“Have you seen any good scorpions lately?”

By

Gerry Niskern

I wrote this column awhile back, but I have an update. I speak from experience now on the subject of scorpion bites. I was stung on my foot in the middle of Wednesday night. It felt like a thousand tiny knives radiating up my leg. Called poison control and followed their instructions, but the symptoms grew steadily worse over the next 24 hours. My foot swelled up to twice its size. My head felt like it was in a vice and my face and lips were numb. I also suffered severe diarrhea. Finally, after about 36 hours the numbness and tingling in my fingers stopped and just my foot is still swollen. Good Samaritan poison control called back twice to check on me and I was surprised and thankful. Read on.

Are you new to our valley? How well do you know your neighbors? Have you met any of our resident scorpions yet?  The swift venomous arthropods are everywhere.

When you live in the desert, you have invaded their territory; especially when you dwell in an area where the ground has been disturbed for new housing construction and their nests are stirred up. The stinger is at the end of the tail; the sting site can be extremely painful. It generally does not swell, but there is instantaneous pain and numbness. Young kids and seniors are most at risk.

Almost everyone has a scorpion story.  I saw my first scorpion years ago. It was a rather large one, on the wall above a sleeping newborn’s crib. The proud parents had invited us in to see their infant, and there on the wall was the culprit. What a lucky intervention that was.

We’ve had them quite often because we live in the Dreamy Draw area that is especially known for its scorpions. Our son gave us something handy to keep from stepping on one at night; plug in Limelites  that cast a faint glow on the floor, enough to throw a scorpion’s shadow to alert you.  I recommend getting one.

My resident historian took off his socks one night and surprise, there on the bottom of one sock was a squashed scorpion. He was lucky that time. It pays to shake out your shoes before putting them on. Sometimes you hear them first; they make a slight scratching sound on a hard surface.

Most pest control companies will tell you that you cannot kill them. Scorpions usually follow other bugs into a home. What actually can be done is to spray for their prey thereby eliminating the scorpions.

I remember walking into the kitchen one morning and seeing one on the telephone sitting on the counter. I came back with the flyswatter and to my amazement, I watched that tiny scorpion run down the wall, under the locked and what we thought was an airtight Arcadia door and out onto the patio. They can crawl through a credit card size slit.

Last year, we were at a friend’s new home in the Sun City area. She leaned down to pick up what she thought was a piece of dry grass from the carpet. Guess what, it stung her!  Her pain from that scorpion sting lasted several hours.

Another friend tells about the time when he was in high school and the family had just moved into a new home. He thought he saw a scorpion run under the refrigerator. Determined to get it, the high school boy got down on his hand and knees and looked under the frig. The little pirate dashed out and stung him on the nose!  Of course, the repercussions were serious from that sting.

According to the emergency room staff at John C. Lincoln, children under six and seniors are the only ones they normally to give antiserum for scorpion venom. It’s very hard on you. But unfortunately with children, if they are crying loudly, and it appears to be quite painful, they have to assume it’s probably a scorpion bite.

According to my research, there are 1,300 species of scorpions worldwide, and many varieties are non- poisonous. However, the poisonous ones live mainly in the Southwest Deserts. Watch out!. And put poison control on your phone contacts. 602 253 3334

OK, BOOMER!

By

Gerry Niskern

Let’s turn this “Ok, Boomer” put down around.

“Have you ever noticed that mothers, over the age of fifty in sitcoms, are depicted as sex starved maniacs. The older men fare even worse. And their counterparts in the flicks are only portrayed as worthwhile if they ended up with a Jay Lo or Scarlett Johansen  type.”

As depressing as all this is, I think you mothers, and fathers too, of the boomer generation, could easily turn this trend around. After all, your large body of consumers have redefined marketing in this country. I know you could do it again regarding television and movies. That’s where millions of our nation’s young people pick up their ideas on life.

Granted, some children in today’s society are lucky enough to know their grandparents as individuals. However, most kids never learn about the senior’s careers or their life experiences. In other words, a large percentage don’t see the elderly as real people. They only know the stereotypes they have been conditioned to laugh at in entertainment.

You could begin with your children and grandchildren.  Yes, some boomers have grandchildren already! We all know kids learn by example. They see your daily attitude towards the older members of your neighborhood. Do they see you communicating with older people on a person to person  basis, or talking down to them, as if to a child?

Do they hear you complaining about the white haired driver doing the speed limit and holding up traffic…while not saying a word about the twenty-something playing  thread the needle, well over the speed limit?

Our sense of stability and security has always been grounded in respect for families and our elders. In these times, with our mobile society, we need assurance that if you lay the groundwork, our kids and grandkids will have a different attitude towards anyone growing older.

And the added benefit will be…when the boomers progress from middle age into the pace maker years, they won’t be automatically assigned the “geezer”  roles created by the script doctors!

“Let the Writing Begin!”

By

Gerry Niskern

Have you ever thought about writing your memoir?

A small group of people gathered at the Acacia Library this week to begin writing theirs.

They are going to enjoy the excitement of describing their lives, the people in their lives and the events that they want others to know about. They will take their readers on an exciting ride as they detail their experience and thoughts.

This group will paint a picture of their lives by showing what characters, places and events were like. And they will all this with the wonderful world of words!

What can I say about words? First of all, thank you, thank you, thank you to the first people who learned to communicate with words. And then thank you again to the scholars who learned to write them down in various forms to be read by everyone.

This evolved over thousand of years, but to each one of us who discovered that some little squiggly lines in our first school books were actually words; and those words told a story, it was a miracle!

At least it was to me as a six year old first grader, in a little country school in West Virginia.  We were allowed to take our readers home and read the next chapter. Well, it’s hard to believe, but I was so thrilled with the story of Dick, Jane and Spot, that I finished the book.

The next day when I excitedly told Miss Mary Jane Crowe, my teacher, that I loved reading the whole book, I was soundly scolded for reading more than I was instructed. Looking back, I’m guessing that she didn’t have a lot of books for us to read and that reader was supposed to last quite a while.

Fortunately, that reprimand didn’t deter me from being an avid reader all my life. Later on, I carried stacks of books from the first Phoenix Library every week while growing up and continue to read everything I can.

I do have to say, though, that the only thing better than reading words,  is writing them to create a story!

“Burnishing the old resolution again”

By

Gerry Niskern

My New Year’s resolution is the same one I have made for years. I just get it out and polish it up again.

The trait that I do like and value in another person is the ability to speak exactly the same with whomever they are talking . I think the habit of speaking the same with the bosses wife, the friend of your child, your pastor, a toddler, an official is a habit that I have strived to practice.

A person full of grace does no change tone, facial expression or their smile as the occasion dictates. Anyone who has practiced this democratic approach to life conveys the concept that they value the recipient of their remarks for who they are; not someone younger, or of a different social class, or different sex, but just a fellow human being.

I always admire a person dealing with the public who addresses everyone in the same straight forward direct tone and manner. They don’t speak condescendingly to a child or “sweety, sweet” to a senior.

I will admit that when I observe a friend  changing their tone of voice or manner in speaking to a new acquaintance of different stature, I am very disappointed. There is something dishonest about that habit.

Somewhere along in my life, I don’t know when, I decided to strive to speak  to everyone the same. I hope I have succeeded this past year and hope to do the same this year.

Feel free to borrow my resolution. You might like it!

SPOON LICK’N GOOD!

By

Gerry Niskern

When you were a kid, did you call dibs on the spoon or the bowl when your mother was finishing up a sweet dessert? Nothing tastes as good as the tasty drops clinging to the beaters too.

My kids always loved that privilege, but so did the big kid in the house, their Dad. When they were all grown up and gone, and I was making something sweet, I could always count on him calling out, “anything to lick yet?”

The licking was good when Christmas timed rolled around and my mother started on her annual candy making. We watched as she cooked a boiling clear fondant to the right point, poured it onto a large platter and then beat it to a creamy,  white constancy. Sometimes she stuffed the fondant into large dates. But best was when she worked chopped Black walnuts into the mass and then made a long log and sliced it in pieces. Out of this world good!

But that was not all of her repertoire. She cooked chocolate fudge before the days of short cuts and her heavenly divinity was good licking too.

Of course, I made all of those for years, but one year I tried a new recipe out of the newspaper. It became a family favorite. Pralines. Not the traditional Southern kind that you buy in New Orleans, made with brown sugar and cream. No. My  new experiment was made with pecans,  buttermilk and white sugar. They are tricky because you have to cook the mixture to the “perfect” temperature, let it stand for just the right amount of minutes and then beat it hard and smooth. If you have judged everything right, you then quickly drop spoonfulls out on a flat surface. If you can start picking them up immediately. Success! And the best part for the pan lickers was than the mixture set up so quickly that there was a lot left in the pan.

Old habits are hard to break. I still find myself thinking, when I’ve finished with the beaters, “don’t rinse them. Someone will want to lick them!”

Have you licked any good bowls or spoons lately?

“All Second Generations”

By

Gerry Niskern

Does the topic of illegal immigration come up often in your conversations with friends? Everyone has an opinion. Build a higher wall. Pick them all up and deport them. Take back our jobs. Never mind that the majority of those jobs are work that on one else will do.

I have a young friend who constantly worried about illegal immigration too, because you see, she was brought to this country by her parents when she was five. She is a young mother and we often compare notes about her boys and my grand children. When hers wanted to Spiderman for Halloween, so did ours. When hers wanted a special video for Christmas, so did ours!

When her oldest started school he bragged that he was “the smartest kid in the class.” That was because he spoke Spanish and perfect English. He interpreted for the teacher. Her kids also told her about what they had learned about Thanksgiving and that they wanted her to cook a turkey like their friends were having.

She asked me to write out exactly what to buy and how to cook a Thanksgiving dinner. And at Christmas time she wanted make traditional Christmas cookies for her boys. I gave her my recipe and my cookie cutters too.

Later on, when I asked how her holidays had been, she laughed, telling me about how her whole family of brothers and sisters and their kids go to her mother’s tiny house on Christmas Eve and spend the night. And just as all off spring do, they love to tease their mother about how hard she was on them when they were growing up.

Turns out, her father had passed away and her mother worked two jobs every day. The older kids had to see to it that everyone was up on time. They had to be washed, fed and ready for school. She told us, “ My mother’s strict rule was that the house and yard had to be clean. She went straight from her morning job to her second job on the city bus.When she came home at night she expected chores and homework to be done and dinner started.

Over the years my young friend has continued on a tough work schedule waitressing and cleaning houses. She and her husband were eventually able to buy their own home. Her two sons are both in college and doing well.

Just like every Second Generation they have assimilated and become woven into the fabric of American life, just as all our grand and great-grandparents did decades ago.

If she were stopped for a traffic violation, could she be deported? Would the family be torn apart? Could you send them with no regrets?

I couldn’t.

“Give Them the Love of Reading “

By

Gerry Niskern

When our family moved to Phoenix in the summer of l942, I was overjoyed to learn that we were only about ten blocks from the Phoenix Carnegie Library on West Washington. An easy walk for a kid back then, even loaded down with a staggering stack of books. And of course, among those volumes was “The Little House in the Big Woods”, the first of Laura Ingalls Wilder’s Little House series.

Wilder’s first book was published in l942 and lucky for me, the Phoenix library carried it; and  all the rest of the mesmerizing stories of Wilder’s childhood as they were published.

Millions of young readers were enthralled with the true stories of the pioneer girl who survived blizzards and near-starvation on the Great Plains and the harshest experiences of homesteading families. She wrote about Indian attacks on the settlers, wolves stalking their cabin and swarms of Locasts that devoured their crops many times.

However, throughout all the Little House series, she told of her family’s love and devotion to each other. Her father’s violin music that entertained and entwined their family ties.

A new biography of Laura Ingalls Wilder was published this year called “Prairie Fires.” The author Caroline Fraser brings to life the unknown details of Wilder’s extraordinary life.

I knew My daughter had read the books, but I was surprised to learn that one of her brothers was familiar with the “Little House” sagas also. When I was describing the new Wilder bio, “Prairie Fires”, he said “my teacher read them to us in the second grade. I loved them.” He could have told me back then, but I guess seven year old boys don’t do that!

When my great-granddaughter was expected, my baby shower gift was a little boxed set of “Little House” books. I don’t know if she ever read them. I hope so.

My great-great-granddaughter is going on three and loves her books. I think she will be an early reader and guess what she will  receive for Christmas that year?

“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!”

HAVE YOU EVER BEEN TO AN ENCHANTED ISLAND?

By

Gerry Niskern

I visit an enchanted island every once in a while on a long Sunday afternoon.

When you get out of your car in the Encanto Park lot you don’t need  directions. The Merry-go-round  music beckons you in the right direction, over the bridge.

As I walk across the bridge, kids of all ages pass me,  headed for the fun rides. If they are celebrating their birthday on the island in one of the shady party areas, their parents are pulling wagons loaded with drinks, presents and a birthday cake. Last time, one of the fathers was even pulling a wagon containing a TV. I guess he didn’t want to  miss the big game either!

The train that circles the park toots to let everyone know to watch out at the crossing at the entrance. The merry-go-round is first, but there are airplanes to fly. (some poor kids ride in a boring circle because no one tells them to raise up on the control and they will fly!)

All kinds of cars to drive come next and of course, the fire engine  is the one claimed first. There is a Tilt-a-whirl and a boat ride,  but the most popular without a doubt is the Dragon Roller Coaster.

A munchkin rider has to measure a certain height on the operator’s chart or they can’t ride the Dragon. I hear lots of worried kids asking, “Do you think I can make it this time?”I  remember taking  two great-grandkids years ago, and while I went to the  restroom, their grandpa “talked” them on to the Dragon. I was appalled when I caught up to see the five year swirling  up and down and  his two year old sister riding beside him! And as tradition goes, both hands in the air too!

When I look up I’m always startled to see the high rise buildings between the trees. They weren’t there years ago when I was a kid and we went to the park to feed the ducks and swans and rent canoes to paddle around the waterways.

As I sit on a bench “people watching”, or I guess I should really say “kid watching” I am entertained by all sizes and ages. If you love kids and don’t have any in your family right now, enjoy the ones on The Enchanted Island. It’s a nice way to spend a long Sunday afternoon.

nksgiving Memories”

Thanksgiving is coming and I, like many of my friends around the valley, am remembering past Thanksgivings.

Tension best describes my first memories of Thanksgiving.

My very nervous mother had just cooked her first Turkey dinner. We were standing with our faces pressed against the cold glass of the dining room window straining to see through the snowy veil of a West Virginia blizzard.  Dad had invited his out-of-state boss to share our meal and the guy had  brought his rifle to “get in a little hunting”with my dad, before dinner.

As mom wrung her apron over and over into a tiny knot, she kept muttering, ”If he’s lost in that snow storm, I’m going to kill him!”

# one  son recalled the great Thanksgivings when our extended family always packed their turkey and all the trimmings and headed for a desert picnic outside Phoenix. The kids rode go-carts, flew kites and launched rockets. Grandpa set up tables and the tailgates of pickups served as buffet sideboards. Grandma brought the turkey warm in the roaster, with warm potatoes and gravy in large thermos jugs. He remembers waiting over an hour one year for cousins to arrive with the silverware. Needless to say, Grandma said she would give them another assignment the next year!

A friend told me about the Oklahoma farm Thanksgivings of her childhood.  Sometimes turkey, but often a whole, crackling pig was roasted. They had cornbread dressing, cranberries and sweet potatoes with marshmallows. Cherry, pumpkin and apple pie with a scoop of cream whipped fresh that day with a hand turned beater. There was always a dark chocolate and a huge angel food cake.  “One aunt was the angel food champion. My aunts whispered suspicions that she used more egg whites instead of the standard 12 in her cake.”

The men ate first because there wasn’t enough room for everybody to sit down together. When they were finished and went outside to smoke and “chew the fat”, the women and children ate.   “The best part of the day was playing with my cousins. Hide and Seek in the barn was my favorite, but then the older kids would organize a Crack the Whip game and since I was the littlest they made me be on the tail end. That took the fun right out of Thanksgiving!”

Another friend described Thanksgiving dinner at an aunt’s Maryland farm. The table was set with scalloped edged china covered in large blue flowers and gleaming silverware with a rose pattern.  The prisms hanging from the crystal candelabra cast soft rainbows on the diners. Of course, that was the adult table. She remembers yearning to graduate to the big table and listen to the uncles’ stories and take part in the adult conversation. On one of those Thanksgivings, the turkey had to be carved in the kitchen instead of at the table.  The guests didn’t know that a couple of the family dogs had already helped themselves to one whole side of breast!

My resident historian said that his first memory of Thanksgiving was during WWII. A fourth grade classmate invited him to share a lonely dinner with him and his mom. The friend’s dad was on a destroyer somewhere in the Atlantic.

During the war years, my Mother instructed Dad to “go down to the USO and bring home some soldiers to share Thanksgiving dinner with us and the girls.” Much to our disappoinment,  he always  managed to return with older married guys. Mom always said Dad didn’t “fall off the turnip truck yesterday.”

I asked a seven-year-old in the family what he was thankful for at Thanksgiving time.

“That Christmas is coming”

Well, there’s that too.