“The Stir Stick”

By

Gerry Niskern

There used to be a running joke in our family about who will inherit the “stir stick”. Which offspring will be deemed worthy of the old pine stick that my grandmother, my dad’s mother,  used to stir her clothes in the laundry rinse water?   That piece of pine was bleached white and worn smooth as satin as she stirred the clothes round and round the old tubs till they were rinsed clean. She raised six children all alone by taking in laundry, with the help of that one small stir stick.

My own mother inherited the stick from her mother-in-law and used it many years. However, somewhere along the way the stick was retired, pushed to the back of a cupboard.  That probably happened when she purchased her first automatic washer.

She didn’t get a dryer though. Mom insisted on having the fresh breath of wind and sun on her towels and sheets. Actually, she didn’t take quickly to any new gadgets for the home. I wonder what she would have thought about the new cooking parties that the young homemakers are giving?

I can imagine Mom’s running commentary on the latest cooking tools.

As hostess carefully demonstrates how the new colanders can be used to drain not only pasta, but also canned peaches; I can just hear Mom saying, “What’s wrong with using the can lid like always?”

The innovative measuring cups have a cup on either end, so if one’s messy, you can use the other end. “Ever hear of measuring the dry first, then the wet?”

The new baking stones are touted to bake every cookie perfectly even. “But what if you have one kid like his cookies real soft, while another wants his dark and crisp. And then there’s dad who likes the date bars cut from the edge of the pan because they’re crunchier?”

The exhibition of the special onion chopper and handy tomato slicer would have brought the retort,  “use a knife.” When the hostess explains that the new garlic press can be used in a real emergency to crush bullion cubs.  Mom would say, “Make your own chicken broth, it’s better for you.”

Don’t even mention the improved spatulas that sell for thirteen dollars!  “Nonsense. Cake batter tastes just as good licked off a ninety-eight cent spoon.”

Something tells me those women of years ago who melted down their soap pieces on Sunday evening to get ready for Monday’s wash and saved their potato water to make gravy, wouldn’t be good ones to invite to today’s cooking parties.

Actually, if you look closely, some of  the old customs are new again.  Nostalgia is back in a big way. Young couples are snapping up the old Victorian homes. They’re hanging lace curtains and searching for handmade quilts.  Spinning wheels and butter churns are sought after items to place in the entry hall and Grandpa’s wicker rocking chair is on the front porch.

The latest trend is to knit your own afghans; some women’s magazines are now carrying complete instructions.  The sewing pattern industry is reporting a big comeback as stay- at- home Mom’s are buying sewing machines.

Cooking is back.  On kitchen stoves the size of small Volkswagens, today’s homemakers are simmering Thai stews and soups with Eastern-European flavors as they celebrate their ethnic backgrounds.

Everyone is embracing the “rootedness” of the home. They’re very keen on traditions. Parents desire a way of life they can pass on to their children.

The other day I saw some antique, hand decorated wash tubs hanging on a back patio. Since I’ve been hanging on to that old piece of bleached pine, I’ve been wondering, is it possible that we might see the return of the “stir stick?”

Nah.

“Outlaw the Fun!”

By

Gerry Niskern

Have you heard that the grade schools are banning contact sports at recess? Tag is only one of many games forbidden at most schools because there have been injuries with pushing and shoving. The parents are complaining.  It’s about time they have a ban on fun, in fact, its decades late.

This issue of contact games reminds me of one first grader in our family coming home and telling of how much fun it was to chase the little girls at recess. When asked what they did when then caught them. “We just chase them. He replied, horrified. “We don’t catch them!”

Then there’s dodge ball.  I speak on behalf of all the uncoordinated kids who were subjected to dodge ball humiliation.

My heart would jump to my throat, as a kid, when the teacher announced, “We are all going to play together this recess. The game is dodge ball.”  That meant the boys too; the hard hitters.

First she appointed two captains and then came the mortification of being the kid chosen last. The next insult was always being the one put out. By out, I mean a sizzling ball speeding towards my body while I instinctively froze knowing there was no escape

It’s a good thing my school didn’t play wall ball too.

Workup softball at lunch recess was a disaster too.   We had an hour, but the best players ate fast, raced to grab the bat and ball, and then claimed positions on the diamond. If, on the other hand, you were required to walk home for lunch you never made it back in time for more than a field position.  It’s just as well. The one time I got to pitch, I caught a speeding ball right in the teeth.

Is jump rope is considered a contact sport these days? Those whirling jump ropes can sting when they smack you. That’s was right before your knees hit the pavement.

Lot’s of friends in school tried to help me master the Monkey Bars. “Just grab hold and swing right and then left as you go across.”  I tried, I really did, but by the 3^rd grab, I was on the ground. No soft sand under the bars at our school,  just hard dried mud.

The kids in our neighborhood played “Ante, Ante Over” too. One  team was in our back yard and one team in front. The ball was launched over the roof, and if someone caught it, they would sneak around house and try to hit someone with it.  That’s right. That someone was usually me. Then you had to be on their team. Playing with my older sister and her friends, my only function was being the easiest target. Those balls stung pretty good too.

Mothers didn’t want to hear about how hard you got hit either. The phrase was, “If you are going to cry, I’ll give you something to cry about.”

Then there were jacks. An easy game, or so I was told. All you do is throw out the jacks on the sidewalk, then take the little red rubber ball in one hand and throw it up in the air, not too far. Before it comes down, pick up one jack and catch the little ball in the same hand before it bounces twice. That was called onsies. Next came twosies or so I hear. That’s about as far as I ever got.

Personally, I think they should outlaw jacks too

“The Face of Labor has Changed”

By

Gerry Niskern

Did you have any help preparing for the coming holiday that celebrates the working people in America? You probably had a lot more help from unseen workers than you realize. We all tend to take other peoples labor for granted, just like we take our country’s holidays for granted.

Our country’s unique national holiday came about because back in the late 1880’s around 10,000 workers in the garment industry walked off the job and staged a notorious strike in New York City. They demanded that common laborers in the United States have a day of recognition for their efforts.

Look around this Labor Day. Do you notice anything different? There is a lot of white hair out there. A fast growing number of the unseen workers are seniors. These older workers show up everyday, sometimes regardless of poor health. They see what needs done and they do it.

The people who hire seniors can’t say enough good things about them. They know they’re on time, with no call-in excuses of “the car broke down or the sitter didn’t show up.”

Do you know any of these people personally? Probably not, since they just melt into the blur of people who serve your needs as quickly as possible and get you on your way. When you do spot a senior on the job, remember that they are probably someone’s mom or dad, grandma or grandpa.

Most seniors didn’t expect to be working in what has always been described as their “golden years”. They’re working for various reasons. Many just plain need the extra income. Social Security doesn’t go far in this day and age. Others are stranded with no pension from life long jobs. Some were just unskilled or unlucky. As one fellow said to me, “By the time you can make ends meet, they’ve moved the ends!”

I recently attended a swim suit sale at one of our large department stores. The snowy hair on the sales lady was getting whiter by the minute as she tried to take care of the whole department by herself. When I overheard her say, “I’m getting too old for this!” I inquired about her age. She was 88.

Pat, a friend of mine, retired from the phone company a few years ago and is now a hostess at one of our local restaurants. “I ‘m working part time now in order to have money for traveling.

She went on to say, “I find that I have more patience because of my life experiences.  In the restaurant business, you have to learn to not take things personally. You’re there to serve the public”

Jim retired from a large company and drives a van for the guests at a resort. He gets along with the young guys just fine. That is, after he let them know they were not to refer to him as “the old man.”

Several Seniors mentioned the fact that they were better able to relate to their grandkids because of working with the younger set.

I knew  a distinguished gentleman by the name of Sam who was a Utility Person at AJ’s Preveyor of Fine Foods in Central Phoenix.  He was 77. Sam raised ten children, had nineteen grandchildren and five greats.  He’s retired from forty years with the U.S. Post Office; he always said,  “I’m a people person and I love this job.”

Every year when I asked him if he would be there on Labor Day, he answered cheerfully, “If it’s on Monday, I’ll be right here.”