“Turn back the Clock, I think not!”

By

Gerry Niskern

Every day or so Facebook runs a post called, “Do You Remember?” Last week they ran a photo of a kitchen from the 50’s era featuring the pregnant mother baking a pie with the happy child helping. There was a cloth covered table, canisters on the shelf and a wringer washing  machine in the tiny kitchen.

Thousands of responders replied wishing that we could “ turn back the clock “to those wonderful good old days.

GOOD OLD DAYS! Were they kidding? I had one of those  wicked, wringer washing machines. What the picture neglected to show was the two rinse tubs that went with the laundry job back in those days. After rinsing the clothes (or diapers, but that’s another depressing story),  then the clothes had to be put thru the wringer, all the while, hoping not  lose a  finger. (sometimes it was a crushed arm)

Of course, next came the fun part, lugging the heavy basket full  of wet clothes out and handing them on the line in the yard. If the line became too  heavy there was a post to lift the line a little higher.

The majority of today’s young mothers have access to great washer and dryers, not to mention many other household appliances that should make their  life easier. And it would, but what young mothers also have are full time jobs. It takes two salaries in today’s world.

As it turns out, since the beginning of the Pandemic a large part of the employed moms are working at home. That would be good except for the fact that the kids are attending “school at home” on their computers too. I know one young mother who is also a teacher, teaching her class from one room while her two boys are supposed to  be doing their classwork online in another room. Talk about juggling!

So, there are lots of good things to remember about the “Good old days”, but hooray for all the new labor saving devices developed since the 50’s. Today’s moms deserve every one of them; and the dads kind of like them too!

“Through a Writer’s eyes”

By

Gerry Niskern

I watched a good documentary recently titled “Let’s Pretend it’s a City”. The story featured the author Fran Lebowitz as she walked about New York and narrated her unique style of social commentary. I was interested in the city and the history of her life there, but the thing I found most interesting was her words of wisdom on reading. I  absolutely loved one statement of Fran’s. “When you learn to read, you are rich!” she declared.

I couldn’t agree more. I remember when I was a little kid and we would drive by a certain  building while in town. Someone would always say, “There’s the library.”  I was fascinated with the idea that there were “books” in that place. Then when we moved to Phoenix when I was ten and I learned that I could walk to the Phoenix Carnegie Public library alone and check out as many books as I could carry home. I  was in heaven.

The majority of kids are in a TV bubble now days. They learn to read in kindergarten because its required, but so many don’t fall in love with reading books. They don’t realize that reading all types of books helps them understand the world we live in. Books helps them communicate, stimulates their imagination. As a reader they are not bound by what the film maker show them a character to be, they can imagine whatever they want them to look like.

It is tough to think about, but in our country in the l800’s states were still passing laws  forbidding anyone to teach free African Americans to read or write. And actually as recently as the early l900’s the public libraries only allowed men to use and borrow books. Usually a room was set aside for the ladies to read, not borrow, some magazines.

The love of books runs deep in our family. One of my greatest joys has always been sharing books with the toddlers, and then continuing to share volumes with book worms in the family. I’ve used the library but loved the idea of owning my own. My book case never gets to overflowing because I always seem to be giving them away too!

The libraries were closed during the first months of the pandemic, and now it’s only drive -up, but friends of shared a lot. The love of reading has gotten many through the long months of Covid 19

And yes, we were indeed rich!.

“My Capitol”

By

Gerry Niskern

“Be very quiet” my dad whispered as our family took their seats in the United States Senate visitors gallery in the U.S. Capitol.  The year was l940, summertime.

Our senators were debating about passing the Selective Service Act. It was a controversial time as many of their constituents were against drafting our young men, but everyone knew we would probably soon be drawn into the war in Europe.

We left the Capitol through a tunnel, riding in some kind of a small powered vehicle, compliments of one of our congressmen from West Virginia. I don’t remember the details on that ride, but I vividly remember the rest of that summer trip to Washington, D. C.

My parents were planning to move to Arizona the next year and I recall my dad saying, “The girls may never get back this way again in their lifetime and we need to see to it that they see our nations capitol.” Back in those days people didn’t travel as frequently as now. ( The added bonus for me was always being the only student in class in Arizona to raise their hand when the teacher asked, “Has anyone seen the U. S. Capitol?”)

Of course, the first icon we spotted as we approached the city was that sacred, beautiful building, the Capitol. The  building that sits higher then everything. We each had our favorite place in the city. My sister loved the Washington monument because we got to climb the stairs to the top.

Mom loved the Lincoln memorial. The statue of Lincoln sitting there was breathtaking. It invoked a feeling of reverence and also, peace. The Jefferson memorial was just being constructed and we viewed it from a distance across a body of water.

We saw the White House, but I don’t remember visiting the inside, although we did tour George Washington’s home, Mount Vernon. We also enjoyed the Smithsonian. My dad loved getting to see Charles Lindbergh’s plane, The Spirit of St. Louis, handing over our heads.

Dad also wanted to take mom to see the Senators play. She loved sports as much as him. They had never seen a major league game before.  My sister was 12 and I was nine and we were on our own while they attended the game. There was a beautiful park nearby, and I think a zoo where we spent the day on our own in that wonderful city.

We left the next day. As we drove away I watched thru the rear view mirror as my favorite, the Capitol  building, faded in the distance.

Now, ten days ago, all these many  years later, I watched in horror and grief as our country was violated. Acts of violence were committed by Americans in the same marble hallways where we had walked. The peaceful transfer of power was stopped by  rioters incited by lies and untruths spread by the President and his enablers.

There is much work to be done by every citizen. Through discussions and solutions we need to learn respect for one another’s beliefs. Because our Democracy Is strong, On January 20^th there will be a lawful transfer of power in front of the capitol; your capitol  and mine!

“NOT WORTH A PENNY!”

When I think of coins, for some reason, I think of pennies first. You know, the pesky little coin that weighs down your purse, fills up your car console and that you tell the cashier to just keep.

Our government is talking seriously again of doing away with the penny. I, for one, think it’s a great idea.

The first “ copper”  I remember was the one I clutched tightly in my sweaty hand as I leaned against the candy counter while my mother did her weekly grocery shopping. I agonized over the candy corn, Hershey kisses and marshmallow bananas. Then again, I loved to get a pack of candy cigarettes. The cigarettes were cloyingly sweet, but how sophisticated I would be taking long draws and puffing in the back seat on the way home. Maybe I’d even blow a few smoke rings.

Later, around aged ten, that coin became more important and a source of humiliation.  When I was sent to the store with a dime for a loaf of bread that cost ten cents and a penny tax that made the total eleven, I knew I was in trouble. I would tell my mother, “Mom, the lady always says eleven cents”. She would simply say “No, you tell her it’s a sin to tax the daily bread”. And then she usually added, “After all, right is right”. I begged for that penny so I wouldn’t be embarrassed by the A. J. Bayless clerk. But my mother instructed,   “Just say, I’m sorry, my mother didn’t give me a penny for tax”

Years later I boarded a city bus carrying my chubby daughter and a heavy grocery sack full of pennies. The slow walk up Central Avenue in heels (because you always wore high heels when you went downtown), lugging the pennies and dragging the one year old to the bank was not easy. I remember it was summer and she kept trying to walk behind me in my shadow which made for really slow going.  I hated those pennies.

Her grandparents had given her a penny piggy bank at birth and filled it up over the year. I doubt that many kids get very excited over piggy banks nowdays.

Since the banks were only open during the week, I was expected to take her and her fortune to open a savings account in her name. It was some kind of family tradition, I guess. Anyway, again I was doing what everyone expected me to do but I was not too impressed with this ritual.

When the bus swished to a stop for our trip home all I had to do was hoist the husky

little girl clutching her savings book up the steps and sink gratefully into a soft seat for the ride home.

I say, get rid of those pennies.

By

Gerry Niskern

She goes by every day, sometimes twice. She’s about three months old and travels by stroller, escorted sometimes by siblings on scooters.

If I’m lucky enough to be out at the time her mother stops for a minute and  I’m rewarded with a perfect angels smile punctuated by two big dimples. “Can I touch her?” I asked. Her little bare foot felt like the finest silk. She was plump and perfect, but wait! When she realized her chariot wasn’t moving the angelic face turned into a cry.

Her grin brightens my day, but then I started thinking about something. With everyone wearing a mask babies don’t realize that you are looking kindly or smiling at them. You see, everyone knows that babies experience love and delight thru facial expressions.  Many articles have been written about babies having issues with emotional recognition and social interaction. I hope my new little friend sees my eyes smiling at her.

But smiling eyes are not just important for the many new babies this year.We have a brand new year starting today and we can all help make it a more pleasant and optimistic one.

Sure we will all still be wearing our masks for quite a while longer, but let’s stop complaining and make sure the eyes that people see above are smiling eyes.