What is a puny kid doing, still hanging around in her mid-eighties? I weighed about five pounds when I was born and it took me thirty years just to get to 100 pounds. I had a bad round of flu and laryngitis every winter. I had several near misses as a kid, but the skinny little girl that Grandpa Stricker wanted to feed-up a bit when we visited them, is now well into senior adult status. I had a bout of pneumonia at age six months. Not a lot of medical help for pneumonia in those pre-antibiotic days, but I survived it. If there were other circumstance those first few yearss, they are beyond my memory, or as told to me by anyone else.
At age five, during my first year in grade school, I was well on my way to freezing to death. It was the winter of 1931/32, bitterly cold, but at five I had no idea how cold. We did have a radio, but there were no school weather reports. I heard no talk of should we, or shouldn’t we go on to school. My two older brothers and older sister and I were of school age. We didn’t all walk together, we just got ready for school and left at the appropriate time; perhaps joining up with a friend or two on the way. We lived about a mile across town from the school. I had no concept that a kid shouldn’t try to walk that far; I had no idea of how cold is too cold. What I found out later was that Dad had planned to drive us to school, but the car wouldn’t start. The older three kids seemed to know that and stayed home. Perhaps I was in the bedroom getting ready and didn’t hear the talk. Apparently no one saw me leave and thought to say, “Hey, you stupid kid! Don’t you know it’s too cold out to try to walk to school?”
I think I got about half-way, when I became awfully tired and sleepy and decided to sit down on the curb and rest a bit. As fortune would have it, not long after that a Mr. Scott, who lived a block or sobehind us, came along taking his granddaughter, Sammy Lee Mason, to school. His car was in a garage and didn’t succumb to the cold. Sammy Lee was a school friend, and she and her grandfather coming by when they did, quite possibly saved my life. When I got to school I must have exhibited some signs that were not good; I think I must have been in a semi-stupor. They decided I needed to be warmed up. They took me downstairs to the furnace room, parked me by the furnace, and left me with the janitor for several hours. Can’t you just see someone doing that in today’s world! How could this happen? I have no idea, but in a casual household of several family members, they did not immediately notice I wasn’t there. Perhaps Mr. Scott, or the school, notified them of what had happened. I can only hope so, because I can’t imagine Dad not making an effort for me once he knew I had gone on by myself. In defense of my mother, in addition to the four school-age children, there were three younger brothers, Bob, Pres and new-baby Tom in the household.
Not long after that, pneumonia struck again; apparently, much more serious this time. I was out of school for more than two months. When I got my year-end report card, the grades were okay, but on the Promoted To line, there was a qualifier. Since I had missed so much of my first grade year, I was Promoted – On Condition. The condition was that if I could do the second grade work, I could stay in the class; but, if after 30 days, it was determined I couldn’t do the work, I would have to go back to first grade.
In the second grade, there were two reading classes: Class A and Class B. Since I had been promoted on condition, I was put in the B group, and would be reevaluated in 30 days. At the end of the 30 days, I was promoted to the A class and no one said anything more about kicking me back downstairs; figuratively speaking. I was glad because I liked school and I liked learning to read.
The next incident I remember occurred when I was about six. This time it was a near drowning. We lived not far from Big River, and our family and some of the neighbors were having a swim-fish-picnic outing. One of the neighbor boys was hassling me, trying to do something he shouldn’t and I was struggling to get away from him. No one seemed to see that either, although my sister and several other children were playing on the gravel bar and in the water. When I managed to jerk free from this kiddie-masher, I ran. And I ran to what was in front of me – the river. I ran right into water over my head, and I couldn’t swim. I struggled up out of the water, but immediately went down again, and then again. My sister, who was four years older than I, saw the commotion and managed to get to me and hauled me out of the water. Scolded soundly, I was!
Near drowning incident number two: same river, different place - about five miles west when we lived at Stony Point.I was now age nine. I still couldn’t swim, although I tried. I just couldn’t get it. We were allowed to go swimming in the Big River without adult supervision, but with the older kids in charge of the younger ones. Most of whom could swim. This time I wasn’t running from anyone. We were just having fun, playing in the water, when all at once I stepped in a chug-hole or chuck-hole, putting me in water deeper than I was tall. Chug-holes are treacherous things and this river had a lot of them. You’re standing ther one minute, then you take another step, and trouble rears its ugly head. You’ve probably heard the old “going down for the third-time” thing in relation to water and drowning. I was down under for the third time, when this same sister, now age 13, managed to grab hold of me and dragged me out of the water again. She did a lot of things I didn’t like in her role of older child helping look after a younger one, but she did literally save my life - twice.
There were other minor happenings, but no more major incidents that I recall. The next hazard happened after I married. I had spent some months in Texas, while my husband was stationed in Camp Howze during WWII. When the unit broke camp to head for Europe, the wives headed for home. The bus I was riding on developed a problem that let exhaust fumes into the bus. Several people complained of headaches and nausea. Some with nausea did more than complain, but the drivers stopped somewhere to make a call, then the bus kept on going. I wasn’t nauseated, but when we finally stopped and I walked off the bus, my head wasn’t quite with me. Someone seeing I was woozy, jerked me around and sat me down on an overturned soda case. I heard an odd sound, which I later realized was the bottles rattling as I fell, and then I was kissing the concrete. I didn't know that yet because I was out cold. I was later told that if I hadn’t got fresh air when I did, I would have been in big trouble. We were at this place for quite a while. They wanted to wait until I could see a doctor, so they said. When he arrived, the only concern they seemed to have was that I sign a paper releasing the company from any liability. The doctor behaved like a lawyer, not a doctor.
If I hadn’t got off the bus when I did and the fumes had overcome me for good, it would have taken out my daughter, Barbara too, since I was a few weeks pregnant. There would have been no Barbara, no Carolyn and no Russ. I believe my children appreciate me as their mother. I hope so, because it certainly seems I had a number of chances not to become anyone’s mother.
