The Tiniest Sweethearts
By
Gerry Niskern

America’s tiniest sweethearts need help!
There is a growing trend among new parents today to immediately decorate their newborn baby girls with a headband containing a bow. An elastic headband is placed on their precious little heads. Why? I guess to announce to the world that they are a girl, and not be mistaken for a boy. Maybe it’s to dress them up and make them “pretty”? Thousands of photos are posted online every day of tiny baby girls, sometimes even all swaddled for the night, with those pesky headbands around their heads. Do the parents ever wonder what the baby thinks?
Have you seen those headbands? Some have gradually evolved into turbans with huge bows. I’m sure it’s turning quite a profit for the baby wear industry. Why do parents think it’s necessary to adorn their daughters from day one, but not the boys? You don’t see little boys having to wear tiny elasticized baseball caps clamped on their tender heads. Maybe some designer hasn’t thought of it yet and convinced new parents that it’s a must have?
There are hundreds of “how to “ books out there on how to raise a baby. They all claim to know the best way to go about it. Of course, nobody really knows what a baby thinks. To begin with, thanks to the phenomenon that Sigmund Freud called “infantile amnesia”, nobody can remember what it was like to be a baby. Wouldn’t it be interesting to know what they are thinking about what’s happening to them on their new journey?
In my opinion, and it’s probably just mine, those sweet little baby girls are all beautiful just as they are. There is plenty of time, when they get old enough to make their desires known, to dress them up. If they want to wear huge hair bows and have enough hair to support them, then fine. Little girls need to grow up with a feeling of confidence in themselves. They should hear validation of their worth as a person just because they exist. That solid foundation of her special personality should be established without any hint that she needs to be adorned with anything!
A lot has been written about teenage girl’s lack of confidence causing serious mental health problems. Of course there is no simple solution, but a good start would be for parents to give their little daughters the knowledge that they are a worthy human being just because they ARE! Parents must make every effort early to curb the idea that their girls need to be adorned to be loved.
Celebrate Valentines day by taking those pesky elastic headbands off those little Sweethearts!

“Let me call you Sweetheart”

By

Gerry Niskern

Though the ancients were not aware that the heart was responsible for pumping blood through the circulatory system, they knew one thing for sure. The heart was the center of all feelings. This belief has lasted through the ages. From the early cave dweller’s drawings to today’s text messaging, sweethearts have declared their love for each other.
Most women remember valentine’s day as an enchanting time in school. A lot of thought went into selecting just the right words for homemade cards. It helped to have a big sack of those little candy hearts with the “love messages” to copy from.
In school, you rushed to get your lessons done so you could help decorate the valentine box. If you were extra good, the teacher chose you to pass out the valentines on the day of the big party.

The best feeling of all was opening an envelope and finding a big red heart from someone special. Everyone knows “there is no love like the first love!”
It seems that the ladies have the pleasant memories of valentine’s day, but in contrast, most of the guys do not. Several fellows told me it was a day of humiliation and dread. “What if they didn’t get even one card? What if a little girl that you really hated declared her undying love? And worse of all, what if the object of your affection didn’t give you a card at all?”
One fellow in our family recalls saving his money in first grade and buying a tiny box of Whitmans for a sweetie with beautiful long brown hair. When she came to school on Valentine’s day her hair had been cut into a short pixie. He just couldn’t bring himself to give her the candy.
This same Lothario, in third grade, bought a St. Christopher’s medal for a little girl, as was the fad then, to declare his love. The problem was, the next day she had to give it back. Her Jewish parents were not happy.
He agreed that his younger brother probably had the right idea. The little brother always voiced his dislike for girls and declared he would never get married. One day when he was four he saw a little sports car with a button down cover for the back that extended around to cover the passenger side and he told his dad, “That’s the kind of car I want when I’m big, so no lady can ride with me!”
Over the years, the old valentines’ boxes morphed into personal folders for receptacles for valentine giving in school, but that didn’t solve the popularity problem. The practice now in most classrooms is for the teacher to send home a list of everyone in the class. The parents are expected to see that a card is addressed to everyone in the class. Actually the only benefit with that is it gives the student’s a chance to practice their handwriting.
Of course, it’s much easier to declare affection in today’s cyberspace world. There are hundreds of web sites for Valentines. You can send your sweetie a message instantly across the street, the country or the continents. Web sites are available to provide numerous sentiments; talking animated characters will speak the words and music of your choice. If he needs it, a young man can find a guide on line to help him write a love letter. And then again, if time is short, there’s always text messaging.
Sadly, it’s just not the same!

I wrote this for the Republic a few years ago, and I haven’t changed my mind. What do you think?
“Hug, Anyone?”

By

Gerry Niskern

Is it just me, or has anyone else been wondering about all the hugging going on these days? It has definitely evolved into a form of greeting and goodbyes too. And don’t even get me started on all the politicians hugging everyone on the podium before a speech.
One evening a couple of years ago, I was sounding off, as I’m prone to do occasionally, about all the social hugging; and I’m afraid I hurt a good friend’s feelings. He was a dedicated hugger. When I got my foot out of my mouth I tried to explain that I didn’t mean among family and old friends. You see, our friendship dates way back to grade school here in Phoenix. The sandy haired kid that I remember was the class cut-up. I’m indebted to him for providing many a laugh on long boring afternoons at Adams School.
I learned a little about the modern hug after consulting Miss Manners. She tells us that the hug has become a new form of social inter-action. However, she does not approve of acquaintances trying to skip the preliminaries of becoming close friends before starting the hugging. So, when did all this hugging start?
I grew up in an era when men shook hands and women hugged a little, sometimes. Parents hugged their children and maybe an aunt or uncle slipped in a hug or two, but not often. I confess I was born with that anti-hugging gene. My mother loved to tell how I, as the first baby around in years, would deftly dodge the out stretched arms of loving relatives as I made my independent way around the house.
When I worked at the Valley National Bank the vice-president demanded a hug and kiss from each girl as he passed around our checks. Suffice to say that he learned quickly to just give me my check on payday; no preliminaries.
I do realize that hugging is considered very important and one of the most pressing needs of elders for social interaction. My strong objection to the “social” hug is that it devalues the age-old meaning of the hug. The little social half-hearted hugs that I see as people part seem contrived and uncomfortable.
I ‘ve learned a lot about hugging and thinking before I speak!
I don’t know if my old friend from childhood ever forgave me for voicing my displeasure of too much insincere hugging, but I know one thing. If he were here today, I would sure give him a great big hug!!

What did you learn during the Pandemic?
By
Gerry Niskern
During the first wave of Covid the shelves in the grocery stores were often empty of some items. But even with that problem many families learned to gather in the kitchen together and cook. They were isolating, not going to restaurants and staying away from fast food places. Most learned that food unites families as even some first time cooks laughed and joked while working together in the kitchen.
Of course, everyone learned what we have always known; that true happiness starts in the kitchen. I remember if I happened to be at my grandma’s house early in the morning there was nothing as heavenly as the smell of her bread in the oven. She baked every day and on holidays she decorated the round loaves with flowers and leaves made of the dough.
I sat and watched one Aunt make around six pies one time. She just grabbed handfuls of flour, chunks of shortening, a little salt, and drops of water and worked it into the perfect dough for six pies, no measuring required!
So now, it’s back to the kitchen. This new strain of the virus playing havoc on the food industry, there are no employees to prepare the food and no one willing to deliver it either. There is one young career couple in my neighborhood that had GrubHub bring dinner every night. I wonder sometimes how they are eating this time. Maybe they learned how handy that kitchen was!
I think all the practice cooking together during isolation the first time around is “coming into vogue” again. My daughter-in-law started making a wonderful pizza with dough from scratch and topped with her homegrown veggies. She bakes them on her outdoor grill. Yummy.
My # 1 son has been perfecting his version of quiche. Every time he makes it, it just gets more delicious!
Now, the thing is, even when everything gets back to “normal” and the food industry is functioning better, everyone will now have some specialties to enjoy that ambitious members of their family have perfected during the Pandemic.

“MOM’S CEDAR CHEST’

By

Gerry Niskern

It was a deep, burnished walnut with round, pedestal legs. There were roses and leaves in muted pinks and greens carved along the front. When I was a child, I loved it. But what I really loved was all the treasures I imagined it contained. Then one day I was allowed to discover some of them.
When my sister and I unlocked mom’s cedar chest, along with the heavenly aroma of the cedar wood, memories came tumbling out. On top were two small bathing suits, circa l930’s. We wore the scratchy, wool one piece suits when the mom’s whole family of aunts, uncles and cousins had Sunday picnics down on the Ohio River.
Back then, we complained about having to hold back the vines as my dad helped one of our elderly aunts slowly down the steep, overgrown path to the river bank. We wanted to race ahead and join our cousins in the water. “Always help an old person,” our mother admonished. “Their life is hard!”
The high light of the day was when Uncle Walter, our strong uncle from Russia, swam across the wide Ohio, as his wife, Aunt Annie, ran up and down the rocky bank screaming, “Don’t swim all the way across, you damn fool. You’re just showing off!”
Mom did manage to mention quietly on the way home that. “Of course, it was great fun to watch, but Uncle Walter should respect his family and not worry them.”
Another item we pulled out of the cedar chest was our worn out softball, with stitching half gone. We always protested about trying to catch Sam’s hard balls in our neighborhood game. Unfortunately, Sam was a husky teenager with a toddler’s mind who always forgot which base to run to. When we complained, mom explained “Sam’s your friend. He deserves a chance to play ball too.”
The pale, longing face of a little girl with severe Asthma was always framed in a neighbor’s window watching our fun, winter or summer. There was not much help for Asthma back then. But she had playmates because at least once a week mom would say “go play with Dorothy. She needs friends too.”
There was a message from mom linked to most items we pulled out of the old chest; “Treat everyone with the dignity they deserve as human beings.”
Turns out I was right. Mom’s cedar chest really did contain treasures; word’s to live by all of our lives!

Cultural Fusion Will Continue with All Our Help
By
Gerry Niskern
We’ve all been reading about the Afghanistan refugees coming to our country. They are just a continuation of the many immigrants who have found refuge in the United States over the years of the existence of our democracy. Many worry about how we can handle the new residents and how they will fit in. I’m reminded of a party that took place in my old neighborhood a few years back.
Cars and pickups began arriving on a Sunday afternoon. They brought ladies in their Sunday best, carrying covered dishes. The daddies toted babies in their car carriers. Later, that evening, we couldn’t see the dancing in the garage, but judging from the strobe lights, music and laughing, they were having a good time.
Actually, the sound of a foreign language and the music reminded me of my Grandma’s house back East as I was growing up. On any Sunday afternoon polka music from my Italian uncle’s accordian filled the air. And I’m sure the language carried across back yards was just as confusing to the neighbors. And my cousins and I played hide and seek, chasing and shouting like the little Latino kids.
Those cousins of mine grew up. They married into various ethnic families and scattered across the United States. My grandparent’s offspring learned American ways and taught some of their ways to others. The extended family boasted computer programmers, major league ballplayers and engineers working on the first manned spacecraft our country launched. They played football in high school, golf with business clients and tennis anytime they had a chance.
In other words, they assimilated, just as the families coming here now will also. They have fought side by side with fellow Americans in our country’s wars. This country needed their labor in its industries just as the immigrants are needed now to drive the economy.
The cultural and ethnic fusion has been slow, but steady. But our diversity in color, culture and thought is what made this country great. Our democracy has long been called “the great melting pot”. Let’s stir that melting pot with friendship once again in 2022!

A Light in the Window
By
Gerry Niskern
Yesterday, a granddaughter was telling me about her family’s tradition of driving around on Christmas eve to look at the beautifully decorated homes in some parts of our valley. And I was remembering the many drives that Ken and I took, including some Senior guests, who’s driving days were over, to enjoy the Christmas lights.
Actually, going way back, I remember piling into my Dad’s Plymouth to drive to a small city nearby to where the “rich people” lived. That was one treat of the season. The area where the owners of the coal mine and steel mills lived always had fantastic decorated homes . My favorite mansion I always looked for, was one done all in blue.
There is something about light that has always brought cheer to the soul. Back in the l7th century people in Germany started putting lighted candles on their tree. The tradition spread from there and to many the lights symbolized the Christmas star.
Then in l882, Edward Johnson, Edison’s partner, put the very first string of 80 electric Christmas lights together. The red, white and blue lights on his tree made quite a stir, but the public was not ready to trust electric illumination for quite some time. Then a couple of the presidents encouraged lighting up the White House and in the twenties and thirties it became more popular with the public.
When I was a kid, during the depression, most people had some artificial Christmas wreaths to display in their windows. And if you were really lucky, yours had a candle resting on the bottom with a bulb that lite up for the “flame”. My sister and I thought our house looked grand with our lights in every window!
When picture windows became popular In the fifties and sixties families started placing their tree in front of the window. Of course, after that, it was “Katy bar the door!” Lighting up your house and the yard outside became competitive!
After spending last Holiday season in isolation as most of us did, this Christmas was supposed to be different but it is turning out to be iffy for many. So thank goodness for those ambitious souls who light up a “thousand stars” for all of us to enjoy.
Treasure the tradition and the lights!

She came, she saw and she conquered
By
Gerry Niskern
To continue: A funny thing happened on the way to the Christmas tree that my great-great granddaughter was supposed to decorate. She spied the old toy box. Toys came flying out (discarding all cars and trucks) until it was almost empty.
After putting all the dolls, and a couple of dinosaurs to bed, she discovered the little kitchen stove and pots and pans. I casually mentioned that I sure could use a cup of coffee. Her eyes lite up, she recognized a fellow actor and the four-year-old included me in every scenario. I had a role to play and I better get it straight!
Later, she learned to play “Go Fish”, sort of. Knew the names of all the types of fish ,but not all the numbers but it didn’t matter because she soon had more pairs than me.
We worked puzzles and read books (her favorite thing) and then around noon she said, “I’d like to eat something now.” About the time I was saying “okay” she whipped open the frig and said, “I’ll have that orange” and said yes to my offer of veggies. “I’ll help you” she said and brought over a stool to stand on, grabbing a banana on the way. “And this too”. She directed me on how to slice them and turned down my offer of chicken salad but later as she was enjoying her spread, she casually offered me a zucchini slice and later, a banana slice.
After writing a letter to her mother she started out the door to my mailbox. When told she couldn’t go there, she handed me my phone and said “Call the mailman and tell him to come here and pick it up.”
Turns out she had never played, “Hot or Cold” while finding a hidden object. She loved it! Then when her four- hour visit was about up, she realized she hadn’t decorated my tree. Every time she picked up an ornament to hang on the tree she offered me one. I think she set a record in tree trimming time.
She is one of the most confident and self-sufficient kids I’ve seen in years.
I know you are not supposed to brag about your grandkids, but I believe they passed a law that if it is a great-great-grandkid, it’s okay.

A walking, talking Christmas gift
By
Gerry Niskern
The best Christmas gift ever is coming next week!
Not everyone gets to have a great-great-grandchild, but I have one and she is coming to spend a day with me next week.
I’ve gathered puzzles, books, and games. I know she’ll want to explore the grandkid ’s old toy box too. There is a little wooden wagon filled with blocks that her grandpa used to haul diligently from room to room. Of course, she might be shocked at the three dolls that reside in the box. You see, their hair was trimmed many times by her cousin that now runs a popular hair salon.
There is a tiny stove with pots and pans that her great uncle cooked many a gourmet meal on when he was three. As a teenager he made the best apple pies of all the family cooks. And of course there are a ton of cars and trucks with many miles on them.
I’ve only seen this little brown eyed, four- year- old three times. She lives with her mama in another town, but gets to come to spend next week with her grandparents, aunt, uncles and cousins next week and know everybody so much better.
Everyone knows that four-year-olds like to do little chores for you.
The first job I’m going to give her is to decorate my little four foot Christmas tree. I’m sure she be great at that….to be continued.

A Carnival of Wheels
By
Gerry Niskern
How many sets of wheels have you owned? Have you ever counted up the number? I think ours numbered 27, but I’m sure there were more.
Actually, the first set of wheels I was invited to ride on was a super deluxe Schwinn bike. I rode on the crossbar to a Girl Scout square dance. I was thirteen and he was fourteen.
Years later, we honeymooned in a black Ford coupe. Then we bought a brand new black Ford two door sedan. Immediately after we made the last payment he wanted to trade it in for a black and red Ford, a year older! “But honey, it’s unique. No one has one like it,” was the argument. “Absolutely not,” I replied. But that’s when I should have realized I had married a car collector.
We traded the black Ford in for a Ford gold and white Fairlane for me and he had a Ford truck to match. Couple of years later we bought a new Ford Station Wagon. Later we moved to California and I found myself driving a Morris Minor with a stick shift on the freeways. Don’t ask me how it happened, but I did insist that there be a separate bank account to handle the never ending carnival of cars.
Next was a 64 Ford Mustang convertible. We owned another one in 67. Just to name a few, we owned a turquoise Ford Galaxy, a 66 yellow Plymouth. (All three kids learned to drive in that one) There was blue Karmann Gia and a red Sun Beam Tiger. (one two year old grandson used to grab a wrench and slide under the little convertible to “fix it”.)
Another unique purchase was a 59 Mercury Cougar XR7.(one of only 53 made and now very collectible!) I can’t begin to name them all in order. We owned more than one Rover, a Ford van, a gold P 1800, a Cadillac Coupe de Ville, a Dodge Caravan that I drove for 16 years. (all I wanted was something that I could count on to get me there!) After that I made my first vehicle purchase with my own money, a Buick Riveria convertible; white with gold trim and red leather interior. (I drove my little granddaughter and three friends to plays at the Children’s theatre for several years.)
Then in 2006, we both bought our last new cars. Mine was a white Honda CRV that I love to this day and his was a silver Toyota Matrix. (He wanted the Matrix to go to our great-grandson. It carried him thru his last year at NAU, four years at medical school, and on to his Residency in Kentucky.)
Looking back I was sorry that I didn’t share my “collector’s” love of cars. But, I do have to say that nothing was a much fun as that first ride on those wheels of the Schwinn bike.