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.

“HAVE YOU BOUGHT YOUR CANDY YET?”

By

Gerry Niskern

Why don’t skeletons go trick or treating?

Times getting  short. Only a few more days until the witches, princesses or monsters come shouting at your door. “Trick or Treat, Trick or treat!”. You better be ready.

Years ago, in our first new home, I kept reminding my husband to pick up  some candy. Halloween was coming. Of course, I didn’t have to remind him because, for days, he had heard our two-year old practicing her new words. “Trick or Treat”. She had it down pat.She was going as a Chinese girl.  She had a pair of blue silk Chinese pajamas and I had fashioned her a coolie hat.

When the big day arrived, Daddy came home with boxes of regular sized candy bars. Boxes of them! “I’m giving out the kind of loot that I would have liked when  was a kid!” he declared.

He stayed home with baby brother and Miss Hong Kong and I took off. There was just one problem. At the first home and every one thereafter, she stonily held  out her bag and gave the poor neighbors the dirtiest look  she could muster, refusing to say a word. She came home with quite a little sack full anyway.

We came home to find out that her daddy had not given out a single candy bar. Nary a Goblin had knocked on our front door. “I would hear kids coming and then they would sort of fade away.” He said. We finally decided to check  the front door. We had both forgotten to take down the “Shhhh…baby sleeping” sign that I had put out that afternoon.

So get out and get that candy and be sure to check your front door!

By the way, the reason Skeletons don’t go Trick or Treating is they don’t have any body to go with!

Halloween, let’s give it back!

By

Gerry Niskern

Halloween used to be just for kids.  I’m talking about the age-old holiday when the  kids dressed up like witches or monsters and visited the neighbor’s houses shouting, “Trick or Treat”.

Planning began weeks in advance, giving everyone time to think up the best character. That way they could always change their mind several times, driving their mother crazy, especially the ones who were sewing the costumes.

Make no mistake about it. This is one holiday the kids own. On October 31, when it starts to get dark and they have eaten the required bite of dinner, it’s trick-or-treat time. Beautiful Princesses and heroic Batmen hit the door running, with mom or dad trotting to keep up with the charge down the street.

Actually, I’m a little more concerned each year. According to the costume rental businesses, the demand for adult disguises is through the roof. Restaurants and caterers brag that their orders for adult Halloween parties are increasing rapidly. That’s all fine and dandy, but remember this special night belongs to the munchkins.

Halloween night, dating back to when it officially started around A. D. 830 when Pope Gregory IV proclaimed November 1 All Saints’ Day, also known as Allhallows, has by tradition been a kids night for fun.

The school may have an official parade through the other grades to show off costumes, but that does not a Halloween make! Yes, it has gotten a lot more dangerous in recent years. Sure we all have to be more diligent about where we take the munchkins in their quest for goodies. Also, older brothers and sisters have to be given strict guidelines for their adventures.

Don’t pass up the wonderful chance that helps the little ones develop their creativity and imagination too. Those childhood years pass too quickly, eight or ten at the most. When they put on those costumes and are transformed into Spiderman or Barbie, make no mistake about it, they really become Spiderman and Barbie and deserve an evening of  “let’s pretend.”

So how about it, before the adults take over the holiday, let’s give Halloween back to the kids?

When Cousins Collide!

Some of you might remember the post that I wrote about meeting my great-great-grandaughter for the first time about a year ago. At that time I mentioned her unique approach to everything. I got to see her again last Sunday and she was more innovative and fun than ever. She doesn’t like to wear pant and shirts anymore, only ballerina dresses. When she is being dressed in the morning she keeps getting out a dress, hoping to replace the play clothes. When one isn’t accepted, she keeps bringing out another and another, thinking one will be okay. This little blond haired, brown eyed fashionista is persistent. If it sounds like I’m bragging….I am. I’m a great-great, those are the rules!

She just turned two a couple of months ago and is sporting quite a vocabulary. “Hi Grandma” she called as I walked in her grandmother’s house. Most of her talking was reserved for her younger cousin, Oliver. There was a reason for this, you see. ,

Iris plays with the babies at the Day Care she attends, but because cousin Oliver was a preemie and is small for his 18 months, she calls him baby and doesn’t realize he is his own man. He had brought all of his video games and she was staking a claim to them . I haven’t had so much fun in a long time; watching the crying battles that ensued. When she would try to take one that he was playing with she found it wasn’t that easy. You see, Oliver uses a wheelchair and has very strong little arms. So when she pulled a game a way, he didn’t let it go. “Done now”, he yelled and she kept saying “no, no baby”, but couldn’t pry his strong little hands loose.

After the battle of the videos, she decided to push him around in his wheelchair. Her ballerina skirt billowed out like a parachute as they made their own NASCAR track, that is, until they hit one wall and then another. He was laughing out loud as they crashed. He didn’t know girl cousins could be such fun. She kept patting him on the head and saying “I love you little baby

When Oliver was put down to crawl, she crawled all over the house with him. But when he crawled over and picked up a video game, the armistice was over!

“Coffee Time Parade” Chapter two

By

Gerry Niskern

As I sit and arrive people arriving at the best coffee gathering place in the valley, I never cease to wonder at the variety.  On any day I might see beautiful young women dressed in the latest swishy dresses or no nonsense suits in five-inch backless heels hurrying to grab a latte on their way to the office. Of course, I  have to laugh at the gals in the “spray-on jeans” and their high boots. Never mind that it’s still close to 100 some days!

Right after them come tired looking men and women, in surgical scrubs, looking for a cup of strong regular.

While exhausted tennis players arrive to enjoy an iced coffee, the morning walkers are ready for iced tea as the refreshing misters keep the 100-degree temperatures bearable.

You’ll see dogs of all breed and sizes in their daily drama of one-upmanship. Some of the large, docile pets would be perfectly happy to play with the smaller canines. However, the mighty midgets feel duty bound to challenge any larger mutt.  Then again, that eternal feud is mild compared to all their mutual hatred for the mailman. The thirsty guy in the unlucky “uniform” is challenged with a chorus of indignant barking.

On Wednesdays there is a few tables shoved together for group meetings. Sometimes it’s the retired crowd trying to make sense of today’s politics.  Or the group is the city detectives having an early breakfast. Then again, it might be a PTA committee planning the next year’s fundraiser.

The “Stay at Home” moms don’t stay home much these days. The mom’s shrieks of laughter blends with their toddlers giggles as the kids chase, but never catch, the pigeons looking for a stray crumb.

Pretty apron clad young women from the nearby hair salon chatter as they hurry by between appointments. They’re anxious to grab a designer coffee, but stop to greet regular customers seated at tables they pass.

Two fellows in business suits carry their steaming coffee and plates of gooey, pecan rolls search for an empty table. No doubt they are fugitives from the cholesterol police. I suspect the wives at home thought the heart healthy oatmeal that they prepared for breakfast would hold them until their “ sworn salad lunch.”

The kids on the skate boards always zoo right up to the entrance, tripping the automatic door opener, jumps off and catch the board as theystride through, all in one spectacular motion.

The other day when I came out to reclaim my table, an Asian family were seated nearby. The mother jumped up to hand me my book and apologize profusely. Her toddler had knocked it on the ground. The baby stood there with bowed head and when his mother was finished explaining, he looked up at me with the sweetest smile I  have ever seen and offered me his slice of pizza. I just wanted to take him home!

Where can you watch that unique passing parade? Why, at your favorite morning coffee place.  Note: Cast subject to change without notice.

“YOU’RE KIDDING ME?”

By

Gerry Niskern

I’ll admit it. You had me at Huggies. Coming from a decade where we washed our babies cloth diapers, I was constantly amazed at new products coming out every year to make new parents life easier.

First there was fitted diapers. Then came Huggies and after that the Diaper Genie. I was constantly surprised at how easy the new mothers had it. Around then, a Baby Monitor to keep track of the baby at all times, and now the Baby Shusher. Imagine that! A little device to turn on that creates a “kind of white noise” to encourage the infant to sleep a little longer.

Of course, all the different formulas and bottles were great, but later, the genius Sippy Cup. No More spills to clean up. And when the kid is ready for a stroller, now they are  the size of a Volkswagon. There is a place for everything: Mom’s purse, jacket, her drink, the baby’s diapers, bottles, changes of clothes, snacks, toys, and even a brother or sister. (I had a metal stroller that doubled as a baby walker when the foot platform was removed and the handle popped off.) Can’t tell you the price, it was a hand me down.

Next came all kinds of potty chairs designed just for the toddler boy or girl. All shapes and sizes and just as many books and advice from friends on “how to get the point across to the little tyke”. However, there really wasn’t a new innovative product to get the job done easily.

But wait, there is! MY POTTY WATCH! All you have to do is put the watch on the wrist of the tot.  Then you  explain that when it rings a happy tune, he/she should run and sit on the potty! As the instructions explain, “This will eliminate the problem of the child getting irritated at his mother nagging  him”. I’LL WAIT FOR YOU  TO INSERT YOUR OWN COMMENTS  HERE

Imagine, as the kid get older, no more nagging from mom to get up for school, take out the trash, “do your homework”. I can see that watch coming in handy over the years. That is, if it survives its flush down the toilet by the proud owner!

OME MEMORIES THAT KEN SHARED WITH ME OF HIS YEARS AS A PAPERBOY.

A Salute to earlier, young Laborers

Do you know the person who delivers your news every morning? I don’t.  Paperboys used to be a kid from your neighborhood. Ken, my husband,  remembered carrying the Republic and Gazette in the early 1940’s.

“Our station was located in front of a Chinese grocery store West of the State Capitol. When it rained, someone dragged the bundles into the doorway so they wouldn’t get wet.  We took turns folding our papers in the shelter. There were no plastic sleeves; we put our jackets over our canvas paper bags. We figured we could pedal fast enough to go between the raindrops.”

“On Sundays, after our regular route, we picked up papers from to R & G building, to deliver skipped customer for a chance to earn extra money. They gave us each ten extra papers. We rode over to Five Points intersection and sold them for 25 cents each. It added up.”

“ I recall one mischievous kid who lived in my neighborhood. In the mornings, he waited until he was a couple blocks from home so that his mother wouldn’t know and then turned on his bicycle siren. It was mounted on the frame and a spring held it against the tire. You could hear him all the way down to his station at Seventeenth Avenue and Buckeye Road. One morning a sheriff requested that he remove it.”

.

“I carried around 250 Republic papers in the morning and over 200 Gazettes in the afternoon. We collected every month and every customer knew us by name. I don’t remember how much we were paid per paper, but I made around $120 a month, not bad for a kid in the sixth grade. For any kid who wanted to work and wasn’t afraid to get up at 5 A. M. it was a great job because it didn’t interfere with school. I was able to maintain good grades and even trade up every time a new model Schwinn came out.”

“Those fine old homes around the State Capitol had big porches and the customers insisted their papers be porched. We didn’t realize it probably sounded like a thunderclap at 5 A. M. when it hit as we pedaled by.” ”

“The boys took their job seriously,” he concluded. “There was a great rivalry among the guys about who could go the longest without getting any “kicks” (complaints.) If one of the guys was really late, we would hide half his papers. It was a good incentive to get to the station on time.”

“If you were sick it was your responsibility to find your sub. No parents were out delivering your papers in their cars. It was easier to just drag yourself out of bed and do the route.”

I knew Ken was serious about his job. We were in the eighth grade when I took my first ride on the cross bar of that Schwinn, on our way to a Girl Scout dance.  We started to fall and just before we hit, the bike swooped upright again. I commented on how strong he was and he replied, “Shoot, you’re about as heavy as the Sunday papers!”

Remember when we were all uncool?

By

Gerry Niskern

Do you remember when if someone in the family bought a new car, they took it around to show all the relatives? It didn’t have to be new either!

And remember when a young couple bought a house they moved in and enjoyed it. It didn’t have to be renovated with new bathrooms and top of the line kitchen. Friends dropped in anytime. and it was actually considered the polite thing to do to show them the whole house.

Do you remember when you went on vacation and absolutely had to send everyone back home postcards! You started writing them as soon as you got there. And the games you played in the evening were true board games that the whole family enjoyed together, no batteries required.

Remember when Dad came home with a couple of new jokes every night. How long has it been since you have heard anyone sitting around telling jokes; back before everyone got their solitary dose of daily humor on their favorite social media site?

“hand me downs” were actually looked forward to. If you saw an older cousin sporting a new dress/shirt, you knew you were going to have it next year. I remember playing a game with my two year old as I dressed him every day. He would ask me, “who give me this?” and I  would tell him the name of the cousin. He loved it and was always shocked when I would answer,”it’s yours!”

Remember when you were little and you were excited to be going to see your Grandma. Not because of a present you might be receiving or someplace your grandma might be taking you, but because, well, just because it was your grandma!

And do you remember when your best girl was happy to get a box of chocolates from the corner drugstore?

Just wondering if you remember when everyone was “uncool”!

“Sometimes it’s hard to understand”

By

Gerry Niskern

The talk radio station was spewing forth all kinds of opinions regarding the tragedy. You know the one; the baby that was accidentally left in a sweltering vehicle Some of the callers were indignant and furious. They just “couldn’t understand how any parent could be that neglectful.”

On the other hand, the majority of women callers were compassionate. Many said they could understand perfectly how something so awful could happen. Most named the number of children they had raised or were raising. They talked about how hard it is to be an alert mother when you are tired, or sick and possibly stressed out over a routine of home, job and childcare.  They weren’t condoning the mother’s forgetful actions, but they said they certainly could understand.

I thought of a good friend of mine, a conscientious  young mother of three.  She told me about nursing her newborn infant, then putting her down for a nap back in the nursery. Then she cleaned up the three and four year old, got in the car and drove to the grocery store. While she was there, it hit her; she’d left the baby at home!

I personally remember driving west on Thomas Road after a visit to the pediatrician with a three and five year old  and an infant. The whole family had the flu. Suddenly it dawned on me that I had just driven my car full of precious cargo through the red right by St. Joseph’s Hospital’s emergency entrance, nearly missing an ambulance. I still get cold chills when I think of what could have happened.

There have always been accidents involving infants and small children. Toddlers in Arizona have drowned in irrigation ditches, had accidents with animals and machinery. Parents  were exhausted, lost track and tragedies happened.

Interestingly enough, later on, when there were more cars on the road, kids were thrown from cars and killed because no one had invented seat belts or child safety seats.  How many of us narrowly escaped that potential tragedy? Now, we have mandatory laws about car seats. They must be placed in the back seat. Also, kids under thirty pounds or one year must ride backwards in order to cut down on possible injuries.

There is no doubt that this presents a unique problem. So far, this year nationally, 32 kids have died of hypothermia who were left in scorching vehicles. We have saved children from getting hurt in accidents, only to have them forgotten in the back seat.

One major opinion came blaring out of the car radio last week. “Throw her in prison; that’s the best deterrent to keep it from happening again.” Unfortunately, nothing has stopped these sad deaths from occurring.

Others have started some constructive thinking about inventing some creative devices to alert the parent that a child is still in the car. An alarm that would sound or some device attached to both you and the infant. It has even been suggested that the parents  leave their wallet, cell phone or purse in the back seat to function as a reminder. Last year, 82 % of kids hot car deaths were unintentional . It is a terrible and difficult decision for a county prosecutor to charge a parent in this type of case. At this point, we can only trust the law enforcement investigators to determine case by case what is gross negligence and what is one memory lapse.

And what can we do? Try a little understanding.