Zelda by Nancy Mitford

Books seem to appear before I even know I wanted them--serendipity in action.

When I was researching John Quincy Adams for my quilt that is part of the Presidents Quilts exhibit to tour in 2017 I stumbled across two JQA books; one amongst a thousand in a thrift shop and the other in a small town library sale.

At the time I was reading  Maureen Corrigan's book And So We Read On about The Great Gatsby--which I then reread. At that same small town library sale I found The Last Tycoon, Fitzgerald's novel in process when he died. I read that. And a few weeks later at a church used book sale I found Zelda by Nancy Mitford, her 1970 biography on Zelda Fitzgerald. And I discovered the NetGalley offering of Stewart O'Nan's novel West of Sunset, a novel about Fitzgerald's last years in Hollywood--That review will appear on January 5, 2015.

I had not planned to read all these F. Scott books. I had read his "Gatsby Girls" stories and The Beautiful and The Damned about the time the Gatsby film came out and thought I was done. But since these books threw themselves at me, I have read them. And am glad I did.

An INTERNET search about Scott and Zelda will bring up everything you want to know about them. They were the 'it' couple of the Flapper age: charming, beautiful, carefree, talented, free spirited, young. And for a while rolling in money.

Zelda Sayre Fitzgerald and F. Scott Fitzgerald 

"Sometimes I don't know whether Zelda and I are real or whether we are characters in one of my novels." F. Scott Fitzgerald.

Named for a gypsy queen in a novel, Zelda was golden haired, athletic, fearless, and undisciplined. She chaffed against the Southern Belle expectations, drinking, and smoking, and "boodling" in cars. She was voted the prettiest in her high school senior class. Then she meet the living image of the Arrow Shirt man: Francis Scott Key Fitzgerald. Scott had the whole package: charm, looks, a Princeton education, and he was already a writer. They had in common great confidence and romantic self-images. Scott seemed worldly to the small town Zelda. He was on his way to financial success and fame. He wanted her along for the ride. And she hopped on the train.

Zelda was Scott's muse. His heroines are versions of Zelda. His stories hearken back to their own stories. Their triumphs and tragedies became fodder for their fiction.

The 1920s high life style caught up with them both. Scott was an alcoholic, and a mean one when drunk. His short stories sold like hot cakes. The lived in the moment. But Zelda wanted something of her own. She thought about an affair. She revived her girlhood dream of becoming a  ballet dancer. She became obsessive about her ballet, and insisted they move to Paris for her studies. They fought. Zelda had a break down and was hospitalized and eventually was diagnosed with schizophrenia.

Zelda and Scott never lived together again. He supported her, loved her for their shared past love, but they were unable to live together. Scott was furious when Zelda wrote about her life, using the same "material" he was working with in his book. He encouraged Zelda's painting. Scott fell in love with Sheila Graham and died in Hollywood of heart disease. Zelda died in a horrible fire. People forgot his books.

"They imagined things about themselves, then forgot the thread of the current romance and disintegrated through the fumes of the night in search of the story of their lives." Zelda Fitzgerald in "Caesar's Things"

Until the Armed Services Edition of The Great Gatsby created a buzz among the soldiers of WWII. And the high school and university literature courses took the book up as a good short read. I wrote about that on my post about When Books Went To War by Molly Guptail Manning.

Scott wondered if Zelda were already exhibiting mental instability when he married her. Had he fallen for an insane woman? And if he did, what did that indicate about HIM?

I still have to read Tender is the Night, the book Scott was written while Zelda was showing the early signs of her illness.

Book Club Reads: Dream When You're Feeling Blue by Elizabeth Berg and The Bear by Andrew Krivak

The local library book clubs are meeting using Zoom during the pandemic. Turnout is greatly reduced, from 12-14 members to five.

Our August read with the Clawson library book club was Elizabeth Berg's Dream When You're Feeling Blue, historical fiction about the home front during WWII.

My husband said it reminded him of Little Women, Louise May Alcott's novel about the March sisters during the Civil War.

Three sisters from a large Catholic Irish Boston family are at the heart of the story. The men they love go to war.

Berg embellishes the novel with details of the girl's lives, bringing alive the deprivations and challenges of the home front. One sister takes work at a factory to earn more money where the women are subjected to harassment. Their patriotic duty extends to writing letters to a dozen or more soldiers and attending dances so the soldiers have happy memories before they are shipped abroad. Tough work, dancing the night away. But it is, since these girls spent all day on their feet working!

Berg's story includes a 'dear John' letter and losing a fiance, an underage boy trying to enlist, and a child who makes a bargain with God to protect the boys.

The readers found this to be a light, quick, enjoyable read. All were confused by the added final section set in near the end of the character's lives.

from Berg's website

What's it About?The time is 1943; the place is Chicago, Illinois. Three Irish-Catholic sisters, the Heaney girls, spend part of every evening sitting at the kitchen table in their pincurls, writing to their boyfriends and to other men fighting in World War 2. Observing the daily life of these girls as well as their parents and three brothers, we get a glimpse of what life was like on the homefront; in the letters the women receive from the men, we get an idea of it was like "over there." This novel is an evocation of a time gone by, a purposefully nostalgic and sentimental — and fun!-- look at the forties: the clothes, the music, the language, the meals, the sentiments. It is a dramatic example of how a certain period in time can shape a person. Most of all, it demonstrates how much we are willing to give in the name of love.

What was the inspiration?There are a lot of books written about World War 2, but not so many about the home front. I'm always interested in the details of ordinary life, and particularly the lives of women leading those ordinary lives. I wanted to write about the women who did so much to support the soldiers. I wanted to write about rationing and USO dances and drawing seams on the back of your legs with eyebrow pencil because silk stockings were no longer available. A bigger reason for writing this book, though, was to pay tribute to a generation of people who are slowly leaving us. There is so much to learn from and admire about them. On a more personal note, this is one I wanted to "give" to my Dad. You can see a photo of him and my Mom in the front of the book. My Dad's wearing his Army uniform; my Mom’s wearing the yellow dress she was married in.

When I heard that another local library book club was reading The Bear by Andrew Krivak, which I reviewed earlier this year, I signed up to be included.

Two of my Clawson book clubbers are also members of the Royal Oak Library book club. While they were tepid about Berg's novel, everyone raved about The Bear. They found it moving, profound, and deep.

 One reader said she read it in one sitting. Beautiful nature writing was a plus. We discussed the magical realism in the second half when the bear helps the girl survive after her father's death. Although it ends with the death of the last human, it was not found to be a sad book.

from the publisher

In an Edenic future, a girl and her father live close to the land in the shadow of a lone mountain. They possess a few remnants of civilization: some books, a pane of glass, a set of flint and steel, a comb. The father teaches the girl how to fish and hunt, the secrets of the seasons and the stars. He is preparing her for an adulthood in harmony with nature, for they are the last of humankind. But when the girl finds herself alone in an unknown landscape, it is a bear that will lead her back home through a vast wilderness that offers the greatest lessons of all, if she can only learn to listen.

A cautionary tale of human fragility, of love and loss, The Bear is a stunning tribute to the beauty of nature’s dominion.

What was the inspiration for The Bear

What if, in the twilight of human experience, one were to see that what we lay claim to and cling to as quintessentially human is actually quite limited compared to a wider, more transcendental experience of Nature itself? What if, in fact, an entire world of activity — an entire story, if you will — has always been present in Nature, but we (most of us, at least) have not been attuned to it? What if human consciousness has crowded out the understanding of an entire natural consciousness waiting, in all of its ancientness, to return not to a past but to a present wherein it lives out its own struggle of beginning, middle, and end? And if so, would the last human actors, by virtue of their aloneness, be initiated into this mystery, not a loss to be mourned but a passing to be revered? What would that story be like, and who or what would tell it? I pulled in my line, rowed to shore, and went up to the house where I sat down and wrote the first line of the novel that would become The Bear: “The last two were a girl and her father who lived along the old eastern range on the side of a mountain they called the mountain that stands alone.” 

read more at https://www.powells.com/post/original-essays/if-nature-told-the-story-andrew-krivak-on-writing-the-bear

It was decided that even during a pandemic and contentious election, we did not want escapism, but books that made us think.

What are other book clubs doing during Covid-19? Are you looking for books with depth, or summer beach reads? Books that affirm, escapism, thrillers, romance, or literary fiction that offers something to 'sink your teeth into'?

Eugene Gochenour's Memoirs Part 4

Today I continue to share my father's memories of growing up in Tonawanda, NY in the 1930s and 1940s. Here Dad writes about making a tractor, hay farming, tragic deaths, camping along the Niagara River, about the local airport and even the town dump! I remember going to 'the dock' at Grand Island as a girl and wading in the Niagara River. I was told not to go far out as the current could carry one over the Falls!

Eugene Gochenour

"Father decided to get a real tractor and found one in the country and somehow hauled it home. It was a Fordson tractor with a four-cylinder engine and was built sometime around the late '20s, or early '30s. Once home, he found it needed some spark coils, so we had to drive to Holland, New York, to a tractor parts store to buy them. Holland was about thirty miles away. When we got back, he installed the coils, made sure it had gas and oil, and cranked it up. After he got it running well he painted it red, and it looked and ran great!

John Kuhn on a tractor built by Al Gochenour from a 1928 Buick.

1937 Eugene Gochenour and with sister Mary on tractor at Kuhn's farm.

The house in the right background was on Waverly St and belonged to Phil and Edna Kuhn.

Gene Gochenour age 14

"During the summer, I would drive the tractor and John Kuhn would ride behind operating the sickle machine, the hay rake, or pitch hay onto the hay wagon. The tractor had huge rear wheels and small steel wheels in the front. I was probably thirteen years old when I started to drive it.

"The fields we mowed were Timothy grass, alfalfa, and clover. The first cutting was usually during the middle of June. When it was time, I would drive the tractor, and John would control the sickle bar, which was like a large lawnmower.

"After a few days, when the hay was dry, I would tow John as he operated the hay rake. We raked the hay into long lines so that when we brought the hay wagon out, we could drive along the line and pitch the hay onto it. Then we hauled it to the barn where it would be stored in the hayloft. Salt was added at that time. The salt helped keep the hay dry by absorbing moisture from the hay, and the salt was a good addition to the cattle’s diet when they ate it.

"When John no longer had any animals, he baled the hay and sold it to the riding stables that were near by. Each bale weighed around 100 pounds. John sold them for about a dollar each.

John Kuhn bringing in the hay, 1930s

"There were always many cats around the farm, and some of them were half wild. They would go into the fields to catch mice. The mowing machine had a long sickle bar that cut the hay and sometimes a cat would be in the field and lose a leg to the machine. There were a few three-legged cats on the farm. Occasionally a pheasant would also get caught and lose its life. Dogs, rabbits, and other animals seemed to be smart enough to move away.

"John also had a cider press and father borrowed it one fall to make some apple cider. Dad had made a box trailer and one fall day we went to the orchards by Lake Ontario and brought back a load of apples. The press was wooden with a hand crank. After the apples were washed they were dumped into the top of the press. Turning the handle chopped the apples up. Then the apples were crushed by a press that was on the machine. The press had a large wooden dowel attached to a screw, and as you turned it, the juice flowed out of the bottom into a trough. The trough drained the juice to where you could fill either jugs or barrels. When the juice first flows it tastes like apple juice, but before long, it tastes like cider. Some of the cider father gave away, some he sold, and some he made into Applejack, a high alcohol drink.

"We were very good friends with the Kuhns and one evening we invited them to a corn roast. When John ate the corn he remarked how good it was. We said it should be, because it had come from his field! We all got a big laugh from that!

"The end of the airport landing field was two blocks west of our house, and about a half mile past that was the Sheridan Park Golf Course. The airport hangers were about a half mile north, and east of them was the town dump.

"Almost every evening during the summer, a man named Peewee would parachute from a plane. One evening he jumped from the plane, and the chute did not open. He landed in the dump and was killed. The oldest Morrow boy was called Buster, and he had always helped Peewee pack his chute, and he felt bad when Peewee was killed.

"There was always something going on at the airport. There were midair shows, and they gave flying lessons, and plane rides to customers. Once during the Second World War, a P-38 warplane made a forced landing and had to be towed up Military Road past our house because the field was too short for it to take off. Another time a Grumman Wildcat fighter plane crash-landed. I went over to see it and was surprised how big it was. It had belly flopped and the propeller blades were all bent back. That plane also had to be towed past our house. During the war I knew every war plane there was.

"Whenever there was something going on at the airport it drew huge crowds. Then a neighbor friend, Ridgely Ware, and I would put a sign on the lot behind his house and charge 25 cents to let people park their cars there. I don’t know who owned the lot, but people were glad to park.

"Levant (Lee) Becker was my mother’s brother and my uncle. He was about two years older than I and we hung around together a lot. He and I had many adventures together. He lived with my grandmother and grandfather on Morgan Street in the City of Tonawanda, about four miles away. Sometimes I would walk through the fields to his house.

Lee Becker at the family camp on the Niagara River

"They had a rowboat they left on the shore of the Niagara River about four blocks from their house. Sometimes Lee and I would row out onto the river and hook onto a barge that was that was being towed up the river. We would tie the rowboat to the last barge, then run up to the front of it and jump into the river, let the barge steam by, then grab the rowboat as it passed by. The only person on the tug was the captain, and he was so many barges away that he could not holler at us. After we left the barge, we drifted back down the river and rowed over to Grand Island. The river at that point is about a half mile across, and on the Grand Island side was a spot called Elephant Rock. It had that name because of a huge boulder that sat out in deep water, about a foot under the surface. It was in deep water, but we could swim to it, and stand on it. We also called the spot “bare ass beach” for obvious reasons. The bank of the river was about twenty feet high there, and a road went along at the top of the bank. I am sure people saw us at our nude beach.

"Sometimes when we were at Lee’s house we would walk to the Erie Canal where it went through the City of Tonawanda. There was a swing bridge that went over the canal that we dove and swam from. The water was not exactly clean but that did not bother us. The Robert Gair Paper Mill was next to the bridge and we found many comic books in the bales of paper. The top of the cover page was cut off because they had been returned from stores when they were not sold. We eventually had a huge pile of comic books.

"Lee spent a lot of time at our house and one night when he was there he and I crawled out the front upstairs window onto the roof. From there we could watch the cars drive by on Military Road. Dad worked at the Buffalo Bolt Company and he brought us home some of the scrap slugs that we used with our slingshots. Well, we had our slingshots, and we decided to shoot at the cars as they passed by. We had done this before, and never hit one, but on this night when we shot, we both hit a car. The car stopped, and a man got out, walked around the car, and when he could not see what had happened, got back in, and drove away. We were so scared we never did that again!

Al Gochenour in front of  the 'chicken coop'

"There was an old chicken coop in our backyard and Lee and I would sometimes climb onto the roof and sunbathe. My father suspected we were climbing on it and told us he would kick us in the butt if he ever caught us on it. We did not listen very good and one day he did catch us on it, and he did kick us both in the butt! We never did climb that roof again!

"Lee and I fished together a lot. Sometimes we would go at night and fish for suckers or bullheads at Spicy Creek on Grand Island, or at Burnt Ship Creek Bay which was over by the North Grand Island Bridge. We fished for Northern Pike both there and at Jackie Senn’s boat livery on the East Niagara River.

"Lee got a car before I got my wheels and occasionally we would drive to a rink in North Tonawanda to roller skate.

"We spent one winter each building our own sailboat. The boat was called a sailfish and we built it from a plan we found in a magazine. It was a one-person boat and you wore a bathing suit when you sailed it 'cause you sure got wet sailing. Sailing on the river was a challenge because of the strong current.

"Nineteen Forty-Six was a great year for me. I had a motorcycle for wheels, a girlfriend, and when summer came my parents allowed me to stay at the family campground on Grand Island. The camp was a beach on the Niagara River that was leased by the year. All our relatives paid toward the lease. Lee and I stayed there all summer.

The dock at the family campground on Grand Island along the Niagara River.

"My future brother-in-law Clyde Guenther worked at the International Paper Mill but stayed when he was not working. At the camp was my father’s large Army tent, a twelve-foot trailer that he and I had built, a raft, dock, rowboat, and a sixteen-foot sailboat. We had a friend whose father owned a brewery across the river. We let him have parties at our camp as long as he supplied the beer. He also had an eighteen-foot sailboat and occasionally we would sail the river with him. The boat could hold seven or eight people, and sailing on a warm summer was beautiful. 

Clyde Guenther. Getting ready to target shoot at the camp.

"At night we would have a campfire on the shore. Crayfish (crabs) would come near the shore at night and we would catch them using a flashlight. We would throw the largest ones on the fire, and cook them in their shells. They would turn orange in color, and when they were cooked and cool, we would peel the claws and tail and feast on them. They were like lobster. 

Camping along the Niagara River

'Moose', Lee Becker, Abbey Becker, Clyde Guenther, and Gene Gochernour at the camp

"On weekends many of the relatives would come to the camp. It was like a family reunion.

Emma Gochenour along the Niagara River in 1956

Lee Becker at 'the dock' on the Niagara River in 1956

Alice Gochenour at 'the dock' on the Niagara River

"Crayfish would come near the shore at night and we would catch them using a flashlight. We would throw the largest ones on the fire and cook them in their shells. They would turn orange in color, and when they were cooked and cool we would peel the claws and tail and feast on them. They were like lobster.

"Crayfish were the best bait for catching bass. The bait shops charged $1.25 for a dozen so Lee and I would catch our own. We knew a certain weed that the soft-shelled crabs liked to hide in. Crabs shed their shells as they grow, so they hide till their new shells harden. They are the best bait for bass.

We would row to the certain weed bed, and with a net haul the mass of weeds onto the deck of the boat, and pick out the crabs. We saved them in a minnow bucket till we used them.

"Grand Island split the Niagara River into the west and east rivers. Our first camp was across from the City of Tonawanda on the east river. It was just upriver from Elephant Rock, a huge boulder in the river that we could swim to, and was knee deep under the surface. To get drinking water we had to row across the river to a park. The river had a strong current and it was probably a half mile across so it took a while to row over there and back. But we had always rowed the river and were used to it. We had a nickname for the camp. We called it Gismo Beach. Lee had been in the army and had served in Korea, and he came up with the name. Back then everything was a Gismo.

"There was a lady who walked her dog by our camp every day early in the morning. One day she knocked on our trailer door while we were sleeping, and excitedly told us about someone lying in the bushes by Elephant Rock. We were all only half awake and went back to sleep and forgot about it. Late in the day we saw a Sheriff car by Elephant Rock and walked there to see what was going on. There was a young man lying in the bushes and he was dead. Someone had turned him on his back because you could see the imprint of grass on his face. Later in the week, we read an article in the newspaper that he had been in the U. S. Navy, but they did not say what he had died from. Where he was lying was only about one hundred feet from our camp."

Clyde Guenther at the Niagara River Camp. Elephant Rock is in the background.
Where the white posts meet the trees a dead body was found.

Clyde Guenther's sailboat on shore near Franklin Street

"East, and across Military Road from the airport, was a very large field that was used for the town dump. It extended from Military Road to Delaware Road, and from Knoche Road to Waverly Road. This was where Pee Wee died when his parachute failed to open, and where we kids would junk pick.

"Many ferocious wild cats lived there. They were probably farm cats that had gone wild. They lived in the piles of trash, and if we chanced upon one, they would hiss and snarl like demons. One small pond was left back in the field, and a muskrat lived there. The dump was used for many years but finally became full.

"When they stopped dumping there they dumped in the gully next to our house. So for a while, we lived next to a dump. Living next to the dump was not too nice because of the noise, dust, smell, and flies. This was during the war, and a man told us kids he would pay us a nickel a bushel for broken bottles if we broke them up. Well, it seemed like fun at first, breaking bottles and putting them in bushel baskets, but we soon decided it was too much work and told him so. So that enterprise was short lived.

"It did not take long to fill the gully so they then started to dump at an abandoned gravel pit on the other side of the airport. Before it was made a dump we fished and swam there. We called it the Pit. Many rats lived at the dump and we would take our 22 rifles an shoot them for target practice. The original dump east of the airport changed from a dump to a cemetery. I often wonder what they run into when they dig for a grave? The gully next to our house was eventually the site of a Texaco gas station, and a bicycle repair shop."

[Ed.note: Reader Bud Reid informs that the airport Dad referenced was the Consolidated Bell Airport at Military and Ensminger Roads.]

War, Revolution and Terror: Elihu Washburne's Ambassadorship in Paris

Elihu Washburne: the Diary and Letters of America's Minister to France during the Siege and Commune of Paris by Michael Hill

Several years ago I read The Greater Journey by David McCullough, an author well known and whose books are well reviewed. It was a very enjoyable and enlightening book, and I especially was interested in the American writers, painters, physicians and thinkers who spent time in Paris.

Then I got to the third part of the book. I was totally ignorant of the Siege of Paris when the Prussian Army led by Bismarck surrounded the city for 131 days, nor had I known of the collapse of Napoleon III, the rise of the Third French Republic, and the government takeover by radicals called The Commune. And I had never heard of the American ambassador to France, Elihu Washburne.

After finishing The Greater Journey I wanted to know more about Washburne and found and ordered Hill's book. Hill is a researcher who has worked with McCullough, as well as Nathaniel Philbrick (Mayflower, The Last Stand, The Heart of the Sea), and Ken Burns (Baseball, The Civil War). The book uses excerpts from the diary and letters written by Washburne during the ordeal.

Washburne was born in Maine to a hard working subsistence farmer. He knew he wanted more in life and decided to study law. He went West where opportunity offered quick wealth. He and his two brothers all served in Congress at the same time. Washburne was an abolitionist who was in close contact with President Lincoln during the Civil War.

After years of Washington politics he was offered the posh spot in Paris by his old friend, the newly elected president Ulysses S. Grant. Washburne thought it would be a wonderful way to serve out his last years before retirement. He and his family, hobnobbing with the Emperor and Empress in Paris of the Second Empire, the most lush and glorious civilization in the world!

Things did not work out that way. Instead France went to war with Germany. Washburne's wife and children left Paris, except for his son Gratiot who stayed to volunteer with the American Ambulance. Often ill, lonely, and bombarded with people seeking aid, Washburne put in long days.

Washburne was one of the few foreigners who did not leave the city. He not only protected American interests, he worked to save the Germans in Paris, many arrested as hostile aliens; others lost their jobs and income. He provided food for the starving, sometimes from his own pantry. The price of a half bushel of potatoes rose to $155 in today's dollars. The poor were reduced to eating horsemeat, dog and even rats. Washburn sent firewood to the families who were freezing in one of the coldest winters remembered.

"Oh, this horrid war...I have had enough of all this terrible business and I begin to hate Paris...It is not living [,] It is simply a wretched, fearful, almost unendurable existence." Dec. 8, 1870 letter to Adele Washburn

After the Germans won the war they entered Paris for two days of occupation, then left town. Washburne's family returned, hoping for that lovely sojourn they had dreamt of....and everything changed again.

After the death of Napoleon III, The Third French Republic allowed a few radicals to cease control of the country. The leader, Raoul Rigault, was a psychopath who wanted to resurrect the French Revolution just for the fun of it. A new Reign of Terror descended upon Paris.

"Anarchy, assassination, and massacre hold high carnival..." March 25, 1871 letter to Secretary Of State Fish in Washington, D.C.

The damage done by the Commune, the people they killed, the destruction of monuments and buildings, the arrest and murder of Catholic priests, was more horrifying than the war. Arbitrary arrests and the takeover of personal property was rampant. Anyone who dared express sympathy toward the victims was turned upon by the crowds. And killed.

Washburne was called upon by the Vatican to help save the life of Archbishop Darboy, the beloved elderly priest who stayed in Paris to help the people during the Siege. But before the fall of the commune, all the imprisoned were put to death. Including Darboy and 70 other priests.

Washburne is a forgotten hero of a forgotten war. His commitment to his job, his country, and to helping people was remarkable. When most fled the country or thought only of themselves, he risked his life and health to do his duty. He was a real American hero.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xk2f1b9207M is a nice interview from CSPAN with Michael Hill

Nancy Juggles Being a Minister's Wife and a University Student

Me and Gary 1975. I had a 'shag' haircut.

I was still twenty-three years old when I became a full-time minister's wife in June 1975. Gary had been accepted into the Eastern Pennsylvania Conference of the United Methodist Church. His first full-time church appointment was at Morrisville United Methodist. As an Associate Pastor, Gary was in charge of Education and Youth ministires.

Morrisville, Bucks County, Pennsylvania, was one of the earliest settlements in the state. A few blocks away from the church was the Delaware River and across the bridge was Trenton, NJ. It was a lovely community.

Gary's salary of $7,400 more than doubled what we had jointly earned while at seminary! 

Our first parsonage 

We moved into the 'old' parsonage that had been designated for the senior pastor before a new parsonage for the senior pastor was built across the street. After living in a college dormitory and a two-room apartment we did not know what to do with all the space in the tri-level house!

We had a rocking chair, a record player, several hundred books, and a few bookcases. We were lucky that the parsonage was partially furnished. My folks bought a bedroom set from friends and hauled it to us. The Hostetters gave us a couch for the family room. We picked up rummage sale items, turned in Green Stamps for a lamp, and purchased a desk with a hutch.

Off the dining room was a screened-in porch. We spent most of our summer on the porch, listening to music and reading. The rest of the time, Nasturtium and I were in the family room, and I used the home office as my space for sewing. The house was surrounded by beautiful azaleas and rhododendrons.

Me and Nasturtium

That first July 4 a parish family invited us to join them for a picnic in a park. It was the kind of informal outing I had grown up with. We had our first Tastycakes and learned that out East no one knew what 'pop' was. It was 'soda' from now on!

Sid, Ellen and Mark Hostetter

Mark and Ellen Hostetter were from Pennsylvania Dutch country. This would be Mark's last pastorate before retirement. When he began his career a pastor made a few hundred dollars and was moved to a new appointment every year. Pastors would learn where they were being sent a few weeks before move-out! Mark had served across the country before returning to Pennsylvania.

Their only child, Sid, was our age and taught high school science. Summers he worked with the famous Jack Horner at his Montana dinosaur dig, and he loved spelunking. Sid's pet iguana had grown too large for his apartment so his parents kept Iggy in a huge aquarium in the parsonage. We had our litter box trained bunny. The congregation had great fun with their new ministers' strange pets!

Ellen took me to minister's wives meetings. Ellen had been a teacher when she fell for 'the reverend'. She loved being a clergy wife.

On holidays the Hostetters invited us to their home and we enjoyed Pennsylvania Dutch hospitality with seven sweets and seven sours. A few hours after gorging on dinner Ellen would serve sandwiches with the leftovers and a desert.

I found a fabric store just down the road. Also in town was a great mom and pop pizza place and a fish market where the owner helped us learn about Bluefish, Croaker, and Porgies and explained how to cook fish whole. I missed my garden fresh veggies, but we visited local farms to pick our own strawberries and peaches. We still baked our bread.

Gary and I are on the far right with the vacuum we won.
Gary and I both are wearing jackets I made.

We bought a microwave oven from Jerry Plavin's. It was large enough to cook a turkey, which we did once. When we bought the microwave we were entered into a giveaway and won a Hoover upright vacuum!

Across the street, next to the Hostetters, lived a childless Russian couple who had immigrated to America after WWII. Nadia was a teenager when she was taken to a Nazi farm as forced labor. She volunteered to go in place of her father, as he was needed to provide for the family. It appears she had been sterilized by the Nazis. After the war, she met her husband, who had also been in forced labor. They were given the choice of immigrating to Canada, the US, or South America.

Gary and I in front of the Morrisville UM Church

After Gary left for work in the morning, Nadia would rush across the street to visit with me. She asked, "why two priests" were needed at the church. And she insisted I have a child. She would tell me to ask my husband what to do to have a baby. She did not understand my plans for finishing my education. Nadia could not read, write, or drive.

Morrisville UMC

Gary had his own office with a Mr. Coffee machine. Doris Burkhardt, the church secretary, complained that he was so quiet in his rubber-soled shoes that he was always sneaking up on her. I wonder that the smell of the coffee he always had in hand didn't give him away!

Sanctuary of Morrisville UMC

Mark intended to share responsibilities with Gary, but the Staff-Parish had different expectations. They wanted Gary full time with the youth. Gary and Mark were concerned this would limit Gary's experience and preparedness for his own church.

The church had a huge youth and children's ministry that Gary was in charge of, including two youth groups, Sunday school classes, a mid-week program with a meal and Bible study, retreats, confirmation class, and a youth choir and youth musical! We loved the church youth, many of whom were my younger brother's age.

With the change in youth pastors many volunteers left and Gary had to rebuild the leadership. I helped out with the youth groups and mid-week program. I also played piano for the children's worship service on Sunday during adult worship service, sang in the choir with the youth musical, participated in Bible study classes led by Gary, and when not teaching, joined an Adult Sunday School class.

At times I came into conflict with church members. One time in Sunday School class we were discussing 'insiders who felt like outsiders' in the church and I mentioned that the youth felt that way. In particular, they wished worship was more joyful and upbeat. A youth parent scolded me saying the kids would grow up and accept tradition. And Gary was pressured to be like the last youth pastor, playing baseball with the youth. We learned how the idolization of a leader makes it difficult for their replacement who is compared instead of appreciated for the strengths that they bring.

I did not want to wait a year before returning to school and sent out applications in the fall for winter semester. My reference letters were from METHESCO professors who attested to my preparedness and participation as an auditor. 

It was very unusual for a married woman to return to school after a break in those days. Most women in their early twenties were eager to start a family.

I applied first to the University of Pennsylvania. They suggested I enroll in a special program for women returning to college, and if I succeded in it I could then apply as a regular full time student. I also applied to LaSalle University and Temple University and was accepted by both. Temple cost less, and I enrolled in classes to begin January 1976.

To commute to Temple, located in North Philadelphia, Gary drove me to the train station and I got off the train a few blocks away from campus. It was not a nice neighborhood, so I always was alert walking down that empty street. The campus was huge!

I had to juggle the role of pastor's wife and youth leader with a full college schedule. When I had breaks I spent my time feverishly sewing.

Temple University

My first semester I had Literary Criticism, which was very helpful to me as an English major. Studies in Shakespeare ended up being a Freudian approach. I loved Studies in the Victorian Age. I also had a history class on the Reformation. Professor Schwoebel broke the class into groups to research an aspect of the Reformation. We were to present what we had learned to the rest of the class using multi-media and non-lecture techniques. I was in the group studying John Calvin, but I became most interested in the Anabaptist movement. A year later I discovered that my Gochenour ancestors were Swiss Brethren, an Anabaptist group!

Gary's one year probation as a Deacon concluded with his ordination as an elder into the UMC.

Gary's ordination class June, 1976. Gary is fourth from the left.

Fall of 1976 I took The Novel from Defore to Austen, which was great. I enjoyed Modern British and American Poetry and made several friends. One was a gay Hispanic poet who told me horror stories of Catholic education in Philly. I needed a language and took Elements of Latin. The teacher said I had an odd pronunciation, and I realized I was influenced by how my choirs pronounced Latin when singing.

Spring semester 1977 I had an honors course on John Milton which required three papers; the professor really liked me and I got an A. I also had my second semester of Latin and a self-created class on writing curriculum in which I was mentored by a friend I had met in Victorian Studies class. Murray was fascinated to know a Protestant. So many of my classmates were Catholic and Jewish that I was often a novelty to them!

That fall I had Honors Topics in Religion which looked at Myth and History in the Old Testament; Studies in Drama in which we studied the first and last plays of three major playwrights; and an Honors English course on James Joyce's Ulysses for which I wrote a 50 page paper on Bloom in Nighttown from a Jungian approach, which got me an A. The professor had the class to his home for an Irish meal with Guinness Stout. I loved the course Folklore in America for which I wrote a paper on the culinary roots of American cooking. The professor encouraged me to consider grad school.

My last semester in Spring 1977 I had Colonial American History, American Indian Ethnology, Studies in Drama: Religion and Literature; and Advanced Honors Jane Austen--the class that really changed my life. The Studies in Drama was team taught with the professor who taught Myth and History. The class visited different churches, including Gloria Dei, the early Swedish church, Christ Church where our earliest Colonial ancestors worshipped, a Black Pentecostal church in North Philly, and Beth Sholom, a synagogue designed by Frank Lloyd Wright. We also had a Seder meal.

I had a poem published in the literary magazine.

Our pet rabbit adjusted to the move nicely. Nasturtium loved the large family room as 'her place', with a litter box in the utility room. I would come home and find Nasty Buns sleeping on the end table next to the couch. She would wake and run circles around my feet. If I took her outside she was terrified and crawled on my shoulder, hiding her head under my hair.

Nasturtium

When we were away Ellen would take care of Nasturtium. But the bunny would attack Ellen, nipping at her ankles. Ellen always wore a dress, nylons, and high heels so she had no protection! Ellen had to come into the house with a broom to swish Nasty Buns away! When we cared for Iggy we had no such problems!

At Christmas break, Gary and I drove back to Michigan to see our families, first stopping at Tonawanda, NY to see my Grandmother Gochenour and family. Then we drove across Canada to Gary's folks home in Grand Blanc and then down to Clawson to see my family. The second Christmas trip, we left Tonawanda and drove into a heavy snow storm. We finally pulled into a hotel and went the rest of the way home the next day. That ended our Christmas homecomings.

Our first visit back to Michigan my Grandma Ramer was living with my folks. Mom put us in the hide-a-bed in the family room, which was open to the kitchen. Gary had forgotten his PJs that year, and when we woke my Grandmother was sitting at the kitchen table, eating her toast and tea, watching us. Gary couldn't get out of bed!

Before our first anniversary, my grandmother had been set up on a blind date with Milo Fisher, a widower of 25 years. He came to the door and Grandma answered, but he said, "I am here to see your mother." He thought Grandma was my mom! Grandma was only in her early fifties. Almost a year after Grandma had caught my wedding bouquet she married Milo.

Grandma and Milo Fisher at his Birmingham home

During our time in Morrisville, we loved to take the train into Center City Philadelphia and explore the city. We walked from one end of the city to the other, looking in the huge department stores--Gimbels, Lit Brothers, John Wanamaker's with it's inner court and organ concerts, Strawbridge & Clothier-- and shopping at Reading Terminal Market where we first ate Tabouli.

We visited the Philadelphia Art Museum and stood in line on Friday afternoons for cheap seats in the 'nosebleed gallery' to see Eugene Ormandy and the Philadelphia Orchestra.

1776 musical program

The Bicentennial celebration in Philadelphia was exciting. We saw the musical 1776 for free. We visited the historical museums and Independence Hall.

1776 musical stage on Independence Mall

A new museum for Benjamin Franklin opened, and we visited his grave. We saw the Rodin Museum and I often went to the Free Library. There was the Edgar Allen Poe house, Betsey Ross House, and Elfreth Alley. At Head House Square's New Market we saw vendors selling crafts, including miniature quilts. I loved to have ice cream at Once Upon a Porch in Society Hill; the restaurant decor included porches were customer enjoyed their ice cream.

On the Fourth of July, we went downtown to see the fireworks and free concerts. One year we saw the Beach Boys perform on the steps of the Philadelphia Museum of Art.

On Christmas Day we went to Washington Crossing State Park and saw a reenactment of Washington Crossing the Delaware.

Reenactment of Washington crossing the Delaware

Reenactment of Washington Crossing the Delaware

We visited the Bowman's Hill Wildflower Preserve and learned to identify Eastern wildflowers. We drove to Princeton, NJ, passing cranberry farms, to visit an antique and used book shop. Our first trip to New York City we took a bag lunch which we ate in Central Park, then we saw The Fantasticks. We also saw Yentl, visited the Cooper-Hewitt Museum, the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and the Modern Museum of Art.

The youth group made trips to Asbury Park on the Jersey Shore and the Hostetters took us on day trips to Cape May and Ocean Grove. The Hostetters took us to Lancaster, County where we enjoyed family style meals.

The craft revival was in full swing during the Bicentennial. Gary and I took macrame classes and made hanging plant holders. I tried my hand at needlepoint, hooked rug making, and Crewel embroidery.

Gary and I in the Morrisville parsonage back yard, 1977

Our second year at Morrisville I wrote elementary school curriculum for Vacation Bible School with an ecology theme. Gary and I also helped create the church's first elementary school age retreat.

We had joined several small groups. One group met monthly for a world food dinner. The other was a support group. A man in that group was involved in Serendipity small group training and we took the training.

For summer vacation we went camping. We intended to go to Nova Scotia but fell in love with Acadia National Park in Maine. We made it to the Bay of Fundy. We saw the tide come in. But we also got soaking wet and spent a night in motel room drying out. Then we turned back for Maine.

Mark Hostetter suggested that Gary should not stay an associate too long. Gary let it be known to the District Superintendent that if the 'right church' came up he was willing to make a move. The Cabinet contacted him about going to a church in Darby, PA and Gary accepted.

It was a sad day when we left the great youth we had come to know and love, and the wonderful friends we had made.

After two years in Morrisville, we were moving again. I was 25 years old. We had no idea that two pastors had already turned down the Darby appointment.

Homeschooling Days

Our son's senior year photo

The decision to homeschool our son was monumental and yet the easiest decision to make. I later realized that from the beginning I was teaching our son at home. Reading, craft activities, nature studies, museums, games, educational magazines, and making up stories were part of our daily activities.

One day while driving in the countryside he asked me what the road signs said. I explained the no passing and passing zones. He started reading the signs and telling me, "You can pass now." He's been a back-seat driver ever since!

So, we knew he was reading before he started kindergarten. At Kindergarten Roundup he was put in Pre-K. He came home from Pre-K disappointed, and asked when he was going to learn "real science."

In Kindergarten he was inattentive. The teacher asked me to come to class and observe.

Hillsdale was a rural community with a good deal of poverty. The classroom was geared for children who did not come from enriched lives. The teacher read a book, explained the book, told the students how to draw a picture relating to the book. And after that, she discussed the book again. After the first reading, Chris lost attention. He whipped off his drawing and went back to wandering around. I saw that he was bored.

First Grade was promising at first. The young teacher was resolved to challenge our son and keep him busy. Day after day when we picked him up from school she complained about his lack of attention. The school assigned an aid to offer our son special one-on-one activities, mostly reading on a higher level.

We went to a family counselor who told us that our son needed to be in "his proper peer group." He encouraged us to have the school test him.

The principal agreed to the testing, but warned that jumping grades was rarely successful. In October of his First Grade year Chris underwent testing. The principal was surprised by the results. Our son was reading on a Fifth Grade, second semester level and had the math skills of a Second grader. We agreed to jump him to Second Grade after winter break. At first, he was to spend only half days in the new class. But once he was there, he would not leave. He knew it was where he belonged.

His Second Grade and Third Grade teachers were great, and he worked hard to stay in the top of the class. He encountered teasing and rejection at first, but in Third Grade that was all behind him. The teacher was great; he sent home weekly letters to parents, took the class on a nature walk, and taught special units on interesting subjects like Great Lakes Shipwrecks. Our son made friends and joined Cub Scouts and Little League.

Then we were moved to Lansing. It was a very different environment from that of a small town.

The Fourth Grade teacher was not as interactive with parents as we were used to. In fact, she seemed detached and burnt out. He was in a pull-out program for the gifted, but the program did not give him what he needed, and it made him a target for teasing. There were not enough math books for the students and they could not be taken home to study.

Our son tried to make friends, using techniques that had worked for him when he jumped from First to Second grade. But the cliques were set and closed. Our son also had to deal with a very different social atmosphere than the small town he had known. The school included kids from the upscale neighborhood we lived in, and from the poor neighborhood just south with many children from troubled families or with fathers in jail.

Our son was depressed. We found a family counselor who spoke with our son privately. The counselor suggested homeschooling to our son at that time, as had the counselor in Jackson, MI who had encouraged the academic testing.

Chris and his friend 'pigging out'

Fifth Grade went better, with a more involved, positive teacher. Our son met another new boy in school and they became best friends.

Chris and Marianna, his exchange student sister

When Chris was in Fifth Grade we hosted an exchange student. Mariana was the oldest daughter of my high school exchange student sister, Elina. The first months they got along quite well. But when Chris and Mariana went trick and treating an argument broke out. Suddenly they were acting like a 'real' brother and sister! Before long they were fighting like real siblings, vying for my attention.

Sixth Grade brought a school change to junior high school. At first everything seemed to be going great. Chris was in a group of boys and they had a lot of fun. But when he had classes with older kids they made him uncomfortable. He asked me why they were allowed to wear clothing with bad messages and allowed to use foul language. He encountered problems with teachers who insisted on his writing reports by hand; his fine motor skills were not good and writing was hard. He wanted to use the computer and type his reports.

One day our son corrected the social studies teacher who said WWII started in 1942. That's when America entered the war, but Chris knew the war started in 1939. The teacher did not like his correcting her!

A boy was bullying our son, and one day Chris picked up a stick to keep the the boy away. There was a no-violence policy and the boy turned our son in; he ended up in detention after school, removing graffiti from the walls.

After the Columbine school shooting, mimics were everywhere. One day our son didn't want to go to school because of rumors that a boy had threatened to bring a gun to school. He was literally afraid.

Our son's MEAP score took a dip and his grades were slipping. Chris asked us if we would homeschool him. Two counselors had said he was a good candidate for homeschooling.  A science teacher told us about his daughter who had 'dual exceptionalities', being both gifted and learning disabled. He was wary of our taking on homeschooling.

I found a distance school for gifted children out of Chicago that provided oversight, curriculum ideas, records keeping, and testing for homschooling. We signed up beginning in Seventh Grade. We took our son to a local testing service and discovered his strengths and weaknesses in learning and his I.Q. score. The school counselor advised us on courses and curriculum and handled paperwork and records.

That first year involved adjustment. I was suddenly our son's mother and teacher and friend. He wanted me to keep the roles separate. I saw everything as a teachable moment.

I was in my second year working from a home office for Jostens. So I was working 30 hours a week and homeschooling and a homemaker and a minister's wife! Gary's flexible schedule meant he could teacher several subjects, including logic and mathematics. I oversaw history, science, English, Latin, and gave I Chris piano lessons.

We decided not to continue with the oversight school for Eighth Grade. Jostens wanted the Office Manager to be available more hours and they wanted me to be more active in outside and inside sales. I quit the job to homeschool full time.

We joined a homeschool group. Every fall they had a series of Field Days with games and learning activities at a park.

While some moms organized and ran the activities, along with older homeschool students as helpers, the rest of us moms visited.

The Moms

Our family was concerned that our son would not be in 'the real world,' but even the homeschool group had differences in religious and political thinking that involved getting along and respecting others, as did our church.

The homeschool group sponsored educational trips, such as visiting the local GM plant, the Lansing State Journal, and the Kalamazoo Air Museum. We took advantage of classes that taught art and pottery. I offered classes to the homeschool group teaching some basic needlework skills including coloring on fabric and Redwork quilting.

I loved teaching. I loved relearning. I loved researching curriculum and setting lesson plans. I focused on curriculum to suit his learning style. We did hire a tutor for Algebra II and a mathematics review to prepare for standardized testing. By Senior High, our son could determine his own elective subjects and set his own plans.

Since the whole family was writing, we would read and critique each other. We were sure our son was going to be 'the writer' in the family. Both Gary and I had written as kids, and of course Gary wrote sermons and articles in his work and I wrote poetry and short stories for myself.

Homeschooling was efficient time-wise. Our son was able to complete his school work in four days. Gary had Fridays off, so we would schedule family activities for Friday afternoons, going to movies and dinner, taking day trips to museums, or having a family game and pizza nights. Homeschooling made us a closer family.

A homeschool group member, Jacob, organized a role playing gaming group which met at our house. Friday evenings brought a troop of boys coming in the front door, saying 'hi', and going to the finished basement for a few hours of gaming.

Chris and Gary had been playing the Magic:The Gathering card game and even taught me. So when Chris got to college, the first thing he did was to join the Alternate Reality gaming club. He made friendships there that have lasted to this day.

We made sure our son took the PSAT test available through local homeschool groups, and the ACT and the SAT.

Sunday School class play

Angel Alert Christmas Play

Our son was active at church and in community volunteering. He worked at the Lansing library resale store, and all summer volunteered as a counselor in training at the Woldumar Nature Center. His Senior year, he won a Target scholarship for college, based on his volunteer work.

The Youth Group raked leaves at the homes of the elderly

During our son's junior and senior year in high school I was the Senior High Sunday School Teacher. I had a great deal of fun. I think the kids did, too.

Senior High Sunday School Class kids hanging in the Youth Building

When it came time to apply to college he decided to apply to Grand Valley State University (GVSU) in Allendale, MI and Albion College, a small Methodist liberal arts college with scholarships for clergy children. We visited other colleges as well, including Alma and Western.

With his applications I submitted a summary of the entire homeschool records, including course descriptions with texts and reading materials. Albion College told us he was already working on a college level. He was accepted by both schools.

He was leaning toward Albion, which was close to Lansing and smaller. We suggested he visit each school again, this time to sit in on a class. Albion suggested he would have a lot of experience in journalism and the school paper there. He sat in on a literature class. But when he sat in on a writing critique class at GVSU he came out excited. That was what he wanted! And he accepted GVSU.

My homeschool mom friends 

Chris graduated a few weeks before we were moved again. The Bishop had informed Gary at the last moment that he was needed elsewhere. There was to be no questioning or disputing the move.

Our son at his graduation party with church friend Stacy

I had planned to return to work full time after our son graduated, sure I had contacts for good jobs. While homeschooling I worked several part-time jobs including a temp editing job, filling in when the church secretary was on leave, and scoring standardized tests for the Educational Testing Service from home. I continued to hone my desktop publishing skills through volunteer work as the quilt guild newspaper editor as as a school records keeper.

We thought we knew what our future was going to look like, but in the itinerant ministry, you can never be sure about anything.

Chris