“Leap of Faith”

By

Gerry Niskern

When you think about it, Fathers have always taken a “giant leap of faith”

My grandfather brought his young wife, pregnant with their second child from Austria to the United States with only the vague promise of a job in a coal mine in Pennsylvania. He finally got the job in West Virginia and worked ten hour days for six days a week. It was back breaking work, with bad accidents and cave ins often. He managed to buy a large piece of land to farm to supplement the food supply for his large family. That was a giant leap!

My own father who worked on crutches for years as a time study engineer in a factory drove his young   family across the United States during wartime. He needed to get to the dry climate of Arizona to have surgery to save his leg. He settled us into an Auto Court while he looked for work and found a house to start buying. He learned to service an evaporative cooler so that his family was finally cool during that sweltering August long ago!

My own kids dad worked as an Apprentice Carpenter until he got his Journeyman’s card, then he learned to install floor covering. He eventually got into sales and then consulting across the country and in foreign countries too. He provided for his family, but his travels took him away from the kids during much of their “growing up” years. He always regretted that because, you see, Father’s role was beginning to change.

Dads were starting to do more with their kids. As work changed, society changed.  Fathers gradually learned the importance of spending time with their kids and employers were more lenient with work schedules. And, of course, the dads who had their own business could sometimes coach a sports team or another kid oriented group.

That brings me to my Grandson “father”. He confided to me recently that he didn’t see the need for Father’s Day celebrations. He said, “The way I see it, the pleasure was all mine!”.

This piece ran in the Arizona Republic previously. Maybe you missed it, or enjoyed it and would like to forward it to a new dad this father’s day?

“Dads learn easily, from the kids”

By

Gerry Niskern

We all know that new dads have a lot to learn. They catch on easily however, because they have the best teachers in the world; their kids!

From the time they hold their first baby, who is giving them that piercing “so you’re my dad “ stare,  they start thinking that maybe  this dad stuff is going to be a tough gig.

However, later on, at home, Dad is soon able to detect a hungry cry from a “give me some attention” noise. He also learns to remember if it’s his turn to get up. He finds out real quick that you can’t hurry the process, Junior doesn’t tolerate shortcuts; change diaper, give bottle, get burp up, change diaper again, then fall back into bed at last.

First time father’s love to put their little girl or boy into a toddler seat on the front of their bike and ride for hours.

As time goes by, dads learn another important lesson from their children. Some fathers make a lot of money and some are not paid what they are worth, but kids value the commodity all kids have an equal amount of: time.  They learn they need to care enough to spend that precious time just talking, sitting, watching his favorite football team and paying attention or just doing nothing together.

If dads learn their jobs well, they will look around someday and realize their offspring  have become pretty terrific adults. And of course the kids are relieved. They can get on with their lives. After all, they taught him all they could.

Then, one day, when dad receives a phone call, “Could you watch Junior for a couple of hours?” Grandpa’s ready. He was trained by the best.

“Let’s Go, Fly a Kite”

By

Gerry Niskern

I received a photo the other day that “warmed the cockles” of my heart

My great-grandson had launched  a beautiful purple and yellow kite and his just turned three-year old daughter was flying it.

What a thrill it is for a little child when their dad finally lets them fly the kite all by themselves.

I imagine my great-great-grandaughter felt just like I did when my dad finally let me hold the string of our kite. Dad always constructed our kites from thin scrapes of wood and newspapers. But one day he came home with a surprise.

He called our new kite the “All American Beauty”. He paid a whole 25 cents for it.The red and white vertical stripes were topped off with a blue field of white stars. Then dad told us to write a secret on a slip of paper. He said we were going to send a message to the heavens. Somehow he attached the paper to the kite string and it went scooting up the line as we watched in amazement!

Her great uncle, an avid kite flyer, says she has to launch a kite by herself someday before she can be a pro. I’m sure she will; with the help of her dad just like he is going to help her learn all kinds of new fun skills!

“A Different Kind of Memorial Day”

By

Gerry Niskern

We all know that Memorial Day is dedicated to the remembrance  of the war dead. In years past, we visited the cemetery with flowers for the graves of any member of a family that passed away, but we seem to have gotten away from that. Too bad.

I have a suggestion for a new kind of Memorial Day. Lets have a memorial day that is devoted to the memory of families. Is there someone’s grave you need to visit? Take the kids. Let them place the flowers on the grave and answer their questions.

If you are having a family party of Memorial Day, stop for a minute and remember to start a dialogue about any grandparents that are gone. See how much the little ones know about great-grandfather or a great uncle. Get out the family album and point out the pictures. Tell who was respected and who wasn’t. Get ready to answer some tough questions here.

What kind of man Grandpa was, where he worked. What games did Grandma play with her children. How did she dress? Were they born here or did they come from another country?

The whole country is weary of hearing about Covid 19, but take a moment and talk about the people who have lost the lives to this pandemic, many, many more than was necessary. Have your family party, but take a moment to remember. Not just the war dead, but everyone who is gone. The word that unites all families is “Remember”.

I’ve taken part in a couple of graduations, I’ve prepared kids for other graduations,  and I’ve attended lots of graduations.

But this year is different. It is hard for everyone. Take middle school, for example. I remember my class at Adams School marching down the aisle of the auditoriam singing at the top of our voices, “Adams we sing to thee, school that we love….” Probably a little corny for the kids nowdays, huh?

Two of our classmates were playing pianos as we sang. The girls wore the dresses we had sewn in Home Ec class and the guys wore dress pants and shirts. This year the middle schools everywhere will have no ceremonies.

My graduation class from Phoenix Union High School numbered 750. We had looked forward to that day for a long time. My story took a little twist.

The class was supposed to march out onto field of Montgomery stadium in order of their scholastic record. My boyfriend was number 50 and I was 150. Still not bad out of 750, right? He was the Salutitorian. I was busy typing his speech for him and we totally forgot the rehearsal the night before. He was allowed to walk in front and give his speech as planned. The teachers in charge didn’t want any last minute changes.  But some had to be punished. No amount of parents intervention was tolerated.   So,  I was relegated to the end of the line, walking with the dumbest guy in our school. He turned out to be a well known politician on our state!

I know a young lady who is graduating from Sunnyslope High School this week. She will have a few friends over and they will take pictures in their caps and gowns. Then I hope they have some fun that day too. You see, she has worked very hard and earned a full scholarship to Grand Canyon University. I wish she could have her ceremony.

My Great-Grandson has just completed 4 years of Medical School. He has worked and deserves a celebration and so do his parents, but there won’t be one.

I wish we could all promise the next year’s graduates that we’ll do everything we can to help stem this virus and hopefully by next graduation season everyone  can march across that stage at their school and receive their reward.

Mothers day 2020

By

Gerry Niskern

I remember being asked many times, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” And my answer was always “A mother”.

Finally, when I did become a mother for the first time and I brought that chubby baby girl home from the hospital, I was in heaven. And  that “Mother’s Day” celebration took place when each unique baby was born, I fulfilled that fervent childhood wish.

Sure, I would succeed in other careers later in life, but being a mother was the best of all. Every mother runs the spectrum of joys and heartbreak. It comes with the job and you feel it all, the good and the bad. It’s a tough job, but the best job anyone could ask for. Moms are the ones who know the meaning of 24/7!

I was far from perfect, believe me! And if you don’t, just listen in on one of my family gatherings when the grown kids try to out do each other with the “worst thing mom did to me!”

Businesses are all geared up this year as always touting the wonderful presents you can give your mother this Mother’s Day. The marketing experts have out done themselves with guilt driven advertising. They miss the point that the gift was already received, the gift of being a “mom”.

I would like to think that I speak for every mother when I say,”The pleasure was all mine!”

“Moms and Food go Together”

By

Gerry Niskern

We all know that the mothers we see on greeting cards with the saintly smiles aren’t really mom. She’s usually a complex set of contradictions. So I asked a few people a simple question. At least, I thought it was. “What food reminds you of your mother?”

I was expecting some sweet answers that would make a nice Mother’s Day Blog. Was I wrong!

One friend recalled with a shudder, that as a child in Chattanooga, Tennessee, “My mother believed in ‘When in Rome, do as the Romans do!’ Everyone in the South ate a lot of greens. Mother made plain boiled collards, turnip greens, and kale and water cress with no seasoning.  I do I think my father drew the line at dandy lions. Although he never objected in front of us, we only had them one time”

My own daughter tells me she never sees a Cheerios box that she doesn’t think of the time that she and her brother were happily eating their Cheerios as their dad was leaving for work. Grandma arrived and announced “I’m here to take care of you. Your mother is in the hospital because you kids are driving her crazy.” They both looked at their baby brother. Of course. It must have been him!

One man said that anytime he sees peanut butter he thinks of a disastrous Mother’s day. “My dad gave mom the Bentwood rocker that she had been requesting for years.  He took her out to dinner and we kids were on our own. I made myself a triple decker peanut butter and strawberry jam sandwich. My brother ran by and grabbed it. I threw my shoe at him just as he ducked behind the new Bentwood. All the slats in the back were shattered. The rest of the story is too sad to tell.”

I did get a couple of nostalgic stories. A friend said that she happened to be squeezing lemon juice and she had been thinking of how her mother used to make candied lemon and orange peels. Her mother was a Lebanese bride of an arranged marriage and among the many talents she brought to this country was how to preserve delicious citrus peel. My friend says that she’s never been able to duplicate it.

My resident historian always thinks of his mom when he has pinto beans. She cooked them in a black Dutch oven. He knew he was home again after yet another household move when he smelled the delicious beans bubbling away in the old cast iron pot.

“Sorry mom,” one of my sons replied to my food query. “What I remember best is Grandma’s pot roast in the pressure cooker, hissing and spitting steam. And of course, her string beans were delicious because I had helped to clean and snap them.”

You can’t win ‘em all!

Easter On the Porch

By

Gerry Niskern

Front porches are wonderful. You can gather there and stay far apart. Of course, when I say porch I mean patio, deck, balconey, or any outdoor space at your house set aside for enjoying the outdoors.

My early memories of sitting on a porch was when I was a kid and our family gathered there in the evening. The swing and chairs were wicker. My sister and I sold raspberries and black berries at our little road side stand. We had worked hard picking berries and if you have ever picked a raspberry you know what I mean. We were allowed to walk down the highway, RR Route # 1, and spend our hard earned pennies at the gas station. We bought Baby Ruth candy bars that we shared with our mom and dad while they enjoyed the quiet evening on the porch.

The sanctuary of the front porch was always where everyone gathered on summer evenings. If you sat on my Aunt Sarah’s porch down in town you could get the daily gossip bulletin narrated by her as people walked by. She commented on each couples marital status, who was expecting, and who was cheating on who.

Front porches were great for playing on a rainy day. They were also the place where the first kiss was stolen on the swing in the evening when the rest of the family had turned in.

My front porch now consists of a little brick area about 8 feet out behind a low stone wall. (mine is topped with Geraniums) In the evening I look north to the close by North Phoenix Mountains. I see tiny hikers up on top cavorting around. And below I see hawks circling with their eye on the bunnies that are everywhere! Sometimes a family of Quail stroll by or even a coyote will slink down the street.

We’ve all been isolated lately, so get out on those porches, patios, decks, whatever, and stay six feet apart and enjoy a “socially  Distant”, but Happy Easter!

This Time of New Traditions

By

Gerry Niskern

The poppies have bloomed and the giant Saguaro’s  are ready to create their crown of white flowers on top. Everyone’s thoughts have turned to Easter. But, expensive vacations and even pricey brunches are not in the plans for American families this year. Large Easter egg hunts have been cancelled and new family traditions are in the making.

But actually, the most important tradition at Easter will always be with us. Each baby’s first creative experience is usually when he get’s to sit up to the table and help dye the Easter eggs. The kids all start out with wax crayons, delicate designs and great expectations. Baby gets to wield a spoon and proceeds to happily slosh an egg around in a cup. After a few eggs are colored and the first cup of dye hits the kitchen floor, the job becomes a little rushed and it’s all downhill from there!

Did you know that the tradition of dyeing eggs in bright colors and giving them to family and friends goes back centuries? The Egyptians and the Persians practiced this tradition long before Christ was born. In the Middle Ages it was forbidden to eat eggs during the 40 days of Lent. However, no  one told the chickens! Because of the resulting glut, the giving of Easter eggs tradition developed.

The simple egg is perhaps the oldest and most universal symbol of rebirth and new life. Smaller family celebrations may be the order of the day this year, but the Easter egg will still be the centerpiece of the day. Of course, the splotchy little egg that the newest member of the family stirred around in the dye cup will be the most beautiful one of all!

G LIKE HUMAN CONTACT!”

BY

GERRY NISKERN

My Granddaughter thinks I am as old as Methuselah. She called me yesterday from a snowy land far, far away, to check in and chat for a while. She has a small business and so does her husband.  She asked me how long it took for this country to recover from the “Great Depression”, ‘since you lived back then.’

I replied, “Well, first of all, I was born in l932, so I only experienced it as a child. But I have learned over the years of the history of our country, that the depression didn’t really stop until military production started for World Warll.”

One incident that I remember vividly was my dad coming home when I was six and saying that his hours had been cut to two days a week. But remember, we were lucky. Many fathers were out of work and had been for a long time. We lived in the country and men would come hiking along our rural road every day, looking for work in exchange for a meal. We called them bums  like our playmates did, but our mother scolded us. “Do not call them bums. They are just men out of work and having a hard time.” She always scrambled them a big plate of eggs, piled slices of bread on top and made a fresh pot of coffee.

My caller also asked me about the Spanish flu. (which by the way, did not originate in Spain.) I explained that the Spanish flu started in 1918 so I could only tell her my mother’s memories. My mother was around eight years old at the time, but she talked about it often when I was a child. The flu diminished after a year but flared up again the following year and she recalled so many people in her neighborhood dying from it. I remember her telling the story often about how she kept my sister away from everyone for a long time when she was born, in l929, because she was so frightened for her baby.

After I answered those questions, we must have talked for over two hours about lots of things. Good things. Happy times. That phone call from my beautiful granddaughter lifted my spirits like  one of those hot air balloons and I soared thru the rest of what would have been another lonely  isolation day.