Dear $$firstname$$,

Many of us can relate to clothes not quite fitting the same as when we were younger, but Jerri Terry of Springfield, Ohio didn’t have that problem during a stint of closet-cleaning. Check out her then-and-now photos below. By the way, don’t worry about the sizing situation. It just gives you an excuse to go clothes shopping! We hope everyone is having a great summer, and glad to see you included our newsletter in your summer reading. Enjoy!

—The Folks at Reminisce

In this issue:

• Roses for Remembrance
• Tennis, Everyone!
• Remember Boy Scout Jamborees?
• Poem: Growing Up in the ’20s and ’30s
• Over the Back Fence
• Time Capsule Trivia
• A Thought to Remember

Click for larger image.	Click for larger image.
If the Dress Fits… “My wife, Jerri, was going through some old things we had stored in a closet when she came upon this dress from the 1950s,” says Russell Terry of Springfield, Ohio. “We’ve been married for 55 years and we never, I mean never, throw anything away. I remembered seeing it on old 35mm slides taken way back in the early days of our marriage. My wife, now 75 years old, still fits in this lovely dress. I wish I could say the same for my clothes.”

Roses for Remembrance

The author and her dog, “Buddie,” in 1943, enjoyed her father’s rose garden in Fostoria, Ohio.

Click for larger image.

By Jessie Swihart
Fostoria, Ohio

As a child, I remember looking down from my bedroom window early on Saturday mornings and seeing my father tending his circular rose garden. He had yellow, blush-pink and deep-red ones, along with various soft blends in between, and knew each by name.

Always in a hurry, I would catch a word or two occasionally as my father surveyed the roses. How silly, talking to flowers, I wanted to tell him, but never did.

Although I took notice of his roses each time I passed by, I wasn’t moved by their brilliance or felt any significance in the tender care they were being given.

A section of the garden tended by Jessie Swihart’s father.

Click for larger image.

Throughout those early years of watching my father, sensing his joy in bringing long-stemmed beauties into the house, and sniffing the sweet fragrance that permeated every corner, I was unaware that his devotion to the garden and reverence for all living things was being imprinted into the deepest part of me.

Years later, I found myself drawn to roses, needing to see them in my yard. I found extreme pleasure in planning and preparing a special garden. When my husband and I moved from Ohio to Texas, I was determined to create another one. After deciding it should be in the front yard, my husband placed a border of wooden ties along the walkway to our front door. I planted a dozen tea roses in various colors, two in a row.

Every morning, I would say to “Jack,” our golden retriever, “Come on, it’s time to tend the roses.” Familiar with our routine, he waited eagerly for me to get my basket, gloves and clippers.

As I examined and trimmed each rose and determined if a spray was needed, Jack greeted each passing neighbor. Whenever one would take the time to ask about my garden and look at the roses, I would cut the most perfect one I could find. Lifting the long stem, I would snap off the lower thorns and offer it. Seeing their surprised expression of pleasure always delighted me.

Then, Jack and I would watch the rose, like a tall torch, sway down the sidewalk as the neighbor strolled away from us. Sitting patiently by me, he would wait until I had cut our rose to take inside. Most often it had a deep coral hue, which is still my favorite.

Several years later, when my mother passed away, we returned to Ohio to close the house and get it ready for sale. In the garage, I found the metal sign my father had had in the center of his garden which read:

The sign from the story has a proud place in the author’s garden.

Click for larger image.

“The kiss of the sun for pardon,
The song of the birds for mirth,
One is nearer God’s heart in a garden
Than anywhere else on Earth.”

I recalled seeing it among his roses for years, but at that moment, it was as if I had never read the words before.

There in the hollow quietness with fragments of my childhood scattered randomly upon the shelves, I understood the imprint on my heart. The sign went back to Texas with us and now stands in its permanent place in my Ohio garden.

The author recently showed one of her favorite coral roses.

Click for larger image.

Surely, Jesus must have loved a garden and felt the nearest of his Father’s heart as he kneeled to pray in Gethsemane. Jesus selected a garden when he visited with Mary of Bethany as Martha busied herself in the house. And it was in a garden by the empty tomb that he spoke to Mary Magdelene.

After wintering in Florida, I’m always eager to return in the spring and tend my garden. Throughout the summer, it is where I find respite from the mundane and sometimes harsh realities of every day. Surrounded by my roses, red honeysuckle, vines filled with orange trumpets, jasmine, and old-fashioned perennials, I observe hummingbirds being drawn to sweetness by the brilliance of the blooms. All the pungent aromas, whispering leaves and songbird calls seem to connect me to my childhood with a sense of first-time awareness.

top

Tennis, Everyone!

By Anne Fauvell
Rapid City, South Dakota

Movies were a delightful, inexpensive pastime in Brooklyn back in 1942. I was 14 at the time, just beginning to notice boys.

Between the double features, the theatre would run a newsreel depicting current events and the lifestyles and gossip of the famous people of the day.

One such newsreel featured popular actors and actresses all dressed in white playing tennis. It all looked so romantic. Perhaps one could meet a handsome young man while playing tennis…I had to find out! I also read in a ladies fashion magazine that playing tennis was great exercise and a good way to firm up for the latest fashions.

My friend, Emily, and I pooled our money from babysitting and allowances and tried to come up with the $5 fee for a tennis court permit at our local park. That was a lot of money back then, and we came up short. That wasn’t going to stop us, though.

McCarren Park had six tennis courts, five with regular tennis nets. The sixth one just had two posts. Emily and I ventured forth, our secondhand tennis rackets in hand.

There were usually one or two courts not being used, so we’d play on a court with a net until folks showed up bearing their permits. We’d then relinquish our court to the “rightful” players.

The court without a net was hardly ever used. We decided to ask our parents for a rope that we could use to tie to both posts. This worked fine as a makeshift net, even though you had to pull it tighter time and again, as it sagged often. We didn’t mind; we were quite happy with our invention and getting better and better at volleying back and forth.

One day, a young couple came to us and asked, “Do you have a tennis permit?” I answered, “No, we were told we could play on the court with no net.”

The couple said nothing and left, only to return shortly with the park police. “They have a tennis permit, so they can play on this court,” the officer said.

We weren’t about to argue with the police, so Emily and I gathered our belongings, took down our rope net and left.

We sat on the grass within view of our “netless” court. The couple did a few volleys, must have realized it wasn’t much fun without a net and left. We watched the empty court for at least a half hour, then brought out our rope, tied it to the two posts and continued with our tennis games.

This arrangement went on throughout the summer until mid-August, when it was time to think of returning to school.

I never did meet that handsome boy in white on the courts that summer, but I did get a great shape and a nice tan.

What was even better was that with a little creativity and ingenuity, two girls had a lovely summer playing tennis…without a $5 permit!

top

Remember Boy Scout Jamborees?

Click for larger image.

By Ted Gunter
Parkville, Maryland

I was just out of school for the summer of my 13th year, in 1940, and the conversation among my friends from Boy Scout Troop 74 was about the upcoming Boy Scout Jamboree. We had many things to think about for the 2 nights and 3 days of camping out.

When the time came, we convened at Herring Run Park, just off of Harford Road in Baltimore, Maryland, around noon on a Friday. The scoutmasters were giving instructions on where each of the many troops represented would set up their pup tents. We were instructed to dig a small trench around our tents so rainwater would not run into the tent floor.

By the time all the tents were set up and each troop was organized, it was time for the evening meal, which consisted of hot dogs and beans. When cooked on an open campfire, they were delicious.

It was getting close to 9 o’clock and getting dark—time for everyone to turn in. There were two scouts to a tent, and all went well that evening except for an occasional mosquito.

The next morning, everyone was up early for the day’s activities. We were going to hike through the woods and identify birds and trees. That afternoon, we socialized with the other troops and the scoutmasters reviewed our tracking work.

Click for larger image.

I had brought a Brownie box camera and snapped a few photos of our troop. Someone suggested that we do a totem pole, which we did (see photo at left), with me on top! Ross is the name of the boy at the bottom holding the frying pan. I noticed that he was holding that frying pan in all of the photos.

In the totem pole photo, you can see what little of a trench we dug around each tent. This would have worked fine for a light rain, but the second night, we had a downpour! The ditch was not deep enough and the water started to trickle into the tent floor. I had bought an old tablecloth that was somewhat waterproof. We put that down first and our blankets on top. That worked well as long as we kept the edges of the tablecloth curled up so the rainwater stayed under it.

As young people sometimes do, we did not heed an adult’s warning. Our scoutmaster told us, “When it rains, do not rub the underside of the tent. This will cause the water to seep through.”

Click for larger image.

Of course, we had to try it. My tent partner, John, lightly rubbed the underside of the tent just above my head. A minute later, I returned the favor at a spot above his head, and both of us started to get wet. We had to sleep crouched up at the other end of the tent.

Sunday morning came, and it was time to go home. We had to dry some things out that got wet. After breakfast, our scoutmaster talked about what we had learned and instructed us to pack up and head home.

It was a lot of fun and the memories of that weekend I still enjoy today, 65 years later.

top

Growing Up in the ’20s and ’30s

By John M. Jenkins

Back in the twenties and thirties when I was a boy,
It was a real special day if we got a new toy.
Those days they were well made and built to last,
Not made of plastic as thin as isinglass.

Everything was done the hard way, all by hand.
Only one or two people had tractors to work the land.
No insecticides, fertilizer or hybrid seed,
You furnished everything for your own need.

In the summer, when it rained, we were like any child,
Out playing in the mud and going wild.
Wearing old clothes is how we would dress,
Mud oozing between our toes, what a lovely mess.

Going to country school was a big event in a child’s life,
Besides reading, writing and ’rithmetic was trouble and strife.
We learned a lot more than was printed in any textbook.
It would even make computers take a second long look.

There were no refrigerators, the leftover food to save.
Your only chance was to take it down the cave.
It took a lot of energy and steps to go up and down,
’Cos it was 10 or 12 feet below the ground.

When the men threshed, shelled corn or put up hay,
The ladies worked over a cook stove whatever the day.
It was usually hot, over 100 degrees,
The kids picked up cobs on their hands and knees.

Mowing the lawn was a different kind of treat,
Back then mowers didn’t have a seat.
Come to think of it, they didn’t have a motor, either.
You pushed like heck for a while, then took a breather.

Commercial feed was unheard of in those years.
Feeding was done different when tending hogs.
You mixed corn, oats, milk and water to make a whey,
The pigs really liked it, but the flies nearly carried you away.

In the summertime when the grass got short,
They let the kids have a new kind of sport.
We got to herd the cows at least twice a day.
One on each end to tell cars that cattle were in the way.

The young people of today have really missed a lot,
They stay inside for everything including using the pot.
Those outdoor privies really kept you on your feet,
Waiting as long as you could till someone else warmed the seat.

A tin lunch box carried your peanut butter sandwich to school,
While other kids had different things to make your mouth drool.
You’d even trade your homemade bread for the boughten kind,
If you did that today they’d think you’d lost your mind.

Getting ready for winter meant we needed to chop wood,
Calling the fuel or gas man wouldn’t do any good.
It took a lot to get the old heating stove real red,
Then we could bank it with coal and go to bed.

Before school started each fall, we got a new pair of shoes,
Hand-me-down dresses, shirts and trousers is what we’d use.
A new pencil and Big Mac tablet were a must that first day.
But you went through many more before the end of May.

The temperature didn’t matter, school was from nine ‘til four,
When that final bell rang, everybody ran out the door.
We’d go home, change clothes then head for the creek,
Where we’d wade in the water then play hide and seek.

Helping do the chores was part of a farm kid’s life,
Along with the farmer, the hired hand and the farmer’s wife.
Keep the cob bin full, carry water and sweep the floor,
But cleaning the henhouse was a kid’s greatest bore.

There were baby pigs, calves, kittens, puppies and colts
Ducks, geese, setting hens, chickens and poults.
All these cute little things needed special care.
You just don’t realize it, you had to be there.

You fixed fence, cleaned the barns and fed the cows hay.
Slopped hogs, gathered eggs and helped milk every day.
Gathering eggs wasn’t too bad except for the setting hens,
Just like those crabby old sows when cleaning the pens.

A vacation in those days doesn’t compare to now,
We’d go to Grandma’s away from the garden and cow.
Oh, what a treat to act like those kids in town,
To do the same things at home would make your parents frown.

Some of the games we played kids haven’t heard of today.
There was Blind Man’s Bluff, Captain May I, and Pom Pom Pull Away.
Follow the Leader, Annie I Over, and Drown Out Squirrels,
Of course, those recess ballgames with boys against girls.

When people farmed with horses, they visited more,
They even had time for a whole bunch of chores.
Nearly every kid had a pony on the place,
Partly for help, but mostly to race.

Whatever was done, we tried to do in the daylight.
Those lanterns and lamps didn’t do too much at night.
You had to sit or walk just right to see where to go.
One false move and it was nothing but a big shadow.

When neighbors or relatives got together, the time was spent
Visiting, playing cards, but making homemade ice cream was the big event.
Of course there was tea, coffee and a freshly baked cake.
You’d be surprised how many times that trip we’d make.

When school was out and our chores were done,
Supper eaten, schoolwork finished, it was time for fun.
If it was warm, we’d ride ponies or bicycles, from each other we’d hide.
Cold weather meant snowball fights and a long hill for a sleigh ride.

About twice a year, the gypsies would come around,
Asking to camp on our spacious orchard ground.
They’d take what they could but always had horses to trade.
No matter who you’d talk to, a good deal was never made.

School activities then were exciting events,
The programs, box socials but not much money was spent.
The kids had a ball taking part in a play,
When the teacher’s box sold, someone upped the pay.

Picking corn by hand wasn’t as easy as it looked,
The husks on each ear had to be grabbed and hooked,
Then you’d give it a toss and the bang board would rattle,
When the wagon got full, you’d unload, then feed the cattle.

Every fall to the county fair we went,
To see if our summertime was well spent.
If you ended up with a ribbon for your animal or project,
The local 4-H Club would help you make plans for the next.

Water for the livestock came from a well, deep in the ground.
It was pumped into a tank, 2 feet deep and quite big around.
The bad thing was the moss that grew and hung on the side,
But it was home for the goldfish when they wanted to hide.

The last day of school picnic was a big time for one and all.
Parents, children, relatives and neighbors said goodbye till fall.
The next three months, we got to help around the farm.
It seemed boring back then but it didn’t do us any harm.

One ritual then that would make people laugh today,
Was the things you went through for a Saturday night bath.
Heat water on the stove and pour it in an old washtub.
If you didn’t get clean, Mom was there to help you scrub.

Eighth-grade graduation was every year at the end of May.
In the ’20s and ’30s, it was an important day.
You’d go to Wayne to get your diploma from the county superintendent.
After that, you got a job where most of your time was spent.

When it was hot in the summer with no air to turn on,
We’d take some blankets and pillows and sleep on the lawn.
Right next to us our faithful dog would sleep,
Anything strange away from us he’d keep.

It doesn’t matter who reads this, they’ll have something to say,
You forgot this or that or some real special day.
I just hope I can remember until I get home,
So I can add a few more verses to an incomplete poem.

Saturday night, the cream and eggs went to town to buy our treats,
If we were good and helped, we’d likely get some treats.
For 10¢ a bag of candy and a bottle of pop,
Things couldn’t get any better—we were already on top!

When the apples got ripe and they’d fall to the ground,
The kids threw everything in the cider press that could be found.
It was the best homemade drink you ever tasted by far,
But if it sat still too long, it turned to vinegar.

Going to the privy in the summer was a major ordeal,
Those wasps weren’t kidding, they done everything for real.
Just one false move and you were under attack.
Trying to protect your face left you wide open in back.

If you think a car of today is a complicated machine,
The ones of the teens and twenties were a sight to be seen.
They had hard tires, cloth tops and a rumble seat.
To find one and restore it today would really be a treat.

In the winter, the touring cars would sit in the shed,
They used a team of horses and sleigh bells hitched to a sled.
Bales of straw in a wagon box served as a seat,
Hot bricks and blankets were your source of heat.

During the summer, Wednesday night was the best of the week,
You’d go to town early, a good seat to seek.
The free movies, soda pop, your friends and a candy bar,
Then going home, you’d fall asleep in the car.

How many remember washday back in the past?
Those Maytag machines ran with engines on gas.
What a great improvement over the washboard we had,
Plus the hand-cranked wringer, things weren’t all that bad.

The radio we had was run by battery power.
We couldn’t sit and listen for more than an hour.
It was mostly news and weather we’d listen to,
Maybe Fibber & Molly or Amos & Andy, to name a few.

The old box camera was the way our pictures were taken,
Not like today—there was no moving or shaking.
It took quite a while to get your pictures back,
And when you did, they were white and black.

Some things to remember that haven’t been said,
Was Grandma’s lye soap and all the covers on your bed.
Every Halloween, outhouses would get upset,
And stealing watermelons, how many could you get?

There was 3¢ postage and penny postcards,
Fourth of July and Sunday get-togethers in neighbors’ yards.
Toilet paper then would have been a real luxury,
But Sears & Roebuck or Montgomery Ward was it for me.

top

Over the Back Fence

Gloria Luna of Anaheim, California passes on these barometers for aging. You know you’re getting old when:

• Someone compliments you on your alligator shoes, and you’re barefoot.
• Your knees buckle but your belt won’t.
• The old lady you help across the street is your wife.
• They’ve discontinued your blood type.
• They stop taking your X-rays and just hold you up to the light.

top

Time Capsule Trivia

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

1. A military plane carrying popular bandleader Glenn Miller disappears on its way to France after taking off from an airstrip in England.
2. Lt. John F. Kennedy receives the Navy and Marine Corps Medal for extreme heroism, having rescued two sailors from his PT boat.
3. Radio shows making their debut include The Roy Rogers Show, The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet and The Chesterfield Supper Club.
4. Popular movies include Going My Way with Bing Crosby and Barry Fitzgerald, Gaslight with Ingrid Bergman and Charles Boyer and Meet Me in St. Louis with Judy Garland and Margaret O’Brien.
5. Hundreds of people are injured and 168 die when a fire incinerates the main tent at a performance of the Ringling Brothers Circus in Hartford, Connecticut.

By now, you’ve guessed that these events took place in the World War II era? But did you guess the correct year of 1944?

top

A Thought to Remember

To be a good diplomat, you must be able to bring home the bacon without spilling the beans.

top