I haven’t posted a blog for a while. I couldn’t  really compete with the interesting and important writing taking place.

We had an election!

Many wise scribes wrote about the work that had to be done to reunite our country. Sure there are important issues for our new government to work on: building new alliances here and abroad.

But getting down to the nitty-gritty of what everyday citizens can do to build peace and harmony, it all starts at home. Sometimes we all don’t realize the smallest words or actions are repeated by our children and grandchildren.

Try this little exercise in communication to relax boundaries and bring everyone into the same fold, free from discrimination  and prejudice. When someone asks if you have a cleaning lady, say “yes, her name is (fill in the blank), instead of saying,

“yes, I have a Mexican/”

Instead of saying,”I’m going over to Home Depot to get a Mexican to do the yard, How about announcing, “I’m going over to hire a guy at Home Depot to help me?

It’s easy to drop the descriptive ethnic title and just call them “my friend”. Try it. And remember the young ones are listening and will imitate your actiions. Before you know it some of those new “friends” may actually become friends.

I’m sure, like me, you all have had many friends in your lifetime. They come in all ages, shapes, and sizes. A friend is a person you meet who likes you for what you are, not what you have done. Somehow, they see beneath your outside shell to the real you. And they like you anyway!

Let’s start building a community of friends who have no other descriptive title except “Friend”.

TEN DAYS AND COUNTING

By

Gerry Niskern

I remember interviewing this lady from Glendale when I was writing my
On this corner” series for the Republic about old landmarks around the valley.

Mary White Renner, age 83, is a lifetime resident of Glendale. Although Renner has traveled to many countries over the years, she values the wonderful memories of growing up in a small town. ”

The one location that Renner fondly called the “heart” of the community was Murphy Park, on Glendale Ave.  “The only structure in the park was the gazebo. When an election was coming up, the political rallies were held there. To us, this was a big event. Everybody knew everyone. The band was playing and families from all around the area brought blankets and spread out their picnics on the grass. The adults gathered around the gazebo, festooned in red, white and blue and listened to the opposing speakers, while we kids played. I remember it was a amiable atmosphere, no rancor or feeling of neighbor against neighbor.”

That gazebo is gone now.

So is the democratic spirit our country has always tried to maintain during elections, big and small. The kids today have heard all kinds of accusations and name calling. What they haven’t heard about is Syria, human rights, drones, inequality, the WHO, NATO, the United Nations. Little was said about the millions of displaced persons living in squalid camps for years. Our important alliances that work with us to try to solve the world’s most urgent problems was rarely mentioned.

Sure, we wll  all be relieved when the election is over, however long it takes. But we need to be thinking now about healing the spirit of our communities; getting together with that friend or neighbor who maybe didn’t lean the same way as you politically. Reach out to renew old friendships that have become frayed by the winds of angry rhetoric.

Maybe that old gazebo is gone now, but hopefully that spirit of democracy is still out there waiting to be recaptured.

“Political food fights”

By

Gerry Niskern

Have you heard the old saying, you are what you eat? Well, there’s a new slogan in today’s political climate which is, “What you eat is how you vote.” By tracking the foods you prefer the political campaign strategists are able to pursue your vote.

As crazy as it seems, all the candidates pay consulting firms big money to track your purchases and try to put you into a targeted group to ask for your vote.

According to a recent article in the New York Times by Kim Severson, ‘the political advisors to the presidential candidates are looking closely at how people eat as a way to scavenge more votes.’

By practicing microtargeting political strategists can study our food preferences and predict our politics. They can avoid “one size fits all” mailings, e-mails or phone calls if they can target small groups gleaned from their research.

For example, Dr. Pepper is largely a Republic drink. Pepsi and Sprite are Democratic. So are most clear Liquors, like white wine and Evian water. Republicans lean towards brown liquors like bourbon, red wine or Fiji water. Democrats tend to order earthier, down-home foods. However, here’s where the strategists get into trouble.

Many Democratic voters are trying to make ends meet. They are doing more cooking at home. They don’t eat out at expensive restaurants. However, the Republican affluent “stay-at-home” moms are now back into cooking comfort foods on stoves the size of Volkswagons. Confusing, isn’t it?

There is the one crowd of voters who still believe in old fashioned birthday parties with pizza, ice cream and cake. And then there’s the crowd who serve veggie burgers, papaya gelato and flourless cake. Guess which is which?

How about the voters who enjoy their iced tea year round? It’s syrupy sweet for the Southern Republicans. But wait a minute; the Western Democrats love their plain China Mist. How do the strategists sort them out?

My husband had a good friend who like himself was from West Texas. They grew up on pinto beans and cornbread. They met as adults, but agreed on the fact that the only way to eat cornbread was crumbled up into a glass of milk. And guess what, one was a “dyed in the wool” Republican and the other was a staunch Democrat!

“Carefree Creeks”

By

Gerry Niskern

Do you have memories of playing in the creek (or should I say crick) as a child? If you do, you are truly blessed.

When I was a kid my sister and I fixed something to eat to take with us and started down through the meadow below our house most days in the summertime. I don’t remember the name of the creek that was our destination, or if it even had one, but it was our haven. We played in the water, built dams, skipped rocks, built little boat to sail in the slow current, and even tried to catch some minnows.

On weekends we piled into the car for long rides that always ended up at a stream for dad to do some fishing. I think that one was called Big Grave Creek. We usually wore our bathing  suits because we knew there would usually be a deep pool of water for swimming. I don’t know why we had to go that way, but I remember Dad saying, “Hold on kids, were’ turning on Salley’s Back Bone!” That was the title of the rockiest, bumpiest dirt road in the state and well named.

Later on, in Fourth grade on the last day of school, and we got out at noon, I had the most fun ever at Little Grave Creek. The fourth and fifth grade was together and we kids all agreed to meet at the creek (I don’t know why it was called Little Grave because it was big enough for swimming.) We gathered at the creek with our sandwiches and bottles of pop and stayed all afternoon swimming and whooping  at our summer of freedom starting! No parents, planning or permission slips required.

When we moved to Arizona Dad always insisted on driving up to Oak Creek to be there on the first day of Trout season. This required driving up to the canyon the night before and sleeping in the car to be the first on the stream at the crack of dawn on opening day!

A couple of years later when I was a teen I spend a wonderful week at a Methodist Church Camp at Seven Springs. No fancy dorms or even tents, just sleeping out under the stars in sleeping bags listening the sweet murmur of the brook.

Years later we took our young ones to Red Rock Crossing, South of Sedona on Oak  Creek. The kids, with inner tubes around them, scrambled over the red rock formations and jumped into the rapids for a thrilling ride down the water, again and again. When they were tired out at the end of the day and the campfire had burned low, we zipped the tent full of sleeping kids and stole down to the deep pool below the crossing and went skinny-dipping!

Do you have some sparkling streams  in your memories? I hope so.

INTERLUDE FROM COVID

By

Gerry  Niskern

The misters were sending their heavenly cool spray over the coffee area as I emerged from my favorite market.

After “sheltering in” for eight months, (yes, I started in February!), I realized I was way behind on my People Watching. I checked my mask and decided to find a seat far away from everyone, out of the traffic pattern. Of course People Watching involves speculating!

I’m happy to report absolute everyone was wearing a mask. (except for a couple I’ll tell you about later).It was fun to watch the toddlers wearing their teeny, tiny masks trying to catch hold of a pigeon. Pigeons, one million, toddlers zero.

Even though I wasn’t mingling, it did my heart good to be in an area that felt social to me. I watched as four Senior ladies at  a table talked “fifty miles an hour ”.Masks didn’t slow down the gossip one little bit.

The mix of people is amazing. The office girls and “ladies who lunch” were still entertaining with their latest fashion review still on display. And by the way, could the young girls cut their jeans off any shorter? Their cheeks are already flashing as they walk away with their special lattes.

Of course, the little dogs are still raising a racket challenging the big canines.

The couple without masks were not eating or drinking. Just talking for an hour. The guy with salt and pepper hair and a paunch was way too  incredibly happy and excited to hear every word his companion was telling him. She had six inch heels, a thigh high off the shoulder dress and long hair. Trust me, not his wife!

One guy left on his State of the Art bike with his  sandwich and a bottle of beer. Hmmmm….Would that be called drinking while driving?

The maskless couple finally left in separate cars parked nearby after some long, passionate kisses. Definitely not his wife!

It used to be fun to watch the  social dynamics of the high school kids, but that will have to wait for a while. When I heard the first wave of them approaching, I was OUT OF THERE!

Swing State!

By

Gerry Niskern

When our family moved to Phoenix in l942 and an election as coming up, my mother went over to the Arizona State Capitol. The voting and registration was set up in the rotunda of the capitol My mom said she was a Republican an wanted to register and vote. . At that time Arizona was overwhelmingly Democrat and had been for a long time; and all the election  workers were too. They hooted and hollered. “Here’s a Republican. She wants to register.” They directed her to the far end of the area and she walked down quickly amid a lot of laughing and teasing. I remember her telling the family later how embarrassed she was.

Just think, it’s now full speed ahead for the presidential election with a few weeks to go. I don’t know if I can take much more election grind with all the debates and constant challenges from friends and even total strangers.   .

The trouble with allowing political discourse is that people always think that the other person is mistaken and if they will just listen they can convince them to change their minds.

Do you sometimes suspect that political junkies want to show off their newfound knowledge on a particular issue? Hence, the aggressive questioning of others political persuasion has become the norm today.  Sure politics makes for exciting conversation. But, we all need to observe some civility and restraint.

I know a hair stylist friend who is shocked these days by the number of people who plop down in her chair and demand to know, “Well, what are you, Republican or Democrat?”  Everyone needs to remember that others may also be up on the issues and have strong personal opinions.  And that should be their right and privilege to keep their decision private.

Sure we are subject to hateful, derogatory images and dialogue on social media, but that and usually the source, can be easily deleted. Face to face confrontations are another story.

We all realize and dislike how polarized this country has become in the last several years. Let’s don’t take it a step further and become even more polarized within our parties and among our friends and even family. .

Sure we’ll all remember this year of 2020 as an unusual campaign with the excitement  and antagonism seldom seen in recent decades, but let’s lower the temperature..  Friendships weave the strong fabric of our community and nation, but lets also keep in mind the thread of friendship and family is precious and fragile.

“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.

“Who Had Time to Cook?”

By

Gerry Niskern

Some times a trip to the grocery story can bring back warm memories. Just a hint of a scent can evoke a reminder of a dinner in your childhood.

I  passed by luscious ripe Strawberries yesterday and was instantly  reminded of dinners we used to have when I was a kid on a little farm in West Virginia. I say dinner, because that was exactly what we had. Strawberry short cake…… All we wanted. During the peak of Strawberry season we picked and picked and picked. Mom would take time out to make pie pans of sweet biscuit, slice them thru, pile sweetened berries on one layer and then put  the other half on top and add ladles full of more berries…..all we could eat. What a wonderful dinner!

Of course, another one item dinner that I loved was in sweet corn season. My mother would pick a bushel of corn from her garden and boil them for dinner. She had a strict rule. “You boil for three minutes and not a second longer for the best flavor. Just enough to cook the milk inside the kernels.” Then she would always add, “Most people cook their sweet corn way too long!” We ate those delicious ears with her fresh churned butter dripping down thru our fingers

Monday was laundry day. If she was real tired we got her stewed tomatos and bread. NOT A FAVORITE OF MINE. But I have to admit it wasn’t as bad as an occasional dinner a friend of mine from Tennessee told me about. She still had nightmares of a plate full of Collard greens. That was it. Nothing else and she couldn’t leave the table until she ate every bite. .

Ken used to talk about childhood dinners of fried Okra. I wasn’t familiar with Okra, but when I tasted his mother’s, I liked the crunchy, nutlike flavor. He also remember dinners of a big glass of milk and chunks of cornbread to drop into it. That I didn’t try.

We both remembered when dinner consisted of a big pot of beans. A ladle full of beans over a slice of buttered bread was delicious. My mother’s were the big butter beans and since he grew up  in West Texas, his mother’s were pinto beans.

Probably what we all remember best is the happy feeling of sitting at a dinner table surrounded by people who cared for you!

TAKE A STROLL DOWN MEMORY LANE

by

Gerry Niskern

Are you tired of political conventions, Covid reports and climate news. Take a break and read about life in the l940’.Here’s a Snapshot.

Back in the 40’s Phoenix had a vibrant downtown. You went downtown to buy your cloths, shoes, or for entertainment too. That was it. No Arrowhead, Desert Ridge, Biltmore Fashion, etc. There were several movie theatres, departments stores and best of all for a kid shopper, there were three five and ten cent stores: Kresses, Woolworths, and Newberrys.

The northeast corner of 1^st Avenue and W. Washington in downtown Phoenix is now part of Renaissance Square. Pink granite pillars with brass trim adorn the premises.

When I was growing up in Phoenix in the l940’s, Newberry’s five and ten cent store stood on that corner, always bustling with shoppers.   Regardless of your mode of transportation, streetcar or bus, everyone who went uptown eventually dropped into the variety store that carried everything. Newberrys was an early version of K-Mart or Target for shoppers in the valley, only on a smaller scale.

My cousin worked behind the candy counter after school.  She remembers the Native American women who sold their pottery and jewelry on the sidewalk along Washington coming in to buy the orange marshmallow cookies by the pounds. They were a favorite of mine too.

Walking home from Phoenix Union we stopped in  Newberrys to buy sheet music of the latest popular songs from the lady in the basement who was playing the piano to demonstrate the top hits.

A few years later we went back to  Newberrys to purchase Christmas tree ornaments for our first tree. I also found a small crèche that still graced our living room  years later during the holidays.

My resident historian and I also went to Newberrys for our baby’s first little  pair of shoes. The infant department was in the basement too. If it hadn’t been for a kind-hearted saleslady showing us the right method, we would have never managed to get those white high tops onto those stubborn, little feet. Hint: You have to go at it sideways!

My resident historian always said that  Newberrys  carried the best selection of model airplane kits in town. He loved to tell the story of once, when he was around ten years old, he had saved two dollars for a new airplane model. He didn’t spend a nickel on the streetcar, and walked uptown instead, in case he needed every cent for the long awaited purchase. He clutched his two dollar bills as he browsed the model counter. If he was lucky, he could find one there with Balsa wood. During the war it became scarce and the model companies started substituting harder woods. It was really a banner day when the store had a shipment of straight pins. they were great in constructing the planes. When he was ready to make his purchase he suddenly realized that he didn’t have the two dollar bills in his hand. He frantically searched everywhere. He finally gave up and headed home. Needless to say, he walked. He used to laugh and finish the story by saying,  When he was  driving by years later and they were demolishing Newberrys he said he wanted to yell, “Hey, if you find two dollars, they’re mine!”

“Do You Have Any Green Stamps?”

By

Gerry Niskern

The other day someone asked, “Do you remember S & H green stamps? Of course, I remember.

The first thing that comes to mind is Disneyland, but I’ll get back to that later.

Way back when I was a kid, and the earth was still cooling, my mother saved green stamps. The Sperry and Hutchinson company gave out the green stamps in partnerships with many supermarkets, gas stations and department stores.

The stamps were rewarded with the purchase from a business and based on the dollar amount of the purchase. Some stores enticed people in with double stamp days. The stamps were pasted into collector books that could be redeemed for valuable items from their catalogue or an S & H store.

One summer our family of five and my sisters family of five went to the Magic Kingdom entirely free. It took 39 books of stamps for each of our families to exchange for certificates that entitled each one a deluxe 15 ride package.  We had saved for months and our mother chipped in to help out. We were still there at midnight for the fireworks when Tinkerbell flew across the sky and tripped the display. Our kids, all grade school age, had the time of their lives.

Of course, I have to admit, my first trip to Disneyland was sans kids. We hired a sitter and headed to San Diego one summer. “Let’s drive up to Orange County and look around,” my scheming husband suggested one morning. When we reached Anaheim he said, “Oh, look over there, at that little mountain. Do you think that is the Matterhorn at Disneyland?” When I responded, well, maybe it is!

Then as he intended all along, we spent a day at the Magic Kingdom. It was great.

The next summer, we took our two, five and seven year old. They loved it, but they made sure that every place we ate they told the waitress that they were going to Disneyland and with  sad faces added, “They went last year without us!”

Of course, now you have to take out a small loan to make the trip to Walt’s World. There was a lot of satisfaction back when a whole family could have the adventure of a lifetime free; all on S & H Green Stamps.

“Do You Have Any Green Stamps?”

By

Gerry Niskern

The other day someone asked, “Do you remember S & H green stamps? Of course, I remember.

The first thing that comes to mind is Disneyland, but I’ll get back to that later.

Way back when I was a kid, and the earth was still cooling, my mother saved green stamps. The Sperry and Hutchinson company gave out the green stamps in partnerships with many supermarkets, gas stations and department stores.

The stamps were rewarded with the purchase from a business and based on the dollar amount of the purchase. Some stores enticed people in with double stamp days. The stamps were pasted into collector books that could be redeemed for valuable items from their catalogue or an S & H store.

One summer our family of five and my sisters family of five went to the Magic Kingdom entirely free. It took 39 books of stamps for each of our families to exchange for certificates that entitled each one a deluxe 15 ride package.  We had saved for months and our mother chipped in to help out. We were still there at midnight for the fireworks when Tinkerbell flew across the sky and tripped the display. Our kids, all grade school age, had the time of their lives.

Of course, I have to admit, my first trip to Disneyland was sans kids. We hired a sitter and headed to San Diego one summer. “Let’s drive up to Orange County and look around,” my scheming husband suggested one morning. When we reached Anaheim he said, “Oh, look over there, at that little mountain. Do you think that is the Matterhorn at Disneyland?” When I responded, well, maybe it is!

Then as he intended all along, we spent a day at the Magic Kingdom. It was great.

The next summer, we took our two, five and seven year old. They loved it, but they made sure that every place we ate they told the waitress that they were going to Disneyland and with  sad faces added, “They went last year without us!”

Of course, now you have to take out a small loan to make the trip to Walt’s World. There was a lot of satisfaction back when a whole family could have the adventure of a lifetime free; all on S & H Green Stamps.