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Warren and I love to drink the foaming warm milk as it comes out of the separator’s spout. We always giggle at each other’s milk mustaches. Daddy laughs too and calls us giggle boxes…
It was a major disaster in my life when I was told I was too young to enter school this year! My seventh birthday is September 12. There is no state tuition for a child under seven… My parents offer to pay the tuition …
“Please, Mrs. Schmidt, I need to be excused.” I was not allowed to leave the classroom (to go to the outdoor restroom). Finally, I couldn’t hold it anymore and I peed right there at my desk and soon there was a big puddle under my desk and all over and around my brand new shoes…Of course, I cried!...
It is a regular ritual…to sit out on the front porch at night. (There is talk of World War II.) Warren, (my little brother), sitting on Daddy’s lap, asks, “When you were in the Army, did you have to carry a gun?”
“Ja, Ja, das ist richtig.”
“Did you ever kill someone?”
“I will tell you this, if a fox gets into the hen house and kills your chickens, you just have to shoot him. In war, when another country arms themselves and threaten to do what that fox wants to do in the hen house… About the time I was sent to the trenches in France, the war was over. I always remember to thank God it happened that way.”
…electric service came to our farm in 1941. Not too many days later Duecker Electric delivered a new Philco electric radio to our house! It stood about forty inches tall from the floor and had push buttons for different radio stations. One button said, Television. Mr. Duecker explained that someday you will push that button and you will not only hear but see the program as well!
Warren and I poked each other and whispered, “He’s cuckoo!”
It was truly an astounding thing! We, along with everyone else, formed a line of cars sometimes miles long and waited our turn at the outdoor ticket booth.
While it was still daylight, we drove into this open-air space, just outside of Fredericksburg on Highway 87 and waited to see a moving picture show. Awesome.
…many years later (when my mother died and it was necessary to go through her closet) Momma had only three of what she called “good dresses”. Why did she deny herself new clothes? Why did she make so many for me? Why did she make me work so hard? How could we have been so happy not having much of anything in the way of creature comforts?
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