Make New Friends, but Keep the Old

By

Gerry Niskern

A friend is a person you meet who likes you for what you are, not what you have done. They see beneath to outside shell to the real you, and they like you, anyway!

I lost my best friend last year. After 62 years, he can never be replaced. Many long time friends are gone too  and I  need to make new ones,  but it is HARD!

I think back to some friends that I had as a kid and how easy it was. In first grade I spent all  my recesses  See-Sawing with a little boy named Matthew. Unlike most of the other boys in our little country school, he was quiet and easy-going. He had rosy cheeks, blue eyes, and blond curly hair. Years later, when my third child was born I saw rosy cheeks, blue eyes, and a a wisp of blond hair. I knew immediately his name would be Matthew.

In Junior Hi my best friend was an early bloomer. Much to my mother’s dismay, she introduced me to the latest hit songs, the current dance steps, and boys! Since her mother worked, she had lots of chores to do. We cooked all kinds of food and she let me bake my first cake. Scariest of all, she helped me lay out a pattern on material I bought with baby sitting money and taught me how to sew a dress.

Our best friends are the ones who encourage us to strive and achieve. They bring out the best in us. The great comfort of a true friendship is that you have to explain nothing. You just know.

Lucky is the parent whose adult children have grown into adult friends. They talk in an easy shorthand, breaking into each others thoughts, without having to clarify or explain.

I’m thinking of the old Girl Scout song that goes,, “Make new friends, but keep the old. One is silver, the other gold” I couldn’t say it better myself!

“History is not a Blank Canvas!”

By

Gerry Niskern

There’s a street in our city that calls to you. It’s a place where we all feel comfortable. The old trees and stately homes that line N. Central Avenue beckon now just as they did when I was growing up here in Phoenix. Our Sunday drive always ended with our pleas of “Dad, drive up North Central!” The old trees on both sides of the boulevard met in the center forming a tunnel. The cool green shade gave us the feeling of being underwater in this desert town.

New homes in the suburbs are built to fit the budget and dreams of their buyers, but sometimes the buyer longs for a place that reflects another time. They want some connection to the past so they get it through location. More and more homebuyers are attracted to the green setting of North Central.

That means different things to different people. The houses on N. Central reminds some buyers of their grandparent’s house, front porch or yard.  Today, as modern life presses in everywhere, they like the idea of returning to the old home place.

Do you recall a couple of years ago the city passed an ordinance creating an overlay to protect the old olive trees on either side of central, the bridle path and the street too?  The ancient Olive trees were protected. There could be no more selling of the large estates in order to build multiple new homes on one piece of property. And not a moment too soon.

Now, however, each morning when I walk the dirt bridle path, along with the sound of water gurgling in the irrigation ditch and the chirping of birds, I hear the sound of hammers and drills. The smell of fresh lumber, fills the air. A different type of change is taking place along the  avenue.  One by one the older homes a being totally remodeled. They are stripped down to foundation and possibly the fireplace.

Ninety per cent of the home is demolished and then new floors are added, expansive new configurations are formed. Some parts of the homes now even have a second floor. New owners want their three car garages and deluxe master baths.

North Central Avenue has always had a variety of style homes, from luxurious Spanish Colonials to sprawling Ranch varieties. The one- of -a -kind properties were loved and cherished, sitting quietly among trees, flowers and solitude. The old Olive trees and bridle path were protected, but not the homes.

The homes nestled along North Central are unique. The people who buy these homes are really guardians of history. But is history a blank canvas?

Arizona Valenine

By

Gerry Niskern

We all know the only sight more gorgeous than the golden glow of an Arizona sunset is a delicate desert sunrise of silvery pinks.   But did you know that our beautiful state is celebrating its 103^rd  birthday this month?  On Valentines day, February 14^th, 1912, President Taft signed the bill granting statehood to Arizona.

The Spanish claimed this land until the Gadsden Purchase created the Arizona Territory. Way back before then, the only inhabitants of Arizona for thousands of years were the Native Americans. They were Navajo, Apache, Zuni, Hope, Pima, and Papago, to name just a few of the many tribes.

We know the early settlers arrived in covered wagons; but do you know how your first family arrived?  Our family, on the other hand, came to Arizona in a 41 Plymouth. We piled into the car in Moundsville, W. Va,  and crossed the United States, taking time to see America on the way.  In that wartime summer of 1942 Dad often stopped to pick up young soldiers, sailors and marines on leave who were hitching their way home across the country or back to their base. We stopped to see an uncle stationed at an Army base in Texas.

Everything was fine until we came through the mountains of Eastern Arizona.

Then my dad said, “We’re getting close to Phoenix”. Then we stopped fighting in the back seat and sat up and paid attention.  First we came to Globe. Our hearts sank. We dropped down through the little mining towns of Miami and Superior and our hearts sank even lower. Is this what Arizona towns looked like? Soon we were on the hot desert floor in the middle of an Arizona August and on the home stretch. We prepared for the worst.  Finally, we were on Van Buren Street in Phoenix.  There were Palm trees and orange trees. And  cute motels, parks and grass, lots of grass! It was wonderful!

Ken  used to tell  a different story about his family’s introduction to Arizona.  His family traveled from Texas to our great state of Arizona in a 1933 Ford on Route 60 also.

“As we descended down the mountain, instead of putting the car into second gear, Dad rode the brakes. By the time we reached the bottom, they weren’t holding and smoke was pouring out.  It’s a wonder the whole car didn’t burn up”.

He always concluded, “If you are ever up that way on highway 60 look down into the canyon below. You will see remnants of the old highway we traveled in the l940’s. It is quite a sight.”

Both our families, like thousands of others, came for health reasons, as did the family of a friend of mine. She was five when they rode the train from Arkansas in 1942. She remembers an uncle meeting them at Union Station in Phoenix.  “ He drove us to Mondo’s farm out in the Glendale area where my dad was going to work. It was on 67^th Ave, South of Northern. When I got out of the car the first thing I saw was a huge mound of carrots. I ran and jumped right in the middle of them. Imagine my surprise when I sank to the bottom of an irrigation ditch full of water. Vegetables were routinely thrown in the ditch for cleaning.  If it hadn’t been for the quick thinking of a farm lady who was hanging out her clothes, I wouldn’t be here today. I don’t remember that woman’s name, but thanks goodness she saw me and jumped in to pull me out!”

Almost everyone remembers how they arrived in Arizona, but, whatever your story and  reason for coming, don’t you love it? Happy Valentine’s Day Arizona!

“Cookies, Cookies Everywhere!”

By

Gerry Niskern

Guess what? I found the cookies! Or I guess I should say, I found the Thin Mints, Smores, Tagalongs, and all the other sweet delights and the Girl Scouts selling them.

When cookie selling season started I started dreaming that maybe, just maybe some ambitious girl would make it all the way up to my street, like they used to years ago. But it was not to be. So I started watching the grocery stores hoping to see their table set up on Saturday. They are refused many locations these days because of “liability” concerns.

You see, I have a special spot in my heart for the Girls. When I was in the fifth grade at Jackson School a Girl Scout troop was formed; called troop # Eleven. Our leaders name was Miss Curlee, a second grade teacher. I’m sure the poor lady got the short straw, but lucky for us, she was young and pretty. All the other teachers looked to be over 100 to this fifth grader. Our dues were 2 cents per week.

My main Christmas present that year was a Girl Scout uniform. They cost a whopping three dollars.  And since I was the only one lucky enough to have one first, I got to represent our troop in the annual Rodeo Parade that year. We all stood on a wagon trying to keep our balance on a very bumpy ride down Central Avenue.

I enjoyed all the scouting experiences, but the thing that I was most excited about and really my main reason for joining was that I was going to get to sell cookies door to door. They were plain vanilla, with the Girl Scout emblem on the top.

When I took my boxes home and my mother heard the price, (25 cents), she said, “Absolutely not! I wouldn’t think of letting you ask the neighbors to buy a box of cookies for 25 cents when they can buy the same for ten cents at the grocery store”

In those days, that was that. CASE CLOSED!

Sure you can find less expensive cookies, but that’s not the point, is it? Why not support the organization that develops girls of courage, confidence and character worldwide? The Girl Scouts don’t ask for donations. They get out and hustle.

The girls promise “to help other people at all time:, and THAT YOU WILL LOVE THEIR COOKIES!