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.

“School’s Starting Already?”

By

Gerry Niskern

During  these Covid days, nobody knows when or if their kid’s school is starting this year. Nor do they know if they even want to send them. Some time back, I wrote a column about the first day of school.

Starting first grade, I remembered crying at lunch for the first two weeks; but my husband remembered getting a whipping first day of first grade for being what the teacher decided was a “smart aleck”!

Here’s the original column:

The first thing I always think of when I hear that school is starting is “It’s time to get a Big Chief tablet and a new pencil.”  Okay, now you know I started school in the Dark Ages!

I once asked a few people of various ages “What is the first thing that pops into your mind about school starting?” Here are some of their answers.

One five year old in my family who was  eagerly waiting to start Kindergarten said,” I think I will learn to read,” and after a long pause, “And I think I will be thinking a lot.”  I posed the question to his little sister who was starting Pre-School, but she “took the fifth!”

A granddaughter  in middle school looked surprised at my question and answered, “Why, that’s easy. The first thing I always think about school starting is now we can go shopping for clothes.”

One fifty-something in our family answered. “I remember my first thought when I started first grade was, “I’ll get to ride the school bus with the little red-haired girl. Maybe I’ll get to hold her hand.” He continued, “I did; but after school started she got her long hair cut and I didn’t want to hold her hand anymore.”

An 89 year old friend said when school started each year, “ I worried about getting all my books. I prayed they hadn’t changed the texts so I could use the ones my older sisters had. Then off I went happily in my sister’s hand me down dresses too.”

A friend who has taught Kindergarten for many years answered. “That’s easy. Crying children; I call September the crying month. Only a third of my kids have had pre-school experience. The parents are actually the biggest problem. If they would  say goodbye and just leave!”

My friend, a retired teacher who taught mathematics to seventh and eighth graders for years said, “Now when I realize it’s time for school to start again I think, great. I don’t have to go.” And then he added, “Tennis anyone?”

Can you pick a good one?

By

Gerry Niskern

Watermelons, Honey Dews, Galias, Tuscans, Casabas, Cantaloupe. They are all in the supermarkets right now. Do you know how to pick a good one?

When it came to Watermelons my mother had a tried and true method. SHE MADE THE PRODUCE GUY “PLUG” ONE! The tool he used was a long, sharp, circular knife that he plunged deep into the center of the melon. If the long sphere wasn’t sweet enough, mom didn’t buy it.

Regarding Cantaloupes, she always said to “press on the opposite end from the stem site.” It should feel slightly soft and a little springy.

Speaking of Cantaloupes, the family ‘s favorite. But wait, was it dessert or a side dish at dinner?

When we were newlyweds the cantaloupe debate started. Being a W. VA girl, I always had the two halves of Cantaloupe cleaned and ready to serve after dinner for dessert. My husband, a West Texas boy, was used to his mother putting a heaping platter of sliced Cantaloupe as a side dish with the meal.

One day he got so tired of me being stingy with the Cantaloupe he took the advice of a friend of where to get plenty of the ripe melon. He proceeded to take his pickup out on Grand Avenue to the packing sheds. All you had to do was back your truck up to the loading dock and they would dump the bed full of Cantaloupe that was too ripe to ship. Several times during the season he brought home a truckload to share with all our neighbors.

They were delicious!

“Sounds of Summer”

By

Gerry Niskern

SOME OF THESE YOU WILL RECOGNIZE AND THEY IN TURN WILL REMIND YOU OF OTHER FOND SOUNDS OF SUMMER.

Do the sounds of summer take you back to memories of childhood?

Sometimes the charisma of summer is all in the sounds. Try to recall the sound of the water drops hitting the dust as the field was watered before the first pitch of the Little League game. And after the first pitch came the crack of the bat. You can hear it now, can’t you?

After the game, nothing was better than hearing the ice tinkling in the ice cold lemonade unless it’s your first crunchy gulp after a hot game. Or how about the merry sound of the Ice Cream man’s chimes and you knew soon that cool ice cream would be sliding down your parched throat.

When I was growing up near the State Capitol, there used to be a family on West Jefferson, around 11^th Ave. that sold the best watermelons in the whole valley. They kept them cold in a large, soda pop cooler. Mom’s

thumbs beat deep thuds as she tapped the  melons.  Later, at home when she slid her big knife in the dark green skin, her choice melon split apart with a loud ripping sound. It was heaven.

Inside the house, the whir of the evaporative cooler motor meant a welcome breeze. Of course if the cooler wasn’t doing too well, in high humidity, that meant we were in for one of our monsoon storms.  The shattering snap of lightening and deep growl of thunder, even today, reminds me of the neighbors who slept in their backyards on hot nights. They had to run for cover many a summer night after hearing the drumbeat of the rain come marching across the yards.

Sunday afternoon meant family picnic time at Riverside Park down on South Central Ave. We headed for the sounds of water splashing and the shrieks of kids as they

became airborne off the huge slide and landed with a scream in the pool.

After a cool swim, the sputtering and popping of roasting hot dogs mingled with the sounds of a snap and hiss as dad opened bottles of Barq’s Root Beer, Orange or Strawberry pop.

The summer week was complete.

A SPECIAL PLACE

By

Gerry Niskern

This is one of the special places that I miss terribly. One of the spots that I can’t go because of the Covid-19. I wrote about this favorite gathering place in Central Phoenix before they remodeled, but you will still recognize it if you were a “member of the club”.

If you pull into the parking lot in the summer time, on your way to this special place, it’s good to see the plumes of misty water billowing out under the patio overhang. The old green hedge embraces the area, and they give a nice cozy shield from cars and noise after you find a table.

The old stucco store front is dusty and scarred with chairs bumping against its walls. It has a shaded concrete area the length of the store containing black wrought iron tables and chairs that have been around, seem like,  since Arizona became a state.

If you are hoping to catch a few rays you can sit in the extra space out front. But if you desire a spot in the shade, it’s a good idea to put your newspaper, water bottle or some thing to stake out a table before going inside the swinging doors to get something to drink.

The pigeons who have had standing reservations for years are watching for you. They know the crumb droppers and pass word along the network, “Here comes the messy eater. Slow down, boys.  There will be plenty for everybody. The muffin crumbs are tasty, but so are the donuts. Wonder what she’ll get today?”

All the food is good, breakfast or lunch, but the thing that makes this place special is the feeling of belonging. Some people have been coming to this patio for years and they know they will be greeted and drawn into a conversation sooner or later. During the past two years, for me and many others, it’s  been my “ home away from home.”