##\keycode.boilerplatetext## NOTE--To see an on-line version of this newsletter, copy this link and paste it into your web browser: http://www.reimanpub.com/shared/pages/onlineemail.aspx?codelocal=Newsletters/REM/2009/02/newsletter-online.html&firstname=##firstname##&emailaddress=##emailaddress##&refurl=##keycode## If you would like to change or edit your email preferences, please visit your Personal Preferences page. https://www.reimanpub.com/registration2/Login.asp?Newsletter=REM&pmcode=##keycode## ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ REMINISCE Newsletter - February 2009 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Dear ##firstname[Friend]##, We hope you enjoy this latest bit of electronic nostalgia, whether you're hibernating from the cold, enjoying a sunny respite as a “snowbird” or going about your usual business at home in a temperate part of the country. 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And while you're reading, start thinking spring! —John Burlingham at Reminisce Visit our site: http://www.reminisce.com/Default.asp?pmcode=##keycode## Sign Up for this newsletter: https://www.reimanpub.com/registration2/NewsletterSignup.asp?optID=63&pmcode=##keycode## ##\keycode.pscopytext## ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ **************************************** Grandma's Kitchen Puzzle from Reminisce: http://www.countrystorecatalog.com/productDetail.asp?refurl=I136&txtproductId=38686&pmcode=##keycode## Reminisce's 1940s DVD Set: http://www.reminiscedvd.com/index.html?refurl=I4006&refurl=##keycode## Featured Product from Country Store: Family 20-Movie Pack DVD: http://www.countrystorecatalog.com/Family-20-Movie-Pack-DVD/010_38670,default,pd.html?refurl=I4021&pmcode=##keycode## **************************************** ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ In this issue: --> A Cupful of Compassion Over a Bowl of Oatmeal --> Swedes, Danes and the Midwest Melting Pot --> A Master Plumber I'm Not! --> Poem: A Lonely Wife's Letter --> Over the Back Fence --> Time Capsule Trivia --> A Thought to Remember ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Sweet Travel Savings and Luggage for You! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ##firstname[Friend]##, reserve any of World Wide Country Tours' fun-filled 2009 vacations by February 28, 2009, and you'll save $50—and get a FREE carry-on bag! Get details now: http://www.countrytours.com/Indexes/index_SpecialOffers.asp?pmcode=##keycode## ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ A Cupful of Compassion Over a Bowl of Oatmeal ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ By Bonnie Naillon Aurora, Missouri “I'll be damned if I'll tell Don Stone any such thing!” my dad shouted. “And don't you ever judge anyone again until you put yourself in his shoes!” Dad's fist came down on the table with such force that our oatmeal bowls clattered. My brother and I sat wide-eyed and ramrod straight, our attention riveted on Dad. He loved us, and we knew it, but Dad was a stern disciplinarian. We'd been talked to before, many times, but this was different. We listened to Dad's lecture silently, then quickly ate our breakfast and left for school. We lived in a small town between the Sierra Nevada and the White Mountains of central California. From the backdoor of the house that Dad built—which was still a work in progress—there was nothing between us and the Sierras but a few fences and foothills. Across the street from us, our neighbors, the Stones, lived in a tent on the back of their lot while Mr. Stone worked on their house. This was the post-war 1940s, when anyone with the ability to build a house could do so with little interference from a building inspector. On the morning of the lecture, my brother and I woke up tired and cross. Mr. Stone had hammered on his roof far into the night, and we, like everyone else on our street, had gotten little sleep. One of us asked Dad to tell Don Stone that he shouldn't make any more noise at night while everyone was trying to sleep. Dad rose to his full height and began to speak. After getting our attention with his initial outburst, Dad's voice softened. He explained that Don Stone didn't make much money and couldn't afford to hire someone to help with his house. He worked long hours to support his family and hadn't much time left to work at home. With winter coming, Mr. Stone was trying hard to get a roof over his family's heads before the snows came. “You stop and think about how hard it would be to build a house by yourself with very little time and money,” Dad said, letting this sink in before finishing with, “then maybe you'll know why I'm not going to tell Don Stone not to hammer in the middle of the night.” On the long walk to school, I realized I had never seen Mr. Stone do anything but work on the house, except for the few times Dad carried two bottles of beer across the street and talked briefly about construction with him. I pictured the younger Stones, Donald and Linda, huddled together in a tent with snow on the ground. How could they heat their tent without burning it down? By the time I got to school, I realized that Dad rarely said a word against anyone. He met people easily and was a good listener. People liked him and trusted him. It was years before I fully understood the significance of Dad's lesson. In fact, I'm still learning. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Swedes, Danes and the Midwest Melting Pot ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ By Vernon Hedner Long Lake, Minnesota I remember Ma and Pa joking about their childhood back on the prairie of western Minnesota, at the end of the 1800s. Nationalities tended to flock together in specific territories, and it wasn't uncommon for these groups to develop petty attitudes of pride and prejudices. My mother, Amy, registered a bit of hurt over the way her pompous Swedish mother-in-law from Lake Lillian scoffed at the poor Danes of Rosendale, just a few miles away. My father, George, could be somewhat arrogant and belittling, too, a trait he inherited from his stoic mother, Sophia, the epitome of the family matriarch. “They thought they were better because they had a little more money than anybody else,” my mother would say. “They had those fancy horses and the finest carriages.” My folks were upstanding churchgoers with a strong Lutheran faith instilled by both of their families. Ma was always my angel, never speaking a profane word, although I never knew what she said when speaking Danish. I do know that when Pa scolded the horses in Swedish, he didn't say, “Nice horsy.” Pa used to joke about the simple Danes who wore wooden shoes to church for years, before accepting the modern American leather shoes. “Oh, how we loved our wooden shoes,” Ma countered. “We even cried when we were made to put on those ugly things made from animal hides.” I often wondered how in the world people with two such conflicting manners and backgrounds could be compatible. Pa admitted that he and a few of his Swedish buddies used to spy on the Danish girls skinny-dipping. Later, when his strict mother took her Sunday nap, he scooted down to court young Amy Augustinisen and eventually fell for Ma “like a ton of bricks.” Ma said her brother, Ingvard, was head-over-heels in love with my father's youngest sister, Hattie. Ingvard tried to sneak through the woods to see her one time, only to be discovered by old Sophia, who chased him down the trail with a broom, screaming, “Get away, you devil!” Uncle Ingvard probably had a broken heart for years thereafter. My four pretty Swedish aunts, including Hattie, traveled the country extensively but never married. Pa finally got the sophisticated Sophia to accept his Danish wife as the first “foreigner” in the family, and since then, the country's nationalities have intermingled pretty well. It's interesting to note that a large tombstone can be found in a country cemetery a mile southwest of Atwater. On one side is the last name of Wiberg, Sophia's first husband; on the other is the name of Hedner, her second husband and my grandfather. At least Granny showed no partiality in the conclusion! IMAGES: http://hostedmedia.reimanpub.com/Newsletters/REM/2009/02/images/eHedner01.jpg?pmcode=##keycode## Sophia Wiberg Hedner http://hostedmedia.reimanpub.com/Newsletters/REM/2009/02/images/eHedner02.jpg?pmcode=##keycode## Sophia and her family at their Atwater, Minnesota home, on Decoration Day, 1913. http://hostedmedia.reimanpub.com/Newsletters/REM/2009/02/images/eHedner04.jpg?pmcode=##keycode## Sophia's daughters and other women on an outing. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ A Master Plumber I'm Not! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ By John Morrison Syracuse, New York I am the handyman of our home. It has always been my role and responsibility through 43 years of marriage, even though it's not an area in which I am gifted. My wife, however, always encourages me to tackle these jobs, and some I do with fear and trepidation. Plumbing, for example, is not one of my stronger skills. We moved into our first home on Easter weekend, back in 1970, in Grand Rapids, Michigan. My wife immediately wanted a new toilet seat. While plastic had been invented by then, it was not in use on this toilet, which had old, rusty metal nuts and bolts. It was late, I was tired and I just couldn't get the nuts loose. Since I was young and foolish, I lived by the principle of brawn over brain. I went to my trusty toolbox and retrieved a hammer and a chisel. I laid the chisel alongside the metal bolt and hit it with a mighty blow. The good news is that the bolt came out. The bad news is that it only came out because a big chunk of the porcelain toilet also came out and fell to the floor. But God protects little children and fools, and in this instance, I certainly was the latter. I was fortunate that the break came above the water line, so there was no sudden spouting or leakage. While there was no immediate crisis, there was a need for some deep thinking on how to resolve this mess. Fortunately, Super Glue was around by 1970, and I happened to have some on hand. We did a “temporary repair” to resolve the problem of not having a bathroom to use for Easter. It was still holding a year later when we moved to our next home. Our new home had plastic nuts and bolts on the toilet seat. And I learned to call a plumber for anything more complex than replacing a seat. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Poem: A Lonely Wife's Letter ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ By Darlene Lund Oklahoma City, Oklahoma My mom, Mary Shackelford Boyd, wrote a lot of poetry as a young woman, and this is one of my favorites. It was written on September 4, 1944. My brother, Ernest, and I lived with Mom in a small apartment that was part of an old, two-story house, in Tuscumbia, Missouri. Daddy was serving with the Army during World War II, and he returned home on April 10, 1946. My mom observed her 86th birthday, in November 2008. Daddy passed away in 1997, at age 79. Here's the poem. I got a letter not long ago From the one I love so true. He said, “Darling, I'm shipping out, But I'll always be thinking of you.” As I read the letter I held in my hands, My eyes filled with tears, As I thought of the long months I'd be alone That may stretch into years. I thought of all the things we'd done In the happy days gone by; Talking and planning of the home we'd have, Just you, the kiddies and I. We used to wander, hand in hand, Down the path so very long, Beneath a moon so mellow and bright And listen to the whip-poor-will song. I'll always wait for you, darling, And try to do my part, So when you return to me, You'll return with a happy heart. I still have the picture you gave me; I'll treasure it for always, my dear. It will be my most precious possession And will guide me throughout the years. Each night as I lay on my pillow, I ask God to keep you for me, And send you safely back again From across the deep blue sea. We'll all be waiting, my darling, With a welcome in our hearts. And hope that never, never again We'll have to be apart. IMAGES: http://hostedmedia.reimanpub.com/Newsletters/REM/2009/02/images/eLund01.jpg?pmcode=##keycode## Mary Boyd and her two children, Ernest, at 9 months, and Darlene, at 4 years old, in the summer of 1944. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Over the Back Fence ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The Eight Ages of Man: Not old enough to know better. Old enough to know better. Not old enough to know. Old enough to know. Not old enough. Old enough. Not old. Not. —Hortense Hall Long Beach, California ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Time Capsule Trivia ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ From the decades spanning the 1920s to the 1960s, try to guess what year these historic events took place. The answer is given below, but no peeking! 1. The U.S. Supreme Court rules that segregation of black and white students in public schools violates the right to equal protection under the law. The Court later rules that schools be desegregated. 2. As the polio epidemic continues, the first children receive inoculations against the disease, using a vaccine created by Dr. Jonas Salk. Three other U.S. researchers are honored for their work against the polio virus. 3. The world's first nuclear-powered submarine, the USS Nautilus, is launched. 4. “Joltin' Joe” DiMaggio, the three-time MVP and 13-time All-Star for the New York Yankees baseball club, marries movie star Marilyn Monroe. The marriage ends in divorce 274 days later. 5. Walt Disney's new show Disneyland begins what will become the longest prime-time run in television history—34 years. The show, which sees several name changes, sparks a national craze for coonskins caps and other Davy Crockett products. For the answer to Time Capsule Trivia, click below. http://www.reminisce.com/2009/FM09/trivia.asp?pmcode=##keycode## ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ A Thought to Remember ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Swallowing pride never choked anyone. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ This email was sent to: ##emailaddress## HAVE A FRIEND who enjoys the good old days? Feel free to forward this newsletter! 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