A walking, talking Christmas gift
By
Gerry Niskern
The best Christmas gift ever is coming next week!
Not everyone gets to have a great-great-grandchild, but I have one and she is coming to spend a day with me next week.
I’ve gathered puzzles, books, and games. I know she’ll want to explore the grandkid ’s old toy box too. There is a little wooden wagon filled with blocks that her grandpa used to haul diligently from room to room. Of course, she might be shocked at the three dolls that reside in the box. You see, their hair was trimmed many times by her cousin that now runs a popular hair salon.
There is a tiny stove with pots and pans that her great uncle cooked many a gourmet meal on when he was three. As a teenager he made the best apple pies of all the family cooks. And of course there are a ton of cars and trucks with many miles on them.
I’ve only seen this little brown eyed, four- year- old three times. She lives with her mama in another town, but gets to come to spend next week with her grandparents, aunt, uncles and cousins next week and know everybody so much better.
Everyone knows that four-year-olds like to do little chores for you.
The first job I’m going to give her is to decorate my little four foot Christmas tree. I’m sure she be great at that….to be continued.

A Carnival of Wheels
By
Gerry Niskern
How many sets of wheels have you owned? Have you ever counted up the number? I think ours numbered 27, but I’m sure there were more.
Actually, the first set of wheels I was invited to ride on was a super deluxe Schwinn bike. I rode on the crossbar to a Girl Scout square dance. I was thirteen and he was fourteen.
Years later, we honeymooned in a black Ford coupe. Then we bought a brand new black Ford two door sedan. Immediately after we made the last payment he wanted to trade it in for a black and red Ford, a year older! “But honey, it’s unique. No one has one like it,” was the argument. “Absolutely not,” I replied. But that’s when I should have realized I had married a car collector.
We traded the black Ford in for a Ford gold and white Fairlane for me and he had a Ford truck to match. Couple of years later we bought a new Ford Station Wagon. Later we moved to California and I found myself driving a Morris Minor with a stick shift on the freeways. Don’t ask me how it happened, but I did insist that there be a separate bank account to handle the never ending carnival of cars.
Next was a 64 Ford Mustang convertible. We owned another one in 67. Just to name a few, we owned a turquoise Ford Galaxy, a 66 yellow Plymouth. (All three kids learned to drive in that one) There was blue Karmann Gia and a red Sun Beam Tiger. (one two year old grandson used to grab a wrench and slide under the little convertible to “fix it”.)
Another unique purchase was a 59 Mercury Cougar XR7.(one of only 53 made and now very collectible!) I can’t begin to name them all in order. We owned more than one Rover, a Ford van, a gold P 1800, a Cadillac Coupe de Ville, a Dodge Caravan that I drove for 16 years. (all I wanted was something that I could count on to get me there!) After that I made my first vehicle purchase with my own money, a Buick Riveria convertible; white with gold trim and red leather interior. (I drove my little granddaughter and three friends to plays at the Children’s theatre for several years.)
Then in 2006, we both bought our last new cars. Mine was a white Honda CRV that I love to this day and his was a silver Toyota Matrix. (He wanted the Matrix to go to our great-grandson. It carried him thru his last year at NAU, four years at medical school, and on to his Residency in Kentucky.)
Looking back I was sorry that I didn’t share my “collector’s” love of cars. But, I do have to say that nothing was a much fun as that first ride on those wheels of the Schwinn bike.

“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!”

Thanksgiving 2021
By
Gerry Niskern
Are you looking forward to Turkey Day this year as much as I am? What’s your favorite part of the day? The turkey, dressing and gravy, or maybe the luscious pies.
Not me. My favorite part of the day and always has been, is the games we played after the feast. Trivia, Taboo, Gestures(a version of Charades) and many more. You name, we played it.
I loved making the dinner for the family for too many years to count. But my reward for the work was the fun time winning at the games. The rule at my house was “no football watching ”on Thanksgiving and believe it or not, the guys in the family joined the games willingly.
Of course, the best Thanksgiving games were the ones that everyone from 8 to 88 could play. It was fun to have the guys versus the gals (the gals always won!)
It’s a new year. The long isolation of last holiday season is over and for that we all should be grateful. Grateful for the opportunity to be vaccinated and now, if caught early enough, the new medications to keep from ending up hospitalized. Grateful to laugh with and enjoy the family members and friends we couldn’t be with last Turkey Day.
So dust off the turkey platter, shine up the silver and break open a new game for a new beginning.

What was your Grandpa’s speciality?
By
Gerry Niskern
Lucky was the grandkid in our family that got to go home for lunch from the shop with Grandpa. They knew they were going to have “fried baloney sandwiches.” They were not given a choice of something else because that’s all their Grandpa knew how to cook!
The grandkid was given the job of getting out the bread, mustard and a couple of plates. Grandpa put the beat up and blackened old skillet on the stove and soon had the slices of baloney fryng. You might say the slices were actually being cremated as they were burned to a crisp when they landed on the bread. Any restaurant would describe it as “blackened” baloney.The skillet was put away to be used again the next day, not washed, just delegated to “baloney frying only” by Grandma.
When I was telling the story of my dad’s culinary skills one day a friend spoke up and told us about the great breakfast’s her Grandad used to make when they visited her Grandad in Tennessee, who was a hog farmer. She said she and her siblings thought they died and went to heaven when he served the bacon, sausages and even a pork chop if desired; this along with the creamiest scrambled eggs you ever tasted. Since their mother was a cream of wheat with skim milk for breakfast kind of mom, they loved trips to the farm.
Years ago I worked with a Mexican woman in my parent’s business who brought wonderful fresh homemade tortillas to work every day. Her Grandfather lived with them and got up before dawn to make the family tortillas every morning. He loved to make them for her and the grandkids.
My family remembers when Grandpa Kenny took over the ice cream making. I thought I was doing fine, but he insisted on trying his hand and of course everyone said his ice cream was better. Why wouldn’t it be with all the extra sugar and heavy cream he added?
Of course, all fathers are expected to cook now, but years ago most Grandpas had just one specialty they had perfected; the specialty they were remembered for.
I have a feeling that if a contest was held today to name the best Grandpa cook, the adult kids in our family would still vote for the griller of the fried baloney sandwiches!

Have you had yours?
By
Gerry Niskern
That seems to be the question everyone asks these days. Have you had your booster shot? How’d it go?
I was discouraged to hear that some young members of our extended family weren’t getting vaccinated for Covid l9; yet these same young people had enjoyed the benefit of having the protection provided by the vaccinations they had received from birth on. That wasn’t always the case.
When I was a kid you were not allowed to start grade school unless you were vaccinated for Smallpox. Diptheria, Whooping Cough and Scarlet Fever were still around and if someone in your family was diagnosed with Scarlet Fever the whole family was ordered quarantined in the home for a month.
I think Polio was the most dreaded. The newsreels at the movies always seemed to show children with Polio in iron lungs. We were no allowed to be in crowds in the summertime as it was most virulent then.
I will never forget the paralyzing fear that held my young husband and I when our first born was around 7 months and ran a l04 temperature for several days. The Doctor couldn’t diagnose it. Polio! That was always the first thought. We were actually happy when she finally broke out with German measles!
She and her brothers all suffered through Chickenpox, Mumps, and other measles, but when she was 7 the Salk vaccine came out against Polio. I can’t begin to describe how incredibly grateful we were to get it for our kids.
By the time our kids had kids of their own, the vaccines were given from birth thru 24 months, and parents haven’t had to worry about Polio, Smallpox, Diptheria, Whooping Cough and numerous other diseases that used to kill kids en masse.
We’ve all been so fortunate that Science has made such great strides. So that’s why I’m bewildered by the choice not to be vaccinated for Covid to help control the spread, when you have benefited from all those other vaccines all your life and so have your kids.

“A Tale of Two Boys” (2005)

By

Gerry Niskern

This ongoing debate about funding all day kindergarten in Arizona is confusing, isn’t it? Let me tell you about two little five-year-old boys that I know who started kindergarten last year, in different schools and districts.
Tristan was enrolled at an all day kindergarten where he learned to read proficiently by the end of the year. He’s lucky. He attended private preschool the two previous years. His mother is a stay-at-home mom. Actually, the only problem occurred in February when the school decided to eliminate the afternoon recess. He went on strike and refused to work; that is, until his daddy explained that kindergartners can’t walk-off the job.
Only half-day kindergarten was available in Daniel’s district. He loved school and didn’t miss a day. He told his mother, at least once a day, “I’m the smartest kid in the class!” However he was not up to the state standards by the end of the year so he is repeating kindergarten this year. Daniel’s mother has two jobs. She waits tables and cleans houses too. There is little time to read to him when both parents are struggling to make ends meet.
Perhaps he could have achieved more if he had been in a Head Start class in pre-school, but Head Start is based on income. His parents made too much to quality for Head Start, but too little to afford private pre-school. All kids need at least a year of pre-school to learn what used to be taught in kindergarten.
Many citizens think kindergarten is still just play, snacks and naptime. “What is the use of spending millions of state dollars to fund a baby sitting service for parents?” they ask. Those questions would certainly be justified if they were indeed the whole story.
The fact is times have changed drastically; the bar has been raised. The State of Arizona Education department has a standard that all schools must follow. Look up the requirements yourself, all 164 pages! It is mandatory that all children must be reading by the end of the kindergarten year or they must repeat kindergarten. Research shows that children who learned to read in kindergarten are higher achievers throughout their school careers.
Any kindergarten teacher will tell you that three hours is not enough to teach all the requirements under today’s stringent guidelines. They need extra time to incorporate art and music into the learning process and make it fun to learn. All day kindergarten would also give them time to work with the kids who weren’t exposed to preschool, don’t know the language or are a little on the young side. They usually add, “Come to my class anytime to get a picture of the situation.”
If every child is expected to achieve the same high levels of learning, then let’s give them the tools. All the little Tristans and Daniels should be provided with the opportunity to learn so that when they start first grade, they can “hit the ground running!”
I can’t believe I wrote those words in 2005 in a column for the Arizona Republic because:
Now here we are again, having the same debate in Congress; trying to get a bill passed to fund preschool for our kids. We know how very important investment in the youngest ages are and how much we benefit from that investment and yet, in the developed world the United States is at the lowest level of financial support for young children’s education. Maybe contacting your Senators and Representatives would help. Can’t hurt!

Between Generations
By
Gerry Niskern
The King and Queen of the Prom dropped in last week. We shared a pizza and two or three of hours of good conversation.
Actually, they were “royalty” in their Senior year of high school, but now she’s a third year Med major at ASU and her boyfriend is studying to be a Physical Therapist. What did we find in common to talk about? Everything under the sun. And since I had a lifetime of medical history to contribute, a lot was about “Current Medications and Pertinent Medical History”, of course!
My great-granddaughter was full of information about subjects she is studying. She just finished her EMT training; reminded me to keep a card on the frig with all medications listed in case of emergency. The boyfriend is working as a tech at a Physical Therapy facility downtown while he’s enrolled at ASU. He had some stories to tell too.
“How did these two generations on each end of the spectrum, from the Y’s-20’s all the way to the Silent Generation-70’s + find things to talk about,” I asked myself later? My granddaughter reminisced about family memories. She recalled trips to the Phoenix Children’s theatre and as I chimed in, the boyfriend did too with memories of his own. I can’t begin to mention all the subjects we covered. I was interested in their opinions and they in mine also. But the refreshing part of the whole afternoon was two subjects we did not cover: religion and politics.
My generation, the Silents, are still learning the new technology . The Y’s grew up with iphones, computers and all the rest and take it for granted. No one had to whip out their phones to check another’s statement as all the generations in between are prone to do.
But what encourages leisurely and meaningful conversation between the different ages is the example that their parents have set. If kids grow up seeing their parents enjoying the company of “their” parents and grandparents, it leads the way. Lucky are the “Silents”, like myself, who have family members of all ages who genuinely like to come by for good conversations!

The Printed Word
By
Gerry Niskern
His alarm went off at 4:30 A. M. every day. The bundles of newspaper were dropped off at the corner of 2lst Ave and Adams, beside Jim’s Chinese Market, at 5:00 A. M. and he was there, on his bike, waiting. As the station manager, he counted out each boy’s share as they slowly arrived. The young paper carriers sat and folder each paper into a compact form. If the newspaper wasn’t folded right it wouldn’t reach the front porch. And if you didn’t “porch it” every single time, there would be no tip on collection day!
That young station manager alone delivered 300 plus papers in the morning and 250 plus of the evening paper in the afternoon . The newspaper those boys delivered years ago had all kinds of news that you don’t get today, if you are only reading digital. Sure you can get the online paper of your choice, but do you really read it? Most people get the highlights in sound bites of local, state and national news on television or in another digital form. They only meet people running for national office after they have climbed the local political ladder. Only in the local newspaper do you learn about their personal history and character from the grassroots level.
The authenticity and credibility of local newspapers help maintain the morale and harmony of our society. If your local paper is conservative or liberal, it doesn’t matter. You will still find articles to help you become an informed citizen.
Here’s three good examples of local news in The Arizona Republic this past Wednesday. Two companies, Dish Network and Finance Buzz are offering people a chance to get paid to watch scary movies! Two Arizona cities, Phoenix and Mesa are committing to the American Rescue Plan to address homelessness. The state was allocated 4 billion to help build lasting and transforming change in peoples lives, in one of many parts, by providing housing. Another in-depth article covering the actions of our Arizona governor when the twelve licenses for online Sports betting were awarded.
In other words, there’s something new everyday on the local level. That’s where it all starts. Subscribe to your local paper. Really. You Should!

Up Close and Personal
By
Gerry Niskern
How interesting is your neighborhood? Let me tell you about the first one I lived in here in Phoenix when my parents moved us to Arizona in August of 1942.
Back before cell phones, television and the internet that keeps people inside their homes, things were different. If anything happened on your street, everyone saw it.
I remember on one of our first days in Phoenix hearing my mother gasp as she glanced out the front window. “Well, I never! I can’t believe my eyes. There’s a woman out on the front walk getting her newspaper, in her nightgown! And, oh my Lord, she’s smoking a cigarette!”
I’m sure there were plenty of female smokers back in the little Eastern town we came from, they just didn’t dare do it in public. Later that morning I got a good look at, Mrs. Beeson, our outrageous next door neighbor. Her thick ivory colored hair was pulled up into a bun. Olive skin, without a wrinkle, covered high cheekbones that framed deep cinnamon brown eyes. She was heavy, but strong and broad shouldered too. Her three hundred pound body was covered with a shapeless black polka dotted dress.
What fascinated me most was her cigarette that dangled by the barest tip from her lips. As she described the other families in the neighborhood and what branch of the service their sons were in, the Lucky Strikes never fell. The ashes grew longer and longer, probably about an inch I guessed. Just when I thought they would fall down on poor, tiny Mr. T, she would flick them off.
Mr. T. was her little Chihuahua dog who slept serenely on her high, firm, ample bosom. They didn’t have underwire bras in those days and believe me, she didn’t need one. She never bothered steadying him with her other hand.
As the days of the war dragged slowly by, Mrs. Beeson seemed to sense when the mailman had delivered another V-mail from one of mom’s younger brothers who were serving overseas. The doorbell would ring. Mom always quickly dried her eyes and opened the door to our rotund friend. “Where can I put my little but” were invariably the first words out of her mouth. Mom blushed, I giggled and sent me to the kitchen for an ashtray.
Soon they were matching story for story about mom’s brothers or Mrs. Beeson’s sons. The war was pushed into the distance for a little while and mom was soon smiling again. “Come home with me, honey. I want you to run to the drugstore to see if they got in any smokes.” As I waited on her porch for the money I remember looking at the small white banner hanging her front window. On it were two gold stars.