The Bomb

Bomb shelters? Yes, we really did have them. Ours was a make-shift one in out basement on Tholozan. We had a huge basement which had two separate rooms within it. One was a root cellar, which was about as big as a small bathroom. Inside, the stone wall was as it was when it

was built, in the 30's. The other separate room had been installed probably in the 50's

because it had wood paneling on the out side and inside, a more modern door, but no

electrical outlets. So this was our bomb shelter. Sometimes there were blankets down there,

but I don't remember if we even went so far as stocking it with canned goods, flashlights,

or water. Remember, we had to put kitchen sink water into some kind of sealed pitcher,

not easily available in the 50's, when Tupperware was yet to be invented.

The best bomb shelter I ever saw was Joe and Alberta's. Their son, Bruce, was about the

same age as me. It was his effort that made it into a luxury bomb shelter. Their house on

Newport had a sub-basement. Now that's underground.

He had equipped it with old chairs and a sofa. Also, he had cans, dishes, tableware and even

water in glass pitchers with foil on top. I don't know if it would have much good in case of

a nuclear attack, but it was fun to go down there and hang out.

At school, they told us that if we saw a bright light, we should get under our desk and cover

our heads. Every time I saw the reflection of a passing car I was tempted to duck and cover,

at home or school. It now amazes me that we were so naive we believed that would keep us

from being vaporized, especially when kids were killed ducking and covering in the school

halls during tornados.

Sister Hilda had a thick German accent and had convinced the third graders that if the

Russians came over they would kill us for believing in God. You will have to become a

martyr just because you believe in Jesus, she would warn. I thought to myself, Jesus?

Jesus who?

Between bombs and being a martyr I lost a lot of sleep when I was in third grade. I don't

think the Ruskies are as keen on killing us as they were back then and thank God bombs

are a thing of the past.

September Morn

Today, September 24, 2009, is our daughter Diane's 33 rd birthday. When she was born, on

her chart was written: "cry: Lusty." About 12 hours later, a nurse brought Diane to me in

the middle of the night. It seems she was interrupting the other little new borns with her

"lusty cry."

That same night, I had a dream that I went somewhere and then forgot to bring Diane home

with me. Thank goodness that never happened, well, except once, maybe on purpose.

Happy Birthday my sweet little girl. I love you.

The Land of Nod

When I was quite young, there were streetcars, and I loved riding on them with Grandma

Hilda. One morning, after I had stayed overnight at her flat, we took a street car to do some

shopping downtown. While we were waiting for the street car, Grandma told me we would

be passing some beautiful houses in a very fancy neighborhood and see the house of the

man who wrote Winken, Blynken and Nod used to live. We did our shopping at Famous-Barr and Scruggs-Vandervort and Barney, which Grandma Hilda always called "The Grand Leader." We hadn't passed any fancy neighborhoods, so I figured we would pass them on the way home.

When we got off the street car on Cherokee Street, I asked why we didn't pass the beautiful

house where the Blynken man lived. She started to laugh the way she did when she was

particularly tickled. She said she had forgotten she told me that, and really the house was

in a very ugly part of town and a fairly dangerous neighborhood. I didn't quite get it, but

I was glad I made her laugh.

Today, the Eugene Field House has been restored and even though the neighborhood is

still somewhat questionable, people pay to take a tour.

Candy Land

Our next door neighbors on the east had the last name Candy. There was Mr. Candy, his

mother, Mrs. Candy, and his daughter Judy Candy. Judy Candy was a teen ager when we moved

in and she went with a guy called Jim.

For some reason, during the summer, Diane and I slept in her room with our beds pushed

together. There was a huge window fan in her room that sucked in air from the dormer window in my room at the front of the second story. We would lay in bed and read.

It was the summer I discovered Daphne du Maurier, Olivia de Havilland, Peter O'Toole and

T.E. Lawrence. The movies I watched that summer had to be followed by reading the books

to really understand what was going on. It amazed me that Olivia de Havilland could play

the beautiful and mysterious lead in "My Cousin Rachel" and the homely, shy spinster in "The Heiress."

We would read well into the night and wake up around ten a.m. and start reading again.

Just about every night Judy Candy and her boyfriend would stroll from her back porch to

the garage and make out in the shadows. From a certain angle, the lamp post in the alley

provided excellent lighting conditions for us to watch them and giggle. Since most of

the window was taken up by the large fan, it was difficult for us to get at that precise angle.

We were able to do it often enough to giggle and snort at their shenanigans. We would have

the bedroom light off and the window fan off and sometimes we thought they may have

heard us. If that happened we would duck down below the fan and wait until we thought it

was safe again.

Eventually, Judy Candy married her boyfriend Jim. Even before they were married, Jim

was a well-known figure in the neighborhood. He did a lot of walking from Tholozan to

Watson, Ivanhoe, and beyond. He was good looking and friendly, always waving hi, but he wasn't much on conversation. After they were married, Judy and Jim remained in her house and her dad moved in with his "lady friend."

Whenever Jim encountered my dad doing his yard work, he would break the ice by saying,

"cutting the grass, huh?" Or, "barbecuing, huh?" If dad encountered him in the front yard,

Jim would say, "washing the car, huh?" These comments had a seasonal component, too.

"Raking the leaves, huh?" Or, "painting the windows, huh"

Those were the good old days, huh?

Neil Hohlfeld

Our brother, Neil, was honored yesterday in a Houston Astro's pre-game ceremony.

He was awarded a place on the Houston Baseball Media's Wall of Honor. His wife, Lynne, and

their children received the plaque. If you have access to Facebook, you can look at

Lynne Hohlfeld's Photo Album. To read more about the award and the wonderful tributes

written last year, Google his name and also Houston Baseball Wall of Honor.

We were so privileged to have Neil with us even though it was for such a short time.

Our love for him has only grown since his departure.

Sky Blue Pink

Have you ever seen a sky blue pink convertible? Friend Kathy invented it and even though I've

never seen the convertible, I have seen sky blue pink. You can catch a glimpse of sky blue pink

on late afternoons in winter. Every time I see sky blue pink, I think what a wonderful world.

Charlie's

Shortly after we moved into the house on Tholozan, maybe even the first day, my mom sent

Diane to buy something at Charlie's, a small neighborhood grocery store. Mom told her to go through the alley for a shortcut.

As she was walking in the alley, she ran into my dad who was on his way home from taking the

bus home from work. He asked her how she was doing. They both kept walking but then,

Diane stopped and asked, "Where in the heck is Charlie's."

Well, we all found out Charlie's location. At the corner of the block of Tholozan and Watson,

there was a barber shop, a hardware store, Charlie's, a card shop and a drug store. One day, my mom went into buy some hot dogs because there was going to be an extra at dinner. When she

asked Charlie for two hot dogs, he asked her if she was trying to impress someone. Charlie

would ask my brother, Brian, to do his impression of the Japanese wrestler, Kihngsheshahbuba.

At the time, he was about 4 years old. He would take an aggressive stance and put his arms

out and made chopping motions. He took this imitation quite seriously. Charlie's was

the place where I saw my first jar of capers on the same shelf as the sweet relish.

I asked mom what they were and she said she didn't know. I asked Charlie and he said

you put them in salads. Charlie was a tall, broad-shouldered guy and his wife Audrey was

just the opposite. Charlie's apron was tied loosely and always full of meat stains and Audrey's was just the opposite. Her's was tied snugly around her waist and always crisp and clean.

She always wore the coolest shoes. sensible height but with a touch of whimsy. One pair

was black for the most part, but the area in front was a parrot made out of different

colored leather. Mom said she used to be a ball room dancer and fancy shoes probably made her current life, stocking and ringing up the cash register, a bit more tolerable. Both Charlie and Audrey seemed to like each other as well as love each other which is probably a good

idea if you were going to work together.

We all grew up visiting Charlie's on a regular basis. My sister even went to his son's prom.

She really didn't want to go, but my mom told her how much it would mean to both

Charlie and his son if she went with him if he asked her.

Dad was often found at the hardware store. I remember him buying about 5 nails at a time.

All the stuff was in different little bins and you just put what you wanted in little brown bag.

Both my dad and brothers went to the corner barbershop. Evidently there was an unspoken

agreement that children went to the barbershop during the week so the " working men" could

go on Saturday.

The drug store, Duker's, was on the corner. The pharmacist, Jim, knew all our illnesses.

He was also in two Olympics as a speed skater. His wife owned the card shop next door.

They also had a son, and he made it to the Olympics, too.

Across the street from Duker's was Pietro's Restaurant. Rocco was the maitre d' and always

made you think he was giving you the best table in the house. You could go in the front door

or the side door. I don't think I ever went in the front door. On Friday's we would sometimes

meet after work or school. Once we started dating, Pietro's was an inexpensive place to go.

I remember taking Brian's kids there one time when they were in town the same time we were.

Pietro's had a large parking lot and then on the next corner was a fast food place of the

old persuasion. No drive through. It was called "What-a-Burger," no relation to the chain

of the same name. Even when we lived on Winona, Dad would bring back burgers and

malts from "What-a-Burger." We thought we invented brain freezes and chest freezes.

One night my sister and I and her two boyfriends, who were best friends, were walking home

from the burger place. One of her boyfriends was laid back and preppie (it didn't have a name

back then), the other was flamboyant, had a smart mouth and the horror of every mother's

dream. That night, as we walked back to our house, the flamboyant fellow decided he was

going to climb a gigantic metal light post and undo the light. We watched as he climbed and

he was almost half way up when a squad car pulled into the parking lot. The police man asked us what we were up to and we told him we were walking home. Motioning to the light pole, he asked if that kid was with us and what did he think he was doing. The preppie boyfriend told the policeman that the kid had left something on the light post last week and was just going up

to get it and then coming right back down. The policeman said, "Well, after he gets it, go on

home, it's getting late."

Uncle George

Grandma Hilda's brother-in-law, George Mischoff, was married to Aunt Gert. As I mentioned,

they lived on a small farm across from, what is now, O'Hare Airport. I don't know if he was

strange when he was young, but by the time we knew him, he was. For instance, they lived in

a smallish house but they had large storage areas: garages, barns, sheds. That wasn't very

strange, but what he kept in them was another story.

Uncle George never bought one of anything, small or large. He bought two lawn mowers,

two washers, two dryers, two refrigerators, two tractors and two electric ranges. Grandma

Hilda said it came from having gone through the depression. That seems to be a reasonable

explanation. It was hard enough for us to pay for even one item of a kind. I think Grandma

Hilda said he had owned picture shows in St. Louis and then, after they were married for awhile, they moved to Chicago. But, if he made enough to "buy the farm" in 40's, the depression hadn't been too hard on him.

When we were visiting them one summer. I had an asmtha attack and we had forgotten to bring my medicine. The medicine, Tedrel, must have had a touch of adrenaline in it because it was the only thing that would work, and it worked really fast. My mom was able to locate a pharmacy who called a local doctor. My mother spoke with the doctor and he gave the prescription to the pharmacist. (Try to do that today!)

I took it on the spot and by the time we got back to Aunt Gert's I was doing fairly well.

Uncle George thought I was still having trouble breathing and showed me what he thought

was a jar of Vick's he kept on a TV tray next to he chair. He said, "Here, this will help you."

He demonstrated by putting his finger in the jar. He took out a huge amount of the stuff and put it in his mouth. Gert tried to explain to him that I was doing okay, because I had my medicine. I had heard of putting Vick's on your tongue; however, the jar in Uncle George's

hand was a jar of Vaseline.

Sunday in the Park

Today reminds me of days we spent at Reservoir Park on Grand Avenue near our flat on

Lafayette. Most of the memories are with the aided recall of photographs. Some of the

pictures seem to have been taken after church because we are dressed as if we had just come

from there. Mom is dressed in her classy brown suit that she had from 1947 until some time

in the 60's. Dad is dressed in a suit and tie. I have a snazzy coat that might be pink because in the black and white pictures it is light colored and, being a girl, that would be normal.

It is a matching outfit with a bonnet that covered my ears and tied in front, under my chin. Also, Barbara is in a few pictures and she is wearing the "little red jumper" that she had, as the saying goes, from ages 12 through 18. I'm not sure those dates are correct, but family lore indicates they are valid.

Reservoir Park covers a large square block, as I recall, and actually had a tower which, I assumed, held water. You were allowed to walk up the tower and my Dad and I did at least once. Some of the pictures were taken after my sister, Diane, was born. In those, I am wearing

a coat of some kind and Diane is wearing the light-colored toddler coat with the cute little

hat. My mother is still in the same light brown suit and Barbara is in the "little red jumper."

I don't remember there being a playground or anything else to do, except walking and

picture-taking. I supposed it was just a peaceful, green, stopping place on an early Sunday

afternoon.