##\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/2009/04/newsletter.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 - May 2009 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Dear ##firstname[Friend]##, Getting any complaints lately from your grandchildren or children that mom or dad isn’t willing to fork out hard-earned cash for something in this tough economy? Well, direct them to the story about homemade scooters in this edition of the Reminisce newsletter. Talk about making do with lean materials! Growing up in the 1950s and ’60s, my four siblings and I were very fortunate that Dad held a steady job and Mom was the queen of frugal. Still, hand-me-down clothes and my fast-sprouting, skinny legs sometimes combined to put me in “floods.” That was our term for pant hems that hadn’t had a cozy relationship with our shoes for a while. But thanks, Mom, for never dressing me in anything that might have gotten me beat up at school. As always, feel free to forward our newsletter on to a friend or family member. If this newsletter was forwarded to you and you’d like a monthly copy of your own, just use this link to sign up yourself. For now, enjoy heading into the past. —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## Shop Now: http://www.countrystorecatalog.com/?refurl=I4036&pmcode=##keycode## **************************************** ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ In this issue: --> Zero-Cost Transportation in the 1930s --> Blackberry Pie and Collard Greens --> Dad and the Dove --> Poem: The Girl I Used to Be --> Over the Back Fence --> Time Capsule Trivia --> A Thought to Remember ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Ride into Railroad History and Save $50.00! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ##firstname[Friend]##, ##firstname[Friend]##, Ride five famous "Old West" style passenger trains on our exclusive Colorado's Vintage Rail vacation. Reserve by May 30, 2009, and you'll save $50.00 per person on your trip! Mention Promotion Code RENS when you reserve to claim your savings. Get details: http://www.countrytours.com/Tours_US/COR/tdetail.asp?pmcode=##keycode## ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Zero-Cost Transportation in the 1930s ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ By John Motto Jackson, Michigan In the 1930s, if you had an old pair of beat-up, worn-down roller skates, a single skate could re-emerge as the wheels for a scooter. It was a matter of first getting a short length of a wooden two-by-four, usually available from a pile of old wood found in most people’s backyards. Separating the two parts of the skate with your key, you attached the front and rear parts to the piece of wood, always using rusty nails that had been flattened for reuse by someone’s father. The real challenge came in finding a solid, heavy-duty crate. My father had some great whiskey crates for us to use, although he never drank the contents, as I recall. Such crates could be hard to find around Utica, New York, due to their return value. For example, a 24-bottle crate of 6-ounce Coca-Cola bottles carried a 12-cent deposit. The crate was fastened to the two-by-four with lots of nails, and this created the basic vehicle. There were all sorts of ways to embellish your scooter, like the panel I used to close off part of the crate so I could carry stuff. I also built a trailer to carry my kid brother around—something no other kid on my block had. I recall trying to make a headlight from a tin can by piercing a lot of holes in the solid end and nailing it to the top of the crate. We fastened a candle inside of it with melted wax and lit it for the night drive. Of course, it would usually flame out as soon as you got rolling, and the illumination was minimal. And I never owned a flashlight when I was a kid. In those days, I was bound by rules to stay on the block and out of the street, and our slate-block sidewalks made for a bumpy ride. However, we had a one-way, dead-end street—Smith Place—that ran from the middle of our block. That’s where we played games, skated and used our scooters, since no one on Smith Place owned a car. You could always tell a scooter rider by the worn-out condition of the soles of his shoes or sneakers, caused by attempting to steer and stop your vehicle. Of course, life changed drastically when we graduated to bicycles, relegating our scooters to the younger kids. But it was an adventurous stage of life, having loads of fun on a vehicle that we put on the road for zero cost. IMAGE: Scooting around, in 1937 Uitca, New York, were (from left) brothers John, Joe and Richard Motto. John moved to Detroit in 1942, Joe has been known as “Boom Boom Branigan” for years on Albany, New York radio and TV, and Richard is now a computer consultant in the Utica area. http://hostedmedia.reimanpub.com/Newsletters/REM/2009/05/images/rdrUtica1937.jpg?pmcode=##keycode## ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Blackberry Pie and Collard Greens ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ By Barbara Lyerly Goins Leesburg, Florida Growing up in a small North Carolina town, in the 1940s, my nose told me what we were having for supper long before I reached the top of the hill where our house sat. If the aroma of blackberry pie filled the air, my steps would quicken and I’d vault up the back steps, two at a time. The smell of collard greens, on the other hand, could send me hastily away. I wholeheartedly agree with an uncle who once said of collard greens, “They stink to high Heaven.” I disagreed with another relative who said, “If you can get collards past your nostrils, they’re quite tasty.” Personally, I didn’t want the greens anywhere near my nostrils or my mouth. With the exception of me, my family devoured collard greens with gusto. Along with a hunk of cornbread, Dad said, “This is a stick-to-your-ribs sort of meal.” Early in the morning, Mom gathered the large, leafy greens from the garden, washed them thoroughly in cold water, threw in some unmeasured salt and added a slab of fatback or bits of pork. The greens then simmered all day, filling the house with an offensive small. Collards served as the main course at suppertime. While my family savored every bite of those slimy greens, which were drenched with vinegar, I gagged and carried on something terrible…all in vain, of course. I’d protest, “When I marry and have a family, I won’t make my kids eat collards.” To which Mom always replied, “Good for them, but for now, you’ll eat them.” Mom’s ingenious way of getting me to eat collards without too much fuss was to cook them the same day she baked blackberry pies. I knew, for certain, I’d never get a piece of pie without first going through those greens. Blackberry pie perked up my taste buds to a mouthwatering frenzy. I could never get enough. Mom, my sister and I would trudge through thick brush and briars to reach the blackberry bushes growing alongside a creek downhill from our house. We’d tread cautiously so as not to disturb a snake resting or slithering nearby, and it was not uncommon to see a water moccasin gliding silently in the creek. With our pails nearly overflowing with berries and our faces, hands and clothing stained purple, we’d hurry back to the house—hot, tired and sweaty. Immediately, we’d take a bath in warm water mixed with baking soda to kill a multitude of chiggers that might have hitchhiked on our bodies. Meanwhile, Mom had our clothes soaking in hot, sudsy water. Now I’m all grown up and have no problem resisting collard greens, but a sumptuous piece of juicy, delectable blackberry pie, topped with a scoop of vanilla ice cream melting on top…well, I done died and gone to Heaven. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Dad and the Dove ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ By Mildred Pelkey Glen Burnie, Maryland The plane purred through the clouds as I looked out the window at the vastness of nothing but fluffy cotton and then suddenly bright sunshine. As I looked at the checkerboard of farm fields below, I sensed a message trying to come through to my mind. I had experienced such messages before. It was 1973, and my father had just passed away, in Friend, Nebraska. I was on a flight there for the funeral from my home in Syracuse, New York. Mom and Dad had been married for more than 50 years. As long as I knew them, they had been separated overnight only once. That was when Dad had a 2-night stay for sinus surgery at a hospital in Lincoln, Nebraska. Now Dad was talking to me on the plane: “It’s like you said, Mildred. It’s not many religions here; it’s all one.” After a brief pause, he added, “Get Mom a dove,” and then was gone. My preparations for the funeral had been expensive, and I had just enough cash to get me by. I needed to change planes in Chicago, where I had 1-hour layover, so I made a hasty search for a dove in the airport gift shops. I had no idea what I was looking for. “A dove,” my father’s message said. That could mean anything. The first shop I visited had a china dove, but it cost $20. With little cash in my purse, I continued looking but found nary a dove in the rest of the airport. So I forfeited my lonely $20 bill and had the dove gift-wrapped. I had just enough time to make the connection for my next flight. My sister and brother-in-law met me in Lincoln for the ride to Friend. Once we arrived, after tearful greetings, I informed Mom that I had a gift for her from Dad. She was too overcome to even think of why and how I was giving her a gift from Dad. After unwrapping the dove, she turned it over, and we saw a wind-up key on the bottom. I hadn’t noticed that it was a music box when I bought it. I’d been thinking, Just get her a dove. Mom wound the key, and the music began to play the theme from the movie Love Story. She burst into tears again, revealing to us, “That was our love song!” I never knew. Mom died a year later, and I fell heir to the dove. I never removed Mom’s tearstains. IMAGE: http://hostedmedia.reimanpub.com/Newsletters/REM/2009/05/images/rdrPelkeyBird.jpg?pmcode=##keycode## ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Poem: Infinite Treasures ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The Girl I Used to Be In 1985, Betty Sethman of Springfield, Missouri found this poem, written in her mother’s hand, in her mom’s cedar chest. Betty’s mother was born in 1899, the third child of eight, and married in 1918, when Betty’s father returned from World War I. They had six children, three of whom died quite young. One of their sons was killed in World War II. “I know ‘The Girl I Used to Be’ would have smiled at my mother,” says Betty. “My mother’s concern was for everyone but herself.” She came last night as I sat alone, “The Girl I Used to Be,” And gazed at me with her earnest eyes and questioned reproachfully. “Have you forgotten the many hopes and plans I had for you, “The great career, the splendid fame and the wonderful things to do? “Where is the mansion of stately heights and grounds surpassing fair, “The silken robe I dreamed for you and the jewels for your hair?” As she spoke, I was very sad, for I wanted her pleased with me, This slender girl from the shadowy past…The Girl I Used to Be. Then gently arising, I took her hand and guided her up the stairs, Where peacefully sleeping, my babies lay—innocent, sweet and fair. I told her they were my only gems, and precious they are to me. My silken robe is Motherhood of costly simplicity. My mansion of stately heights is love, and the only career I know Is serving each day in its sheltering walls for the dear ones who come and go. And as I spoke to my shadow guest, she smiled through her tears at me. I saw that the woman who I am now…pleased The Girl I Used to Be. —Author Unknown ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Over the Back Fence ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ A rich man on his way home from the airport following a business trip had this conversation with his chauffeur, Charlie. Rich man: “Anything happen while I was gone?” Charlie: “No…just the dog died.” Rich man: “That’s too bad. How’d he die?” Charlie: “He ate some dead-horse meat in the barn.” Rich man: “How did that get in the barn?” Charlie: “Well, the barn burned down and killed the horse.” Rich man: “The barn burned down! What started the fire?” Charlie: “The sparks from the house.” Rich man: “Sparks from the house! What’s been going on here?” Charlie: “Well, the candles burned the drapes and the flames shot up the wall to the roof.” Rich man: “What in the world are candles doing in our house? We’ve got electricity!” Charlie: “Well, the candles around your mother-in-law’s coffin burned the drapes.” Rich man: “My mother-in-law is dead! Charlie, what’s been going on?” Charlie: “Okay, boss, but I ain’t gonna tell you but one more time. Your wife wrecked the Cadillac, and when your mother-in-law found out about it, she had a heart attack and died. The candles around her coffin started the fire that spread to the barn and killed the horse, and the dog ate the meat and died. Other than that, nothing’s been going on around here.” —Marilyn Oslund Mackinaw City, Michigan ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Time Capsule Trivia ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ From the decades spanning the 1920s to the 1960s, try to guess what year these historic events took place. Click the link below for the answer, but no peeking! 1. President Franklin D. Roosevelt asks for a record $1.8 billion for defense and challenges the country to become “the arsenal of democracy.” 2. Badly outnumbered, the Royal Air Force somehow holds off the Germans in the Battle of Britain. “Says British Prime Minister Winston Churchill, “Never in the field of human conflict was so much owed by so man to so few.” 3. Popular movies include the sophisticated comedy The Philadelphia Story, the drama The Grapes of Wrath and the Alfred Hitchcock thriller Rebecca. 4. Hit songs of the year include When You Wish Upon a Star, All or Nothing At Al, Pennsylvania 6-5000, Back in the Saddle Again and The Last Time I Saw Paris. 5. On baseball’s opening day, Bob Feller pitches a no-hitter for the Cleveland Indians in one of his 27 victories for the season. For the answer to Time Capsule Trivia, click below. http://www.reminisce.com/2009/AM09/trivia.asp?pmcode=##keycode## ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ A Thought to Remember ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The best kind of wrinkle indicates where smiles have been. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 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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