Dear $$firstname$$,

If you haven’t yet experienced Reminisce Through the Decades: The 1940s, described in the ad at the right, you can see a sampling of the great memories offered in this fabulous three-DVD set by clicking the DVD image to the right.

We urge you to check it out. This remarkable new DVD collection features stories told by everyday people who lived, served, sacrificed and persevered for the war effort and includes wonderfully nostalgic images from this fascinating era.

Need we remind you that Christmas is less than 3 months away? What a perfect gift it would be for anyone who lived through the 1940s or simply enjoys history. For now, enjoy the latest edition of the Reminisce newsletter.

—The Folks at Reminisce

In this issue:

• My Sister “Poots” and Me
• Seeing a Man About a Horse
• My Dancing Granny
• Poem: Threshing Time
• Share Your “Senior Moments”
• Over the Back Fence
• Time Capsule Trivia
• A Thought to Remember

My Sister “Poots” and Me

“Our perms had grown out by the time this 1940s photo was taken of my sister, Helen ‘Poots’ Howerton Burke, and me,” writes Lois Howerton Euton, who is on the right.

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The author, in 2005.

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By Lois Howerton Euton
Portsmouth, Ohio

I was born into a family of five boys and six girls in Flat Hollow, Kentucky, across the Ohio River from Portsmouth, Ohio. I have the most childhood memories, however, of my sister Helen Ramona, who was 2 years older than I.

I never knew her by her given name. She’s the only one of the 11 of us who had a nickname. Our mother’s name was also Helen, so Dad was the one who dubbed my sister “Poots.”

My earliest memory of Poots is the day she took me to King’s Addition Grade School for a visit. I remember having to sit with her at the desk and being scrunched up in the same seat.

I was always shy and studious, but not Poots! She was in the third grade when I started first grade, but I caught up with her, and from fourth through eighth grades, we were in the same class. It wasn’t that she was a slow learner. She was just a born socializer! And she also had her own slant on things. She would tell people, “My sister Lois is older than me, but I was born first!”

One year at school, the teacher gave the word “woolly” during a spelling bee. I never knew a word could be spelled wrong so many different ways. However, Poots spelled it correctly and won the bee! To this day, I think she just lucked out.

Poots had a devilish habit on Christmas morning. She would go downstairs very early, before the rest of us, and look at all the gifts under the tree. Then, she’d run back upstairs to tell all of us what we had gotten. We held our hands over our ears and pleaded, “Don’t tell us! Don’t tell us!” We wanted to be surprised. But Poots told us anyway.

Poots was the one who introduced me to corn-silk cigarettes. On a walk home one day, we sneaked off into the woods just far enough not to be seen. We took the brown tassels off an ear of corn and rolled them up in paper torn from our writing tablets. I don’t remember getting much satisfaction from the experience, except the stir of excitement of doing something forbidden. It was too unpleasant to ever become habit-forming.

When we were preteens, we were allowed to walk to town. This involved walking a dirt road that spanned the Ohio River to Portsmouth, Ohio. We could shop for hours in the dime stores with only a quarter to spend. Our favorite things to buy were nail polish, lipstick and junk jewelry. (Some things still haven’t changed!)

But a really big day in town was getting a permanent at the beauty parlor. At that time, each metal roller used in our hair was connected to worn and twisted cords extending from a ceiling electrical outlet. I don’t recall how long we had to sit under that contraption, but when the current was turned on, the heat was torturous. Sometimes, we’d get blisters on our ears and scalps. The odor of burning hair and curling lotion was one that took days to get rid of. We ended up with tight, frizzy curls that lasted forever.

I went on to high school, and Poots chose to get a job at Mitchellace Company, a shoelace manufacturer that had worldwide customers. With the pay she earned, she bought our little brother Raymond the first new bicycle our family ever owned. And Poots taught me how to ride it, too.

Poots became more worldly than I, but often took me to town with her. She introduced me to my first hamburger and Coke at a soda fountain and sometimes let me go with her to the duckpin bowling alley where her working friends would hang out.

We also had our differences, and I remember one well. Poots always got up early for work, while I could sleep a little later before catching the school bus. One night, I pressed my outfit for the next day and fastened it to the wall with straight pins (there was only one closet in our house).

Morning brought a dreadful awakening. While I was sleeping, Poots dressed in my outfit and went off to work. I managed to put something together to wear that day, but when Poots returned that evening, we tore into each other like two exploding firecrackers. Clothing was ripped, buttons yanked off and hair pulled out. We managed to give each other a few good scratches before Mom came to break it up, threatening to whip us both if we didn’t stop. I still don’t understand why Mom couldn’t see my point of view.

Eventually, Poots married and left home, and our childhood antics came to an end.

Yet, after all these years, she’s the sister I go to when I need to talk about anything, painful or pleasurable. She’s always there to listen and understand.

But I still think I could whip her!

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Seeing a Man About a Horse

By Michael A. Franco Albuquerque, New Mexico

On a Sunday afternoon, in 1957, I’m sitting next to my younger sister, Yoli, along with sisters Rosemary, Roxanne and Yvonne, in the backseat of the family Rambler.

The Rambler is pink with wooden sides and almost as wide as it is long. It’s the perfect size for our family, and we are able to sit five across in the backseat. James, the toddler of the family back then, sits up front between Mom and Dad. It seems a favorite pastime of other passing vehicles to count the bobbing little heads inside our car with a look of surprise.

With legs straight out, not reaching the floor, we sit side by side, kicking our little legs back and forth. I still remember the shoes we were wearing—Yoli in her ever-present white-and-black oxfords, and I in my high-top Keds sneakers.

These are times of cheap gasoline and free time on weekends. And for little ones, a time with no cares in the world.

To keep us quiet on our trip to nowhere, Mom has given each of us a handful of shelled, roasted peanuts. To make ours last longer, Yoli and I make up a game of looking at each nut and describing what it looks like. I split one of my peanuts in two and look inside.

“Hey, inside this peanut I found the head of Santa Claus,” I say to my sisters. And, sure enough, if you squint your eyes hard enough, it resembles the jolly old elf himself.

The Franco family, in 1958 (front row, from left): father Fidel, who is holding James; Yvonne; mother Nancy, who is holding baby Janet; (back row, from left) the author, Michael; Roxanne; Rosemary; and Yolanda.

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Yoli’s eyes sparkle, and she splits her peanut in two and says, “Inside of mine is the head of Jesus.” Upon seeing this, my other sisters, who had already eaten their peanuts, ask Mom for more, but there are none to be had.

And thus we spend the ride, carefully splitting open our handful of peanuts and finding all manner of personages on display inside. With enough childhood imagination, we were sure God had put all these wonders inside each nut just for our discovery.

Whenever we ask Dad where we’re going, his stock answer is, “We’re going to see a man about a horse.” But as the day and the miles wear on, and our excitement about buying a horse grows, we eventually see he shows no signs of stopping—neither man nor horse ever comes into sight. So, we are content just to be together, figuring out it’s just Dad’s way of getting us out of our cramped, two-bedroom house. The fresh scents of the country out our windows is a welcome change, and this is a way of doing something as a family that doesn’t cost a fortune.

An allowance to each of us was out of the question, so we never even thought of doing any shopping ourselves. In fact, what little money we managed to scrounge together from saving our pennies or nickels from Christmas or birthdays was oftentimes “borrowed” by Dad in times of need, always with a signed, handwritten IOU carefully placed in the little metal bank from whence it came. Years later, we found those IOUs still stuffed in the bank: “IOU, Yolanda, 55¢,” signed “Dad.”

In fact, we never even understood the concept of an allowance. As Ward Cleaver gave “the Beav” and Wally a weekly allowance on our black-and-white Magnavox TV, or Mr. Anderson of Father Knows Best gave Bud and Kitten money, we wondered what it would be like to be independently wealthy like that.

After what seems like forever, the sun is beginning to set and we head home from our weekend adventure. The car, filled with my parents’ precious cargo, rumbles down the country roads back home, our trusty canvas water bag hanging out on the Rambler’s hood ornament to keep its contents cool.

Little by little, mile by mile, darkness comes. My siblings and I fall asleep listening to Mom and Dad’s conversations in the front seat, accompanied by the swish-swoshing of the windshield wipers and the scent of the fresh-falling rain through our Rambler’s windows on the world.

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My Dancing Granny

Ruth May Ritzel, in various costumes and stages of her dancing career and in 2005.

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By Regina Pacheco
Knoxville, Tennessee

My grandmother Ruth May Ritzel was born on March 29, 1916. Her parents, Jim and Ida Rigos, were the heads of a prominent Greek family in Augusta, Georgia, where they owned a grocery store, ice cream parlor and restaurant.

Ruth recalls being fortunate in always having had something to eat, even at a time when food was scarce. Her parents fed many less-fortunate people during the Great Depression, and Ruth remembers accompanying them to the soup kitchens, singing and entertaining the people in the lines.

Ruth dreamed of being an entertainer, taking dance lessons at the age of 6. When she played with the neighborhood children, she would choreograph shows for them to perform. She’d line them up and teach them the latest dance craze.

She performed many years with the Southern Vaudeville in Augusta and was adept at many styles of dance, from jazz to ballet.

At age 9, Ruth traveled to Philadelphia to take dance lessons from Catherine Littlefield. It was there that she was chosen to perform in The Great White Way at the Metropolitan Opera House. When opening night came, Ruth had the measles and a high fever, but as any good entertainer knows, the show must go on, and it did! She went onstage and performed on cue.

Ruth’s mother, Ida, accompanied her to every contest or audition being held in the Philadelphia area, of which Ruth won many. It seemed a daily event to see write-ups in the paper about Ruth. Ida also was her accompanist and made all of her costumes.

When she turned 16, Ruth went to Charlotte, North Carolina, to the Henderson School of Dance. There, she auditioned for the Billy Pearl Fan Tan Revue and was hired to travel with the show. She performed such numbers as That’s How Rhythm Was Born, Lazy Bones and Moon Over Miami.

Later in her career, Ruth traveled with Dan Fitch and the Dixiana Revue, in which she was billed as a “Dixies Dancing Doll.” They traveled all over, from New York to Chicago. One of her numbers with this troupe was a modern soft-shoe where she danced in a costume of bright green, beaded trunks and top, over which was worn a green net skirt. Cartwheels and back bends were featured in this dance. Then, she would suddenly discard the skirt and go into a fast rhythm tap dance as a finale.

She sang many popular songs of that era, including Button Up Your Overcoat!, You’re the Cream in My Coffee and Was That the Human Thing to Do. She did the Charleston to the song Five Foot Two, Eyes of Blue (Has Anybody Seen My Girl) and a Spanish dance to Night of Splendor. It was said in reviews that she was the Nora Bayes of her time.

Ruth has many wonderful memories of her life onstage and traveling with great friends like Billie Burke, Alice Pearl, Mary Brady and Jane Williams.

I think her fondest memory was when the country was showing signs of coming out of the Great Depression. She returned to her hometown of Augusta for a 5-day event called “The Carnival of Fun.” Augusta’s mayor, W.D. Jennings, crowned my grandmother the Queen of the Richmond Post of the American Legion. She reigned over the festivities and, in the event’s parade, rode in the main float alongside the mayor.

On the last evening of the carnival, Ruth was given a flare. When she brought down the flare hard against a post, it set off the lights of the city, which had been off for many evenings to conserve the city’s lights during the long years of the Depression. She remembers it as one of her finest moments.

Grandma can still do a mean Charleston and is sharp as a whip when you ask her memories of her wonderful days in vaudeville.

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Threshing Time

By Grant Davis
West Lafayette, Indiana

Threshing time was just another
Treat down on the farm,
When neighbors got together
In such a mystic charm.

A dirt road was a usual thing
Beside the graveled one,
Where wagons moved from farm to farm
Beneath the summer sun.

To hear the engine, smell the smoke,
As it lumbered farm to farm,
It belched and hissed with every stroke,
Displaying all its charm.

The farmer usually designated
The separator spot,
So the blower boy could build the stack
Correctly on the lot.

The engine and the separator
Were always lined up right;
Then blocks were laid against the wheels
To keep the long belt tight.

The womenfolk prepared the meal
With lots of things to eat,
And cold drinks for the workers
Were sure a welcome treat.

Some men would haul the bundles,
And other ones would pitch,
For each one had his job to do,
And things went without a hitch.

The engine noise, the blowing chaff,
The farmer wet with sweat,
Experience of the threshing time
A young boy can’t forget.

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Share Your “Senior Moments”

Think you’re losing your marbles? You’re not alone! Please tell us your funniest, scariest, or oddest “brain lapse” moment for an upcoming global health book from Reader’s Digest called No More Brain Drain. But hurry! The deadline is October 30.

If your anecdote is used, you’ll receive a free copy of the book, in which your incident would be “diagnosed” by an expert, explaining why your brain did what it did! (Don't worry, we won’t use your full name.) Think of it as an opportunity to teach the world by telling us your memory-crash story.

Please include: the event, why you think it might have happened, what unusual circumstances surrounded the event (for example, had you started taking a new medication, or had you been under a lot of stress) and any other detail you’d like to include. Also, think about sharing your best tip or trick for remembering something.

Please send your anecdote or tips by e-mail to healthwriter@mac.com. Remember, we need to hear from you by October 30.

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Over the Back Fence

One Sunday, my husband and I took our 3-year-old grandnephew to our backyard to show him the grapes we had growing there. He had never tasted Concord grapes before.

When my husband gave him a grape to taste, our grandnephew said, “Uncle, these are made out of juice.”
—Lucille Boutin
South Windsor, Connecticut

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Time Capsule Trivia

Try to guess what year these historic events took place from the decades spanning the 1920s to the 1960s. The answer is given below, but no peeking!

1. German troops invade Austria, and Adolf Hitler announces to the world the unification, or Anschluss, of Germany and Austria.
2. Famed aviator Howard Hughes sets a round-the-world flying record of just over 91 hours in his Lockheed 14.
3. On the eve of Halloween, Orson Welles causes panic in many households when he broadcasts a radio adaptation of H.G. Wells’ novel The War of the Worlds, complete with “news broadcasts” of an alien invasion.
4. Walt Disney’s first feature-length animated film, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, is a huge success, but is not recognized by the film industry for its innovation until the following year.
5. Superman comes to life in Action Comics No. 1.

The year of the Anschluss, Orson Welles’ scary broadcast and Superman’s debut was 1938.

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A Thought to Remember

The most difficult person to criticize is someone who keeps his or her mouth shut.

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