but with the assurance that, “No matter what, I will always love you as if you were my own children.” When I asked her, “Can we call you Aunt Jane?”, she laughed and said, “Sure, darling.”

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Plagued by recurrent bone infections in her injured leg, Jane underwent more than 25 operations in 5 years. In 1948, she married Capt. John C. Burn, the pilot who rescued her. Shortly thereafter, she was treated for severe depression at the Menninger Foundation in Topeka, Kansas. While there, she was deeply moved by children suffering from mental illness.

Jane invited us to a “pet charity” party at her house. The guest of honor, Dr. William C. Menninger, explained that most mental illness begins in childhood. Jane said that although she appreciated the gifts we often gave her, she felt that we should direct our efforts to a more worthwhile cause. She started the Jane Froman Foundation for Emotionally Disturbed Children. Through the years, The Fromanettes raised money for the foundation, and Jane matched our contributions dollar for dollar.

Over the next 5 years, our friendship became stronger. Jane’s marriage failed and she moved to an apartment on East 67th Street. As we matured, we no longer arrived unannounced. Alone or in groups, we visited Jane often. By now, “Aunt Jane” had become somewhat of a surrogate mother who always listened to our problems and concerns.

After Jane’s show went off the air in 1955, she began a whirlwind of supper club dates, entertaining in Chicago, Las Vegas and San Francisco. When she appeared in New York at the fabulous Waldorf-Astoria Empire Room and the Persian Room at The Plaza, we were there cheering. Jane always asked us to stand and introduced us as “my girls.”

Gathered for a 50th reunion, in 2003, were more mature Fromanettes (seated, from left) Babs, Alice, Bibs, Joany, (standing, from left) Deena, Ellen, Janet, Bobbie, Win and Diane.

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In 1960, after a 30-year career, Jane retired to her hometown of Columbia, Missouri, yet the miles could not erase the bond between us. We corresponded, and many of us visited frequently.

Today, more than 50 years later, the Fromanettes and other Jane Froman fan club members throughout the United States maintain strong relationships. On November 10, a date that would mark Jane’s 100th birthday, the Romanettes will meet in Columbia, Missouri for a gala centennial celebration to honor the lady who was our teenage idol.

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Treat yourself or someone special to Reader’s Digest Large Print!

Every month you’ll thoroughly enjoy the timely health articles, the gripping drama, the laugh out-loud humor, the scoop on the biggest celebrities and so much more --> all in Large Print!

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Getting Away to Rockaway

By Carol Greenberg Narberth, Pennsylvania

Rockaway is not a dance or a lullaby. Rockaway is a narrow peninsula, 10 miles long on the southwest shore of Long Island, New York. The name is derived from Reckouwacky, a Native American tribe of Canarsies who lived in the area.

Rockaway is divided into sections: East Rockaway, Edgemere and Far Rockaway. As far back as 1830, Rockaway was a community of rentable bungalows and hotel rooms for New Yorkers taking refuge from the long, hot city summers. A bungalow could be rented for $75 a month and a hotel room for $6 a day. With meals, it was $12 a day.

A hotel room was for rich people, and that wasn’t my family. For $75 a month, 11 people occupied our bungalow, plus a cousin or two. Our family would definitely qualify as an extended family. There were my parents, my brother and me, two married aunts, their spouses and children, two teenage aunts and my grandmother.

Long before there were freeways or other high-speed highways, a trip from Yonkers, where we lived, to Rockaway would easily take 3 or 4 hours. Fortunately, my family considered the trip an adventure and the travel time worthwhile for spending the summer at the beach.

America was at the height of the Depression, and my father owned a storage warehouse that was packed with unclaimed furniture. I think we had a dozen of everything. For the trip to the beach, the moving men who worked for my father would load the truck with dining room furniture, a piano, beds, linens, pots, pans and our suitcases.

We’d all climb into our two touring Packards, and we were on our way. After driving through the Bronx to Manhattan and crossing the 59th Street Bridge into Long Island City, we were greeted by the aroma from the Nabisco factory. At that point, all the kids in the car would yell, “Broken Crackers!” Nabisco sold them, and we’d hope that whoever was driving would stop and let us get some.

Onward, along Queen’s Boulevard, we would stop at a small park and my aunt would bring out a huge pot filled with macaroni, followed by an equally large jar of lemonade, glasses, dishes and forks.

Greenberg and her brother

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As we climbed back into the cars, my father and uncle would put on chauffeur’s caps for the last part of the trip. My family was great at pretending and when we arrived at our Edgemere bungalow, we hoped the neighbors would think we were some elegant family arriving—perhaps the Astors. Looking back, I think we looked more like a band of gypsies.

The stucco bungalow had four bedrooms, a kitchen, a sun porch and a large living room that we turned into a dining room. The sun porch turned into a guest room now and again for any relative who might unexpectedly show up. We always made room. All the kids just had to share a bed and someone might be relegated to blankets on the floor. Each of the three families was allotted a bedroom, and my two teenage aunts and grandmother shared a room.

My glorious memories of the beach include scanning the horizon for a pirate ship, building sand castles, collecting seashells and discovering the wonders of the sea, being fascinated by horseshoe crabs and jellyfish. My cousin assured me that if we dug holes in the sand deep enough, we could reach China.

Our evenings were spent enjoying recited poetry and putting in requests for music, with Aunt Ethel on her mandolin, cousin Lily on the violin and cousin Sidney at the piano. My grandmother would sing her native Russian songs in her deep mezzo voice. There were evenings when she’d tell of her life in Russia and how, as a teenager, she came to the United States alone. We all sat and listened, wide-eyed, at her tales of adventure and bravery.

There were many nights when it was too hot to sleep. On those nights, we paraded the boardwalk until it cooled down. The boardwalk stretched from Edgemere to Far Rockaway, and the businesses along the stretch were like a small carnival with rides and games. We would try pitching pennies to win a prize or try the newest concoction, frozen custard, captivated by watching ice cream come out of a machine.

With money being at a premium, we had our share of soup, potatoes and pasta. At one of my cousin’s birthday parties, my aunt served oatmeal and cupcakes. We all laugh about it to this day. How lucky we were to be able to have our vacation, made possible by each family chipping in to share expenses. We didn’t have much money in those days, but we were rich in love and laughter.

The cottages and bungalows have long since been dismantled and have given way to high-rise apartments and shopping malls. The fine beaches remain, however, and are still a favorite of local residents.

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Souvenirs from Aunt Betty: Laughter and Love

By Connie Cleevely
Middletown, Pennsylvania

High school portrait of author’s Aunt Betty Minor

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My childhood home was in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, but each summer, I would go to spend a week with my Aunt Betty, my grandmother and my cousin, V.K. They lived in Rockwood, a small town in Somerset County.

I say it was one week, but when my parents would come to pick me up, my cousin and I would plead and cry for them to allow me to stay “just one more week.” Invariably, that week stretched into much of the summer. It was such a small town, I don’t even remember seeing a traffic light there. Maybe that’s what made it so much fun to visit—the general store, the movie theater, the train station and the party lines on the telephone! But what made it the most fun of all was Aunt Betty.

Every night seemed to be a party filled with laughter. We’d sit on the back porch, drinking pop and eating chips. Aunt Betty would sing silly songs like Mrs. Murphy’s Chowder and play her ukulele or beat stick (a musical instrument made up of cymbals, a horn, a knee clapper, a harmonica and more, all on a stick played by pounding it up and down). We would make up dances and twirl our batons till what seemed like the middle of the night. What fun!

Rockwood celebrated Old Home Week each summer. We would sit on the balcony of their modest apartment building and watch the nightly parades go by. There was a Fireman’s Parade, a Veterans Parade, a Merchants Parade and the Kiddie Parade. On Kiddie Parade Day, my cousin and I would have our hair done up in curlers all day and don special outfits neatly pressed. We’d walk past Grandma and Auntie, and they would be applauding wildly. Although there wasn’t much money to go around, I always was treated as well as my cousin.

I was never disciplined, but my cousin was. I recall a time I told her to hide under a bush and told her not to come out until I came to get her. Hours later, we were all searching for my cousin. I had completely forgotten what I had told her and never expected her to stay there! For this, she was sent to sit on the couch. I begged my aunt to let her off the couch, but when I did, she’d say “That will be 5 more minutes, V.K.” I had no clue then that I, too, was being disciplined by not having my cousin to play with.

We were also told to never play on the treadle of the sewing machine. So, of course, when the adults were out of sight, one of us would be the “lookout” and the other would ride—fast and furious! We would continue this foolishness until we heard a “ghostly sound” coming from the balcony outside the window. We tripped over each other scared out of our wits to get out of the bedroom. Looking back, I realize it was Aunt Betty making the sounds, and she always beat us back to the kitchen, where we’d find her and grandma chuckling over what she had been up to. And, of course, we couldn’t tell them what happened, since we weren’t supposed to be near the treadle anyway.

Author (right) and her cousin “V.K.”

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At night, I would sleep with Aunt Betty and my cousin, V.K., with grandma. There was always a series of goodnights, making sure everyone was told they were loved. What a comforting way to fall asleep.

All of the other aunts and uncles came to Betty’s house for holidays—that’s where the fun was! She made everyone laugh…even my dad, and no one could make my serious dad laugh.

One Thanksgiving, Betty suggested that instead of buying everyone gifts for Christmas, we should have a grab bag to pick a name. When everyone agreed, she said she would prepare the slips of paper, and soon returned with a hat containing the names. Before we began choosing names, she made us all agree that we wouldn’t tell anyone whose name we had drawn. Of course, about half an hour later, we children started to divulge the names we drew. As each of us told, it rapidly became apparent that every slip of paper had “Betty” written on it! The adults started to confess that they, too, had drawn the name Betty! Betty, of course, was howling!

When I became a teenager, going to Rockwood no longer held my interest. But this I know: I would have been a much too serious child without those summers with Aunt Betty. She made me laugh every time I spoke to her. Our family is a little quieter without her, but I’m sure there’s a lot of laughter in Heaven these days.

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You Decide! Help Select Future Tours

Reminisce and World Wide Country Tours are teaming up to provide a series of unique tours designed for nostalgia-minded folks, and we'd like to find out which destinations and activities are preferred by Reminisce readers like you.

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The Class of ’54

By Gerald Harter
Lynnville, Indiana

When we entered first grade,
We ranked so very low.
Being “big” third graders
Was where we wished to go.

Getting to the third grade
Was really not the fix.
We were still the “small fry”
Compared to those in “six.”

But sixth grade was just “in between”
And we really wondered why.
We were not nearly as important
As the kids in junior high.

And then we were the “8th grade.”
We were really rather cool.
We were bigger, stronger and smarter
Than the others in our school.

Then we moved to high school,
When we came back in the fall.
As the “Greenie Freshman Class,”
We had no rank at all.

Finally made it to the “Senior Class,”
Did it all and won the tourney.
The others all looked up to us
For completing our long journey.

We reveled in our great success,
Standing proud and tall.
Then came Graduation Day
And back to “nothing at all.”

We got tossed out into the world.
Each went a separate way.
We vowed as “Class of ’54”
We would make our mark someday.

We hung together as a class
And worked to meet our needs.
We had reunions now and then
And attended the “Alumni Feeds.”

We noticed the “important” classes
Were from the distant past.
When we got to 50 years,
We would be “someone” at last.

We had a special table
And a little bit of fame.
When at the Alumni Banquet,
Forty years were “in the game.”

We all liked this attention,
But really we were haunted.
To be the special “Honor Class”
Was what we really wanted.

And then we finally made it!
We were honored and adored.
We prepared a little program
And hoped no one was bored.

Most came back the next year,
And the fact began to dawn.
The fame we had the year before
Was already done and gone.

There has been a lot of “got there’s,”
But each was just a stage.
The next time we get “honored,”
It will be on the obit page!

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Over the Back Fence

When we see a family out shopping and whatnot, we tell them what a nice family they have.

Then we say, “When a couple gets married, one and one make two and soon there is one to carry. When they learn to crawl, you walk; when they learn to walk, you run; and when they learn to run, you’re done.”

—Joe and Bev Sturgeon
Anacortes, Washington

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Time Capsule Trivia

Check out these moments in time as you try to guess which year they’re from. The answer is given below, but no peeking!

1. Two cities in America—New York and San Francisco—hold a World’s Fair.
2. In mid-summer, a gallant Lou Gehrig brings baseball fans and radio listeners to tears by calling himself “the luckiest man on Earth.” A few weeks later, he is diagnosed with a form of infantile paralysis.
3. Adolf Hitler’s “blitzkrieg” swiftly crushes the Polish Army as Germany extends its reach for domination of Europe.
4. America’s financial woes have left eight million Americans still out of work, explaining why John Steinbeck’s new novel, The Grapes of Wrath, is still relevant.
5. Among the blockbuster movies this year are Gone with the Wind and The Wizard of Oz.

The mention of the two big movies probably clinched it for you. The correct answer is 1939.

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A Thought to Remember

Grandchildren are God’s ways of compensating us for growing old.

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