Getting what You Want and Fighting for It
My oldest son, for example, despite the muscular dystrophy he lives with day to day, is otherwise healthy in comparison to others we know who are affected with muscular dystrophy. Recently, he was with my other son and they were in NH when I received a call around dinnertime. My youngest son asked what medicines his brother took each day. Immediately, though he remained very calm, I realized something was wrong. He had called an ambulance for his brother because he was having difficulty breathing, This happened before and he passed out because neuromuscular patients cannot expel enough air from their lungs causing CO2 to remain in their lungs which makes them sleepy, enough to pass out. Both occurrences, my sons were together and my youngest son handled the situations with grace and courage. By the way, oxygen is like poison to these people as well because it causes the same phenomenon. My youngest son was very upset because the emergency room staff would not listen to him and use the inexsuffolater (cough assist machine) to retrieve mucus from his brother’s lungs and instead performed invasive treatment which was a ventilator (intubation). This does not allow the person to communicate. I went home and was planning to go to Portsmouth Regional Hospital, when the doctor called me to say my youngest son had requested transport to MMC for his brother. Immediately, I called his doctor here to explain the situation and replied that I wanted him off the ventilator immediately knowing that neuromuscular patients can become forever dependent upon the ventilator. I called my mom and she joined me at the hospital for my son’s arrival a short time after midnight.
I spent the night there in the special care waiting room and told the nurse to let him know I was there. My son was angry he had been ventilated. There was fire shooting from his eyes. With his eye movements, my husband & I figured he wanted the bed sitting higher and wanted to have spit suctioned from his mouth caused from intubation. He was on intravenous, antibiotics and was catheterized. I brought my cough assist machine from home at the doctor’s advice in the event there was a shortage of that type of equipment. The respiratory therapist was able to get a machine for his room allowing me to take mine home. I fixed the settings like ours from home as I talked with the respiratory therapist. My family is all trained on the use of the machine.
The following morning, my son was taken off the ventilator and there was talk of getting him a Bipap machine for evening use to facilitate with breathing. We knew it was time from the results of his last sleep study but ultimately it would be his decision when to get the equipment. Because of this incident, the choice was made for him. It is always bittersweet when a new piece of equipment comes home because something is lost… and something is gained. As soon as tubes were taken from his throat, we used his cough assist machine a few times to clear his lungs. That evening my husband would stay the night.
I arrived the next morning around 10:30AM to see oxygen tubes in my son’s nose and he did not look good. My husband wasn’t aware of oxygen danger but I was because of a friend whose son nearly died from being given oxygen. I realized I had not shared that info with my husband. The nurse came in and I asked about it. She said his oxygen saturation levels were falling. My son could not keep his eyes open. I told her that the oxygen tubes would be coming out and she advised me to consult with the doctor. As soon as she left the room, I took them out of his nose and started with his cough assist machine. I took out a lot of mucus and he seemed to be responding. The machine on the wall kept beeping because the oxygen levels were low but I kept working with the cough assist. I put ithe oxygen tube back in fhis nostrils for a short while and then repeated the procedure. After almost two hours of using the cough assist machine, he was alert, and responded by having his oxygen saturations at 100 percent. He then maintained those oxygen levels. The nurses were astounded, but it did not take a rocket scientist. From what I have researched, most medical personnel are not trained on the non invasive approach to pulmonary care, much less even aware of how it works. There are some medical personnel who know. There is also no protocol for the standard of care for these patients.
Achieving optimum health can even be as simple as which masks the patient uses. For my son, we chose to use nasal pillows for his Bipap, as using a full face mask can also cause complications with weight loss due to distension of the stomach as it receives too much air. There is so much to learn beginning with me and also the medical personnel. I have learned two things over the years. Whatever ‘sentence’ the doctors give you… take it lightly as everyone responds differently and most importantly LIVE your life. They only know from some of their experiences and most likely schooling. We are the ones who live with our loved one’s diagnoses. We have learned to achieve emotional health as well. Don’t let them take away any hope you have to keep you going. The next most important thing I have learned is that I will not accept NO for an answer in my care or anyone else’s care in my family. Many times, you will be butting heads with medical personnel, but remember, you don’t have to take those folks back home with you. I must say that I was most impressed with the people at the hospital, especially the Special Care Unit.
An Angel at Saccarappa Cemetery
Eddie Roberts 1853-1858 photo from P.Carmichael collection
Eddie's grave
My ancestors lie at Saccarappa Cemetery and I have been stopping by to visit maybe once a month. I go because I am checking on anything unusual especially damage to the stones. Recently, I was at a nursery and was looking for stone figures for gardens. I happened to find a small statue which appeared to be an angel. I bought it and delivered it to Saccarappa Cemetery to watch over my father’s brother’s grave. My grandparents and one of their sons are buried at the small circle near the entrance to the cemetery. A small footstone with the name DAVID is level with the ground. David lived from 1933-1943.
The more I thought about this angel, it seemed to make me happy just knowing it would be there. I have even thought about if it were to be stolen one day. My thoughts are that the thief may need an angel more than we did. I hope this is not the case. Maybe if there was a sign that more people had family there and left flowers, then there would be less trouble there. I don’t know what the solution would be. I have decided to put up a few angels on my ancestors graves, even those which are all broken. Once I heard a story about Mother Theresa. She was asked if she would attend an anti war protest. She replied NO, but she would attend a peace rally. Maybe my approach will be the same. If there are angels present in the cemetery, maybe goodness will come from it.
I am familiar with every stone there, and have over 400 pictures of the cemetery over the past few years, some from the seventies. When I was attending art school, I even took black and white photos of some of the gravestones. I hope to share many stories about the cemetery. It is full of fascinating people, all part of Westbrook’s history. Wandering around the cemetery today, I took photos of some of the children’s stones. One stone inscribed EDDIE was a brother to my gr. Gr. grandfather. Eddie Roberts lived from 1853-1858. I have a picture I think may be him, which came from a family album. I also saw some tiny stones of some Merrill children. The next story will be about the Hatch family of Saco Street. There are more stories to come.
Merrill Children
Interviews from the Great Depression, Part two
This is a continuation of the the stories of people that Studs Terkel interviewed for his book Hard Times, stories of those who were witness to the Great Depression. There were several chapters by Coal mining families, who struggled, enslaved to the company store. It just wrenched my heart to read their stories as they were amongst some of the poorest and hardest worked. It was not uncommon for some of these miners in the late 1920’s early 1930’s to work until they earned 20 dollars. Then the mine might shut down for a few days until the guys spent their 20 earned dollars in the company store.” Every aspect of their lives was company food, housing, furniture etc. They paid higher prices for the convenience of having things close by. According to one miner, as far as Union Organization, the Ku Klux Klan was the only protection for the working man, both Black and White. Many young boys dropped out of school to work alongside their fathers, brothers and Uncles to help sustain the family. The miners were pretty much owned by the company.
Edward Sarteller told how his daddy was a coalminer in 1929. Edward chose the path of a schoolteacher and made thirty dollars per month. His early memories of his education were in a one room schoolhouse, with eight rows, one for each grade. There was a potbelly stove and there was a three- holer outhouse. The author said that the greatest contribution of the WPA was to standardize outdoor toilets for the schools. He recalled a young girl with whom he went to school who suffered from Typhoid. She was completely bald and had no wig. Back then kids would get sick with diphtheria and other illnesses. His dad, Uncle and Grandfather, who was born in a log cabin, were all self educated men.
In 1936 and 1937, the mine where his father worked saw much struggle. The widow of the mine owner was going to sell for 38,000 but she decided to sell to the workers for far less at 33,000. The men gathered together and made a decision to sell their stock and work for free to keep their jobs. In the beginning there were four hundred men. In then late 1950’s there was only eighteen of the original four hundred left to work.
Sarteller thought rootless ness would destroy the country. Much like the 1920’s in Germany, there would be camps etc. The country would not survive.
Another interesting man interviewed was Jerome Zerbe. His family had money and he knew a lot of influential people. He began as a painter and lived in Europe on a three hundred dollar stipend, which his father afforded. When the Depression hit, his father could no longer send money so Jerome was forced to come back to the USA. He had this crazy idea to take pictures of his friends and their homes and send them all around the world to gain exposure. It landed him a job at Parade Magazine and people loved reading about the rich and elite. At one point in his career, he worked at a club. In this club, the celebrities wore their vanity when they sought him to take their portraits.
Another chapter told of Joe Morrison, who proclaimed that even though ninety-two percent of the town was on relief, some people refused help. Many kids lost their teeth due to poor nutrition and no medical care and some fainted from hunger. He claimed, “There’s Apathy now.” People were talking about Revolution in the boxcars. There was such a hysteria that sometimes monitors were seeking information in these Hoovervilles to see if in fact there was a reason to worry about Revolution. It was like a police state. Today (1970’s), people are thinking but nobody’s talking.
Peggy Terry and her mother, Mrs. Owsley, were both interviewed. They were both considered to be Hillbilly women. Peggy tells how her father took them once to see a Hooverville. She was a kid and recalled being shocked as it was about ten miles wide by about ten miles long. People lived in orange crates, cardboard homes, rusted out cars and piano boxes. Her mother, Mrs. Owsley, told that her husband was a bonus marcher, very feisty. She said she met this family from Oklahoma once who had seven kids. They lived in a hole in the ground, like a cave. It was real nice inside she said, with chairs and table and clean too. At one time, all Peggy’s family had to eat was mustard. Her mother spoke of the Dust Bowl storms and how it ruined their clothes. Normally, one never wore anything like those clothes but they had no choice, all stained with oil. The people were “mentally ill” because they wondered if the tough times would ever end. There were many suicides during these years. Mrs. Owsley joked that her husband was a hell raiser, being gassed by the Germans in WW1 and then again by his own government because he was a bonus marcher. He came home empty handed, like all the rest of the marchers.
Peggy married at fifteen and her husband was sixteen. She used to be quite prejudiced in her beliefs against the blacks until she was treated the same way. She remarked how it was odd that she never felt any common threads between her and her black workers in the field next to her. She thought they had nothing in common. Only later was she shown some kindness when she was pregnant and hitching rides with her husband, offered a place to lay her head on a wagon full of black workers who even had a chicken meal packed in a pail for her the next morning They were not allowed to eat in public restaurants, so they cooked all their own food on the wagon. She realized they were all fighting the same battle. There was one thing she had trouble understanding as a kid. She recalls observing Roosevelt’s fancy cufflinks, a childhood memory, and asking herself, “Why are we so hungry?”
The owner of a successful speakeasy, Tony Soma, referred to himself as a Capitalist. He came to America from Italy with nothing and quickly became a successful business owner. His circle of clients included several noteworthy people. Tony commented that to have noteworthy friends was better than any relationship you could have with a bank. He felt poverty was a result of laziness. Poverty and Depression were signs of mental illness, he claimed. In 1929, the year of the Crash, Tony boasted to have had his biggest year in American life. That was the year he sold three leases for 104,000. “Life is not to suffer”, he would say.
One story of interest was that the illegal activities of some people made them very prosperous, both good and bad people. There was a fine line between the good and the bad. Many made a fortune from Prohibition, gangsters and cops.
Sally Rand was age six when she saw Pavlova perform and proclaimed she knew then she wanted to be a dancer. Sally worked for Cecil B. DeMille; a Hollywood Icon. She sold million dollar yachts which were sitting in marinas collecting barnacles because the rich had ceased some of their spending habits. Her clients were bootleggers who paid $10,000 for one of these yachts and she collected her 6 percent commission.
Another man, Caesar Chavez, missed a great deal of school as his family followed the crops to try to survive. His father had a corral which ended up getting bulldozed by the bank. The president of the bank was watching all the surrounding land and purchased all of it, near where the Chavez’ had a piece of land. Chavez recalls as a kid lots of hurtful memories such as seeing signs “White Trade Only”, when his family was refused from making purchases on the road. His father was at the mercy of people who would hire the family and later skip town, sometimes only able to feed the family on seven dollars per week. His father never gave up hope on trying to get a piece of land again.
One fellow who came from Cuba, Jose Yglesius, told about the cigar factories. The woman cigar factory workers made as much as the men. He realized the Depression was going on when his Aunt no longer charged them rent and there was no food in the house. Interestingly enough the illiterate cigar workers had a podium at work and the workers paid to have speakers come in and read classics like Tolstoy and Dickens. Once there was as a strike at the factory, the employer took away the podium and the readers never came again. It was a way to disempower the workers. His Cuban father despised Roosevelt. He compared Roosevelt to Mussolini.
One person in the book told that some of the common feelings were regarding thinking that your father was a failure. Some men who had been successful struggled with taking any old job. There was a great deal of resentment between father and son. Sometimes the sons left very early. The fathers sometimes left to go find work and would be gone for a long time. Another person told that it was good to see the father coming home on his bike smelling of sawdust. His father was a carpenter. When he came home carrying his toolbox, it meant the job was over. Some men committed suicide so their families could get money, according to one person interviewed.
Another woman told of the time she rode a train with her brother during World War 1 and witnessed a dying soldier on the train. She said the impact was huge. She never felt that way again until she was motoring under the Michigan Avenue Bridge and saw thousands of men rolled up in their overcoats sleeping on the pavement. She was shocked. She thought that whatever it was that brought on Nazism could now happen anywhere and she feared this.
Edward Ryerson, who came from a family of boilermakers and steel men, told of his attempts at getting Federal funds, particularly Chicago. He received twelve million dollars in 1932 which lasted three months in Chicago. Hoover lost the election because people wanted ‘change’. So much of this sounds familiar to what is taking place today.
Diane Morgan, a southern belle, told how her world fell apart when she realized the Depression had affected her family. She came home and there was no telephone, no cook, no maid, and dust under her bed. She had no ice for drinks to serve her visitors. She eventually landed a job with the New Deal program and she recruited people. She tried to hire people she knew who were struggling. She told of meeting her previous maid and feeling so happy to see her. She was able to help her. An early memory she had as a kid was visiting this maid and seeing her walls papered with newspapers. They had different lives but felt the maid was part of her extended family.
Mike Widman worked for the Ford factory. He showed up at work his first day at the factory and was in charge of sanding the fenders. He did not know the gates were locked at 8am daily and had no commissary there. He was hungry the first day as he had no lunch. He said he wished he had known he needed to bring his own gloves as his hands were all blistered that first day. If he needed to use the bathroom, he was supposed to check with a foreman first and find a replacement so the assembly line did not suffer while he was gone. There was surveillance at the factory as Ford hired ex cons for this. Once when Widman told a foreman that he had been going to school, he was told that Mr.Ford did not pay for employees to go to school and was fired. Later because he was a friend of the union leader John Lewis, he was instrumental in helping protect some of the black workers who had been afraid of losing their jobs during the big strike when Ford had shut the plant per the governor.
Frank Czerwonka told how everyone was in on cheating the utilities during Prohibition. The gas and electric companies would put a meter up and the folks in the neighborhood would put a jumper on the meter to give it false readings. During the height of Prohibition booze was 40 dollars per gallon and when it was lifted, it was 5 dollars per gallon.
Clyde Ellis said the whole country had lost many young boys in WW2. Clyde told how he became a schoolteacher and worked hard to get power in Arkansas so folks could have electricity. He served as a Congressman and was affiliated with the National Rural Electric. Electricity finally came to Arkansas and he recalled his mother crying when she flicked the light switch. He lost his own younger brother who quit school and volunteered for money in the military as there was no work.
The farmers saw great struggle, so much that many lost their farms for cents on the dollar. The price of corn was more than the price of hogs. In an effort to raise the price of hogs, many sows were slaughtered to merely raise the price and the farmers were paid to slaughter their pregnant female pigs. The farmer could not afford to feed his cattle grain. This eventually led to slaughtering cattle to raise the price of beef. Riots were not uncommon and farmers blocked the roads so their produce wouldn’t go to market. One story tells how approximately 1500 farmers came out of the woods angry, and sometimes violence erupted. There was a fleet of trucks sent to Sioux Falls to get food for market and thirteen roads were blocked. The stockyards were emptied and the farmers were not going to allow anything to get to market. It was comparable to the American Revolution. There were farm auctions where local town folk bought things for pennies on the dollar, only to return everything to the farmer in the end. Judge Bradley, who facilitated foreclosure on many farms, was nearly lynched by a group of angry farmers. It was not his fault as these were the times; however he was not quite right after that. Many people interviewed remembered the incident.
Farmers in Kansas had different experiences. They had the black blizzards when visibility was no more than three or four feet and they had droughts. They also had Alf Landon who appointed three men to each county to try to assist the farmers. These men called the bankers and insurance companies to beg for more time so the farmers could try to meet their mortgage payments. Landon established farm moratoriums. He even called the bankers at times also. There were no riots in Kansas he claimed.
One man told how FDR was hated by the people that he helped and loved by the people he harmed. When Hoover was in office, it was said there were Federal Funds to feed the animals but no Federal money to feed people. You had to rely on your neighbor for help. When cotton was four cents a pound and it cost ten cents to produce it, the fields would be plowed over to drive up the cost. The Secretary of Agriculture, Col. C.B. Baldwin, told of these troubles. He stated that tobacco went down to four cents per pound and could not be produced for that price. At this time, unemployment was sixteen million; WPA offices were set up quickly so people could get work. This only lasted about six months, as Congress would not support it. Interestingly enough, a program was established like a farmer’s cooperative. It included fifty farming families, similar to Russian Collectivism. They all did fairly well and split the profits, however…this fascinated me. Even though they did not go hungry and did fairly well… in the end they all still had a desire to own their own little piece of land, something that was not part of this original plan. The human spirit is to try to be a better person and to try to get ahead in life. It shocked those who had set up this little experiment, that the farmers still wanted a piece of their own land.
The stories are numerous and every one a different experience from a different piece of American Fabric. I will end with two short stories of interest. Sumio Nichi was a very prosperous farmer. He was a man of integrity I think because he paid for everything as he went. At times when inflation was bad, he struggled but he paid everything in full for his farm equipment and his mortgage. He ended up losing nearly everything because of the policy to send the Japanese to Interment camps. He had 80,000 worth of farm equipment which went up for auction and received 6,000 for it. He lost everything because of the war experience of the interment camps.
Another story is that of Emma Tiller. She was a black woman from Texas who recalled 1914 when the worms ate all the cotton. She claimed she could hear the crops being destroyed by the pests. Her memories of the Depression were waiting in long lines with all the other sharecroppers for food at the Relief Station. Sometimes they waited two or three days. Some people ahead of her were given rotten meat. One particular instance, she remembered a three men coming one day who were hungry. They brought their guns and one of the fellows was very angry he had received rotten meat. They said they were not leaving until everyone had been fed. They said they were not going to harm anyone. The man running the relief station was reaching for a phone when one of the gunmen grabbed him by the tie and told him he would kill the man. Emma Tiller said that day everyone got fed. Those fellows with the guns went to the penitentiary. Later it was found that the man running the relief station was storing food in his own warehouse and depriving those he was supposed to be helping. This was not uncommon.
I suppose my reason for telling you about some of the people in this book was mainly to help us all realize that this indeed happened in America. If anything can be taken from these stories, I think it is that we need to be more self sufficient and rely less on the government. As you can see by these stories, the government did not do a very good job helping anyone, except themselves. Those who worked for the government did not go without the necessities.
http://blog.likes2write.com/2009/04/21/interviews-from-the-great-depression.aspx (PART 1)
Memorial Day
William Roberts'(The Elder) family plot, Saccarappa Cemetery, Westbrook, Me
We did not really have any plans for Memorial Day. My son wasn’t feeling so well, so I stayed at home all day. In the meantime, we have been doing massive spring cleaning before we start remodeling. I found a box full of items from my maternal grandparents’ funerals. My grandfather died on Christmas Day in 1969, at which time I was nine. It was my first experience with the death of a close family member and it impacted me. My grandmother, with whom I was very close, passed away on April 18, 1991. I arrived from Germany on a special trip just to see her, and did so, and she passed away the following morning. I am grateful I remember spending time with my grandparents.
The day started and I felt I wanted to go to a parade, but stayed home with my son because that was where I needed to be. Later on my mother called to see what I was doing. She went to two cemeteries and asked if I had planted violets and lily of the valley last year. I couldn’t exactly recall, however it was a vague recollection. Anyhow, both graves had flowers I had transplanted from my yard.
As I looked through the box, I found guest books from both funerals with names of relatives and neighbors and friends long dead. It was nice seeing their signatures, and to know they were a comfort to my family. I have photographs of most of the people who signed the funeral guest books, interestingly enough. I found a neatly tied bundle of correspondence which my grandmother had kept from her husband’s funeral. I read through letters from my Uncle Jack who had been in Switzerland and was concerned for his father who he was unable to see. He and his brother Dick both traveled with their work quite a bit. My mom never left the area. There were letters from Ireland, notes from old neighbors from the neighborhood, and letters from her friend since childhood, with concern for my grandmother. It was very nice to read.
I also found some old newspapers from August 28th, 1936, which they had saved since their auto accident on Route 1 near Big 20 Bowling. My grandmother was pretty banged up and my grandfather’s brother was killed. It showed the old car, I think a Model T ,with the roof caved in. I really saw no need to save the whole newspaper, so I cut out the articles. Then I looked for items of interest to historical societies. I found some things for South Portland Historical and also Westbrook Historical. I also found many items relating to the Depression, which I will read over at a later time.
I read through all the Mass cards, some very beautiful with full color religious inserts. Many enclosed notes offering practical advice and most of all to try to live life and it would take time to heal. Live life… the best lesson ever, I believe. I think of my ancestors often and study history. It could be easy to get caught up in the past but more importantly, it is important to stay in the present because a lot can be missed, like watching your family grow, enjoying time spent with them. I put out my flag buntings across my porch and I waited until the following day to visit the cemetery. I snapped a photo at our family plot in Saccarappa Cemetery and feel distressed when I see the graves in disrepair. However, one day, the stones will be reduced to dust, and that is life. The dead are still there and it is us who need to carry on and live our lives. Hope you all had a fantastic Holiday Weekend.
Time Marches On
I have one other project I need to finish very soon and that is the collection of interviews from people who witnessed the Redbank Plane Crash. I have three interviews left. Upon completion, I will present it to the SP Historical Society. I have a few more projects which I have been working on for a few years which can wait.
Two weekends ago it was Mother’s Day. My own mother knowing we all have homes full of things, decided she would remember her own mother on Mother’s Day and see to it that my two sisters and I both received an item that belonged to our grandmother. I received some old pieces of pottery, a teapot with an inscription, ‘‘From Tuam”, and a matching sugar bowl and teacup with an inscription, “From Ireland”. My great grandmother brought them back from Ireland in 1932 when she visited her homeland after 40 years of being in the United States. It was a meaningful gift and they hold a special place in my china closet. We all miss our grandmother.
It is peculiar how time marches on and some of us seem to be in the fast forward mode. My sons were teasing me the other day and made mention that I am never “there”. They meant I was always somewhere off in thought, even when I was in the room with them. I know there is some truth to this. I wish I could slow down to be more in the here and present. I am not really sure how I can do that, but it sure would be relaxing to not be so busy brained. Enjoy your day!
A Matter of Perspective
It has been a hectic month but I have certainly enjoyed the beautiful weather. The last two weekends we have spent cleaning out our garage and attic and preparing to do more cleaning out the clutter. Then the time will come to work on our home. It is amazing the things we collect for example paper dolls of Nancy and Ronald Reagan. They are wonderful pieces of American Kitsch, never been used. I have many Disney VHS tapes which will be donated to the local library for whatever use they may have for them. It will feel good to get rid of some of these things which tie us down. When you think about it, we really do not need all these possessions.
Often when visiting I take notice of a person’s personal book or music collection to be able to know a little more about a person that they may not reveal about themselves. Since I was little, I always felt each person had a story to tell. To this day, I suppose it has been my passion to listen to stories and tell some stories. Possessions mean little to me, unless they are tied to a story or a person that is meaningful to me. I don’t care much to shop, whether it be online or at Walmart. I throw the flyers from the Sunday paper away but not before my husband examines each and every one of them. Family is the single most important thing to me. I cannot be bothered with television however I do enjoy talk radio on my commutes to work. I have never watched a Friends episode or Americal Idol. I read the newspaper online as it is the most up to date of anything printed I can buy. I am careful not to accept this 24/7 news at that level. We do not need all this excess, from the news, most of which I find disturbing, to clutter in our lives. I made a small change this year when I decided not to read any sensationalized, horrific headlines. After September 11th, I was addicted to news 24/7 and would wake up in the middle of the night, to watch it.Yes, I feel much better not having all that disturbing trash running amuck in my head.
I don’t spend much time on Facebook, usually ten minutes per day. I do spend time on the computer working on my writing, and my historical projects, which sometimes includes research for blog material. I have many ideas and try to stay focused on a few at a time.
Today on the way to work, I stopped several times on my journey to take photographs of barns. I have been doing this since I was a teenager and have a little collection of photos, some barns which are now long gone. I think their structures are fascinating and they are disappearing from the landscape as they are difficult to maintain.
My friends and their welfare is a concern to me. Time is spent keeping connected to those who want to stay connected to our lives. My family is important. I have busy siblings who are concerned with their own families. We try to stay connected. I hope it is always that way. Of course my parents whom I check in with each day sometimes two or three times, probably get annoyed that I am so close. I don’t think it is that I need them so much but rather I enjoy them and being around them. They sacrificed everything for their family. At forty- nine, I suppose there is not much BS left in me. I sort of tell things like I see it, and know I can be held to the same scrutiny. It is ok. I strive less for perfection and realize not much is in our control. One day, I realized I can’t collect all the shopping carts in the parking lot anymore. It was exhausting….. and I am not kidding. I can only try to maintain balance within the four walls in my home. Life is pretty good as I see it. It certainly beats the alternative.
Interviews from the Great Depression
The past month or so, I have spent reading ‘Hard Times’ by Studs Terkel written in 1970. It is a collection of oral histories from many people of various classes, various cultures, and various ages who recalled the Great Depression and its effect on their lives. I believe many people today are so far removed from those times, that they could never imagine it happening again. One fellow, a con man, named Doc Graham, thought that if there was a Depression today that people would kill themselves. He thought people quit all too easily today, looking for a way out always. Doc Graham believed that the people from those times were a different breed of people today. The people who survived were self sufficient, many living on farms outside the cities. Some of the rural areas were depressed anyhow and as one person said, it was easier when you had nothing. Many could not understand people killing themselves over money. Those who had money lost nearly everything, were also often the ones who committed suicide. Doc Graham had no love for FDR, in fact he voted against him four times. He felt FDR was a con man also who told lots of fairy tales. Many thought FDR saved the society, but Doc’s thoughts were simple. What would have saved society would be if FDR’s parents never met. The only good thing FDR did was to end Prohibition.
This piece is going to give you a glimpse of people and their experiences. I wanted to write about things which I felt important to learn from this generation. When I think of the views held by many today, that the government is going to be the answer to our worries, this book tells a different story. In 1929, the economic troubles of that time were different than today as the unemployment was extremely high, maybe twenty- five percent. One man named Arthur Robertson told about how the Government came to the aid of the big banks, and the Government’s attitude being ‘Holier than Thou”. Everyone could afford stock. All a person needed was 15 or 20 bucks and the broker would front the other eighty percent. This was the beginning of the problems which lead to the collapse, similar to the problems today when the banks loaned huge amounts of money to lenders with nearly no capital. One person stated that nobody had any idea that the financial market was ready to crash, not even the bankers and certainly not the government. “The Government kept telling us things would get better.” I would recommend renting John Ford’s classic movie, “The Grapes of Wrath” I think it was an accurate depiction of life in the Midwest for many people. The story is compelling.
Jim Sheridan told about the Bonus Marchers, who were soldiers who had fought for Democracy in Germany. Someone got the idea that the soldiers should all march to Washington to demand their bonus money because they needed it now. Word spread fast. Some of these ‘bums’ would stay in the wooded areas near the train stations. The fellas working on the train would come out and ask how many would be boarding, without the knowledge of the authorities. Then they would load a few extra boxcars at the end of the train for those hitching a ride. Sheridan said there were 50 or 60 to a boxcar sometimes. They went from town to town on their way to DC and bummed food or whatever they might need. He said there was camaraderie then as people were all in the same situation. They were not afraid of strangers passing through town, like today. He had one very strong memory of a man traveling with his wife and baby. Everyone on the train knew the baby was crying from hunger. At the next stop, he and a friend bummed a baby bottle from a store after explaining the situation. Then they bummed some milk to put in the bottle. When they got back to the train, he offered the bottle to the wife. She looked at her husband for approval and he refused. The next journey was through some very smoky tunnels and some of the smoke backed into the boxcar. At the end of the tunnel ride, he heard screaming. It was the woman with the baby. The baby had died….from starvation. The train rides for the Bonus Marchers brought thousands to Washington DC where they were beaten with bats and had the military and American Legions turn on them.
The Federal Trade Commissioner ,Everette McIntyre, told how President Hoover did not like all these bonus marchers circling the White House and camping out with their families. It was clogging up Pennsylvania Avenue. There were about 20,000 to 40,000 people who came from across the country for their bonuses. MacArthur, Patton and Eisenhower all took part in fighting the bonus marchers. Bayonettes were used on the crowd and in some cases ears were cut off. One bonus marcher man was killed. Bricks were thrown and tear gas was also used. The marchers left empty handed.
Martin Devries , interviewed showed no hesitancy when asked how he felt about FDR. I found his story interesting because his convictions are the same as mine and I have never seen bad times. He despised FDR. Martin said that not all the people on Wall Street are bad. He blamed Wall Street some and especially the new Securities and Exchange Commission, one founder being Joseph Kennedy. He states that ‘The New Dealers’ felt like they had some mission to perform after hearing FDR’s fireside chats. His complaint was, “We are paying taxes and NOT asking for anything. Everyone is asking for Relief and expects our money to help them out. A certain amount is ok… but when they strip you clean, it’s unfair.” Precisely these are my own sentiments.
Some of the common feelings stated by several interviewed were since times were bad, there were socialist and maybe communist feelings. Many people bartered to survive. One family owned a silver dollar. They had an agreement with their local market that they would sometimes pay with their silver dollar. The market proprietor waited until the family came back with a dollar and exchanged it back for their silver dollar. This process was repeated many times. If you had land and were able to keep it, you could survive. Many people would struggle to pay the mortgage and went hungry.
One woman , Phyllis Lorimer, told that her brother was attending college at Dartmouth. Her father had been a motion picture movie director, and her parents were divorced. For a time she attended a boarding school. When she could no longer get any pencils at school, because the school was not paying its bills, she was mortified. That was when she realized the Depression was real. She had no idea that the Depression was a national thing. Her family spent all their money to support the brother away at Dartmouth. She and her mother survived eating canned bully beef. Her mother made light of things and perhaps somehow protected her daughter from the harsh realities. When her brother came home from Dartmouth, he was shocked at how they were living. He was undone by the Depression. Phyllis said that she learned more about life from her brother’s reaction to the Depression. “There was a respect for those who did and no respect for those who had”
Another woman told how her father had 4 houses left to him and that he lost them all one by one during the depression. When he lost his job, he moved his family into a double wide garage to live rent free for seven years. She remembers how cold she was and that they all wore their clothes to bed at night. They had a coal stove and melted snow on a pan atop the stove to wash their faces.
Dorothea Bernstein told how she was raised in an orphan home back in 1933. She said on Fridays, all 125 of the kids at the orphanage would give the “hard luck guys” their lunch bags which consisted of mashed sardine sandwiches and mayonnaise. A friend of hers had owned a grocery store and was keeper of the books. In those times, you would never ask a customer for money, you would just write their name in the book because you did not want to take away from their family food. She thought this way you really were not giving it away and eventually you would be paid. Dorothea told of running into a girl she had once known in childhood. She went up to the woman and tried to confirm her identity, but the woman said it must be a case of mistaken identity. Dorothea had seen her several times after that and knew it was the woman she recalled as a kid. Her only explanation was there was so much stigma for many living through those bad times.
I particularly enjoyed Yip Harburg’s story. If you are not familiar with his claim to fame, you can hear Rudy Vallee’s rendition of the song Harburg wrote, “Brother Can You Spare a Dime” on Youtube. The Depression allowed his creativity to come alive. Perhaps it was because there were absolutely no distractions, only time to focus on your passion. “When the media heard the song, they tried to suppress it… but it was too late…the song had already done its damage.”
Another story told by a doctor and of a march he witnessed sometime in 1934. He said there were “hundreds of people, all silent, no enthusiasm and no banners…just desperation, ragged people.” People fainted from hunger in these times. The middle class had no medical care, while the poor had free care and of course the rich could afford medical care.
One man, Charles Stewart Mott, who was age 94 at the time of the interview, was the oldest member of the board of GM and a mayor three times. He claimed that FDR ruined the country. Our dime had the face of Our Great Destroyer, FDR. His thoughts were that the country could never recover from what FDR did in time of crisis.
Another young man interviewed was born to a wealthy family. He said his father always said he should’ve gone to college and worked harder ( So many blamed themselves when they lost their jobs or fell on bad times) The fact was a lot of people made money during the Depression, like Joe Kennedy. The little guys always get screwed
over by the big guys.
I was very interested in reading stories of those away at Yale and Harvard and how they were so insulated to what was happening across the Nation. One fellow wrote of the upper classmen coming back for visits and telling how great and easy a life it was on Wall Street, when later he noticed these same boys were back at school after the Crash. This same man, Gordon Baxter replied, “The World rushed in on us suddenly”
So I suppose this is where I will end this piece. There are many more stories to put together to give you a broader view of what life was really like across the country. I will be working on part two in a short while.
http://blog.likes2write.com/2009/05/27/interviews-from-the-great-depression-part-two.aspx (PART TWO)
Happy Easter
What a beautiful windy morning it is down here by Sebago Lake. I am sitting in my kitchen with the sun shining through my windows onto a beautiful bouquet that my son John bought for me this weekend. My dog Daisy is growling and barking in the window, possibly at some leaf blowing across the street. She gets excited over these things you know. It is Easter morning and I am thinking about many people today. I know of four people I knew who have passed this week and I do not know anyone who was born this week. However, yesterday a friend to both of my sons visited with his girlfriend and his new son. So that was a highlight of yesterday to see their new baby. I believe the significance of this week is something to reflect upon each year. Last year I wrote a story about a good friend whose son had muscular dystrophy and he passed during this week. Easter was a meaningful time to him. It can be accessed under the category ‘People I Know ‘and it is entitled Holy Week: Remembering Steven Passmore. I wish you all peace and the love of your family and friends.
The Gift
THE GIFT
Today, started out like any other day except it wasn’t. My mother called me the previous night to say good night like we always do and then she broke down crying. This past two weeks has been tough on family because my mother’s brother, Dick, has been very ill. He and my mom are less that one year apart so they grew up almost like twins. He went by ambulance to the hospital on March 22nd because he couldn’t breathe. He was suffering with pneumonia for some time. I think my Uncle has been sick for a long while but never saw a doctor or let on to anyone that he wasn’t well. After all, he was never one to be the center of attention, very humble and passive. He was one of the best listeners I knew. He smoked , though it does not really make a difference at this time. He was diagnosed with lung cancer and stomach cancer. My mom told me that he wanted to go home and he was told by doctors that it was not an option. I became furious when mom told me this because anyone can go home if they want. There is such a thing as palliative care and it helps people to focus on life, not death. I wanted to see him myself so I could tell him that he was in charge of his own care, not the doctors. I was concerned he was too passive. I felt better after talking with him on the 29th. He was struggling to talk then. My aunt and cousins have endured a great deal these past few days.
Uncle Dick married young like my own parents. He married a girl from a farm in Scarboro, my Aunt Alice. As a kid, I have great memories of going to the Gantnier Farm on Broadturn Road. We went there whenever Uncle Dick would come home from some far away place as he served in the Air Force from 1960-1972. He lived in New Jersey, Vermont, Mississippi and Germany. All of us cousins would run around the farm watching the bulls and cows out in the field and playing on a swing near a tree. At one time, I remember he sent a bunch of photographs he had taken of Hurricane Camille down near Biloxi , MS where he was stationed to his mom, my grandmother. He was a historian of sorts as I recall I was fascinated with those pictures. I will never forget how sad I felt as a child when he came home from Mississippi for emergency leave to see his own sick father and did not make it in time. I was nine and I remember how sad it made me feel for him.
What I knew about Uncle Dick was that he was very smart about electronics and an inventor of sorts also, much like my own dad. He was also musical like my dad. I heard a great deal of their music over the years. Uncle Dick used to play every weekend somewhere, once he left the military and took a job at General Electric where he was an appliance repairman for thirteen years. After that stint, he decided he wanted to go into business for himself under the name O’D Appliance.
He and Alice built a home in Scarboro and together they had three kids. It was nice to have them settle back in Maine after all the traveling they did. Uncle Dick loved nature and the woods were at the edge of his property. He once set up a motion detector camera that would take beautiful pictures when deer passed through his yard. He was very sensitive and had great respect for animals. He spent time pursuing his photography hobby taking photos down by the Scarboro Marsh.
In 1991, my grandmother died. Once again, Uncle Dick rushed to be by his mother’s side and he was only a few minutes late. We all felt a sadness for him. Uncle Dick has always been a very gentle, sensitive person. Maybe he was just the slowest angel those times, carrying the burden on his shoulders. Nothing could have prepared us for my cousin Robby’s untimely tragic death later that year in 1991. I don’t know how my Aunt, Uncle, and cousins managed the next few years. Everyone’s heart was broken.
With the recent news Uncle Dick received, he accepted his own fate with grace. He found his strength and peace from somewhere. I recall a night, probably eight months ago when I was listening to some of his music he had recorded for all of us some twenty five years ago onto cassettes. Appropriately, he named it, ‘Remember Me” I was in my kitchen preparing dinner, when I put the cassettes on and listened to his lovely voice and all the music he made with his guitar which he blended with various instruments. I called him out of the blue to tell him how much I was enjoying it. I told him that I wanted to record his music onto some CD’s because as the family historian, I felt it was important. He was interested in my idea and asked me to let him know what I found out.
The past year or so, I have been going to Abba Video Productions, www.abbavideo.com , in Gorham to have home movies converted and other media transferred. I never forgot my idea but I did not have the extra funds at the time.
Anyhow, on the 29th when I saw him at the hospital, just before I left, he asked me if I ever had his music transferred to CD. I told him not yet, but I would be going to do so the next day, Monday. Meanwhile I came home and sent an urgent reply to Abba Video explaining what I needed and asked if she could please hurry the job for me. I received a reply quickly and was told that by the end of the week she would have something for me.
My Uncle has given us his gift of music and I wanted to thank him in some way. As soon as I received an answer, I told my mom and his daughter to let him know it was in the works. I hear that he was very happy about this, so that brings me comfort. This would be my gift to him.
Uncle Dick was able to spend one full night at home. The next evening, he was having difficulty breathing and was transported to Gosnell Hospice in Scarboro. Today being Friday, I prepared to go to work. On the way, I called Abba Video to see if anything was ready. She told me she had one set finished. I told her that I would be right over. I then called my mom’s cell phone and left a message that I had his music and I would see about getting it to mom soon so she could get it to her brother. At this time, I did not know he was at Gosnell. I called my father who confirmed he was taken there today and my mom was headed there.
I am supposed to be at work at 12:30pm and I am thinking that I cannot go to work for a few hours as I need to get this music to my Uncle. I spoke with my boss, who arranged my schedule so that I could take it as appointment time, for which I am allowed 4 hours per year. I do not really know how I knew that I needed to go just then. Maybe it was my intuition.
I got directions and drove to Scarboro and found his room. I saw my mom, my Aunt, my cousins and Aunt’s sister and his grandson. I walked in and told them that I had his music and then I saw my Uncle who was ‘out of it’, in a deep sleep, with labored breathing. He was wearing an oxygen mask and I am not sure if he knew we were all there. My mother left the room to find a CD player. She brought one back from the front desk and we put on a CD of Uncle Dick’s lyrics and music. My cousin wanted me to talk with him and tell him about it. So I stood by his side and told him that we finally had his music on CD. I told him that it did not sound nearly as good as a live performance but we were happy we had his music. I thanked him for all his music over the years. The music was a nice distraction from the discussion around the room. I hope that it brought comfort to everyone, including Uncle Dick.
We all thought that he must have heard it, because at one point he turned his head towards the music. They say hearing is the last sense we have. I really hope he knew how much enjoyment that his music has brought to us. I was there today when a priest came to his bedside and administered his last rites. God Bless Uncle Dick. He is truly a gift to us all. May we all find peace and a special place for him in our hearts. Let not our hearts be troubled.
The Ties that Bind
My father’s brother has always been held in high regard and felt he was an authority on anything historical. He was a very interesting person, with varied interests, from gun collecting to rock collecting. He was always very boisterous and had a contagious laugh. I felt honored that he trusted me enough to help care for his daughter. He always would allow me to travel with he and my father whenever we went on an expedition. He knew I had an interest so he allowed me to tag along. One trip was to Coos Canyon to pan for gold. It was a memory I will never forget. He now lives with Dementia .As I got older I realized that my Aunts and Uncles were just people who made mistakes like the rest of us. This did not change the respect I felt for them.
My mother’s brothers are both musicians. One brother had a great deal of formal training and eventually became a Professor of Music at a college in Canada. He is also the director for a group of singing coal miners. He is well respected in Canada and has many accolades. It would be nice if we could all be closer but these days it is neat that we all keep connected through Facebook.
My mom’s other brother is a very gifted musician who is self taught. He plays the guitar and one of his favorite musicians is Chet Atkins. I grew up and have wonderful memories of my father and him playing together on occasion. I have some old cassettes of some music he recorded which I am now trying to put onto CD. I have enjoyed listening to his music for the past year or so. He is very laid back and you have to pay attention to him because he will say the funniest things when he may not be heard by those who are busy talking themselves. He wasn’t around a lot of the time when I was growing up as he was in the US Air Force, so it was always a treat when they came back home to visit.
I feel so blessed to have had such a great and talented group of Aunts and Uncles in my family. Each of them raised good families. They are all the older generation now. Before I know it, I will be replacing their generation. I guess I was just getting a little sentimental.
I have many items on the burner. I am going to be finishing up the Redbank interviews, meeting with folks at Maine Irish Heritage Center, and working on the Immigrant program which I will present on May 16th at 130PM at Westbrook Historical Society, working on ornaments for an ornament party this upcoming weekend in New Hampshire and basically just trying to keep it all together and still work full time. I have story ideas regarding the Depression and also the San Francisco Earthquake. It seems like many of us juggle our time these days, but most importantly we need to stay grounded to our families if we have them.