Memories

Many years ago, I read a short piece in a woman's magazine about clearing out the home of an elderly woman after her death. Among her belongings they found a large ball of string (frugal people used to save string, rubber bands, pieces of foil, bread bags, etc. for some need in the future). It was labelled, "Pieces of string too short to use." That's how I feel about my memories; I'm grateful I started a blog (web log, or diary on the internet) 20 years ago, because I remembered then details I can't recall now. I occasionally recall something from Alameda, CA during our time there in WWII, or an event at Faith Lutheran in Forreston, IL where we lived after Dad's time in the Marines. One piece of string I found today for which I have no story to write because I was trying to remember the pastor's name, is how cute my little brother looked in his Bumble Bee costume for the Mother's Day program at the church.
It's a piece of string too short to use.

Billy Collins wrote a poem called "Forgetfulness" in 1994. It's the only poem I have posted on my refrigerator. https://youtu.be/aj25B8JYumQ?si=M5m15Zd1J-cI5zvX You can hear the audience laugh, but you'll recognize every line. It's happened to you,

This 2011 blog entry includes both Alameda and Forreston at Christmas. Collecting My Thoughts: Monday Memories--Christmas in the 1940s

Collecting My Thoughts: Monday Memories of Kindergarten and Alameda

Jesus is Lord even if we are mad at him and don't want Christmas

Mother's Day 2010

In the early years of the United States, many Christians didn't celebrate Christmas at all--it was just another day--because it had been spoiled by drunken parties and materialism common among the British. Sort of like today. My mom never had a Christmas present as a child, although I think there were cards exchanged at school because I have some of them. My dad did remember getting a new pair of overalls as a kid and somehow they scraped together enough money to buy candy. Ironic that they were so poor and my mom's parents had money, yet dad's family found something to celebrate and mom's made it just another day, no celebration. They did loosen up after grandchildren, and learned to enjoy the holiday.  Just the other day I bought a box of art supplies that reminded me of something they gave me when I was maybe 8 years old. I'll probably never open it, because I don't draw anymore, but it was fun to see it.

The first Christmas I remember was 1944 in Alameda, CA when Dad was in the marines in WWII. Scary times. I know I had memories earlier than that because I can remember I thought that singing carols in the fog (that smell of the Bay has stayed with me) was very different than singing carols in the snow in Illinois--I just have no specific memory of 1943 or 1942. Also we didn't have a church which seemed odd to me. We went to the school gym for a Christmas program. I suppose the military towns had grown so fast there was no thought of churches. There was death and destruction everywhere, so people probably thought God had left town.

My faith was just something passed along to me by community, family and tradition until 1974, then I believed. Lots of questions I plan to ask Jesus because things haven't always worked out. I don't know how 20th century American Christians got the idea that faith was all happy clappy touchy feely. 100 million people lost their lives in the 20th century due to socialism/communism totalitarian governments--a huge number of them where Christians. And neither God nor the U.S. military saved them. And that doesn't count the war dead--another 40 million--and then it was Christians fighting each other!

On the other hand, I've had so many blessings over the years that others have missed, I'll probably ask about that, too. Although, I sort of suspect everything will become clear without even asking. As Paul says, "For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall understand fully, even as I have been fully understood."

Things are really foggy for me now, but someday I'll know.

Today is the first day of Advent, a time we look back, to the first Christmas, the birth of Jesus, and forward to when he comes again in glory.  It's the first day of the new Christian year, a time the church gives us to start fresh.  It's true that Christ has already taken his seat at the right hand of God, but

"now he comes to be born in the narrowness of our lives to be incarnate in us, to give his love to the world through us, through our flesh and blood. . . The reason why we are where we are this Christmas, in this house, family, office, workroom, hospital, or camp, is because it is here in this place that Christ wants to be born, from here that he wants his life to begin again in the world"  (Caryll Houselander, "Lift up your hearts" 1978.) From Magnificat, December 2019

Friday Family Photo--Christmas songs

My great niece Catie who lives in Florida asked on Facebook what was our favorite Christmas song.  I mentioned "I'll be home for Christmas" as a secular choice, and "Mary did you know" for religious, but then later I added this memory about White Christmas.  It got so long, I decided to add it here along with a photo.

"White Christmas" is a favorite song, too. When your Grandma Yoder and I were little kids we lived in California, and that's the first time I heard that song--Christmas 1944. It had come out in 1942, so if I'd heard it before I was too little to remember. We went to a community center for a Christmas party (I don't think we had a church), and a group of teen boys sang it. Just about everyone in our community (Alameda, CA) was from somewhere else--and it was damp and foggy as usual in the Bay Area--so the song had a lot of impact. By Christmas 1945 we were back in Mt. Morris, the war was over, dad and his brothers, brothers-in-law, and cousins were home (about 500 men just from our rural area were in the military), the country had recovered from the Depression, and I still remember the gifts. In 1944 I'd gotten a small glass cat figurine, but by 1945 we had "real" presents--like a sled! One was the doll house that we 3 sisters were to share, and you and your mom as children played with it later in the basement of my parents' home on Lincoln St. My mom's camera was broken when I was little, so I have no photos of those Christmases, but I do have one of your Grammy Yoder in the snow in front of our house at 203 E. Hitt St. Probably winter 1940. She's the little one--she was very tiny for her age.

Monday Memories of Kindergarten and Alameda

I'm looking at my kindergarten photo from Webster Elementary school in Alameda, California. I used Google to see if it still exists, but it closed in 1958 having served the Webster Housing Project, opening in 1944. I assume that project was all military family housing. I remember it as a wonderful, racially mixed neighborhood with people from all over the country and many nationalities. Families came there uprooted with fathers off to strange lands.

Looking at the photo more closely I begin to see the differences (all white children in my class although there were blacks in the school) and memories come to mind of the families who were terribly poor. No lunch programs in those days, but we did get free milk which tasted wretched. Wonder what was in it, because I liked milk. The school was a one floor plan with canopies outside joining the buildings to shade the sidewalks.  There were African American and Filipino children in my school and I’d never seen either, being from rural Illinois. Recess was on concrete instead of grass. Right from the beginning I loved school, except nap time on little rugs we brought from home. How boring.

My earliest Christmas memory is 1944 in Alameda, California. Dad was in the Marines and Mother had driven across the country in our 1939 Ford with four small children and my Aunt Muriel to find housing, schools, new helpful neighbors, and what I thought was a very exciting life. My recollection is singing carols in the fog--recalling that it wasn't like Christmas in northern Illinois. The community got together at a school to sing carols. Money was so tight, but Mom did her best. Not sure what the gifts were, but one was a little white glass cat which I still have.

Strange that with so little and living in constant fear of attack, we were all united then. Material riches certainly did not bring Americans any peace, even if we did win that war.