Our Mother Was a Whistle Blower
Johnny Schneider's pasture is in the background...no swimming pool or houses!!! The pool came several years later.
How does one get the attention of one’s children without yelling and screaming? Blow a whistle. That’s what Mom did in the ‘50s. Whether for time to eat, come in for the night, or whatever needed attention, Mom would open the front door and blow. For the Pick kids, this wasn’t a problem as we were always within earshot somewhere in the neighborhood.
Our home address was 407 E 5th St. Zimmerman’s lived across the street (412 5th St.) and George’s house (521 Kennedy St.) was south and on the opposite end of the same block. Between our house and George’s were three lots that remained empty for several years.
Our next-door neighbor on the west was Mrs. Nick Weiler. Wally Reistropher, her grandson, lived on a farm but stayed with his grandmother quite regularly during the school year, waiting for his parents to pick him up after school. He was a good sport and we liked playing with him.
Mrs. Anton Duster, Mrs. Weiler’s neighbor, had two grandchildren our age, Connie and Ricky Phillips, who also played with us. They called their grandmother, Grandma Cookie.
Frank Hussey, a veterinarian, retired about the time Dad came to town. Their home (504 Kennedy St.) was next door and south of the house that later belonged to Fr. Henry Pick, Dad’s brother (502 Kennedy St.). Fr. Henry’s home later became Mom and Dad’s home when they moved back to town from the farm.
I was an eighth grader when Orville Hames built a new home next door to us on the east.
The empty lots were kept up by the owners. The grass would usually get pretty high before it was mowed. After sitting and waiting patiently on the sidewalk for the mowing to finish, we neighborhood kids would make grass houses by raking the freshly mowed grass into lines to resemble a floor plan grid with a living room, kitchen, and bedrooms. Using our imaginations and cardboard boxes, you name it, we played house.
The dirt piles left behind after basements were dug made for great places for playing with sand shovels, toy buckets, and toy trucks.
Zimmerman, George, and Pick kids made for a very noisy neighborhood along with Mrs. Duster’s and Mrs. Weiler’s grandchildren. And Dr. Hussey’s grandchildren from Minnesota took turns visiting in the summer. Mrs. Hussey kept a trunk in her basement filled with her vintage clothing that we played dress-up. Her old shoes fit us! (She was a very small woman.)
Everyone got along well, playing marbles, roller skating, swinging on our swing set, playing in the “Hills”, riding bikes, playing doctor, jumping rope, going to the pool in the summer, and sledding down our street in the winter. Our street, the only one in town with enough incline for decent sledding, was a very popular place in the winter. In the late ‘50s the tennis court, next to the swimming pool, was flooded for ice skating. We had our share of birthday and Halloween parties too.
Before the pool, neighbor kids cooled off in the summer with a lawn sprinkler hooked up to a garden hose at our house most often. Our house, for some reason or other, was the main gathering place. In the winter we had our nice-sized and warm basement for gatherings. In summer it was very comfortable as well.
While our house was being remodeled, our family lived in the basement. After the house was finished and we moved upstairs (not long after Richard was born). The old stove stayed in the basement for a while. Mom cooked on it in the summer months and made her pink lemonade on it. What a treat that was, but so much work for her. In a large white porcelain pot (the kind used for making coffee for large groups back in the day), Mom made syrup with water and sugar. To the chilled syrup, she added sliced and juiced lemons along with jars of undrained maraschino cherries. Lucky were the neighbor kids who got a glass.
Pick’s weren’t the only family living in a basement while their house was being built or remodeled. Such was the case for a house one block north of us. It took that family an even longer time than us to get the job done. As a matter of fact, Zimmerman’s only dug a partial basement prior to building their home. A number of years later they finished the job under the complete length of the house. We loved it when we were invited to ride along with the Zimmerman’s for car rides on warm summer evenings.
Mrs. Pete Lanners lived up the street in the house east of the alley. We didn’t know her son was killed in the Korean War and she was going through a very bad time in her life. Like many other ordinary days, we roller-skated past her house to get up to the corner and at the same time most likely making a great deal of noise. One day Mrs. Lanners had reached the end of her rope. She opened the front door and shrieked at us. Oh my, we were scared to death. We had never heard nor seen anything like it before. Needless to say, we avoided that end of the street from then on.
May Day (May 1st - and Dad’s birthday) was always fun. Our May baskets were made from paper cups (no plastic or styrofoam back in our day). Girls, not usually boys, drew flowers on the sides with crayons. Handles were crinkly curly cue gift ribbons tied or stapled to the top edge. Quite a sight on our kitchen island were rows of the prettiest May baskets ever seen, filled to almost overflowing with candy. I think Tootsie Rolls were around then and Jelly Beans of course. Who remembers candy Circus Peanuts?
Usually, before suppertime, we carried our baskets door to door. We would drop them off, ringing the doorbell or knocking, and then running away as fast as we could. On one May Day, a friend (I don’t remember who), approached our front door and heard Dad leading us as we prayed the rosary in the living room. Not wanting to interrupt, the friend knelt down on her knees and finished the rosary with us outside on the front porch. Not that we prayed the rosary together that much.
Yes indeed, a Norman Rockwell childhood.
Worth mentioning: At one time Dad owned all of the lots on our side of the street. In 1947 Dad moved and remodeled an old house that was part of his purchase onto the last lot on the east end…407 E 5th St.
For the sake of history, let it be known after WW II housing was extremely difficult to find. I mean, almost near impossible. That was the reality Dad and Mom faced when Dad moved to Remsen to set up his practice in Oct 1946. When he bought the lots that November, the war had ended only a year before.
This is a good view of the empty lots on the corner of Kennedy St & 5th St. where we made grass houses with rakes.
Our Gma Hahn was a dedicated picture taker and in the beginning used a Kodak Brownie camera. Thank you Gma for capturing your lively grandchildren on film.
