Roger’s Remembrances

Aunt Ethel was one of the grandest persons that ever lived. Ethel, Mom’s older sister, was a very real part of our family life. She sat with us(1) in church, ate noon meals with us during the school(2) year, took rides in Lizzie with us, and celebrated major events with us. She would keep Bob and me when Mom had some errand to run.

. . . . 1 “Us” was Dad, Bob, and I. Mom was at the organ.
. . . . 2 Freda Leonard lived right across the street from 506 and brought Aunt Ethel to and from Northside. Miss Leonard taught half days at both Northside and Roosevelt to relieve the principal at each school.

I can vaguely remember staying with her at 404 West 9th (now a school yard), where she lived before going to 102 (below). She liked to read Uncle Remus stories to us. She took Bob and me to Wiley’s Tea Room and educated us about the use of a finger bowl. She bought memberships for Bob and me at the YMCA so we could swim in the pool (though I learned to swim elsewhere). She gave me a subscription to the Readers’ Digest, which I enjoyed for years.

102 East 17th
When I was early grade school age, Aunt Ethel moved to an upstairs apartment at 102 East 17th street. The house was owned by (3)”Aunt” Mabel Parks and her mother “Auntie” Parks. The first time we visited, Aunt Ethel asked Bob and me if we could find where she slept. After we gave up, she showed us how the “drawers” along one side of the room rolled out into the room as her bed. I was impressed.

. . . . .3 I was in junior high before I realized that “Aunt Mabel” was not really my aunt, just a special friend of our family! I never did ask.

Aunt Ethel would have Bob and me up to eat with her in the tiny, tiny, kitchen. I remember the good taste of WHOLE milk, served in the “diamond” goblets. We have a couple of them on the glass shelves in the dining room at 2115.

Gunnison, Colorado
For several summers Aunt Ethel attended summer school at Western State College in Gunnison, Colorado. I inherited some of her “school work” in the form of essays she was assigned to write. Many of them were of life with our family.

The one on “1914 Models” is so delicious in its comments about little Robert and Roger that I’ve decided to include it here. Her hand-written note on its first page says “Assignment: An informal essay in which you do not adhere to the topic but wander at will”. Here it is —

1914 Models

“To the uninitiated, Lizzie is only a 1914 model with brass-bound radiator and straight fenders. Those who always own the year-after-next model no doubt would be caught just as willingly riding on an old-fashioned high bicycle as riding in Lizzie. It is true that they might be surprised at the quietness with which Lizzie runs. Ray, the owner, would say, “That engine was made before the war. They don’t make ‘em like that in the new Fords.”

“To hear Lizzie hum along would almost cause one to believe Ray to be right. It is a fact that he would feel disgraced if there were the suspicion of a rattle about the Ford, and his pride in the quietness with which it runs is justifiable and is made possible by the care which he bestows upon it.

“To me Lizzie is not just an out-of-date Ford, but a reminder of pleasant associations. Lizzie means my sister and her family, the friends who have ridden with us, and the trips we have taken together.

“The rides which will linger longest in my memory are not those which were taken in the modern high-priced cars on paved roads, where the crowd rode and indicated its highest pitch of enjoyment by its highest rate of speed. The rides which I shall always remember are those which were taken off the beaten track, where there were no crowds and where we jogged along slowly and had time to enjoy what we saw.

“One of my pleasantest recollections is of a trip to the sand hills. A friend said to me, “What in the world do you want to go out there for? What is there to see? What do you do when you get there?”

“The reply had to be, “Nothing.”

“How could I have made her understand the appeal of that road to me? She could not have comprehended my desire to ride with folk to whom I did not have to talk unless I felt like it. If she had seen us ride a large part of the way in silence, she probably would have decided that we were not on speaking terms, for silence would not be her idea of a good time.

“The white sea of fine sand lay in waves on each side of our road. Was it a wonder that, as we stopped, our two small boys and their daddy immediately clambered out of the Ford, scrambled under the wire fence, and laboriously climbed a hill so that they might have the fun of running down and partially sinking in a wave at its foot?

“Off the beaten track was the trip to the part of the county where there were springs, from which branches, covered with green water cress, flowed over sparkling sand.

“A never-to-be-forgotten ride was one which took us home on a frosty moonlit night. From Rayl’s Hill, west of town, we could see for miles up and down the beautiful Arkansas Valley, which seemed to be sleeping peacefully in the moonlight.

“It may seem that only old-fashioned people, only 1914 models, could enjoy these rides in Lizzie. When I think about the folk who have taken them, I believe that is partially true. I am sure that I qualify as a 1914 model, for I read last winter that a back number is a woman who has long hair, wears black hose, and carries a white handkerchief.

“That’s me all over, Mabel!”

“If there be added to that description the fact that I do not know how to play bridge, the case seems to be hopeless. Like Lizzie, however, I try to keep quiet about it.

“One of Mabel’s qualifications for membership in this group of 1914 models is her idea concerning a real vacation. Believing that the most beneficial vacation is the one which affords
the greatest change to the person who takes it, she prefers, instead of visiting, or going to a crowded summer resort, to go to a quiet place where she can pay her board and be independent, where she can get away from people when she wishes to do so, and where no one is going to talk shop to her. While the quietness of the places she chooses would bore many people, Mabel comes home re-freshed.

“There are those in the modern scientific world who would say that Mrs. Parks belongs among the 1914 models. It is true that she believes in a literal interpretation of the Bible, and that she would think the modern class room discussion of evolution is heresy; but it is an inspiration, in this age of many beliefs and of disbelief, to find a Mrs. Parks, who is able to say, after seventy years of testing, “I know Whom I have Believed.”

“Among those whom I associate with Lizzie and the other 1914 models, none is dearer to me than Robert, the rosy-cheeked baby, who wore blue rompers and carried Teddy, the red bear. For years Robert and Teddy were together whether they walked, rode, or slept. Teddy finally lost both of this eyes, but Robert’s mother sewed in their places two green glass buttons, which added to the already jaunty air of the little red bear. By the time the family moved to town, Teddy was looking permanently over his right shoulder, and his original color was worn off and faded.

“Robert’s playmates in town did not care for a 1914 model teddy bear and threw him on the roof. When Ray rescued him, Nell put him away with Robert’s other keepsakes. Just a faded, old, red teddy bear with green glass eyes? No! A bundle of memories of Robert’s happy babyhood!

“Among other memories is the one of the many rides I have taken in Lizzie, when I have held Robert, whose cheeks matched his red cap and sweater suit and whose arms clutched the red bear.

“Robert has long since passed the teddy bear stage. Last winter a cave, which he and his gang dug in the back yard, engrossed his attention. This summer a shack and a secret tunnel have taken the place of the cave. I suppose that people think that that back yard is a sight. Well, I agree that it is. But the boys’ dad would say, “We can clean up the back yard, but we can’t be sure we can always clean up the scrapes boys get into when they have no back yard to play in.”

“Recently Robert wrote me that his pal and he had fried potatoes in the shack and had eaten them out there. Nell had donated some other things to eat, but the fried potatoes were the principal dish. I doubt if Robert could be hired to eat fried potatoes at the table in the hot weather, but the potatoes fried in the shack are different from ordinary potatoes fried in the ordinary way.

“Another letter from Robert informs me that he has a pair of long pants. He says that they are b-r-o-u-n, with a fine stripe. He should not, of course, be expected to spell accurately when
excited over his first long pants. Well, the shack will soon be a back number to a boy who wears long b-r-o-u-n pants and starts to junior high this fall.

“For eight years Roger has been with us. Roger isn’t exactly a 1914 model; he is more nearly a year-after-next model. While he cannot be connected in my mind with the first years of Lizzie’s career, he has become a part of my memory of Lizzie. I can see him now, as he turned from the front seat to say, “Aunt Efful, I’m a goin’ a go to kinnygarten to learn to talk plain, so people can unnerchan’ what I chay.”

“We can “unnerchan’ what he chays” without any difficulty(1) now, in spite of his present temporarily toothless condition. He is ready for third grade now and hopes his new teeth will come through before September so that he won’t lisp. When last I saw him, he was practicing on the word Thursday to see if he could say it without lisping. He believes if he can master
Thursday, he will be able to read in the third grade without attracting the attention of his schoolmates.

. . . . 1 Little Roger couldn’t say “that” very well either. Into my adult years Aunt Ethel would quote me as she wanted me to give her “dat hug”.

“I might continue to tell of those who are associated in my mind with Lizzie, for, since our lives re made up largely of memories, I cherish the pleasant ones, as everyone does. When I reach home next week and see Lizzie, I shall know that means a welcome. Just an out-of-date Ford? No! Home. Just a 1914, brass-trimmed, straight-fendered model? No! Happy memories.”

Aunt Ethel’s hand-written comment on the last page of 1914 Models says, “Instructor’s comment: Perhaps I can qualify because I thoroughly enjoyed the 1914 models. Whimsical,
tender, genuine!”

Aunt Ethel never owned a car until her later years, when she bought a 1940 Plymouth coupe, which she named “King”. Mom had helped her learn to drive by practicing in our car. As mentioned in CHICAGO DAYS, Aunt Ethel and I drove King to Chicago when I started work for A.E. Company. After Mary and I moved to Lincoln, Aunt Ethel had a back seat installed in King and sold him to me for a very nominal price. Though the body style was that of a “coupe”, there was enough space behind the regular seat to make a back seat big enough for kids. Photo to left is with Peggy in bedroom at 219 E. Superior in Chicago.

Aunt Ethel was just like a grandmother to my kids. She came to Lincoln (via the bus) to help out at the birth of each of them. She enjoyed swinging them and singing “How Would You Like to Go Up in a Swing?” (With Phyllis and Marilyn on South 58th.)

In the last years of her life Aunt Ethel moved into the front bedroom at 506. I never heard either Mom or Dad complain about this arrangement. I am sure that Aunt Ethel was a perfect house guest. She died in 1955, the year after Dad had died. What a tender, genuine, Grand Lady! What a lot of “rooms on my house of memories” she helped build! I wish I had told her more often how much she meant to us all!