Second Grade Stories

My second grade teacher was Miss Hamblin.  I know that in my first grade blog, I said that the teachers went by their first names and most did, Miss Laverne, Miss Augusta, Miss Leona, etc. but some didn't.   So I was wrong.  I think that Miss Hamblin was the great granddaughter of a well known pioneer, Jacob Hamblin, and had many Hamblin relatives in nearby towns.  Her full name was Clara Hamblin.  I didn't remember her first name, but found it on the 1940 census.  The census says she was 30 years old in 1940 and that was the year I was in her class.  The census also says  that her  annual salary was $1,130.

Our second grade reading books were from a different series than the  Dick and Jane books.  I remember it had a monkey in it.   We also read an old fashioned second grade text book.  It had traditional stories in it such as The Gingerbread boy and another  story about a boy whose pig wouldn't jump over the stile.   The boy asked the dog, the cow, a stick, a rope and a fire to help him.  The pictures weren't even in color.  They were black and white with touches of orange.  I have never seen a "stile" in my entire life except in this book and one picture taken somewhere in Ireland or England, but the word has turned up on a few crossword puzzles. 

One of the best things I like most about Miss Hamblin's was that everyday she read to us from such books as "The Wonderful Wizard of Oz" and some sequels to it, too.  I remember one of the Oz characters saying "It's getting warm, so it must be going to snow."  Then it began to snow "popcorn."  This was so surprising and magical to me that the memory is still in my head.  Sometime during second grade, I borrowed the book and read it myself, enjoying the magic all over again.

Another book that she read to us was Doctor Doolittle.  Today,  I think people would be critical of a teacher reading almost daily to a class, but I think it is wonderful because it makes you want to read things yourself.  It teaches you to listen and use your imagination to picture the story in your mind.  If she hadn't read the Wizard of Oz to the class, I would never have tried to read such a big book myself at that age.

  

Other books that I loved to read included Raggedy Ann and Andy and  the books about two sets of Swedish triplets, Snip, Snap, and Snurr, and Flicka, Ricka, and Dicka.  There were many sequels to all three of these series.

 Tomorrow is going to be a solar eclipse here in Utah and that is what reminded me to include the Bobbsey Twins because the first time I had heard of solar eclipses was in a Bobbsey Twin book. I began reading this series in second grade and continued to read them in later grades.  The books were about two sets of twins in the same family, Bert and Nan, and Freddie and Flossie.  I read the first book, The Bobbsey Twins, followed by the Bobbsey Twins in the Country, the Bobbsey Twins at the Seashore and  quite a few others.  The Internet shows there were more than 20 different titles all written by the same man under the pen name of Laura Lee Hope.  Reading these books taught me a lot about different life styles, poor and rich, city and country, and mountains and seashore, as well as family interaction.  

Spelling At Age Six

Second grade is when I learned how to spell "Phoenix."  I can distinctly remember having to fill out a form and it required me to fill in my birth place. I have no idea why a six year old would be required to fill out some official form.  Most of the other children were born in Snowflake.  They knew how to spell Snowflake and so did I, but  I had no idea how to spell Phoenix.  The "ph"  and the "oe" were serious problems to me.  I probably spelled it, "Feenix" or "Feenicks."  Miss Hamblin had me erase whatever I had written and spell it correctly.  Luckily we weren't writing in ink, yet.

We had weekly spelling tests on Fridays.  Time was set aside each afternoon to study that week's spelling list.  If you were certain that you already knew the words, you were allowed to draw pictures with your crayons during the spelling practice time.   I knew that I loved drawing more that practicing my spelling words and so, one week, I didn't study them at all, feeling fairly certain that I would get them all correct.   I usually did. When the test day came, I missed one or more of the words.  The punishment for being so over-confident was that you weren't allowed to participate in the planned art project that afternoon.  Everyone in class made little log cabins except for me.  Other kids had missed spelling words, but they had studied during spelling practice time and I had not.  I guess that I learned another lesson or two, "Pride goeth before a fall." and that, "Actions have consequences."

What, No Stars?

One day Miss Hamblin asked us to draw and color an American flag on a standard size sheet of paper.  After getting all thirteen stripes colored red and white, it was time to make 48 white stars with a blue background.  I remember having a big discussion with a girl sitting next to me  about how there wasn't enough room in that corner spot to draw 48 stars with our worn down thick white crayons.  We both came to the conclusion that we would just make 48 round white dots then carefully color blue around them.   I can still remember where I was sitting when  Miss Hamblin walked over and held our flags up for the whole class to ridicule because we obviously didn't know that the flag was supposed to have stars.  To this day I don't know how any one could squeeze 48 crayon drawn stars into that little space.

 A Shameful PTA Party

U.S. Half-dollar coin-1940

One time  a few years back, I was listening to a speaker who was encouraging people to write about their lives.  She read a quote, that said you would really get to know a person if they wrote about the things they were ashamed of.    The following story came, instantly, to my mind and so I will write it for posterity.  It's the first time that I remember being ashamed.

The PTA was trying to get parents to join and said that there would be an after school party on a certain day for all the children whose parents joined the PTA.   At the end of the appointed day,  Miss Hamblin read off all the names of the children who were allowed to go to the party which was held in the auditorium.  My name was not on the list.  I couldn't believe it.  My parents always supported the PTA throughout my life and my mother later served as  the PTA president.  I don't know why they hadn't paid it.  It is possible they couldn't afford it.  Fifty cents was quite a lot of money in those days.  Ladies would clean your house all day for only a dollar.  It is, also,  possible that they just got too busy and forgot about it.   My mother had a pre-schooler and a brand new baby at home that year and my father was working out of town from Monday  through Friday, so she had all the milking and farm chores to do besides the housework required to take care of four children.  We had chores, but were too young to do most of the farm chores like milking and feeding animals.

Now comes the part I am ashamed of.   I went home from school and cried and cried about not being able to go to the party.  My mother got out a fifty cent piece and sent me back to school to pay the PTA dues.  The party was already in progress by the time I got there.  There were  no games or music--just kids sitting in chairs.   And even worse, the refreshments were minimal and bad.   I couldn't believe that I had made my mother feel sad,  just so I could attend such a dumb party.  

Drama Trauma

or

The Star of the Second Grade Play

In the spring of the year,  it was the second grade's turn to put on a program for the entire school.  Our teacher had a script for a play that gave everyone a part.  I got chosen to be the main character, Mother Goose.  The other children only had to memorize one nursery rhyme each, but a few had one or two additional lines.  I had several pages that I was to memorize. 

 My parents were taking me out of school for a few days on a trip to Phoenix.  My mother promised Miss Hamblin that I would know all the lines by the time I  returned.  I'm sure my parents had many  things to take care of on this trip.  I do remember my mother rehearsing me as we sat in the parking lot of a lettuce packing plant, but I was much more interested in watching the heads of lettuce go up the conveyor belt than I was in learning all those lines.  

 Miss Hamblin was very glad when I returned  to class, because now, she could begin rehearsals on the stage in the auditorium.  Some of the students were left in the classroom to do seat work, while several others and myself went with her to the auditorium to practice for the play.   It became obvious in just a few minutes that I didn't know all my lines.   Miss Hamblin yelled at me with a lot of cross words, and sent me back to the classroom.  I cried all the way down the hall.  When I went in the room, the other students wanted to know what happened.  I have no memory of what I told them.   This was full-blown second grade trauma.

I eventually learned my lines and can still remember standing behind the curtain waiting for it to open.  I wore a long dress and an apron.  I had a long broom to "sweep the cobwebs from the sky."  All the costumes were great, the play was a success, and, as near as I remember, no one forgot any lines. 

1st Grade

Candelyn:  Tell me the stories of first grade.  How old were you?  What did they teach you?  Did you have friends?  What did you wear to school?  Did you have recess?

Our family moved to Snowflake just before school started in 1939.  Since I could already read a little bit, my parents decided to enroll me in school even though I wouldn't be six until the next April.  

An old photo of the actual elementary school in Snowflake, AZ
My first grade classroom is the lower right hand set of windows.

My teacher was Miss Laverne.  At this time in Snowflake all the teachers were called Miss followed by their first name whether they were married or not.   My teacher's complete name was Laverne Crandall  the wife of Rufus Crandall who taught music at the high school as well as private music lessons.  She had been my father's teacher in an upper grade one year when his family lived in Snowflake.   Miss Laverne was mainly remembered as the first grade teacher, since that was the grade she taught for so many years.

We went to school from 9 to 12 and then went home for lunch since there was no cafeteria and no one brought lunch to school.   It seems that some students who lived far out of town went to the high school for lunch since they did have a cafeteria.  I guess the teachers must have gone home, too. Then class resumed at 1p.m. and went until 4 p.m. for most grades, but it seems that first grade got to go home earlier.   We had a morning recess and an afternoon recess and also played on the playground when we returned early from lunch.   There was no special physical education class, music class, or any specialty teachers.  We sometimes had a program or a play in the auditorium usually put on by one of the classes.  

We had reading, penmanship, phonics, and arithmetic.  I don't remember any science or health or social studies in first grade, but  Miss Laverne had a first grade rhythm band.

 The above book  is the first book we learned to read in first grade and is the same one I used to teach my brother, Wendell, to read several years later.

This was the first page in the pre-primer.

By page 16 we were reading about Dick and Jane's cat, Mew, as well as Spot, the dog.

I remember the above book very well and have been able to recite the entire first chapter throughout my life.  I have used just this first chapter to teach many preschoolers to read substituting their own name for Dick and the name of  siblings  for Jane and Baby.  In my book Baby was not called Sally.  This only happened in the next edition.  I found this comment on line:  "The famous Dick and Jane books that taught millions of children to read were first published in 1931. These primers introduced the students to reading with only one new word per page and a limited vocabulary per book. All who learned to read with these books still recall the 'Look. See Dick. See Dick run.'"
So I am not the only one who still remembers the words. 

 The summer before my brother, Wendell, was to start school,  my mother assigned me to teach him to read.  We had a copy of this same pre-primer which was, by now, out of date.  Every morning for an hour I worked with him and he learned to read the entire book before he went to first grade at Kenilworth.  I have no idea what methods I used, but I suppose I could remember back to Miss Lavern's techniques and used them.

Learning to Write

We did not learn manuscript writing or printing in the first grade, but went immediately into Palmer penmanship.  These are the letters I learned to make in first grade.  I remember this as being very difficult and I never had very good handwriting my entire life, even with almost daily practice for the six years of elementary school.

Rulers and Yardsticks

I will relate a few stories about first grade that stand out in my mind.  The first is that once, during a phonics lesson, I turned around to talk to the person sitting behind me.  WHACK!  Without even a warning the teacher hit me on my head with a ruler.  This was a common punishment.  Some of the teachers of the upper grades even kept wooden paddles in their desks to hit misbehaving students.  Miss Laverne's niece, Gail Crandall, was in my class and, for  some misdeed, Miss Lavern hit her over the head with a ruler and the ruler broke.  Then, Miss Laverne got the yard stick and hit her again.  This was very scary to the entire class.

Barbed Wire Fences 

My brother, Milton, and I usually walked to school together.  One morning we were taking a shortcut and climbed through the barbed wire fence that surrounded the school playground,instead of walking to the front of the school.  My brother held open the wires so I could climb through, but I slipped and landed on the barbed wire and cut my knee quite badly.  I had a handkerchief with me and so I tried to stop the bleeding with it.  Later in class, Miss Laverne called on me to come up to the front of the room to read or perform some task before the class.  I was still holding the handkerchief on my knee and so I had to walk all bent over.  She yelled at me to straighten up and walk normally.  When I straightened up she could see that I was still bleeding.  She softened immediately and asked me about what happened and treated me with kindness.  We had no school nurse or any office staff to send me to.  The principal was really the eighth grade teacher and had no secretarial help.  I don't know if she had me clean my knee or what else happened.  I just remember the big wave of relief that I wasn't in trouble with her. 

 A Three Year Old Goes to School

This next story is very strange to me, especially since my mother had been a teacher, herself.   My parents had to go to Winslow, one day, maybe to see a doctor or a dentist and they asked Miss Laverne  if my three year old sister could stay in the back of the room coloring in her coloring book while they were gone.   I have no idea why Miss Laverne would say, "yes" to such an arrangement, but she did.  Everything went okay for the first part of the day.  Then, Miss Lavern was standing up walking around the room as she gave the class a test of some kind.  It was probably a spelling test.  Alleen started walking towards the front of the classroom.  Miss Laverne told her to sit down, but she just kept on walking.  Miss Lavern then walked over and gave her a push.   Alleen toppled over and hit the floor with a loud thud.  I was mortified and scared for both Alleen and myself.  Although, Miss Laverne did not get out her ruler or the yardstick,  I would bet that she never agreed  to babysit again.

A Rhythm Band

This  picture is of my sister's rhythm band.  She is in back row, far right.

The first grade rhythm band was a tradition for Miss Laverne.  There were little red capes and caps and it looks like white pants, although I don't remember them when I was there.  There were rhythm sticks, tambourines, drums, triangles and other noise(or music) makers, and a bird whistle.  

I had almost no ability to keep rhythm and was eventually assigned to blow the bird whistle.  You had to put water in it so that it "warbled" like a bird, when you  blew on it.   We practiced and practiced for the program in the auditorium.  My job was to tweet the whistle right on cue.  I must have done it correctly because I have no traumatic memories attached to the rhythm band.  Many years later, I told this story to another American teacher in China as an example of my lack of musical ability and rhythm.  She said, "No it was probably because you were smart enough to count up the many measures of music before that one little tweet was called for and obedient enough not to tweet it out of turn or spill the water out of it."  She knew because she, too, had been assigned the bird whistle in first grade in another small town in another state.

End of Year Prize

My final story from first grade is that I won the award for reading the most books.  The prize was a book signed by the teacher recognizing my achievement.  I kept it for most of my life, but it seems to be lost now.  I read 50 books that year.   There was no town library.  The school library had only a few books, mostly about the Hardy boys, and no books on a first grade level.  I was a good reader but the reason I won was because my mother had a few books at home and her sisters, who were teachers in nearby towns, helped us borrow books to read.  I read every book available.  Three years later my sister won the same award by reading 137 books.  Times had changed that much in those few years and many more books were being printed for children.  Even Disney got into the act with books written on a beginning level about Donald Duck and his nephews, Huey, Duey, and Luey.  Dr. Seuss' easy-to-read books would come much later.

First Grade Alumni

The town of Snowflake was small and the population was fairly stable.   I went to school with mostly the same children from first grade through sixth grade.  The 1940 census just came out a month ago(April,2012) and I was able to identify almost all of my classmates by reading through the census list.  I am surprised at the achievement of so many of my classmates.  Out of these twenty-five, or so, children, this class has produced a town sheriff, a general in the US Air Force, a lawyer, at least two PhD college  professors in Chemistry and English, a prolific author, several teachers and a psychologist.  These are the only ones I happen to know about, so there are probably many others.  Too bad that  Miss Lavern's 1939-1940 first grade class doesn't have an alumni association to keep track of everyone.  "Thank you, Miss Lavern!  You did good!"

WWII Politics

Elizabeth:  What did you think about the politics surrounding WWII?  Were things as idealized as it is portrayed now?  Or were people more befuddled and confused about war and politics?  How do you compare it to the politics now?

You do realize that I was 7 yrs old when the war started and only 11 yrs old when it ended.  I did know more about the war than most kids who were my age because I delivered the newspapers from age 9 to age 11 and couldn't avoid the headlines.



 President Roosevelt and his wife, Eleanor, were often on the radio.  I think he gave a weekly "fireside chat" to the nation. 

We subscribed to Life magazine that covered a lot about the war.  Seeing this cover with the price 10 cents on it reminds me of a joke from my childhood.  It goes like this:  What's Life?  A Magazine.  How much does it cost?  Ten Cents.  I don't have ten cents.  That's tough.  What's tough?  Life.  What's Life?  A Magazine...... and the joke goes on forever.

We also went to the movies, because the church ran the "show house" and if you paid your ward budget, you got to go once a week for free.  Before the movie started they always ran a news reel that was mostly about the war.  It often had footage taken at the front lines and would show diagrammed maps of what was taking place.  In addition, many popular movies had plots associated with the war.

By "idealized" do you mean "united"?  If you do, I would have to say that "yes, the majority of people felt that the U.S. was doing the right thing."  

 Tojo

We had been attacked by Japan who was an ally of Germany and Germany was taking over most of Europe and threatening England, which we still identified as the source of our legal system as well as our language. 

Hitler

Almost everyone eligible was either drafted or volunteered to go.  


My father's youngest brother, Lincoln, was in the navy and was assigned to a submarine.   Since my mother was one of the youngest in her family some of her brothers were in World War I and were  too old to be drafted, but many of our cousins were in the armed services. At least three were killed during the war.   Conversation between relatives often centered on what was happening with these servicemen.  Being sort-of a nosy child and knowing many of these cousins personally, I listened to all of the adult conversation going on around me.  More than ten of my cousins served in the war. I will try and get pictures of them.

We sang a song called "Coming in on a Wing and a Prayer."  In school we learned to sing all of the anthems of the various armed services groups...Anchors Aweigh,  The Marine Corps song,The Army Air Corps(as it was called then)song, and the Field artillery song.   One of my teachers would keep us informed about her son who was in the service.  Whenever she got a letter from him, we would have a little classroom party of some kind.  Roosevelt got elected to a fourth term.  I can still remember seeing a political cartoon where the message was about not changing horses mid-stream.  I think that people of both parties regarded him as "their" president.

Women and others took jobs in factories to help produce what was needed.  Food, clothing, and gasoline were all rationed.  People gathered up paper, tin foil, and scrap iron to help in the war effort. 

 People grew Victory Gardens to provide their own food. They canned food and sewed their own clothes.  People did all this and did not complain.  





Before Pearl Harbor, there were people opposed to getting involved in Europe's problems but afterwards, it became obvious that we couldn't avoid getting into it.

  
The public did not know that Roosevelt was wheelchair bound.   No pictures were allowed to be taken of him in a wheel chair or as he was lifted from place to place.He was always pictured standing and sometimes walking (two secret service men were supporting his weight walking on either side of him) but you never saw his feet in the walking pictures.  Everyone knew he had polio and we had a March of Dimes drive every year to donate for polio, but it was assumed that he had recovered.  I think we knew that he had braces on his legs (We still have the March of Dimes but they have since changed it's purpose to birth defects I think.)  It is interesting to me that the new  memorial for him at the mall shows him in a wheel chair. 

  America's work ethic and natural resources allowed America to win the war.  It brought out the best in almost everyone.  Of course, there were some who sold things on the Black Market and perhaps others who cheated on government contracts, but for the most part, Americans felt good about their country and were proud of what America could do.  It was a time when patriotism was uppermost in almost all school, church and civic activities.  Most of  what I know about this comes from books and magazines read when I was older, just like for you.  During the war, I really was just a child and had only a limited perspective and nothing to compare it with. 

I have since lived through the Cold War, as well as the conflicts in Korea, Vietnam, Middle East, Afghanistan, and Iraq.   Times have changed in communication technology, in journalistic ethics, and in how students are taught about history.  To acknowledge that America isn't perfect in all ways seems to give some people the justification to put America's unique goodness aside or to say that all cultural differences are equally valid and that none are better than any other.    As a senior citizen, I feel that America is still a great country, but I will have to agree with you that many people are confused and befuddled and seem to have disparate agendas that may not be compatible with each other. 

This is a 4th of July party idea book,  typical of the illustration from my childhood. 

I will end this"Fourth of July " speech. I don't know if anything I said could be of interest to you.   I'll write another blog later describing what I can remember about the specifics of the War as it affected me as a child in a little Arizona community called Snowflake, Arizona.

Dating!!!

Rachael:  Tell me about your first date.  And about dating in general when you were young.

This was a typical valentine when I was young.

My Very First Boyfriend

When I was three and four, I had play dates in Safford with a boy named R.D. Moats.  His family lived on our street but a cotton field lay between our two houses.  My mother was good friends with his mother, so I played at his house a lot.  After we moved across town to a different house, I would still get to go play at his house.  This was in 1937 to 1939.  We were making an airplane with a bomb sight.  How kids this young know anything about this is beyond me.  We didn't have television or movies or anything else.  The war hadn't started and even rumblings of the war were not apparent to the general public.   My mother had given me a small hinged tin with a mirror that had held rouge at one time.  I gave it to R.D.   It was to become part of the bomb sight.  

At the new house my father had been repairing a door lock.  The knobs were laying on the floor with the other parts. I picked up one of the knobs.  It was a beautiful white smooth porcelain knob. I took it with me the next time I went to play at the Moats' house.  R.D. was impressed with it and we were going to include it in the making of the airplane bomb sight.  I do not remember how either of these items were to be used in making this bomb sight. 


A few days later, my dad went to finish his repair on the door and one knob was missing.  After quizzing all of us, I confessed I had taken it to R.D.'s house.  We drove immediately to his house to retrieve it.   I can still remember how the toy box looked sitting in his breakfast nook.  R.D helped us dig through the box to find the door knob.  I also asked  to get back my little rouge container, but he couldn't find it.  I think that this was the end of our friendship.  But after seventy-five years, I still remember his name.

Sixth Grade Boyfriend

 There were six Flake cousins in my classroom.  The Flakes were  a very prominent family.  The town was named for their great grandfather. Of the eight teachers at school two were Flakes and   another one was married to a Flake sister.  In sixth grade I had a boyfriend who was one of the six cousins.  We were really just friends. I had been invited to his birthday party when we were younger and remember playing London Bridge at the party. In sixth grade we never had any movie dates or talked romantically or anything, but somehow we considered ourselves connected.  Maybe we exchanged valentines on Valentine's Day or talked at recess or danced at the school dances.  Back in those days they even had Primary dances and we always had school dances, too.  Usually two grades together such as 7th and 8th grade dance or the 5th and 6th  grade dance.  A teacher would play the piano and we would do dances such as "Put your little foot", square dances like the Virginia Reel, group dances, line dances,, and regular dances for couples like fox trot and waltz. 

One recess the class played baseball and there was an argument  about something, probably, if someone were "safe" or "out."  When the bell rang we all went inside and half-way up the stairs, this so-called  boyfriend walked up to me and hit me in the stomach with his fist.  Obviously, we must have been on opposite sides of this argument, but I was totally surprised and really hurt.  I don't think any classmate had ever hit me before or since.  Later in the afternoon, another Flake cousin gave me a note written by a third Flake cousin.  It said almost these exact words, " We are Flakes and Flakes are strong.  We should stick together.  We can easily beat up a little girl like Rayna Gay."   I don't know what motivated the girl to betray her cousins by giving me the note.  I showed it to my parents and they were rightfully incensed, but nothing happened unless it lit a little spark that would later be fanned into a flame that would lead us to move out of Snowflake.


I began to think that, maybe it was just wishful thinking and that I really hadn't had a boyfriend.  However, one night seven years later, I am a freshman in college at BYU attending a student dance and a nice looking young man asks me to dance.  He says, "You don't remember me, but I was your boyfriend in sixth grade."  He then told me how they had moved away to another state.  I wanted to ask him  why he hit me in the stomach, but I didn't.   He probably didn't remember it and he certainly didn't apologize for it, either.  But I knew then, that I hadn't imagined having a sixth grade boyfriend.  

A Kenilworth School Friendship

When we first moved to Phoenix, I was in seventh grade.  It was a much bigger school having four classes per grade and had specialty teachers for each subject.  The students were all more advanced academically and socially than in Snowflake, where we had only one class per grade and no specialty teachers at all.  At Kenilworth, our family was "country" and they were "city".  We did not see ourselves as poor, but they were mostly well-to-do families living in the nicest section of the city.  I do not remember any students being rude to  me, but I was aware that they wore the latest fashions and almost all the girls had well-developed figures and that I did not.


There was a certain boy in my class that I liked.  He was the son of the Secretary of State, who later became Governor of Arizona.  We got along great in class because we were both good students.  When I was assigned to write and produce a program for Lincoln's birthday, I chose him to be Abraham Lincoln.  One time when I was walking down town near Goldwater's and Korrick's stores, he was with his mother and he introduced her to me.  I remember that we both had the very same birthday, April 10th, only, I was a year younger than he was.  In the eighth grade he had a birthday party and invited two of my best friends, the Nelson twins, but I didn't get invited.  I was really crushed.  


When it was time for high school he went to North High and I went to Phoenix Union so I never saw him again.  I looked him up on the internet a few years back and he had won Professor of the year at a big university in California.  It listed his birthday as April 10th, so I know it was the same person.  

Eighth Grade Graduation Dance

Graduation from eighth grade was a big deal with an orchestra, ceremonies, certificates, and "pomp and circumstance", whatever that is.  The parents of a girl in my class named Jeri West gave her a big party at the Encanto Park Country Club the evening after the daytime graduation ceremony.  It was a formal dance with dance programs, and I was invited.  She had pre-selected partners for everyone.  The boy she chose for me was an inactive Mormon that I knew only slightly.  I had no idea that anyone knew I was a Mormon, but they must have known or why select this boy for me, since we hardly knew each other and were not even in the same class.  He treated me with great respect and courtesy all evening and I was ever so thankful.


The dance was held in the early evening near the end of May which is very warm in Phoenix.  The country club ballroom was open to the patio.  There was live music and a punch bowl that every  one said had been "spiked" with ginger ale.  Now, having been a very voracious reader, I had read many books and adult short stories in Saturday Evening Post and Collier's,  so I knew what "ale" was.  Being a good Mormon girl, I did not drink any of that spiked punch all evening even though I was  very thirsty.  I have to laugh at how naive I was, not to know what ginger ale was and to be so out of my element and so impressed by the posh party that I thought they might be serving alcohol.


Years later in Virginia, I found the same thing could happen to adults as well.  I was attending a wedding reception after a temple wedding.  It was held at a fancy hotel and the waiters brought around sparkling cider in fancy green bottles and filled the stemmed glasses at our table, so we could toast the bride and groom.  I was sitting at the table with the Relief Society president and her husband.  They both refused to let the waiters pour any into their glasses. I joined in the toast and then drank from my glass.  The Relief Society president was appalled and ask me why I was drinking it.  I told her it was sparkling cider.  I could not imagine why she would think that an active Mormon family would serve alcohol to the entire group of guests most of whom were Mormons.   She then motioned for the waiter to bring some cider for herself and her husband.  

My First Real Date

When I was a teenager, there was no rule or standard by the church that you don't date until you are 16 years old.  Many of my Mormon friends dated and some even went "steady."  I was not so lucky.  Dorothy Parker said it best, "Boys never make passes at girls who wear glasses," and  I wore gold wire-rimmed glasses, which were totally out of style.   In addition, I was skinny and flat chested and so tall that I had to stand in the back row of almost every group picture.  (Only one time was I ever in the front row of a photo.  I remember it vividly.  The photographer said he couldn't get the back row in and had the entire back row come and sit down in front.  It was a once in a lifetime experience for me.) 


Since it is so warm all year in Phoenix, all the Mormon kids usually ate lunch outside on the grass.   There were several lunch periods, so, sometimes we had a big group and other times a much smaller group.   For a time, a certain boy in our ward often ate lunch with me.  It was just the two of us every day.  His mother had died and he had a step-mother.  He had the responsibility of making his own lunch and so sometimes he came with only a grapefruit in a brown bag.  I am assuming I shared some of my lunch with him. My mother made large lunches with home-made bread sandwiches, fruit, and some kind of dessert, such as  a slice of pie wrapped in wax paper.  (No zip lock bags, yet.) One day he asked me for a date using these very words, "My mother said I should ask you to the dance."  It was the most unromantic words I had ever heard, but I said, "yes."  It was some sort of stake dance for couples, and not just a regular stake dance as we know them today.

This looks very much like the dances we had when I was in high school. Maybe a little fancier dresses for a date dance.

His parents drove us to the dance which was at the Third Ward building and then they stayed on the sidelines.  I am almost certain that they were not the assigned chaperons, but maybe they might have been.  There were other kids from our ward there and we had a fairly good time socializing with them.  Near the end of the dance, the group we were with decided to go for ice cream about a block away on Central Avenue. They invited us, but my date turned them down.  I assumed that he didn't have enough money for ice cream.  Just after they left, his step-mom came over and asked us why we didn't go with the other kids.  His reply was, "But Mom, you told me never to leave a dance hall with a girl."  The only thing to add to this story would be to say that it was probably his first date, too.


I'll do another blog on another day about some later dating experiences.

Hair!

Candelyn:  Tell me about how people did their hair.  What kinds of barrettes did you have?  Were there pony-tail holders?  What kinds of haircuts were in style.  Did people dye their hair?  Did you ever have long hair?  How did you curl your hair?  What kinds of hair products did you put into it?  Were there salons?  Or just the barber?  Oh, and tell about the time you cut your own hair!  (Smile!)

When I was a toddler my mother would use Nestle's hair curl product on my hair in order to make it curly.  I think it is the same company that today produces hot chocolate and other food products.  In any case, it didn't change my wispy, slightly wavy hair.

My daughter found  this ad from the era.  Reading it would make any mother want to buy some.

My mother's wish to have a daughter with curly hair came true with the birth of my sister when I was 2 1/2 years old.  She had really curly hair and it was a very beautiful shade of dark red.  As soon as her hair had grown in, it lay in little round curls all over her head.   I can remember people holding her on their laps and pulling on one curl at a time  and letting them spring back.  I don't remember being jealous of this, but my mother says that she remembers that I was. 

The movie star idol of the time was Shirley Temple.  She had large ringlets that bounced around as she danced and sang.  Hair entrepreneurs invented some fat aluminum curlers that closed with a rubber ring on a wire.  For years I had to sleep in these curlers so I could have ringlets that bounced.  Shirley Temple is also the reason I took tap dancing lessons for two years when I was three and four years old and again for a short while when I was 8 or 9 yrs. old.   

These curlers with the rubber fasteners were the kind I slept on for many years.

Now for the infamous story of me cutting my own hair.  In 1938, when I was four years old, we were living in Safford.    My mother had us all trained to take naps everyday.  My father even joined in on the weekends.  One day I remember wandering about the house during nap time.  I no longer remember why I got the idea to cut my hair, but I clearly had decided to do it.  I couldn't find the scissors so I woke my father up and asked him where were the scissors.  He told me that they were in the top drawer of a buffet or dresser or some piece of furniture.  I found them exactly where he told me and I pulled a strand of hair from above my forehead and cut it off close to the scalp.  Being a well trained daughter, I returned the scissors to its rightful place. 

A few days or maybe a week later, at another nap time, my father noticed something strange about my hairline.  He called my mother to come and see all the new hair that was growing in.  My mother took one look at it and realized that this wasn't new hair and they both looked upset.  They sat me down and seriously quizzed me. Feeling perfectly innocent, I told them that I had cut my hair.  My mother wanted to know where I had gotten the scissors which she kept hidden from us children. I even shared that my father had told me where they were.  They wanted to know why I had cut my hair.  I told them, that I didn't know why.  This was as close to a police interrogation as I have ever come. They even asked me for the evidence of what I had done.  I told them that I had thrown my hair away in the box beside the back door where we kept  wood for the stove.  Sure enough, they found it and put it in a little piece of cellophane.  I never saw it again until after I retired in my late 50's, when my father gave it to me.  I still have this piece of hair in its original cellophane wrapper in my keepsake box.  

I have never had a haircut in a barber shop and as a child never had a haircut at a salon.  My mother cut all of the children's hair, even the boys' hair, although my father also cut the boys' hair.  We had barber combs, barber scissors, a hand clipper, a high stool to sit on, and an old white shirt to keep the hair off of your clothes. 

 My brother, Arman, had beautiful "gold fish" colored, curly hair.  My parents couldn't bear to cut it off so they only trimmed it and left it in short curls until he was at least three years old.  One weekend, my mother had gone to her home town to help settle up her parents estate.   My father decided to give my brother a proper short haircut.  After he got down from the stool, he reached up and felt the back of his neck.  With a big smile on his face he said, "I have whiskers," because feeling his dad's face when he needed a shave was the only other time he had felt that texture. 

We didn't use bar soap to wash our hair, but had some kind of shampoo.  Evidently shampoo was expensive, because I still think of my mother's instructions almost every time I wash my hair.  You only need a "peanut size" dab for the first shampoo, then you rinse and use another "peanut size" dab to work up a foam for the final shampoo.

Breck hair ads were very popular when I was a teen.

I don't remember anyone wearing pony tails when I was young so we  didn't have pony tail holders, either.  We had bobby pins, barrettes, rubber bands, and ribbons.  One year for Christmas, we opened the box of new and used paper to begin wrapping gifts and there among the used paper was a brand new barrette that I had received for the previous  Christmas.  We must have had quite a few barrettes since I hadn't missed it in a year.

We had barrettes exactly like the top two ones and maybe the one in front,too.

Hair styles for me, when I was pre-school age, were wispy every-which-way, often held back with a barrette in the shape of a bluebird or perhaps some flowers.  Later, I had the Shirley Temple ringlets also held to one side with a plastic barrette.  

One hairstyle that I liked a lot during elementary school, was when my mother would part my hair in the middle and would make two small braids of the front hair and pull them to the back and hold the two braids together with a rubber band.  The rest of my hair just hung down naturally.  This was around 4th grade, I think.  This was the longest hair I  had as a child.  

After I was in my late 40's I started wearing my hair long, often in a bun but sometimes just hanging down.   I remember it getting caught behind my back when I was driving.   I planned to wear it long as an old lady wrapped around my head in braids, but after I broke my leg and it got so tangled up in the hospital that no one could comb it out, I gave up and let them cut it.  I have kept it short ever since.

Sometime around 5th or 6th grade, my mother took me to Rilla Jarvis's beauty parlor that she ran out of her home in Snowflake.  She had a big electric contraption that would give you a "permanent."  A separate wire went to each curler in your hair and Rilla would set a timer.  It was a pretty scary experience.  My mother wanted to get her money's worth so she said to make it extra curly so it would last longer.  She always believed, the curlier the better.  There are numerous pictures of me with another fuzzy permanent on our grand tour of the west in 1947. 

After we moved to Phoenix, Toni came out with home permanents and my mother used these on me a few times.  I can still remember the smell and never liked the results.  I only remember getting a permanent as an adult 2 or 3 times.  My hair curls very easily and once a permanent was so frizzy that it turned into an Afro.  Luckily they were in style and so it wasn't the disaster it might have been.

When I first began to see gray hairs, I  would just pull them out.  Eventually, I had my hair dyed at a beauty salon.   At first it looked alright, but after about a week, it  looked awful and so I have never tried it again.  When I was a child, ladies with gray hair would put a blue tint on it.  I never see anyone doing that anymore.  I wonder why.

Sometimes my mother would curl our hair with this curling iron that she had from before she got married.   This was a summer time solution to curling your hair  because you needed a kerosene lamp to use it  You put it in the chimney of a kerosene lamp and when it got hot you rolled your hair around it and clamped it until you thought the hair was curled.  It worked just like the electric curling irons today, only you had to reheat it before every curl.

During high school, almost every night, teenagers set their hair into pin curls using bobby pins to hold them in place.  You first wound the hair around a finger set tight against your scalp and then with the other hand picked up the bobby pin, opened it on your teeth and then slipped it over the pin curl. It took a lot of bobby pins to do all of your hair.  I remember being angry at my sister who had gone to bed earlier and had used up more than her fair share of the bobby pins.  Magazine articles warned you that you were going to ruin your teeth opening the bobby pins, but there was really no other way to open them using only one hand. 

 Someone invented aluminum clips for pin curls and they became popular so that you didn't ruin your teeth.


I have never had enough money or inclination to have regular beauty parlor appointments, except  for one period of time when I was in the Philippines with the U.S. Peace Corps.  Since I was "Miss Rayna" every Saturday morning on  a children's television program,  I did get my hair set and my nails done once a week.  I think I also got a pedicure for the first time in my life.  Only recently, at age 77, did I get my second pedicure because my nails have become so thick and my hands so weak that I can't cut my own toenails. 

I guess I could close this blog with the nursery tale quote," by the hair of your chinny chin chin" from the Three Little Pigs, but at my age talking about hairs on your chin is a very sensitive subject.