“Growing Pains”

by

Gerry Niskern

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 from the lady in the basement who was playing the piano to demonstrate the latest 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 graces our living room all these 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 five and ten had a new shipment of hard-to-get straight pins to use in your model building.

When he finally made his big decision he realized he didn’t have the two dollar bills in his hand. He searched the entire store, to no avail.  Needless to say, he walked home too.

Years later he was driving by as they were demolishing the old Newberry store building. He always laughed and  said he felt like stopping and telling the construction crew, “Hey, if you guys find two dollars under those floor boards, they’re mine!”

Make New Friends, but Keep the Old

By

Gerry Niskern

A friend is a person you meet who likes you for what you are, not what you have done. They see beneath to outside shell to the real you, and they like you, anyway!

I lost my best friend last year. After 62 years, he can never be replaced. Many long time friends are gone too  and I  need to make new ones,  but it is HARD!

I think back to some friends that I had as a kid and how easy it was. In first grade I spent all  my recesses  See-Sawing with a little boy named Matthew. Unlike most of the other boys in our little country school, he was quiet and easy-going. He had rosy cheeks, blue eyes, and blond curly hair. Years later, when my third child was born I saw rosy cheeks, blue eyes, and a a wisp of blond hair. I knew immediately his name would be Matthew.

In Junior Hi my best friend was an early bloomer. Much to my mother’s dismay, she introduced me to the latest hit songs, the current dance steps, and boys! Since her mother worked, she had lots of chores to do. We cooked all kinds of food and she let me bake my first cake. Scariest of all, she helped me lay out a pattern on material I bought with baby sitting money and taught me how to sew a dress.

Our best friends are the ones who encourage us to strive and achieve. They bring out the best in us. The great comfort of a true friendship is that you have to explain nothing. You just know.

Lucky is the parent whose adult children have grown into adult friends. They talk in an easy shorthand, breaking into each others thoughts, without having to clarify or explain.

I’m thinking of the old Girl Scout song that goes,, “Make new friends, but keep the old. One is silver, the other gold” I couldn’t say it better myself!

“History is not a Blank Canvas!”

By

Gerry Niskern

There’s a street in our city that calls to you. It’s a place where we all feel comfortable. The old trees and stately homes that line N. Central Avenue beckon now just as they did when I was growing up here in Phoenix. Our Sunday drive always ended with our pleas of “Dad, drive up North Central!” The old trees on both sides of the boulevard met in the center forming a tunnel. The cool green shade gave us the feeling of being underwater in this desert town.

New homes in the suburbs are built to fit the budget and dreams of their buyers, but sometimes the buyer longs for a place that reflects another time. They want some connection to the past so they get it through location. More and more homebuyers are attracted to the green setting of North Central.

That means different things to different people. The houses on N. Central reminds some buyers of their grandparent’s house, front porch or yard.  Today, as modern life presses in everywhere, they like the idea of returning to the old home place.

Do you recall a couple of years ago the city passed an ordinance creating an overlay to protect the old olive trees on either side of central, the bridle path and the street too?  The ancient Olive trees were protected. There could be no more selling of the large estates in order to build multiple new homes on one piece of property. And not a moment too soon.

Now, however, each morning when I walk the dirt bridle path, along with the sound of water gurgling in the irrigation ditch and the chirping of birds, I hear the sound of hammers and drills. The smell of fresh lumber, fills the air. A different type of change is taking place along the  avenue.  One by one the older homes a being totally remodeled. They are stripped down to foundation and possibly the fireplace.

Ninety per cent of the home is demolished and then new floors are added, expansive new configurations are formed. Some parts of the homes now even have a second floor. New owners want their three car garages and deluxe master baths.

North Central Avenue has always had a variety of style homes, from luxurious Spanish Colonials to sprawling Ranch varieties. The one- of -a -kind properties were loved and cherished, sitting quietly among trees, flowers and solitude. The old Olive trees and bridle path were protected, but not the homes.

The homes nestled along North Central are unique. The people who buy these homes are really guardians of history. But is history a blank canvas?

Arizona Valenine

By

Gerry Niskern

We all know the only sight more gorgeous than the golden glow of an Arizona sunset is a delicate desert sunrise of silvery pinks.   But did you know that our beautiful state is celebrating its 103^rd  birthday this month?  On Valentines day, February 14^th, 1912, President Taft signed the bill granting statehood to Arizona.

The Spanish claimed this land until the Gadsden Purchase created the Arizona Territory. Way back before then, the only inhabitants of Arizona for thousands of years were the Native Americans. They were Navajo, Apache, Zuni, Hope, Pima, and Papago, to name just a few of the many tribes.

We know the early settlers arrived in covered wagons; but do you know how your first family arrived?  Our family, on the other hand, came to Arizona in a 41 Plymouth. We piled into the car in Moundsville, W. Va,  and crossed the United States, taking time to see America on the way.  In that wartime summer of 1942 Dad often stopped to pick up young soldiers, sailors and marines on leave who were hitching their way home across the country or back to their base. We stopped to see an uncle stationed at an Army base in Texas.

Everything was fine until we came through the mountains of Eastern Arizona.

Then my dad said, “We’re getting close to Phoenix”. Then we stopped fighting in the back seat and sat up and paid attention.  First we came to Globe. Our hearts sank. We dropped down through the little mining towns of Miami and Superior and our hearts sank even lower. Is this what Arizona towns looked like? Soon we were on the hot desert floor in the middle of an Arizona August and on the home stretch. We prepared for the worst.  Finally, we were on Van Buren Street in Phoenix.  There were Palm trees and orange trees. And  cute motels, parks and grass, lots of grass! It was wonderful!

Ken  used to tell  a different story about his family’s introduction to Arizona.  His family traveled from Texas to our great state of Arizona in a 1933 Ford on Route 60 also.

“As we descended down the mountain, instead of putting the car into second gear, Dad rode the brakes. By the time we reached the bottom, they weren’t holding and smoke was pouring out.  It’s a wonder the whole car didn’t burn up”.

He always concluded, “If you are ever up that way on highway 60 look down into the canyon below. You will see remnants of the old highway we traveled in the l940’s. It is quite a sight.”

Both our families, like thousands of others, came for health reasons, as did the family of a friend of mine. She was five when they rode the train from Arkansas in 1942. She remembers an uncle meeting them at Union Station in Phoenix.  “ He drove us to Mondo’s farm out in the Glendale area where my dad was going to work. It was on 67^th Ave, South of Northern. When I got out of the car the first thing I saw was a huge mound of carrots. I ran and jumped right in the middle of them. Imagine my surprise when I sank to the bottom of an irrigation ditch full of water. Vegetables were routinely thrown in the ditch for cleaning.  If it hadn’t been for the quick thinking of a farm lady who was hanging out her clothes, I wouldn’t be here today. I don’t remember that woman’s name, but thanks goodness she saw me and jumped in to pull me out!”

Almost everyone remembers how they arrived in Arizona, but, whatever your story and  reason for coming, don’t you love it? Happy Valentine’s Day Arizona!

“Cookies, Cookies Everywhere!”

By

Gerry Niskern

Guess what? I found the cookies! Or I guess I should say, I found the Thin Mints, Smores, Tagalongs, and all the other sweet delights and the Girl Scouts selling them.

When cookie selling season started I started dreaming that maybe, just maybe some ambitious girl would make it all the way up to my street, like they used to years ago. But it was not to be. So I started watching the grocery stores hoping to see their table set up on Saturday. They are refused many locations these days because of “liability” concerns.

You see, I have a special spot in my heart for the Girls. When I was in the fifth grade at Jackson School a Girl Scout troop was formed; called troop # Eleven. Our leaders name was Miss Curlee, a second grade teacher. I’m sure the poor lady got the short straw, but lucky for us, she was young and pretty. All the other teachers looked to be over 100 to this fifth grader. Our dues were 2 cents per week.

My main Christmas present that year was a Girl Scout uniform. They cost a whopping three dollars.  And since I was the only one lucky enough to have one first, I got to represent our troop in the annual Rodeo Parade that year. We all stood on a wagon trying to keep our balance on a very bumpy ride down Central Avenue.

I enjoyed all the scouting experiences, but the thing that I was most excited about and really my main reason for joining was that I was going to get to sell cookies door to door. They were plain vanilla, with the Girl Scout emblem on the top.

When I took my boxes home and my mother heard the price, (25 cents), she said, “Absolutely not! I wouldn’t think of letting you ask the neighbors to buy a box of cookies for 25 cents when they can buy the same for ten cents at the grocery store”

In those days, that was that. CASE CLOSED!

Sure you can find less expensive cookies, but that’s not the point, is it? Why not support the organization that develops girls of courage, confidence and character worldwide? The Girl Scouts don’t ask for donations. They get out and hustle.

The girls promise “to help other people at all time:, and THAT YOU WILL LOVE THEIR COOKIES!

“Boomers Legacy”

By

Gerry Niskern

Last year the first baby boomers reached age 60. That’s 85 million in the United States and Canada.

Through their childhood and as they came of age, most of the leading edge boomers experienced good times.

Never before has such a large group of consumers been so heavily analyzed by market researchers and courted by retailers. For example, they have single handedly caused the standard apparel sizes in the fashion industry to change. To encourage them to keep right on buying even when they weren’t a size 10 or 12 anymore the industry just changed their sizing. And men’s blue jeans went from tight to relaxed fit overnight.

But now let me suggest a word of caution to all you boomers out there that will affect you directly, sooner than you think.

While you were busy building careers, businesses and raising a family, there has been a change in attitude in our country towards older people. The trend started in the last couple of decades in television and movies. Script writers and producers decided it was hilarious to show oldsters as the butt of many jokes. Mothers in sit-coms, over the age of fifty, are routinely depicted as sex starved maniacs. And older men fare even worse. If attending a movie with a child now days, notice how kids today automatically laugh at the appearance of any white haired person on the screen.

You boomers could easily turn this trend around. A large percentage of today’s kids don’t see the elderly as real people. They only know the stereotypes they have been conditioned to laugh at in entertainment.

Although some children in today’s society are lucky enough to know their grandparents as individuals; most kids never learn about the senior’s careers or life experiences. I suggest that you  take the time to share stories and photos with younger members of your extended family about your own parents. If possible, ask them to share experiences with the younger ;members of the family about their life’s work.

Here’s another suggestion. Your kids and grandkids always learn by your example. 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, but never about the other speeders?

The sense of stability and security has always been grounded in respect for families and the elders. In these times of a mobile society, you can be assured  that if you lay the ground work, future generations will have a different attitude towards anyone growing older.

Then when you boomers progress from middle age into the pace-makers years, and trust me, you will, you won’t be automatically assigned the “geezer” roles created by the script doctors!

“Coffee Time Parade”

By

Gerry Niskern

There’s a place in our city that provides the ultimate passing parade for addicted people watchers. On any day you 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. Right after them come tired looking men and women, in surgical blues, looking for a cup of strong regular.

While exhausted tennis players enjoy an iced coffee, the morning walkers are ready for iced tea as the overhead fans and refreshing misters keep the 110-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.

There’s 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 seem to get out a little more these days. The mom’s shrieks of laughter blends with their toddlers giggles as the kids chase, but never catch, the pigeons milling about.

As the morning goes on, a Dial- a- Ride bus pulls up. The side door opens, the hoist comes down and a stalwart little lady clutching tightly to her walker is slowly lowered to the ground. She makes a plucky effort often to attend the “passing parade.”

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.

A group of nannies from the nearby neighborhood sit at a table surrounded by a circle of designer strollers. Each one containing one or two precious charges thoroughly enjoying their day out too.

My favorite is the kid on the skate board who zooms right up to the entrance, tripping the automatic door opener, jumps off and catches the board as he strides through, all in one spectacular motion.

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

“Blast from the Past”

By

Gerry Niskern

Have you ever known a winter this cold in the Valley of the Sun?

Well, sure you’re laughing if you come from Colorado or Minnesota or parts East. Those of us who grew up here are finding it hard to take. Okay, I admit it, we’re a bunch of sissies.

If you grew up in the land of ice and snow, you probably had to wear those hated snowsuits as a kid. You knew they kept you warm because you mother said so.  Do you remember lining up so the poor teacher could help everyone get into their snow pants, boots and get all zipped up nicely before heading outside?

How many of you women as a little girl,  had one of those wool knitted caps that peaked at the top and tied under the chin, with balls on the ends? Do you remember building snowmen; sledding and making ice cream treats with snow, vanilla and sugar? And of course, worst of all, how it feels to get hit hard, right in the mouth with a speeding snowball during a fight.

Don’t even try to find a space heater this year. Everyone’s sold out. The heating and cooling companies are having a bonanza. When those heat pumps work overtime during a stretch of below freezing weather they ice up from overload. Ice forms and the only solution is to turn them completely off for a few hours. The incredulous response to that advice from repairmen is “You’ve got to be kidding!”

When my family moved to Phoenix when I was a kid, we thought we left the cold weather behind. Back then, however, without the Internet, information was not as readily available. My mother gave away all her wool blankets and quilts. She was told that the family wouldn’t need them in sunny Phoenix. Our home like most here had a screen-sleeping porch on the rear. They were set up for the hot months to catch a cool breeze. The porches had canvas flaps that could be let down for winter protection. Mom had to scramble to borrow warm blankets for the first cold night here.

We Phoenicians are used to turning our furnaces off at night. Kids are sent off to school with a light sweater, which they manage to shed or lose by 10 A. M. People are more likely to take a jacket with them here in the summer for the air conditioning at the movies.

After all, Phoenix is the city where the pre-schools truck in a load of snow from up north so the kids can experience the fun of building a snowman. They get to see what snow feels and tastes like and hopefully, not from a well placed snowball to the teeth.

In the meantime, this year our residents have had to scramble to find old towels and sheets to cover frost sensitive plants at night. We had to dig out our heavy coats if we can find them, and gloves for the morning commute.

Don’t be embarrassed if you’re all bundled up like the Abominable Snowman when you pass smug joggers in their skimpy shorts and tiny tee tops. Just remind yourself to wait until they’ve lived here a few years and their blood has thinned out too.

I actually bought a pair of earmuffs for my early morning walk. I love them. What I really want to know is where are those “dreaded ” snow pants when you really need them?

“Everyone can make an Ethical Will in 2015”

By

Gerry Niskern

I wrote about Ethical Wills once before, years ago. I believe the idea bears repeating for new generations of readers in this New Year. An Ethical Will is an opportunity for you to communicate your hopes and dreams for the future generations of your family. Your morals, regrets and yes, your opinions are all included.  They are usually written by people at a turning point in their lives.

An Ethical will  is not a legal document; rather it is a record of your nonrepresentational wealth. Although parents would like to see their children financially secure, they would also like to leave some philosophical provisions as well.

Think of the many phrases stated by your parents or grandparents that influenced you while growing up. One of my mother’s favorites comes to mind. “Be kind and respectful to the elderly, their life is hard.” When I would argue, “But, Mom, what if they’re crabby with me?” She always replied, “That doesn’t matter. We still respect the old.”

Then there was one of my grandmother’s admonishments, in her broken English. “Don’t go where you no belong.” Her advice still serves a purpose in our family. These examples are not exactly an ethical will, but certainly examples of the making of one.

Writing an Ethical Will does not require enormous education or wisdom. It’s what you have to give of yourself.  Every will is as unique as the person writing it, but there are common themes. Personal values are important, as well as “life’s lessons learned.” Families are mentioned often. “Take care of the family. Value the family.”  Many give instructions on how to maintain the strength of the family.

If you need help getting started, start keeping a journal. Over a period of time themes will emerge that you can use in drafting your ethical will.

.          Many newlyweds sit down and share their values in ethical wills. It doesn’t matter if you are an engaged couple, brand new parents, divorcing, empty nesters, or end of lifers, there is no time like the present. Not everyone can pass along a financial legacy, but everybody can transmit some of the richness of life. You have lived and learned and have thoughts to pass on. Just be yourself. Open your heart and write