Indian Princess and Campfire Day--memories

My cousin in South Carolina sends out a weekly spiritual message to her friends and relatives and often closes with a "day" event, like popcorn day, or fly a kite day etc. I always look forward to what she has to say. Today she reported is "Campfire Day," so I looked it up, and it seems early August is a good time to sit by a campfire with friends.

 
But it made me wonder what had become of Indian Princesses and Campfire Girls (an outgrowth of father-son recreation and moral guidance by the YWCA in the 1920s), which my daughter and I (and her dad) participated in during the 1970s. I had a lot of fun strolling down memory lane with that one, like how we got our *first cat (see photo), the nice mothers of Tremont School I met, and the scary overnights at a camp in southern Ohio (forgotten the name).

After an extensive 2 minute search I learned that anything with the word Indian in the title is racist/colonialist/demeaning to native Americans so organization has separated from the Y. There are locally run organizations because daddy-daughter activities are still enjoyed and earning badges for service is still considered useful in building character and strong women. There is a local unit for the younger girls in my own community called Two Rivers Council (2 rivers, the Scioto and the Olentangy meet in Columbus).

 
"Two Rivers Council is a group of dads and daughters that strengthens that strong family bond through structured but casual activities - time apart from work and school to focus on family. During our time together, dads and daughters learn outdoor traditions, discuss current events, help out in our community, and enjoy our time in the great outdoors.
Our group includes Upper Arlington girls between kindergarten and third grade. Most of the girls attend Barrington with a few from Tremont, St Agatha, Wellington, and Columbus School for Girls. "Senior Princesses" in grades 4 and 5 are most welcome too! We take our Longhouse name from the two rivers that flow through Columbus: the Olentangy and the Scioto. The sun rises on the Olentangy and sets over the Scioto.

 
The Y-Indian Princess Program (now called Adventure Princesses) was an outgrowth of the Indian Guides, a father-son program started in 1926. That program enabled fathers and sons to participate in a variety of activities that nurtured mutual understanding, love, and respect. The first Indian Princesses came together at the Fresno, California YMCA in 1954. Today, as then, our program affords an unusual opportunity for the concerned and busy father to foster growth in his daughter's development and an understanding of the world around her. The father's role helps her in developing self-esteem, confidence with her peers, and appreciation for the differences among people and families."  https://tworivers.clubexpress.com/content.aspx?page_id=9&club_id=837212

*This is not our first cat, Mystery, born in 1976, but she looked like this.   I can't seem to find any photos of her on my computer.  In those days we didn't take photos every few hours. She was coal black except for a few white hairs under her chin.   We named her Mystery because she was so tiny when our daughter brought her home from an Indian Princess overnight with her dad at Camp Akita, her eyes were blue and we didn't know her sex. She was sort of sickly and the mother and all the other kittens ran away, but Phoebe caught her. Somewhere I do have a photo of her and the children with a carved pumpkin, so it must have been near Halloween. She got well and lived for 18 years. 

Advice for cancer patients

 Yesterday I decided to repack some of Phil's things in nicer boxes, and then to put the sympathy, get well, and thinking of you cards, notes and letters inside the boxes. There were well over 200 of those.  Of course, then I had to pause and reread them, which is sort of kick in the stomach, but I remember the comfort they brought us in the Spring of 2020 and when he died in April.  One is particularly worth sharing because it's good advice for cancer patients.  It's from his cousin who is 12 years older and was a great help to us in filing the paper work for social security disability (although the first check didn't arrive until after he died).

"I was hoping to be able to find words of strength and encouragement that I could share as you deal with all your health challenges.  But it's hard to find anything profound and helpful to say, though I wish I could.  I had cancer five years ago and it's a long, lonely journey in many respects--no one else can really understand what you're going through, even when someone has had cancer themselves. So I mostly just wanted to tell you to hang in there, keep fighting, and don't shut people out.  I wanted to do everything alone, and just be alone, and in retrospect I wish I'd let more people in and had been able to be more welcoming of the support.  At least more welcoming of the food people offered that we kept turning down!

My one cancer survival tip is to tell you to laugh every chance you can get--not an easy task on the days when it's hard to even get out of bed but it's worth creating every possible opportunity to do so.  For months I watched only comedies and comedy specials on TV.  I rented ridiculous movies, watched every stand-up comedian I could find, and went to every funny movie I could go to.  I was the only thing I enjoyed while going through treatment.  I'm sure the endorphins that laughter produces helped--but mostly it just felt like an escape and respite from doctors and hospitals and all the people hovering over me and all the cancer talk.

Completely unrelated but I also, for some reason, enjoyed putting together jigsaw puzzles--although not sure that's something you'd like.  I sounds pretty old-fashioned and dull (although as the most elderly of the Corbett cousins I'm sure it's my duty to share old-fashioned ideas), but I found it very soothing.  I was such a concrete and orderly thing to do, when everything else seem chaotic and out of control--I knew how to start with the edges, how to organize the colors, how to finish, how to rip it up when I was done.  And best of all I could do it even when my brain was foggy."

And she included Rolling Stone's list of the 25 funniest movies of all time.

My summer of 1958, part 4

What does an 18 year old do for a social life while living on a farm with her grandparents?  Not much except spend time with adults.  See Part 1, Part 2 and Part 3 for the story about why I was living on a farm the summer between my freshman and sophomore years in college. Transcribed from my diary!

Perhaps it was a good thing, but my boyfriend had to go to Minnesota for the summer of 1958 for civil engineer camp. According to my diary, he called about 11:30 on June 6 and said he would stop by before leaving, so I grabbed a pail of water to wash up, put on some clean clothes and we said good-bye before he left. Going after the mail, either walking or driving to Franklin Grove, was a favorite activity and I got my first letter from him on June 9. I would often stop at the local drug store to get a Coke and read my mail the diary says. I mentioned letters from college friends, some other boys I’d dated, and my great uncle Edwin who lived in Ohio.

On Saturday June 14 I was picked up by a relative so I could go to my uncle’s wedding, which was a lovely event and I sat with my other grandmother (groom’s mother). I spent the night at my parents’ home and my brother drove me back to the farm after church with them.  That Sunday afternoon Aunt Muriel and Uncle John came down with my cousin Gayle and we girls had a good visit.  By this time, Grandma and I were wearing on each others’ nerves, and I noted in the diary I started to read Norman Vincent Peale’s “Power of Positive Thinking.” I was probably acting like a normal, self-centered teen-ager, which I’m sure was difficult for her. I didn’t sympathize then, but for her age and declining health, the stresses in her life and still being in deep grief over the death of her sonin WWII, she was doing better than I realized then.

The big activity of June 16 was cleaning the house and ironing clothes and in the evening I walked in the bean field and watched the men making hay. I’m sure I wished I was at the skating rink or movie, although I didn’t write that. Finally, someone my own age showed up.  On the evening of June 17 friends from high school/college—Sylvia, Sharon and Lynne drove down from Mt. Morris to see me and I wrote we had a lot of fun talking.

Uncle Leslie and Aunt Bernice would come out from Chicago about once a week and all of 5 of us would go to Dixon to eat and shop for groceries, and Bernice and I would chat while Leslie talked to his parents.  She often brought cake or cookies with her.

One rather interesting “social” event was meeting a woman, Mrs. Sharkey, on Sunday morning June 22 when I drove to Dixon, and I attended a Catholic Mass with her at St. Patrick’s  (my first and only until 2017) and she loaned me her prayer book.  She was a widow and invited me to her apartment for coffee, and I note in my diary that her china was the same pattern as Grandma’s.  In late summer 1960 I went to Dixon to the store where she worked and bought my everyday china from her. A sweet memory of a dear Christian woman.

It’s not clear from my diary why I was in Dixon on a Sunday morning, probably looking for the Church of the Brethren thinking I'd see friends from college, but later that day I drove to Mt. Morris, had supper with my other grandparents because no one was home at my parents.  Perhaps I just wanted a bath (we still had no indoor plumbing at the farm).  I recorded that my Aunt Lois (who died this last December at 91) had a baby girl the day before (that would be cousin Rhonda) and that I drove my Dad’s new red Ford Ranchero.  Dad never removed the keys from his cars, so I suppose I just hopped in and went for a joy ride stopping to talk to people I knew!

On June 25 Grandma wanted to see Dr. Boyle in Mt. Morris so we drove there and I had a chance to visit with my girlfriend, Lynne.  On many days I wrote that I walked down the lane to the neighbors after supper. Often they would give me fresh produce from their garden which I would work into my menus  Addie and Dale were 38 and 39 (died in 2016 and 2017),  had four adorable children and were fun to be around.  I also went to church and their Sunday School class, really old folks like 30 or 40, and I don’t mention meeting anyone my age.  I also visited an immigrant couple, Dora and Zieg, down the other lane who were learning English by watching TV (my grandparents didn’t have a TV).  On June 30, two sisters-in-law of my boyfriend stopped to visit me at the farm.

On July 4 after baking a cherry pie, making a big dinner of meatloaf and baked beans and sprinkling the laundry (no permanent press then—wash, starch, dry, sprinkle, iron), I walked to the neighbors down the lane and Martha Brumbaugh came by and offered to take me to Mt. Morris, so we went after supper and I caught up with high school friends Nancy, Priscilla and Lynne to attend the July 4 talent show in Mt. Morris. Sylvia drove me back to Franklin Grove that evening. Rereading this, I am surprised at all the driving back and forth and I seemed rather casual about the transportation  arrangements.  If Sylvia hadn’t offered, how would I have gotten back to the farm? It’s about 19 miles, with hilly, winding roads, and a long lane off the high-way, or about 40 minutes. Did it ever occur to me at 18 how many people I inconvenienced?  If so, I didn’t mention it.

On July 5 I wrote I had a 4 page letter from my boyfriend and I was beginning to miss him!  How shallow is that? He’d been writing several times a week. Also I went to the garden and picked over a quart of raspberries and some rhubarb.  Then I made 2 pies.  Aunt Muriel, Uncle John, their daughter Dianne and my mother came down in the evening.  I hope I served them some pie, although I didn’t write that in the diary!

         

I don’t have a photo of my cousins and Aunt Muriel from 1958, but this is 1959 at Gayle’s wedding. Aren’t they lovely!

From July 7 through the 11th my entries are very short.  Sylvia and Dave came to visit, I went to the neighbors to help with a birthday party and got home at 1 .m., I cleaned a lot, baked a lot, took a pie to Dora and Zieg.

July 12 is my last entry in the diary of my summer at the farm. I baked a blueberry pie that day, Uncle Leslie and Aunt Bernice came and we went to Dixon where I bought a wedding gift for my high school friend, Tina, who had moved to Florida after our junior year.  And I mentioned no one would want this job. . . nothing I did was right, and there are no other entries.  I think my father picked me up the next day or within a few days, and I spent the rest of the summer in Mt. Morris.  And I was probably much more appreciative of my own home, my mother’s cooking, and just doing what teen-agers do.

A very successful trip to Illinois

We had our fall Illinois Indiana trip this past week, celebrating my birthday there and seeing our cousins and siblings.

On Thursday we went to the lovely home of cousins Dianne and Frank for a tasty breakfast, after which we went hunting for the Nachusa Prairie Grasslands near Oregon and the bison (that adventure will be another post).  On Friday we drove to Dixon to see my cousin (once removed--my grandmother and his father were siblings) Chuck Ballard to catch up since college days at the University of Illinois, where he attended after a stint in the Navy. I think I last saw him in 1983, and we are both interested in genealogy. We had actually met a good friend of his when we were touring Ireland over a decade ago. Friday evening we had dinner with our Illinois siblings and spouses with a long chat afterwards.  On Saturday the members of my graduating class (1957) got together at the Campus Cafe across from the campus in Mt. Morris.  That afternoon we drove to Winnebago to visit with my cousin Judy Buffo, but as it turns out, that was her mailing address but she lives much closer to Pecatonica. so we drove around a lot in that area, and were just about to give up when I found a clerk at a gas station who had a smart phone and wrote down directions for me. We had a nice 2 hour visit.  I think I last saw her in 1996.

Early Sunday morning we started out from Mt. Morris  for Indianapolis arriving about 1:30 and had a good visit with our sister and brother in-law and our niece and nephew and dinner and dessert.

   

 

 

  

Birthday greetings from Alaska

My cousin Gayle is such a faithful events greeter, and when the family lived in Alaska, we would be treated with colorful postcards and a personal note.  These three I found in the box I was clearing out today--one from the 70s, 80s and 90s: Kasilof, Fairbanks, and Angoon. Since she reads my blog, this is a special shout out to her.

Inbreeding among Muslims for 1400 years?

I am not at all familiar with Pickerington Post blog. So I haven’t confirmed this “research.”

Massive inbreeding among Muslims has been going on since their prophet allowed first-cousin marriages more than 50 generations (1,400 years) ago. For many Muslims, therefore, intermarriage is regarded as being part of their religion. . .

The BBC’s research also discovered that while British Pakistanis accounted for just 3.4% of all births in Britain, they accounted for 30% of all British children with recessive disorders and a higher rate of infant mortality.

It is estimated that one third of all handicapped people in Copenhagen have a foreign background and 64% of school children in Denmark with Arabic parents are illiterate after 10 years in the Danish school system.

The research appears to be only at right wing website and all cite the same Danish psychologist, Nicholai Sennels .

http://joemiller.us/2015/09/muslim-inbreeding-has-corrupted-islams-psyche-and-the-results-are-alarming/

http://pjmedia.com/blog/the-problem-of-inbreeding-in-islam/

The dissenters: http://theamericanmuslim.org/tam.php/features/articles/robert-spencer

Friday family photo—down on the farm

Cousin Gayle and me summer of 1984

Friday Family Photo—The Lustron

I love the Lustron, I really do. There are many in Mt. Morris, IL where I graduated from high school, and my grandparents owned one. They are beautifully designed and very functional. But they were the Solyndra of the 1940s--a federal government boondoggle that ran into problems with the local housing codes, unions, and an over priced product that eventually failed. They live on today.

[Carl] Strandlund knew a major investment would be required to achieve the efficiencies necessary for financial success, so he heavily lobbied the federal government for support. The Truman administration saw the potential of his concept and, in 1947, helped him secure a $15.5 million dollar loan from the Reconstruction Finance Corporation, a government agency formed to assist industry during the Depression. In addition, Strandlund got the keys to a million-square-foot former Curtiss-Wright plant next to the Columbus airport. It was an unprecedented government venture into the housing industry, but, according to Knerr, that fact actually gave the project greater credibility and notoriety.

 http://www.ohiohistory.org/publications/ohio-histore-news/2013/july-25-2013/the-lustron-home

Unlike this story reports, there was no post-WWII housing shortage. Housing was taken off the market with government regulations, and that created the shortage which created a housing and mortgage boom.

My grandparents enjoying the porch on the Lustron.

My cousins Pam, Ron, Fred, Jenny Sue, and Lorrie in front of the Lustron owned by their grandparents.

Monday Memories from my cousin

Bill and Gayle were married August 30, 1959 in the Mt. Morris, Illinois Church of the Brethren. She writes this about the memories of the last 50 years.

"We grew up on the same street, went to the same school and attended the same church. Our first date was on June 5, 1955. Our first home was Mrs. Isley’s upstairs apartment 3 blocks from the campus of the University of Northern Iowa where we were students.

Gayle remembers:
-purchasing an Eureka vacuum cleaner with wedding money
-washing, starching, hanging, sprinkling and ironing ALL our clothes
-being afraid to light our gas oven & burning cookies
-waxing our linoleum floors every Saturday
-shopping at Cardinal Grocery & saving King Korn yellow stamps
-attending all of Bill’s varsity basketball games
-being relieved to learn that my new husband cleaned his own “game”
-wearing skirts, never slacks or jeans, to class
-playing Johnny Mathis, Ray Conniff, Nat King Cole, Percy Faith & Henry Mancini records on our stereo (no TV)
-intertwining “homemaking” with “homework”

Bill remembers:
-driving our ‘48 green Plymouth sedan
-having a basketball scholarship to help with expenses
-eating at the Panther Pizzeria after games (Pizza was new back then)
-working at the Western Auto & selling a lot of Lawn Boy mowers (new)
-hunting for pheasant and quail on Iowa farms
-having teammates over for meals
-juggling basketball practices, games, roadtrips and classes

We laughed a lot that first year and we still do; but the important relationship with our Lord and Savior didn’t come until we went to Alaska to teach. It has been our joy to follow Christ through the ups and downs of life for many years now. We’ve been blessed with four beautiful children and eleven grandchildren so far. We are grateful for our fifty years together. We want to encourage you to trust and obey God on your personal journey too!"

Thank you Gayle--wonderful memories and good advice!

I vaguely remember ironing.

Friday Family Photo--another cousin

This is a photo of my cousin Gayle when she was the queen of May at Manchester College in North Manchester, IN. That's her roommate taking a photo of her. I think Gayle told me her roomie made the dress which Gayle later used as her wedding dress. Isn't she pretty? I found the photo at an MC site.

Friday Family Photo--Cousins

Sister on the left, me on the right, and our cousin Dianne in the middle
I think this was taken in October. We weren't doing anything special--just sitting around having a cup of tea. My cousin had stopped by on her way to visit her mother, and I was in Illinois visiting my sister. We've lived in Ohio for 40 years, so times with my family are done in little snatches--mini-vacations, weddings, funerals, health emergencies and reunions. When I was a child it never really occurred to me that I would be away from my siblings, or lose touch with the cousins I saw every Sunday at grandparents. Then I got married, moved to another state, and became part of another family, and saw more of them in Indiana than mine. Now it seems normal, and our holidays and special times revolve around our little family here, but for many years I felt adrift.

Friday Family Photo

This is my husband, about age 4 or 5, his sister Jean, and cousin Norma Lou with their grandfather, whom they all called "Biggie." He was much adored, and my husband still talks about him 60+ years later. Norma lived with her grandparents and my husband and siblings stayed with them almost every week-end.



Their grandparents were a part of their lives in ways I couldn't even imagine, because these little ones all had divorced and remarried parents. I had six grandparents and thought they were just nice relatives whom we visited every Sunday so I could see my cousins. I really grew to appreciate my grandparents when I became an adult and understood the difficulties and joys of their lives better. And I was fortunate to have them many years--I was 43 when my paternal grandparents died, and 21 when my great-grandmother died.

Friday Family Photo

More about cousins

These are photos of my son and his cousin Rich, who are about 8 months difference in age, which when they were children made quite a difference in size, but none at all when they grew up--in fact, I think Rich might be a bit taller. Both were almost white blonde as little guys, and now both are very dark. Rich is on the right in the 1973 photo and the left in the adult photo.

Easter 1973

And in 1999

Friday Family Photo

Even most of my family couldn't tell you how these two photos are related. I'm guessing the b & w is 1940, but I have no idea what the occasion was. The children are my paternal cousins Kirby* and Melvin, Evelyn and Jimmy, my uncles Derril and Gene (my father's brothers), my two sisters, my uncle Ken (dad's brother-in-law) and a family friend who I think was Bud Wilson (I'm sure if Dad were alive he could provide a positive ID). However, my cousin Gayle, who is a maternal cousin, is sitting in the front. So perhaps Mom was babysitting, and maybe she took the picture, because the format size looks like hers--and it was in her box of photos.

But did they all get in that little car? Probably not. I'm thinking it was a family picnic--maybe the annual "Tennessee Reunion"--held at a farm, and the car was just parked along the road.



The second photo shows the children (with spouses) and grandhildren of my two sisters (who are in the b & w photo) almost 60 years later with my Mom in 1999. My niece Karen, who's the family photographer, set it up and then got in the back row.

*More about Kirby and his music career on Monday Memories next week.

196 When doctors made house calls

I drove my husband to the doctor's office this morning and instead of the usual array of magazines to read while I waited, I found a nice book, "Medicine's Great Journey; one hundred years of healing" (1992). I had recently seen the cover photo someplace on the web--it's by W. E. Smith for Life Magazine in 1948 of a doctor in coat, tie and hat walking through the weeds to a rural home.

One of the last house calls I remember was in 1949, when a doctor who drove from Mt. Morris to our house in Forreston to see my ill sister, gave my parents the bad news that she might have polio. I have few tender memories of Dad, but I still see him carrying her, a good sized adolescent, wrapped in a blanket, out to the family car to be taken to the Freeport IL hospital. She survived the disease and therapy, and we were all quarantined. Dad couldn't return to our home after the sign was put on our house. Our library books had to be destroyed rather than returned. My school classmates wrote me letters which were brought to the house and left on the porch. Odd what children put away to remember.

She survived, but post polio syndrome returned to haunt her later years and contributed to her death from a diabetic stroke. I will blog about that in February, the anniversary.

A few weeks before her hospitalization in 1949, my cousin Jimmy had died of the same bulbar polio. We had all been at a Sunday afternoon family dinner together the day before he became ill. In my mind's eye Jimmy was the golden child--handsome, athletic, black curly hair, charming.

Two years ago I went back for a high school reunion and one of the guys, an all-sports athlete, and still an active golfer and little league coach, gave us a walk down memory lane of all the athletes that had come out of our little school. The two in our class who actually made careers out of it were women, and we had no organized, competitive sports for women in the 1950s.

In the course of that presentation he talked about Jimmy. How even at age 12, playing basketball and football, he was spectacular--everyone knew he had the potential to be a state champ. I was so shocked to hear his name--in my years at that school (I transferred there 2 years after his death) I'd never heard him mentioned. I suppose I thought only family remembered him. Odd what children put away to remember.