Two Princesses
By
Gerry Niskern

When I heard on Thursday that Queen Elizabeth had passed away one thing popped into my mind……Paper Dolls!
Many years ago my sister and I shared a wonderful big book of paper dolls (look it up) of the two little English princesses. We were in seventh heaven. Imagine! Two little princesses who were sisters and best of all, they were almost our ages. Elizabeth was two years older then my sister and Margaret Rose was two years older than me.
We punched out their cardboard figures and carefully cut out each wonderful outfit they were to wear. Our imaginations took over as we played with the dolls. Many scenarios took place as we imagined their lives and acted them out. Coronations, Royal Weddings, Baptisms; we did it all.
Just one thing though; I never got to be Elizabeth, the future Queen, because as my sister told me repeatedly, “She’s my age, the oldest, so I am Elizabeth and you have to be the little sister, Margaret Rose.” Big sisters have to make tough calls, I guess. We played dress up and pretended, dreamed of being a princess ourselves some day. We heard bits and pieces about the English princesses lives during WWII on the radio, in news reels at the movies, and in anything we could get our hands on to read. We learned that as a toddler Elizabeth had some reins attached to her crib so she could sit and pretend she was riding her pony anytime she wanted. We also learned that her nanny of many years was instructed to always wear brown or grey so she wouldn’t detract from the sisters costumes in public.
We knew that the girls stayed at Windsor, just outside of London during the bombing. Their parents stayed at Buckingham Palace. We heard the broadcast by Elizabeth to the many English children who were sent away for safety by their parents.
Later, we read all about Elizabeth and Phillip’s wedding and then when she became Queen we watched her Coronation on television. At last we could see her life in real time. We watched it all as we were growing up and became mothers just as she did. As the years went by, we were aware of her children’s marriages, divorceses and the heartbreaking rifts that occurred in her family as they do in the lives of all little girls who dream of being princesses and grow up to become mothers too.
Elizabeth and Margaret Rose, lived their life in public view. Elizabeth served her time as Monarch with propriety and steadfastness and had to make some tough calls. She didn’t allow her younger sister to marry the man she loved, Peter Townsend. He was a divorced man and as the Queen she couldn’t allow it according to the church. She took a ton of flak for that call. When England recently celebrated her Platinum Jubilee and the Royal family appeared on the balcony of Buckingham Palace she didn’t allow Prince Andrew, Prince Harry and Megan to appear there with the other “working Royals”. Another tough call by the older sister.
Margret Rose’s big sister died this year and my sister did too

“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, the first of many Mexican women who worked there. No one cared if they were illegal, had green cards, or were born here.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 down if 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 Black 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

Come on, Take the Quiz
By
Gerry Niskern

We all run into the “Do You Remember?” quizzes from time to time. Usually they’re fun and you end up feeling really smart, or very old!
I decided to make up one of my own. My quiz is a little different because some items have a little story too.
l. Do you remember salesmen coming to your house hoping to sell your mom some “Jewel Tea or Coffee”. Or do you remember men coming around every so often offering their sharpening services for your household’s knives or scissors. I do.
Did the doctor come to your house when someone was sick? Yes, the family doctor actually did come! And by the way, do you remember the metal braces they recommended to put on the elbow of a toddler who wanted to continue sucking his thumb. The brace kept the poor baby from bending his arm to put his thumb into his mouth, until he broke the habit……… Supposedly.
Did your house have plenty of ash trays, in case the doctor wanted to put out his cigarette? And did your coffee table have a cigarette box, full of cigarettes, for guests?

And speaking of coming to your home, do you remember the Vegetable Man who drove his truck down the alley behind your house with fresh veggies and fruit for sale every couple of days?
2. Did you or your sister have a Hope Chest? Years ago, almost every young girl wanted a hope chest to start saving linens and other items for the day she was married. They were about the size of a large trunk, made of beautiful wood, and Cedar lined.
3. Do you remember your mom whitening the summer shoes with the little bottle of white liquid with the sponge on top, usually on Saturday night , for Sunday church.?
4. Do you remember standing on the large floor vent from the furnace on a cold winter night? And do you remember cleaning the wallpaper every year with the large wad of spongy cleaner ( it resembled Pla-do). It was pink and came in a can. When it got too dirty, you grabbed another wad.
5. Do you remember the Spittoons? They were a large, round receptacle, placed on the floor, usually made of Brass. The spittoons were about eight or ten inches across the opening. Men who used chewing or dipping tobacco used to spit into them, sometimes from some distance away. My grandma had one in the corner of her large kitchen for my grandpa and uncles. Gross!
6. Do you also remember when men carried large handkerchiefs and women carried dainty, embroidered “hankies”? They all had to be washed and ironed every week. Thank your lucky stars for Kleenex.
7. Popping corn over the coals in the living room fireplace was easy with the long handled wire basket was fun. Do you remember doing that?
8. Did you make some serious decisions in front of the large glass “Penny “ candy counter at the grocery store? You might only have three pennies, but if some items were “two for” or “three for”, you could come away with quite a bag full.
And remember when your dad bought ice cream? The clerk had to pack the ice cream into quart size boxes ( similar to the carons Chinese food comes in) and if he was a good guy he would leave the flaps up and pack it to the top of them?
And best of all, do you remember the Eskimo Pies? Chocolate covered ice cream on a stick with a gimmick. Every once in a while when you finished licking the wooden stick, the word free would appear. That meant you could march right back in and get another one!
Do you have memories of any of these things? …………Of course you don’t.

“Charlie’s Last Stand”
By
Gerry Niskern
Charlie’s dad carried the kicking, crying six year old back into the first grade room. He jammed him firmly into the seat of the wooden school desk and before he could turn to leave, the little overall clad boy was out the door in front of him. Earlier that morning Charlie came on the bus that first day of school with his brothers, but later, when his dad was driving to work along Rural Route # 1, he saw Charlie running down the highway headed home. As a first grader too, I watched dumb founded as Charlie’s dad brought him back and he escaped, again and again and again. The teacher of that classroom, consisting of two rows of first grade and two rows of second grade, was Mary Jane Crowe. Miss Crowe, fresh out of college, was speechless.
I guess I’d have to say that scenario is my vivid memory of the first day of school. I remember looking forward to starting first grade with my Big Chief table and brand new pencil; I also had a new orange, metal lunch bucket that my dad had scratched out “Gerry” on the lid. I couldn’t understand why Charlie didn’t want to stay. Homesickness hit me later when the long day became too long. I caught the bus (mothers didn’t take you on first day) at eight in the morning and back home again at four in the afternoon as there was only one bus and two runs per day; all ages together.
Today most kids have been to nursery or pre-school and are used to being away from home, but that wasn’t the case years ago. Stepping out of the comfort of home into a new and unknown world was scary. For some it was a day they will never forget and some would really like to.
My mother often told us about starting school in the little mining town where she lived. She remembered sitting there in her scratchy, starched best dress and trying her best to understand what the teacher was saying and trying not to cry. She and the others kids couldn’t understand a word! There were German, Italian, Austrian, Greek, Hungarian, and many other ethnic groups, none of whom spoke English. The practice of immigrant families was to keep the little ones close to home. The teacher was a kind and sweet lady, and her job was to have them speaking and reading English by the end of the year. And she did!
The second part of her story was about she and a new little girlfriend spying an apple orchard next to the school yard. One day after school they climbed the fence and were enjoying some of the big, red apples when their teacher saw them. She gave them a lecture about not touching other people’s property and the “kind and sweet” lady proceeded to turn each one across her knee and spank them!
My Resident Historian used to tell me about his first day of school in the dusty, little town of Muleshoe, Texas. His class was in line and the front door to the school was locked. He went over to peck on a window to let someone know and his teacher grabbed him, and in his words, “beat the hell out of me!”. He didn’t understand what he had sone wrong, but to “add insult to injury” on that day, it was announced that Texas was starting Kindergarten and all the six- year- olds had to go back and take Kindergarten first. Then he always shrugged and said , “Hey, it was Texas. What do you expect?”
Lots of readers have memories of the first day. # one son remembers the wild ride on the school bus with a grumpy driver that didn’t worry about jostling the kids around in their seats. He watched the driver graze a pole and take off a side mirror of the bus. Another friend remembers dragging her son, kicking and crying, out of the car and into the school room where the teacher grabbed hold and dragged him on in for the whole first week. Then the wise older teacher suggested that he might like to walk to school “like a big boy” with his brother and his friends. That did the trick.
One little beginner, an old friend of mine, laughs about his first day. He and another boy slipped out a side door and hid all day under some bushes until it was time to go home. After a couple of days of hiding and no lunch, they both decided maybe school wouldn’t be so bad.
School has changed for the better. Don’t you agree?

Off She Goes
By
Gerry Niskern
August is looming and Grandmas are out shopping in full force. School will be starting soon and “those kids need new clothes”. Some lucky grandkids will love choosing their own new “rags”, especially the girls.
My great-great granddaughter is starting Kindergarten this year and her grandma’s are busy ordering the outfits she has chosen online. Shoes, tights, dresses, coats and even a new backpack are on their way.
Back when I bought her daddy some new outfits for school, around age 7, he thanked me politely. Then he said, “I’m not going to wear them the first couple of weeks. I’ll just wear my regular clothes because I want everybody to know the real me.” We’ll see if the little great-great is as democratic as her daddy was.
Years ago when my first granddaughter started Kinder, she chose a black denim skirt and she was not happy when I wouldn’t buy it. I didn’t think little girls should wear black, but turned out I was wrong. Half the girls in her class were wearing something black that first day. Needless to say she didn’t get her smart fashion sense from me!
When my own daughter started school, I made a trip to Penney’s and bought three new dresses to alternate every other day. And when I started first grade, eons ago, I was well supplied with some hand-me-downs from an older cousin. But I was actually very lucky because her mother always bought her Shirley Temple dresses and they were what every little girl longed for!
School clothes have changed over the years, but there is one thing that hasn’t changed. We, parents, grandparents and everyone want the beginners to have a wonderful experience in the school years. We can’t buy that for them, but can only trust that they are ready to learn and enjoy their school years. My little great-great is self confident and out going, but kind and helpful too.
She’s off to a good start!

“Arizona River Cruise Line”

By

Gerry Niskern

This was from a column of mine in the Arizona Republic a few years ago: Revised

Is your family thinking of taking a cruise this summer? Have you sent for all the brochures and picked out an interesting itinerary? Before you make any hasty decisions, let me suggest you enjoy an Arizona River Cruise.
The residents and visitors of Phoenix have been tubing down the Salt and Verde Rivers for a long, long time. Before all the dams were built, the two rivers flowed wide and full. As soon as there were old patched inner tubes available, there was a way to cool off in the Arizona heat in July. Before Resorts or even RV’s, Arizona families used to spend their vacation camping along the rivers.
Unlike the mandatory fashionable wardrobe for an ocean trip, let me describe the proper attire for a river cruise. No matter which river you choose, you will need a bathing suit, a pair of cut off jeans; (to keep your backside protected from submerged logs and sharp rocks.) You’ll also need some old tennies, sun block, sunglasses, and a hat. The tubes heat up in the Arizona sun, so a towel to drape over the sides is a good idea too.
Typically, when our extended family took our annual cruise on the Verde River every summer, it went something like this.
Grandpa couldn’t swim so he didn’t join floating party. He trucked the inner tubes to the river and met us down stream at the end of the day. Grandma’s Romel style straw hat had a bill. She wore it like the general when she directed the launching of our summer river cruises.
In the middle of July, it wasn’t necessary to be a good swimmer, just a strong walker. You were always glad you had your tennies on when you had to swing your leg down inside the tube and push off against the rocks if you were grounded. In no time at all, you would be bobbing along with the current.
Our kids, along with their cousins, wiggled into their tubes, clomped down the muddy bank and with a whoop and a holler, were on their way. They delighted in the heady freedom of being allowed to go on ahead of the grown-ups.
The water was pure and cold. It felt like melted snow against our hot skin as we floated away, one by one.
We cruised the low, clear river over water sculptured rocks in ever changing moods and colors. As the desert glided by, we passed Mesquite, Palo Verde and an occasional stand of giant Cottonwoods, their green and yellow foliage hanging over deep green pools.
Invariably, as we floated by, we were ambushed by a band of river pirates dropping from the branches above. Waves swamped our river craft and grinning kids who looked familiar popped to the surface. Sooner or later, one of the river pirates asked grandma for a safety pin to hold up his bathing suit; or another needed a Band-Aid. Grandma provided the items without fail from her waterproof plastic purse. You name it, she had it.

We floated on past little hidden pockets of lush vegetation. Blue herons swooped above the trees and settled on their skinny legs in the shallow water. Meanwhile, the strong, sentinel mountains held the brooding July thunderheads at bay.
Later, we sailed into a deep, green pool. Shouts and splashes echoed from the nearby cliffs as kids cannonballed off huge rocks. Tiny rainbows arched through the sprays of water.
One uncle always took along Sparky, their family dog. On one trip, he decided to let the little pug enjoy the river because, according to him, “all dogs know how to swim”. Sparky immediately sank like a rock in twelve feet of water. While his wife screamed, he abandoned ship and dove repeatedly, finally saving the drowning dog. Later, when it was time to drive home, he realized that now, instead of Sparky, his car keys and billfold were at the bottom of the river.
In late afternoon, we rounded a bend and saw the orange sunset reflecting off grandpa’s glasses as he stood waiting at our rendezvous point. The river moved swiftly there, so the men hauled themselves out of their tubes and waded us in.
Soon the smell of hot dogs sizzling from supple sticks filled the air. Damp towels hung like limp capes from kids’ shoulders while we listened to the ripple of the river, chirps of crickets and an occasional owl.
The moon rose cool and bright we reluctantly packed up to go home. We knew we would be back to celebrate another summer on the river that enticed us again and again.
How soon can you pull your wardrobe together for an Arizona River Cruise?

“Cool Truck”

By

Gerry Niskern

Maybe you remember seeing a little blue Ford pickup scurrying from store to store around our valley anytime from the 60’s to the early 80’s. The bed was always stacked eight feet high with plump, handmade evaporative cooler pads. The rumble of the straight six engine bouncing off the pavement could be heard two blocks away.
The kids in our extended family loved riding along with Grandpa on pad deliveries. One of the perks was that Grandpa had the little workhorse so well trained it automatically turned into chosen Dairy Queens along the route.
As they grew older and needed part time summer jobs the grandchildren learned to make the cooler pads. Nothing smells as good as freshly shredded aspen wood as you grab armfuls and spread it evenly into sized trays lined with cheesecloth. You tuck the cloth in and staple it all around the edges. Then you grab the foot long needle threaded with string and take long criss-cross stitch and tied it off with a flourish…two minutes tops. The boys in the family were sure they would get to make deliveries in “the truck” when they got their drivers licenses. Wrong.
When hot, tired customers came into the shop for fresh pads each spring, they were not happy campers. Heaven help the homeowner who asked for supplies for his swamp cooler. My dad gave them all the help he could, but first corrected the errant customer that they were called evaporative, not swamp coolers. He showed them how to scrape the alkali from the louvered panels of the cooler, patch any holes in the bottom pan with a thick black adhesive. Dad patiently instructed all this to newcomers just as he had been helped with his cooler by a neighbor on an August day in l942 when we moved into our first house in the valley.
He sold them a new recirculating pump and clean, plastic arms to insure even distribution of water down through the fresh pads. More likely, he encouraged them to attach a garden hose to the drain on the bottom of the cooler and let the runoff help water the grass.
On one historic hot day in our family in l942, when Dad finished changing the pads in our side draft cooler and cool, refreshing air filled our new home, Mom and we girls decided that maybe we could stay in Arizona, after all.
Lucky are the people who have both evaporative coolers and air conditioners. On warm days from April up to the 4th of July or until the dew point reaches 55, they can enjoy the breeze wafting through doors and windows open to the fresh air, and count on a small electric bill too.
My parents started the Cooler Supply Company in the early 50’s and prided themselves in producing the best cooler pads in the valley in their small manufacturing plant. Their pads cooled a large portion of the population in Phoenix, Glendale and Scottsdale. Dad and the old Econoline pickup with wrap around windows delivered to several school districts that had standing orders each year. Other dealers that waited for the truck’s low rumble were L. L. Smiths in Glendale, Paul’s Hardware in Scottsdale and Mike Barras in Sunnyslope.
The old 64 Ford pickup lived at our house in the early 80’s. As the kids in the family married and bought family cars, we still received a call from time to time, “ Could you bring the truck? We have something big to move” Those with a little more chutzpah say, “I’d like to borrow the Econoline for a while this weekend.” They’re entrusted with the keys along with the warning, “Don’t forget, if you give the truck its head, it will head straight for the nearest Dairy Queen.”

Drones or Rockets?
By
Gerry Niskern
What was the best fireworks display you have seen in your lifetime?
I would have to think a while to choose one in my memory as the best. My earliest recollection of the Fourth of July is of a homemade ice cream fest at our farm back East when I was a toddler. After dark the men shooting off big, beautiful rockets from the top of our hill out over the meadow. It was wet and green in the country side so there was no danger of fire. Someone put a sparker in my hand and I loved it!
Later, growing up in Phoenix, fireworks were against the law for the public, but the city put on a wonderful show on the island in the lagoon at Encanto Park. People relaxed on the grass in the area in front of the Bandshell.
Arizona had a ban on public use of fireworks up until about ten years ago. Due to a strong lobbying push the ban was lifted here and in most other states. However, one July, while it was still illegal here, a few of young married guys in our extended family decided to send away for fireworks. They managed to set our little North Phoenix Mountain on fire with their third rocket. Not a fun Fourth!
Today, many cities are cancelling regular firework displays and using drones to light up the sky. The bottom of the drone is just one big LED light that can burst hundreds of lumens of light. They dance around the sky creating illuminated formations. Many towns are hiring the drone companies to put on a safe Independence Day show.
In years past I’ve seen unbelievable fireworks taking place on yachts in Honolulu. The boats move out a distance from shore and begin shooting off their rockets. The sky and the reflection on the water is breathtaking. Later on that night, it wasn’t so much fun when kids lit a string of firecrackers on the floors above our room in our hotel and tossed them down. We were treated to loud explosions shooting down past our room all night long!
We stood in a park in Portland, Oregon one Independence Day and watch a spectacular fireworks show from some large barges in the Columbia River. Thousands of people on both shores were treated to a safe and grand show.
For many years, while in Laguna Beach on the fourth, we were able to see, in planned sequence, fireworks starting down the coastline, shows from Dana Point, then Laguna, next north at Emerald Bay, Corona del Mar and then finally Newport Beach.
Firework displays on the Fourth of July has grown in our country since the first festival in 1777 in Philadelphia. Now rockets are ordered for weddings, birthdays, after a touchdown at a football game and just about any other occasion you can think of. Disneyland spends between $40,000 and 50,000 a night on their fireworks.

So what is your favorite Fourth of July fireworks memory? You’ll have to admit nothing beats the first minute you held that sparkler!

“Who’s Celebrating the Fourth This Year?
By
Gerry Niskern
Do you remember the first time you held a sparkler on the Fourth of July? That’s all the little kids got to hold, but what a thrill; holding fire for the first time. And it was okay!
I had intended to go down memory lane with some descriptions of past Fourth of July celebration stories. I have a lot and it would have been easy. But something stopped me. I didn’t have the heart.
How could I write about celebrating the Fourth and our country’s promise of “liberty and justice” for all when suddenly the United States Supreme court struck down Roe vs Wade. Over half of our nation’s population, women, no longer had liberty to control their own bodies?
In my lifetime I have watched our country go from strict anti-abortion laws to the “right to choose” and now, back again! I remember as a young wife talking with other women about our relief when the court handed down their decision. Abortion was legal for those who chose. We thought it was settled!
As a young girl I remember reading a book about the courageous efforts of Margaret Sanger, the famous American birth control activist. Even though I was impressed I really didn’t realize what a great service she had done for women. She devoted her life to legalizing birth control and making it universally available for women.
When she began her work, In the early 20th century, family planning and women’s healthcare were not spoken about in public. She was charged with breaking the law by making information available thru the mail to poor women. She was arrested more than once and went on to open a clinic in 1923 that eventually became the Planned Parenthood Federation of America.
Sanger’s story was just one of many activists who have worked courageously for the inalienable rights of women over the life span of our country’s history. It is going to take many, many activists to work towards bringing the right to choose back to the women in the United States. I have a granddaughter, a great-grandaughter and a great-great too! They will all, in their lifetime, be effected by politicians passing unfair laws effecting not only their right to control their own bodies, but even the use of contraceptives. It seems unthinkable, but it is going to happen.
The young women in this country have a fight on their hands. I think they are up to it!

“Who gets to come?”
By
Gerry Niskern
The argument about immigration in this country has gone on for years. Politicians use the problem on the border to make campaign promises they know they can’t keep. The situation at the border needs to be solved immediately and there is no excuse why our government, with its access to some of the best minds in the world, hasn’t developed a good workable plan.
It’s also been estimated that there are at least l2 million undocumented people living in the United States today. They need a way out of the shadows. Many have been here for years. They have bought homes, sent kids to college and paid taxes. Many benefits that have been deducted from their paychecks will never be realized by them.
The last Amnesty bill was passed in 1986 under President Reagan. At that time about 3 million illegals were allowed to become citizens. The bill expired and we need another one desperately. Everyone working in this country needs to be accounted for.
Immigration has always been a great social, economic and cultural benefit to this country. We have benefited from more innovation, stronger work ethic and overall economic productivity.
People want to come here for a better life for themselves and their families. They are willing to make sacrifices, work long hours and take jobs that U.S. citizens will not do in service and construction. They do not have an easy way of life! The birth rate in this country has fallen dramatically and we need these workers and taxpayers to maintain the social safety net in the country.
As the granddaughter of an immigrant, I feel a kinship with other immigrants in my everyday life. And when I stop to count them, there are a lot! My hair stylist is from the Philippines. A family that helps me with the yard, occasional house clean up, and other chores I can’t do any more are from Mexico. When I needed home care after surgery a couple of years ago, I had various women from Haiti, Brazil and parts unknown. My plumber is from Russia, two of my doctors are from the Middle East and the Cardiologist is Chinese. And the mechanic who keeps my l6 years old CRV running smoothly is Vietnamese.
This country of immigrants needs help. A workable plan to control the border and a plan for Amnesty to help the thousands of workers living in the shadows.