They Carried
By
Gerry Niskern
When our family moved to Phoenix in 1942, we stayed in an auto court on West Van Buren while searching for a house. Mom sent my sister and me to the little Chinese grocery down the street every day to buy some items for dinner. The two teenage sons waited on us and what I remember most was how the young guys joked with us. They kept us entertained in our new town. The crackling of the paper bags blended in with our giggles as they sacked up our groceries.
Actually we soon learned that there were several Chinese grocery stores in little neighborhoods in Phoenix. They employed local kids for deliveries, sweeping and stocking. My husband worked for one down on West Lincoln and 19th Avenue. Turned out, my new best friend’s dad owned one of those grocery stores. Their’s was on West Madison and the family lived in the back.
Immigrants to this country have always found that starting a little grocery was a way to start earning a living. My mother used to tell about the Greek man, Mr.Darwishe, who came to town with a sack on his back selling small house hold items to the homemakers. Later on he had a good size grocery on the main street in town. As a child, my mother was sent to the store often. My grandmother refused to buy anything from the “Company Store”, with their bug infested food items, even though Grandpa’s pay was part vouchers for the company store.
When she was only six or seven years old, my mom would gather her items on the counter, climb up a ladder and take down the small receipt book with her family’s name and write down everything she was taking. Mr. Darwishe trusted her completely. Then when payday rolled around on Saturday her dad would go in and settle up with Darwishe.
Every year during the strike (the coal miners “went out” every year) Mr. Darwishe “carried “them, sometimes for three or four months. This was common practice in all the different ethnic grocery stores during those years around this country.
Years later, I remember as a new bride complaining when my young husband swung by Henry’s Chinese store to pick up some items. I wanted to do all our shopping at the big Safeway supermarket. Bult my spouse carefully explained, “Henry “carried” my folks when we first came to Phoenix and once during the Building strike. That’s why we should always come by Henry’s to pick up a few things.”
With the major strikes taking place right now in our country, I’m reminded of those many small grocers of all nationalities of years past. When asked, they almost always answered, “Yes, we carry.”

How Great is That?
By
Gerry Niskern
I sensed someone was watching me as I slept. I opened my eyes to see an excited little face peering down at me. “Hey Grandma Gerry, do you remember that game?” It was 5 A.M! My three-year-old grandson was referring to the game I had introduced him to the night before. Hi Ho Cherries. I think it’s safe to say that was the beginning of the long tradition of playing board games in our family.
I watched the adults play lots of card games when I was a kid, but I was introduced to my first board game, Monopoly, when I was around eight. It belonged to a friend. I loved it. My sister and I asked for that game for Christmas many times. It is still the most popular board game “world wide”. Years later, my youngest grandson loved it too, but I’m sorry to say that if he didn’t get to buy Boardwalk, the board, dice, markers and properties were launched into space!
As time went by we added many other games like Taboo, Scrabble, Gestures, etc. If our kids, grandkids or eventually great-grandkids brought a friend on a holiday and they liked to play games, that was good. We had a lively game called “spoons” and if a new girlfriend lost a fingernail and continued to play, well, she was a “keeper.”
Games were always a wonderful way for family members of all ages to connect. Ages eight to eighty sharpened their social skills and learned to get along together. Games lost favor for a long time, although not with our family. Everyone played on birthday celebrations, and every holiday. Then in the l990’s board games were discovered and became popular with the public again.
Of course, as our family grew and changed, new games were added, but games became less frequent. Covid was a major roadblock for get togethers but I still looked forward to a game or two on the big holidays.
A few weeks ago my great-granddaughter called. “Hey Grandma, we’d like to come over some Sunday and have a game day with you.” She and her older brother, (the off spring of the munchkin who woke me up to play Cherry-O’s all those years ago) and their significant others came over and we played game after game after game.
Those twenty-somethings included a part time Plastic Surgeon Tech, part time ambulance driver currently sending out applications to Med school, a Landscaper, an office administrator and a Physical Therapy student. They want to do it again soon.
How great is that?

“The Face of Labor has Changed”

By

Gerry Niskern

This previous column bears repeating!

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.
Another 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”
An older friend 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.”