Your Tax Dollars at Work

By

Gerry Niskern

I’m curious. Where would you go if the power in your area was out for 10 or 12 hours? Here in Phoenix that’s a legitimate question. If you didn’t have a friend or family member in another area to turn to, do you  know where to go? One person I posed the question to said simply, “probably a motel.” Easier said than done for many of our Phoenix residents.

The Pacific Northwest, Washington, Oregon and Northern California are right now bracing for triple-digit highs, threatening the lives of some residents. Just as in Phoenix and towns of the Southwest, underserved populations do not have the luxury of hiding from the heat by “checking into a motel”.

I vividly remember losing power one evening last summer around  8 o’clock. The temperature was still 106. After waiting a bit I drove to my son’s home in a different area. APS said power would resume around midnight. I drove home to find my neighborhood still completely dark. Then they estimated it would be back on at 8 in the morning. Back five miles to my sons for the night.

When it was over 110 and mostly 116-117 for several days this summer, I started thinking about that outage last year. I wondered if the City of Phoenix had plans for people to go if large areas went out.

I called the main city number and posed my question. I was passed to a department called We Care. They would know. The person answering said,  I have no idea, leave you name and number and we will get back to you; but Neighborhood Services would know. They transferred me. The lady there didn’t know of any plans for relief during outages, but leave your name and number and we will find out and get back to you.

Next I tried our district #3 council woman’s number. Her assistant said he knew of no plans for temporary shelter during a heat emergency, but leave my name and number. The last number I called was the Phoenix Fire Department main office. Same answer, “don’t know, leave your name and number.”

I hope the citizens in the Pacific Northwest have better luck finding answers of where to find cool places, temporary havens,  to go during unexpected outages.

I’m still waiting for those call backs.

Father’s Jobs, How They Have Evolved

By

Gerry Niskern

During my lifetime Father’s role has changed, and changed again, many times. According to statistics, before l980, 43% of American Fathers had never changed a diaper, and weren’t about to start!

Now, in the past year, for the first time, Huggies have started putting Dad’s picture on the box of Huggies. Think about that. The diaper company was catching up with real life. Dads not only purchased the diapers, they  used them.

You see, actually since WWll young fathers have chosen to try to have closer relationship with their children than they remembered having with their own fathers.

I knew a young father like that. My memories of his early days of becoming a Father are mine alone. My kids have their own memories of their dad during their childhood and the tumultuous teenage years. But they didn’t see the first time Father that I did.

When all of our friends were having their first babies, some were purchasing beautiful baby furniture, including really neat armoires to store their many baby items, and a tiny closet to hang their little dresses.  We couldn’t afford one. Instead, our Dad-to-be, purchased the wood and constructed our baby daughter her own armoire.

When our first born’s umbilical cord stump failed to drop off and continued to bleed a little when caught on a diaper, her Dad sterilized a

razor blade and cut it off; while I stood by pleading, “Be careful, be careful!”

He carried her around whispering words of comfort when the eight month old ran a high fever for several days.  he huddled with me on the kitchen floor one after noon when she finally dozed off, trying to be quiet because our floor squeaked badly. We whispered our greatest fear back then, Polio! Then after two trips back to the doctor, she finally broke out with measles. No parents have been happier to see their baby with measles!

And as each baby came along, he insisted they sit in a high chair at the table with the rest of the family at dinner. He patiently gave them tiny sips of milk from their little silver namesake cups during the meal. Before I knew it they were drinking with spills on their own. No Tippee cups needed.

Then most evenings he would get his screw driver and put back the louvers on the air vents that baby # 2 had loosened with his fingers during the day.

When baby # 3 had a very touchy stomach and many sleepless nights, his dad slept on the floor by his crib in his room so this Mom could get some rest.

That’s the first-time-father that I remember.

I had a birthday the other day and my #1 son and I went for ice cream sundaes, dessert first! The shop was in downtown Phoenix. It brought back memories of other ice cream shops in the valley over the years. One group who made their own delicious ice cream was Uptons. This piece ran as part of my Recollections Series that ran in the Arizona Republic. Hope you enjoy it.

Mary Brady remembers the Upton’s ice cream and candy shop on the north east corner of 58^th Avenue and West Glendale. She worked there in the early l940’s when she was a teenager.  Old Town Antiques and Kathy’s Corner Shoppe occupy that corner now.

“We were busy all day. We were swamped with kids after school, and on Saturdays when the farmers came to town for groceries, the place was jammed.  The highschool kids dropped by for ice cream after the school dances or  a movie date at the El Rey theatre that was right next door.” Rumor has it that Marty Robbins met his wife in Uptons.

“I remember my folks came in one day and I made them chocolate sodas. It was a treat they had never had before; they thought they were really good!”

Mary went on to describe the store with big windows on the front and a large circular counter. “I don’t remember what the surface was made of, but it had wide wooden trim all around.  We girls worked in the middle where the soda fountain was located. The store served a delicious sandwich called the Olive Club. It was ground ham and chopped ripe olives; it was brought in already made up by a vendor.  I’ve never been able to duplicate it.”

Mary and her fellow waitress, Rhea Aaron loved to play the jukebox. A new song came out around that time called, “All, or Nothing at All.” “We always put a dab of red nail polish on our nickels first. That way, when the fellow came in to collect the coins from the jukebox every week, he gave us back our nickels with the red paint on them.”

Mary recalls that she earned $18 dollars a week at Uptons in 1942 and 43. She got off at midnight and there was no car in the family so she had to walk home. “We lived about 2 miles away,

clear out on D street, which is Maryland now. My boyfriend offered to accompany me, but my mother didn’t approve of that arrangement either. When I stepped out on the sidewalk every night, there was my two younger brothers, grumpy and angry at me because they had to get out of bed and come downtown to chaperone us home.”

Social Tsunami

By

Gerry Niskern

A small social tsunami occurred last week in Central Phoenix.

There is a haven in Central Phoenix that draws people from all walks of life. Young and old gather under the umbrellas at the outdoor coffee and lunch place. Old friends gather to catch up on the news. Sales people huddle with a new client. The construction guys in their vivid neon vests and hard hats stop for a welcome break.

Boisterous students converge on the spot on Fridays to celebrate the end of the school week. They block the doorways and take up lots of tables enjoying their freedom. Their antics are  fun to watch.

I’ve watch at least two former Phoenix Mayors have informal meetings at this relaxed, calm gathering place. Nannies from nearby homes take a break while their charges delight in the birds. “Ladies who lunch” trip in on their stilettos to pick up special lunch orders. Medical staff from nearby surgicenters come in their scrubs.

This haven with its warm, homey feel also attracts people looking for a chance to get out of their own place. Widows and widowers, divorcees,  actually anyone alone looking for some company. There is always someone to strike up a conversation with or just hang out with a drink and watch the passing parade of ethnic groups resembling any large metropolitan city.

Everything changed a few days ago when a handful of regulars were told they were only allowed to stay for one hour! This came as quite a blow to those long time patrons. Confusion and resentment coursed  thru the social network of friends.

Fortunately, some phone calls to the business headquarters clarified the situation. Vagrants and panhandlers were discouraged,  but of course, the regular old time customers were welcome all the time! It seems an overzealous security employee  was really the problem.

The daily gathering of humanity can continue and I’m sure the recently departed “home town grocer” would agree.