My Wedding Day, August 12, 1944.
It was my wedding day, August 12, 1944. in St. Augustine, Florida. All was planned for a 4 pm ceremony. At noon, the telephone rang. It was my bridesmaid, Laura, in Jacksonville, Florida.
"I can't get to your wedding - they won't let me on the bus," she exclaimed.
Transportation was very restricted during the war. Service people got priority. Members of our family were unable to come to Florida. Fortunately, Dr. Lockwood, Chief of Staff at East Coast Hospital, where I had just started working as a nurse, said he would love to "give me away." I remembered meeting a lovely nurse who was on night duty, so I quickly got in touch with Jan Adams.
"Of course, I'd love to stand up with you," said Jan. "However, I don't have any stockings to wear."
Hosiery was a war time item hard to obtain. White stockings for the nursing staff were hard to obtain too.
The wedding party and guests were made up of a few service people we had met at the Officers Club, and included, best man, 'Jan, my barelegged bridesmaid, Dr. Lockwood, who had to leave after the ceremony since he was on duty, and Maggie, the gracious hostess from the Officers Club.
I remember standing in the back of the church, thoughts flying through my head, "WHAT am I doing here, I don't even know this man."
Harry and I were married at 4pm in the lovely Flagler Church, as planned.
Maggie had graciously invited the wedding party to her home for a lovely reception. I still write to some of the guests.
I think you would call it a "typical" war time wedding. Harry and I had only known each other 6 weeks, however, we had sixty -four happy years together.
Elsie Johnson
Southbury, CT 2011
Did You Ever Have To Wear Long Underwear And High Topped Shoes?
Cold Iowa winters made these necessary clothing for me. It was awful for a 4th-5th grade girl to go to school with lumpy legs. This condition was caused by tucking long underwear into dark cotton stockings – a garter belt added to the problem too. I would struggle every morning, folding the stretched out underwear neatly, then pulling the stockings over them. The lumps always showed! I would get half way to school and pull the underwear up above my knees so I had smooth legs during school time.
However, I had created a problem – trying to get the underwear back into the stockings before I reached home. The underwear was really stretched out by then! Somehow I accomplished the feat for the whole winter. If my mother noticed this scheme she never mentioned it.
The underwear problem was only one problem for I had to wear over the ankle tie shoes; too. I called them Boy Shoes. My father said it would keep me from getting wear ankles (I still doubt that). It was depression time and clothing for children could be a problem. I would scrape the toes of my shoes as I walked to school. My father couldn’t believe I wore my shoes out so fast!
Fortunately, I lived through those “tough times” and in adulthood always sported high-heeled beautiful shoes and sleek nylon hosiery. But the worm has turned – I’m back into tie shoes but no long underwear.
Elsie Johnson
Southbury, CT 2011
Thanksgiving Memory
We always had the typical Thanksgiving dinner at our home in Iowa. However, this particular year Dad announced he was going pheasant hunting in Northern Iowa with friends and that we would have pheasant instead of turkey.
Dad was a good marksman and indeed he brought home pheasants not only for us but special friends.
This was only the beginning. Dad could shoot a bird but couldn’t stand to de-feather and clean the bird. Needless to say my mother took over this job. She not only had to prepare the bird but pick out all the buckshot that was in the flesh of the bird.
I think it was during one of these preparation times I observed is when I became a vegetarian.
We had a large dining table but Mom always added the extra leaves. One obstacle was she only had two table clothes to fit the larger table. She would announce “If anyone spills on the cloth, they have to cover it with a silver coin.” We were careful!
Our menu always was dressing, mashed potato, green beans, creamed onions which I still love and parsnips which I hated. Also cranberry sauce, biscuits, pumpkin pie and my Dad’s favorite mincemeat pie.
Mom would always invite some of the school teachers if they were alone – of course we hated that. One Thanksgiving we had apple pie so mom sent Dad to the grocery store to buy cheddar cheese to serve with it since the teachers were guests. He came back with baloney – he said he couldn’t remember what she wanted. Believe it or not she served the pie with baloney so we all go a big laugh – except Dad!
I tried to keep Thanksgiving dinner with the same menu in my household. However, I never had pheasant or apple pie with baloney.
Elsie H. Johnson
Southbury, CT 2011
Snow Sledding
It was a snowy evening and Mom had gone to “Bank Night”. Once a week the local theater had a drawing – probably $25 to draw in local patrons.
There was a call that “our gang” would get together for a sledding party at the country club. Iowa’s flat lands didn’t have many good hills, but the country club provided some nice slopes.
I was supposed to watch my younger sisters while Mom was at the theater. I bribed them not to tell and off I went in my new snow suit.
We all eagerly piled into two cars with our sleds. Reaching the country club several of us were so anxious to get on the sleds that my friend Helen lay flat on the sled and I piled on top of her. It was dark but down we went – but alas – we didn’t see the fence at the bottom of the hill. We were stopped suddenly – crash – it was a barbed wire fence.
Helen had caught the side of her mouth and immediately the snow was red with blood. We were scared – we picked up the sled and trudged up the hill where our group was still unpacking the car.
Immediately we all got back into the car and took Helen to our gentle old family doctor. We went to his house where he stitched Helen up and gave her a tetanus shot. Where would you find a kind doctor like that anymore??
The party was over! I got home before my mother but noticed I had torn my new ski jacket. Horrors!!! I don’t know how I did it but I neatly stitched up the jacket. Either Mom didn’t notice or didn’t say anything.
Our sledding party was very short and memorable. I expect to this day Helen carries a scar on her face to mark that foolish evening.
Elsie H. Johnson
2011
Southbury, CT
An Achievement
Many families would take a Sunday afternoon drive for vacation. We had a 1930’s Willys Knight Sedan. While on these “outings” Dad would try to teach my Mother to drive. If a car came in the opposite direction, she would panic. It was then Dad decided I should learn to drive. I was the eldest child and just thirteen. While on these “outings” Dad would try to teach my Mother to drive. If a car came in the opposite direction, she would panic. It was then Dad decided I should learn to drive. I was the eldest child and just thirteen.
It’s hard to believe, but drivers licenses were issued to thirteen year old in Iowa. We didn’t have school buses so parents of school-aged children had to drive them to school or would let the children of thirteen or older drive themselves. Many farm families still let eight and ten year olds drive tractors I the fields – sometimes with disastrous results.
I was smaller than I am today. Cars had no seat adjustments or automatic gears. A pillow at my back and a pillow to sit on, put me in position to reach the brakes and pedals. Learning the gear shift was difficult until a neighbor told me to visualize an “H” while shifting the gears – what a great suggestion!
I practiced driving up and down the driveway until Dad thought I was ready for the road. I know you thought there were only dinosaurs on the road at that time but we lived on a heavily traveled highway.
I passed my written and driving examination on the first try. I was so proud of myself.
My first real challenge presented itself when we received a telegram from my mother stating she and my brother would be arriving in Des Moines R. R. Station at 11pm and need to be met. Des Moines was 40 miles away. Dad was on a trip and wasn’t home. Feeling confident I assumed the responsibility to drive to Des Moines. I had been there several times with my parents and was sure I could find my way even at night. My two younger sisters were left to me to look after so I took them with me. My only concern was if I had enough gasoline.
Because I didn’t have any money, I had a brilliant thought. If I turned off the engine I could coast down the few hills that Iowa has, and it would save gas. I learned later this was not a safe driving skill.
Thank goodness, my guardian angel was on duty that night. We arrived at the R.R. Station safely when my mother and brother were waiting. I’m sure she was shocked to see me there without Dad. Needless to say she had to trust me to drive back to Perry since she didn’t drive.
How I ever found the R.R. Station in Des Moines I’ll never know since I’d only been there twice before. My guardian angel was with me!
Elsie H. Johnson
© 2012
Southbury, CT
The photo of this beautiful 1930 Willys Knight Sedan is from http://texashideout.tripod.com/moviecar2.html
The Porch Swing
Everyone who lived on West Willis in Perry, Iowa, had a large front porch. If you had a large front porch, you also had a “swing”. The swings were able to accommodate 3-4 people and after a warm summer day and the dinner hour was over, people would go out on their porch and “swing”!
Adults would sit on their swing and watch their children play on the front lawn catching lightening buts, playing, hop-scotch, jacks and other games, and watch traffic which flowed on the busy street. Neighbors would stroll over and catch up on neighborhood news and share your “swing”. It was a lovely Norman Rockwell scene.
When it was a rainy day, Mom would say “Go out on the porch and play”. One of our favorite ways to play was to play “Railroad”. We would have an engineer who operated the swing by pushing it to and fro by her body motion. She would stop the train to discharge her passengers getting off at various existing cities such as Chicago, New York, Miami, etc.
Teen age was our next good use of the swing. Our boyfriends would stop over after our parents had gone into the house. We would sit on the swing in the dusk – giggling – arms over the back of the swing – not the person – occasional quick kiss. We thought it was very romantic and wore our best perfume, “Evening In Paris”, if we expected a special guy!
One Sunday afternoon, we had extra friends and relatives over and we were all on the porch swing and porch railings enjoying the moment when – “crash” the swing came down dumping all the occupants in various sprawling positions! My mother was one of those who went down. Everyone was frightened about the possibility of broken arms or legs. After a quick check everyone was OK except the swing. Even neighbors had come running over from their porches to offer assistance.
The only casualty was the swing.
“We’ll buy you another new swing,” we all offered.
“Oh, no! I’ve had that swing for 35 years and I want that swing!” she replied.
“But Mom, it’s really broken. It’s in pieces.” We replied.
To conclude the story – my brother and husband worked for several days repairing the damaged swing – drilling and hammering and painting. The repair work was done beautifully so Mom got her original swing back on the porch. The routine of swinging and visiting with neighbors resumed.
The last I ever saw of “the swing” was in a yard sale many years after the “crash”. The swing was purchased by a neighbor who knew the history of the “swing”. I hope it kept on “swinging”. It had a lot of good pleasure and mileage!
Elsie Johnson
Southbury, CT, February 2012
Autumn Recreation
Yes – I’m a thief! No, I’ve never been caught I must confess. It happened many years ago while I was in high school.
It was a quiet autumn evening and our “group” (not gang) would get together looking for something to do.
“I know where there is a great watermelon patch nearby and it would be easy to take a few.” spoke up one of the boys. Needless to say were on our way to the farm. The farmers would plant watermelon seeds along the rows of corn where they grew to a good size protected by the tall ears. This became an autumn recreation - to steal a few nice melons and fortunately we were never caught!
We usually would stop at my house to get my mother’s special butcher knife then take our fruit to the public park where we would indulge in our feast there. I think we were fairly neat and didn’t leave a mess at the park.
My mother who knew about the watermelon raid since we used her knife would say – “now Elsie honey, I don’t want you to go out stealing watermelons but if you do – bring one home!” Why do melons taste better when they were stolen property?? Apple orchards were also “game” in the fall. The “city folks” never got to experience these autumn raids! Too bad! My Mother who wasted nothing also made great watermelon pickles from the rind!!
Elsie Johnson
Southbury, CT, March 2012
Home Remedies
Do you remember when door-to-door salesmen were welcomed into your home? The Fuller Brush Man – Watkins Products – encyclopedia salesmen – Tupperware and Jewelry parties would go door to door and would entice you by offering a free gift to gain entry to your home?
Many other items such as milk, bread products, fresh vegetables from the farm and blocks of ice for your ice box (don’t forget to check the drip pan under the ice box so you don’t have water all over the floor.)
It was also the days of home remedies. Unless you had a serious illness, Mom and Dad always had a cure for almost all problems. I remember if I sneezed, Mom would rush for the baking soda. A large tablespoon of it in a large glass of warm water – ugh! However it usually stopped my onsetting cold. I was subjected to earaches and sore throats. My Father would warm a towel, carry me to his large rocking chair, smoke his pipe and blow the warm pipe smoke into my ear, then cover my ear with the warm towel. It always made me feel better and looking back I’m sure the T.L.C. was a big factor. Before going to bed a warm wool sock was placed around my neck. Many times my chest was slathered with Vicks Vapor Rub or even a Mustard plaster for more serious problems. I still remember the odor – ugh!
The worst treatment I recall when I had a sore throat. My father would take a long chicken feather (no tongue depressors available) and dip it into iodine and paint my throat with the feather (gag gag). He used iodine for everything – cuts – scrapes – bruises and splinter. Dad’s brother was a doctor and I think my father was a frustrated one!
Cod liver oil was always administered daily – especially during the winter months to keep us healthy. Mom would mix it with orange juice to make it taste better. It took a long time not to associate the two. I did like the taste of Castor oil which we were given for constipation.
One nice thing about home remedies was the shampoo made from Ivory Soap. Mom had a huge rain barrel next to the back porch. She used the rainwater to wash our hair and always rinsed it in lemon juice or vinegar. Our hair was always shiny.
I’m sure some of these home remedies are still used with good results. However I’m sure the door-to-door salesmen are a thing of the past!!!
Elsie Johnson
Southbury, CT 2012
A Scary Experience
Do you believe in guardian angels? I do! My eldest daughter had to go to Columbia U. for a special examination. It was in December and the weather was clear so I decided I could drive her into the City. Luckily I found a parking space next to the college gates. She thought she would be through about 4p.m. So, I decided to take the subway downtown to do a little “window shopping” and to kill about six hours. Needless to say, about 3p.m., I was carrying several large packages. So, I decided to take the subway back to Columbia U.
I must explain at that time when you went into the City, you always wore high heels, hat and gloves.
Not having any experience with subway travel, it wasn’t surprising that I took the wrong subway on my return and came out of the subway entrance at 125th St. and Lexington Ave. I was in the middle of Harlem! I immediately realized I was in trouble! I didn’t see a white face in sight or a cab to hail. I glanced at my watch. It was almost 3:30 and I was supposed to meet my daughter at 4p.m. I didn’t think I had time to retrace my subway ride or even knew how to find it anyway.
Trying to get my bearings, I started walking west thinking Columbia U. must be west. I do know my directions pretty well even tho I didn’t know the subway system.
It was getting dark – remember it was December. I continued to walk briskly in my high heels and packages when I spied two white policemen coming from a tenement house. I hurried over and said, “I think I’m a little lost.”
“Lady, you certainly are lost”, said one of the uniformed policemen.
I explained my problem to get to the Columbia U. entrance.
He gave me directions to walk west until I reached Morningside Park. “You’d better go around the part”, he said, “you’ll never get through the park withal those packages.”
I started walking again when the Police Prisoner car drove up beside me.
“Lady, you’d better get into the car. You’ll just save us a call – you’ll never get through the park with all those packages” the policeman said.
Needless to say, I accepted their offer to ride in the prisoner car and in a few minutes, they left me off where my car was parked. It was 4p.m. and my daughter was there to meet me! I felt a joyful relief!
I offered to pay them (the policemen) for my ride and offered to write a letter for their kindness. They were very gracious and said “Please don’t tell anyone we took you in the Prisoner car”. Apparently there had been some bribery and investigations on police activity with the Public as I was informed later.
Looking back, I’m sure my guardian angel was on my shoulder but I have often wondered what would have happened if I hadn’t met those two policemen. I hate to think about it. I was so happy to be on my way to Pleasantville with my daughter that scary December evening!
Elsie Johnson
Southbury, CT 2012
