“Labor With Love”

By

Gerry Niskern

Labor Day was the signal of the end of the season at my parents business each year.  They started their small manufacturing plant and retail store where they produced evaporative cooler pads and sold new coolers and parts here in the valley in l950.

At that time, the majority of residents used evaporative coolers.

When they opened, my dad, a time study engineer, had everything planned down to the last detail. The retail store was in front and in the large back facility he positioned    work tables, the rolls of cheesecloth and bales of shredded aspen needed. Every motion was planned down to the last detail.

When they placed the first ad for “unskilled” seasonal workers, only women applied. Some were Anglo and one was Mexican. They exchanged ideas on life and families as they worked together making the pads, laughing and talking.  Heating and Cooling service men would stop by for parts and pads and kid around with the workers. Of course, they had to keep it quiet when the Spanish program was broadcasting the daily soap opera.

Ernestina, the original Mexican lady returned to work year after year. In the off season she worked at Phoenix Linen supply. Her husband worked a seasonal job at Anderson-Clayton cotton gin. They were raising four children in a home with a dirt floor and outside shower. All four kids eventually graduated from ASU.

Most of the Anglo women who applied only worked one season for something special they wanted to buy for their home. Nellie, the second Mexican lady, came the second year. She worked at a bathing suit factory in the off season. She made fresh tortillas every morning for her family and always brought some to share.

One African American lady was their shaker for a few seasons. She shook and fluffed the damp excelsior so the women could grab loose handfuls more easily. They never had another shaker as good.

Mom hurried from the customers up front to the back room helping and supervising the women.  She made them fresh coffee at break time which she served with liberal doses of her views on morals, democracy and whatever she had baked the night before.

As years went by the Anglos went on to better jobs and more Mexicans women answered their ads. Mom eventually learned some Spanish and they learned English.

By Labor Day, the season was over. Come the New Year, the help wanted ad ran again and the chance for honest labor was offered: No matter what your ethnic background or legal status. No one cared.

“Roll those Dice!”

By

Gerry Niskern

Did your family have a chance to play any new board games this summer while the kids were on vacation? I’m sure just about every family has new video and computer games to enjoy, but I’m talking about good old-fashioned games that the whole family can play together. You know, the games the family used to play before they started sending the kids off into the other room with their  electronic games.

Yes, there are always a few quarrels and fights among siblings, let alone their competitive dads, but that’s part of the fun. The camaraderie that develops as the family members confront and challenge each other verbally can’t be achieved any other way.

There’s a variety of new games out each year. These amusements help the kids develop skills and knowledge. They learn about planning strategy and how to reason. They learn to compete by using their own creativity. There is a family favorite of ours that is called Gestures, really just another form of Charades. Everyone has fun acting out words. They get a chance to perform in front of others, which most kids don’t get a chance to do enough in school these days. Even the youngest family member can try to guess the words mimed by the other participants.

When you think about it, it’s really all about competition. How does your family compete? It’s easy to be a gracious winner, but sometimes the art of being a good loser needs a little cultivation. Where better than within the family circle?

My sly grandmother knew about competition. She used our competitiveness to her advantage as my cousins and I gathered in her kitchen on winter evenings. She dumped a stack of dry corncobs on the rug. Each child was given a cooking pot and told to see who could shuck the most corn. The only prize was just the bragging rights of being the one who had the most corn in his pot, but there was one thing for sure. Grandma always had plenty of corn for her chickens throughout the winter.

Any intellectual amusement helps develop skills and knowledge that can be used many times in life.  Early child development educators are coming out with more books touting the value of free, creative play for children before the age of five. Many old favorites that families play fall in the creative category.

When the eight-year-old and the eighty-eight year old are both playing on the same team, something neat happens. The child learns that Grandpa really knows a lot! By the same token the Grandpa gets to communicate on a level playing field with the child. When grandpa shares his knowledge of finances  they will realize their mutual dreams of becoming real estate tycoons in Monopoly. One positive result is a young person who is able to communicate with Seniors easily throughout his life.

When new boyfriends or girlfriends are invited for a family gathering, the important question to ask them is, “Would you like to join our game?” If they are willing to try something new, work as a team player or be a gracious loser, they’re a “keeper”.

We are heading into the holiday season and lots of family gatherings. What a great opportunity to play some games that bridge the generations.

I once read a saying that stated: “You can learn more about a person’s character after an hour of game playing than you can in a lifetime of conversation.”

“What did you give the kids?

by

Gerry Niskern

Do you remember when you were first learning to read? Were books fun or  boring?  If there had been computer games, waiting at home, what would you have headed for first?

I remember my first reader. I was so thrilled when the teacher said we could take our books home and read only the next five pages. I couldn’t stop. I raced through the whole book. I got into big trouble when I enthusiastically mentioned the ending the next day to my teacher. Fortunately, today’s teachers are more likely to encourage rather than discourage runaway readers. Most teachers push their students and have high expectations of them.

We hear a lot about kids being different today. They are no different now; they’re only responding to what they are offered. They also mimic what they see us doing.

Do you enthusiastically talk about your latest read? Do they hear you comparing notes or swapping volumes with friends?

To put it another way, do your kids or grandkids see you watching TV, at the computer playing games, or other electronic driven pastimes in your leisure? Another question, how many books did you buy for the young ones this past Christmas, on their birthday or just because?

Now answer this, how many electronic games did you buy?

While we’re having this pop quiz, did the baby receive tons of toys that come with computer chips inside where pushes a button to see it light up, talk or move?  How many books did he receive? Those early months are when they should be developing their love of pictures and later the written word. These books need to be available from birth. They come in cloth or with extra thick and can be read with you as soon as they can focus on the pictures.  The little one can touch it, feel it, even taste it if an overwhelming urge strikes him.  While you are reading, his imagination is being nurtured and feed. Everyone knows that children who are read to, usually become good readers.

I don’t know if you have noticed, but the toy stores have a very limited amount of books these days. Each child is unique, and some will actually choose a book over a toy if given a choice.   Do you alternate a trip to the toy store with a trip to the bookstore the next time? Children need to be guided in that direction if we want to have good readers. Their curiosity and imagination have to be constantly encouraged. What better way than to have a new book to read? The young reader’s fertile imagination can conjure up the appearance of all the characters in the book, and wonderful images will form in his mind as he reads.

More importantly, reading provides a quiet respite in hectic young lives. They need to get away from our frantic world and turn real pages. I’m sure everyone remembers a special teacher in school who read to the class for twenty minutes or so every day. A chapter a day; you could hardly wait. Let’s face it. Teachers haven’t changed as much as the world has changed. They still read to the students in the early grades, but it’s an electronically driven universe. It’s getting more and more difficult to keep children’s attention and create the excitement of a good book. Given a choice, most children will go for the electronic games. Why not, they’re fun.

At the last baby shower I attended I brought a little boxed set of Laura Ingalls Wilder books. I thought may her imagination carry her down to Plum Creek and out across the prairie as far as she cares to read. It’s a start!

“The Yellow School Bus”

by

Gerry Niskern

They’re big and cumbersome. Annoying, actually. They block our view and slow us down when we are trying to get across town in a hurry.  Every neighborhood is invaded by them around the middle of August.  Yellow school buses.

You can be sure that sitting on one of those buses that you are trapped behind, is a wide-eyed child just starting school. He is finally going to read!  His world is expanding and he is rushing to meet it through education.  Many children start dreaming of riding the school bus right after they receive their first Fischer Price school bus toy when they are toddlers. They placed their little pretend person in the front seat, because, of course, that is where they will ride to school when they are old enough.

I know.  I had those some illusions myself about riding in the front of the bus. Each school morning when I boarded the bus bound for our little country school I was sure that would be the day I  would finally get to ride in the front seat,  across from the driver.  Every time I climbed up those  steep steps,  I looked up to see our bus driver’s own  two little girls sitting smugly in the coveted seat. Just like Charlie Brown kicking a football, I didn’t stand a chance.

When I got to the school that first day, there wasn’t room for all the beginners.  Around forty children were crowded into twenty little desks.   Every year the farmers’ wives sent all their little ones, even three and four year olds, hoping for a miracle and the school would let them start first grade. The poor teacher had to weed out the ones that were too young and send them home.

Then, there was Charlie. I don’t remember his last name, but I will never forget his ingenuity at avoiding the whole issue of starting to first grade. He came on the bus with his older siblings as he was supposed to do. However, at recess time, he made a break for it. He slipped out of the schoolyard and walked home.  His father brought him back. He placed Charlie firmly in his seat and turned to put his lunch pail on the shelf. By the time he turned around Charlie was already out the door ahead of him. We kids watched in fascination as the crying little boy and his frustrated daddy went through the same routine time after time. I don’t remember who won, but something tells me it wasn’t Charlie.

I followed a bus out of our neighborhood the other morning. Seeing some of the excited Hispanic children boarding reminded me of the story my mother always told about her first day of school. The bus ride was fun and her sister directed her to the first grade room.  When class started, she concentrated as hard as she could, but she understood very little that the teacher was instructing them to do.  She remembers gulping back tears as she smoothed her freshly ironed dress with sweating palms. She tried to copy the alphabet as the teacher was indicating. Most of the other little German, Polish and Hungarian children were having just as hard a time struggling to understand. These offspring of immigrant parents played at home, just as my Austrian mother did, and didn’t learn English until they started to school. They all eventually learned English,  and were reading by the end of the year, but it was very hard.

I’m sure we all agree that whatever grade the kids on that slow yellow bus are in they deserve a safe ride to school. Please remember, when a bus is stopped, stop sign out or not, do not pass.

By the way, when I played school bus with my little great-grandson, he always  took the red-haired boy and I got to be the yellow headed girl. And I confess, I  always grabbed that front seat!