1957

1957:
Another year, more changes. Back then one of the main forms of entertainment was to drive around the countryside and look for houses that might be five dollars a month cheaper. We lucked out on this one, the back half of an old farmhouse (but in good shape) for $25 per month,. The folks in the other side of the duplex were Illinois German farmers, and luckily for us, they adopted us. We bought a ’46 Buick for $100, and here we were, four states from home, eighteen and nineteen years old with our first real home, a ten year old Buick, and a baby on the way. When we moved in, the men in the neighbor’s family made a tour of the family barns, and brought back enough furniture to furnish the place. Sure wish I had that nice old round oak dining table now!

I washed on a wringer washer in the yard. No hot water to wash with, and the wringer didn’t work anymore, but it beat the bathtub, because the agitator worked, and the bathtub didn’t have agitation. For most of the winter we kept the milk and anything else that needed to stay cool on the back porch—no refrigerator. Richard was born the last day of May, before Dad knew I was in labor. I was in the Chanute AFB hospital at the time, having been sent there for gaining over my allotted two pounds a month. The official reason was that I was toxemic. Grandma came up from Texas on a train to take care of us. This was the first of many grandchildren; she had not yet gone to work at Sears, so she came to share the joy, and also because she realized that we knew nothing about taking care of a newborn baby. She made a comment while she was there that I have long appreciated, when she noted that we needed a dishpan or some such object, then quickly added “But if that was all you needed, you would buy it”. I have thought many times how profound that comment really was.

I learned a lot from those German women. They were hardworking, loved to laugh and have a good time, and were really goodhearted. Marcella, the duplex neighbor, taught me a lot about self-direction and how to get the work done. Her mother and sisters were around a lot. They treated me very nicely, but the only thing that bothered me was when they all began chattering in German, since I could not understand a word.

It was here that Dad learned just how emotional I could be. We had no telephone, so there was no communication during the day when he was gone to work at the base. He usually came home in the afternoon fairly early, but one afternoon the time came and went, and it was dark, as I recall, before he showed up. Whatever he was doing was certainly okay, but because it had only been a few years since the accident that killed our parents, I was just sure he was in a wreck somewhere. I had catastrophized terrible events and was pretty much a basket case. Maybe it was realizing how frantic I was, but very few times since has he ever been late without trying to let me know.

In August we moved to a trailer park for a month, for some long-since forgotten reason, and in September to Burkburnett, Texas, because Dad was transferred to Sheppard Air Force Base at Wichita Falls. Sold the Buick, bought a Nash Rambler, replaced the engine, and drove it to Texas. Somewhere around Peoria the Nash needed a nice long rest, and as I recall we spent the night on the road. Somehow it got fixed. The first few days in Burkburnett—apparently someone Dad knew at the base suggested that Burkburnett, ten or fifteen miles north of WF and Sheppard would be a good place to live. So we rented a room in a big old dark two story hotel that was probably named the Burkburnett Hotel. All I remember about it was knowing that was not where I wanted to live, and sitting on the front steps with four-month-old Richard. I do remember walking around town looking for houses, with Richard in his stroller. We rented a little house from an old German named Gus Heine for forty dollars a month. Not having gained a lot of smarts in a year, we spent a lot of money on this house. (We had inherited several thousand dollars). One of its memorable features was that the refrigerator was across from the sink; more than once I tried to open the refrigerator door while also holding the faucet. This was before the days of grounded plugs and plastic refrigerator door handles. It was a shocking experience, but I did gain some common sense. Early in December we got a low-rent unit in Burkburnett City Housing Project, and that’s where we lived by Richard’s first Christmas. That’s the one where he is in the pictures with all the toys, most of which were bought with that inherited money. Grandma, Grandpa, Joanne and Linda came. One of Grandma and Grandpa’s gifts was a little yellow corduroy suit for Richard, which Grandma immediately proceeded to tell me how to take care of. It was just as well, because I probably didn’t know how. Someone gave him a football—maybe we did—but to my knowledge he has never thrown a football. Must have been an early present for Mike. We just had the wrong kid.

This was a happy time too, for me, watching our baby grow. Nancy was on the way. I walked a lot, pushing Richard in the Taylor Tot. The rent here was $32.50 plus the gas bill.