“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.

“THANKSGIVING ROULETTE”
By

Gerry Niskern

Do you have your genealogy research all done in time for your family’s Thanksgiving gathering? Due to Twenty-three and Me, Ancestory and a few more websites, everyone now has a chance to learn about their immigrant ancestors.
Of course, some went into the search with the expectation of find a distant Prussian General, or at least an English duke in the family tree! Most find out they are descendants of hard working immigrants who poured into America in the l800’s and early l900s. Those early relatives learned about Thanksgiving Day gradually, as well as about the laws, taxes and social mores.
My own grandfather, from Austria, was recruited to come work in the coal mines in West Virginia. My mother often told of when she started to first grade grandpa had her sit with him at the kitchen table and help him learn to read the newspaper. He was very anxious to learn about our democracy and how the government worked.
Grandpa had served the required seven years in the army of Emperor Franz Joseph before he was allowed to come to the United States. My mother often told of how, as he learned to read English, he marveled at our freedoms allowed in our constitution. He reminded her siblings to be thankful they were growing up in a country where there was no King or Dictator.
And of course, Thanksgiving was celebrated, but my grandmother refused to buy a turkey when she had lots of chickens, and besides, she always declared, “You don’t just give thanks on one day, You are supposed to give thanks every day!”

Thanksgiving 2021
By
Gerry Niskern
Are you looking forward to Turkey Day this year as much as I am? What’s your favorite part of the day? The turkey, dressing and gravy, or maybe the luscious pies.
Not me. My favorite part of the day and always has been, is the games we played after the feast. Trivia, Taboo, Gestures(a version of Charades) and many more. You name, we played it.
I loved making the dinner for the family for too many years to count. But my reward for the work was the fun time winning at the games. The rule at my house was “no football watching ”on Thanksgiving and believe it or not, the guys in the family joined the games willingly.
Of course, the best Thanksgiving games were the ones that everyone from 8 to 88 could play. It was fun to have the guys versus the gals (the gals always won!)
It’s a new year. The long isolation of last holiday season is over and for that we all should be grateful. Grateful for the opportunity to be vaccinated and now, if caught early enough, the new medications to keep from ending up hospitalized. Grateful to laugh with and enjoy the family members and friends we couldn’t be with last Turkey Day.
So dust off the turkey platter, shine up the silver and break open a new game for a new beginning.

What was your Grandpa’s speciality?
By
Gerry Niskern
Lucky was the grandkid in our family that got to go home for lunch from the shop with Grandpa. They knew they were going to have “fried baloney sandwiches.” They were not given a choice of something else because that’s all their Grandpa knew how to cook!
The grandkid was given the job of getting out the bread, mustard and a couple of plates. Grandpa put the beat up and blackened old skillet on the stove and soon had the slices of baloney fryng. You might say the slices were actually being cremated as they were burned to a crisp when they landed on the bread. Any restaurant would describe it as “blackened” baloney.The skillet was put away to be used again the next day, not washed, just delegated to “baloney frying only” by Grandma.
When I was telling the story of my dad’s culinary skills one day a friend spoke up and told us about the great breakfast’s her Grandad used to make when they visited her Grandad in Tennessee, who was a hog farmer. She said she and her siblings thought they died and went to heaven when he served the bacon, sausages and even a pork chop if desired; this along with the creamiest scrambled eggs you ever tasted. Since their mother was a cream of wheat with skim milk for breakfast kind of mom, they loved trips to the farm.
Years ago I worked with a Mexican woman in my parent’s business who brought wonderful fresh homemade tortillas to work every day. Her Grandfather lived with them and got up before dawn to make the family tortillas every morning. He loved to make them for her and the grandkids.
My family remembers when Grandpa Kenny took over the ice cream making. I thought I was doing fine, but he insisted on trying his hand and of course everyone said his ice cream was better. Why wouldn’t it be with all the extra sugar and heavy cream he added?
Of course, all fathers are expected to cook now, but years ago most Grandpas had just one specialty they had perfected; the specialty they were remembered for.
I have a feeling that if a contest was held today to name the best Grandpa cook, the adult kids in our family would still vote for the griller of the fried baloney sandwiches!

Have you had yours?
By
Gerry Niskern
That seems to be the question everyone asks these days. Have you had your booster shot? How’d it go?
I was discouraged to hear that some young members of our extended family weren’t getting vaccinated for Covid l9; yet these same young people had enjoyed the benefit of having the protection provided by the vaccinations they had received from birth on. That wasn’t always the case.
When I was a kid you were not allowed to start grade school unless you were vaccinated for Smallpox. Diptheria, Whooping Cough and Scarlet Fever were still around and if someone in your family was diagnosed with Scarlet Fever the whole family was ordered quarantined in the home for a month.
I think Polio was the most dreaded. The newsreels at the movies always seemed to show children with Polio in iron lungs. We were no allowed to be in crowds in the summertime as it was most virulent then.
I will never forget the paralyzing fear that held my young husband and I when our first born was around 7 months and ran a l04 temperature for several days. The Doctor couldn’t diagnose it. Polio! That was always the first thought. We were actually happy when she finally broke out with German measles!
She and her brothers all suffered through Chickenpox, Mumps, and other measles, but when she was 7 the Salk vaccine came out against Polio. I can’t begin to describe how incredibly grateful we were to get it for our kids.
By the time our kids had kids of their own, the vaccines were given from birth thru 24 months, and parents haven’t had to worry about Polio, Smallpox, Diptheria, Whooping Cough and numerous other diseases that used to kill kids en masse.
We’ve all been so fortunate that Science has made such great strides. So that’s why I’m bewildered by the choice not to be vaccinated for Covid to help control the spread, when you have benefited from all those other vaccines all your life and so have your kids.