On this page you can find many photos of the modern Erickson / Winters family and information about the places they spent time in, such as Gibbs School. These are the descendants of William Leander "Lee" Winters, Margaret Elizabeth Winters (born Heater), Ella Cordelia Bingman, and Thomas Benjamin Duncan through the Ellis Aden Winters + Mabel Lillian Duncan lineage.
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Ellis Aden Winters and Mabel Lillian Duncan, married on December 27, 1908
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Velda Ellen Winters was born on October 27, 1909 in Newberg, Oregon. She was the oldest child and by 1916 would have 3 siblings from parents Ellis Aden Winters and Mabel Lillian Winters Duncan. For the first three years of her life, however, she was the sole recipient of their affections.
In 1909, William Howard Taft is president. Electricity, flight, camera use by regular people, electric washing machines for the home, and silent movies are still a new thing. The Model T just came out. The first synthetic plastic known as Bakelite was just developed. Basic wages are $2.40 per day for nine hours of work. Women still aren't allowed to vote. The Girl Scouts don't exist yet. The world is a very different place than the one that Velda lived in at the end of her life! |
Velda Winters, age 2 (1911)
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Velda Winters and her dog Prince at the old house in Newberg Oregon on 2nd street circa 1912
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Ira Aden Winters was born on May 30 1912. In this photo, Velda Winters (with hairbow) is dutifully pushing Ira Winters (1yr old) with their mother Mabel Duncan Winters standing by at the Rose Parade in Portland Oregon in 1913.
The Portland Rose Festival was still a very new thing at that time. The very first official "festival of roses" was in 1907 and became an annual event which continues to this day. The Rose Festival has always been a very popular event for the children of Portland. The festival itself celebrates a mythical Kingdom ruled by the Queen of Rosaria and her Court. Originally this queen and court were chosen from the social elite of Portland but since 1930, Portland high schools select the queen and court from their senior classes. In 1931, those queens also started receiving scholarships to help fund their college education. Velda's daughter Louise would have the honor of being chosen to be in the court in the Rose Festival many years after this photo of Velda was taken. |
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Ola Elizabeth Winters was next in line, born August 7, 1914.
Speaking of roses! Mabel loved roses and had a wonderful rose garden which she shared with the grandkids. 1914 was not all roses, however, as WWI began. |
Ira on the left, Mabel holding infant Ola, Velda standing on the right in 1914
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Velda (top right), Ira (bottom right), Ola (left) circa 1914
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Hugh Oren Winters was Velda's final sibling and was born on May 1, 1916, just before the U.S. entered WWI in 1917.
None of Velda's immediate family was killed by Spanish Flu which hit the U.S. in 1918. They were also not affected by the other pandemics of that era - diphtheria and polio. By 1918, airmail service has been started between New York, Philadelphia, and Washington, time zones are officially established and daylight savings time goes into effect. |
Hugh Winters, 2 1/2 years old (1919)
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Hugh Winters, 2 1/2 years old (1919)
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Family Photos 1927 - 1950
Left to right: Velda, Ira, and Ola Winters in 1944
Family Photos from 1950-2000
THE STORY OF GIBBS SCHOOL AND IT'S BELL
Written and compiled by Ola Winters Ingraham, December 1979
Who herself attended the school, with many others of her family, and many others who still remember the old school, some of the teachers, and many pranks, problems, and happy occurrences there.
This school bell has a history and a place in the history of Oregon. This is the bell that called me to school in the 1920s, and, as far as I can find out, it called my father to school. It is the bell used in one of the first schools started in the Northeastern part of Yamhill County. It is also closely associated with our family history. When the original log schoolhouse was burned down, the present building was erected on donated land near the center of the community.
A typical one room school complete with a wood burning stove high ceiling, kerosene lamps in wall brackets with dull brass reflectors, a platform (one step high) in front of the room, and blackboards all around the room between the high windows, some of them just painted on the wallboards, others painted on beaverboard. The desks were arranged with the large ones at the back of the room and small ones in front.
When 1 was attending school at Gibbs, the desks were wide enough for two children, with tops that raised up and vertical book storage under them, an ink well in the top and a pencil slot beside it. Even then some of the smaller children had to have a block of wood to rest their feet on and some of the biggest boys could not sit straight in their
desks because of their long legs.
The entry had one outside door and two inside ones, coat hooks. shelves for supplies, a bench with water pail complete with the communal dipper- until germs were discovered, when we each had to furnish our own personal cup or glass. A wash basin and soap were not
so private and one towel did for all of us, a clean one ·being supplied each week.
In front of the school house was the flagpole, where the star pupil for the day or week had the honor of raising the flag, the woodshed stood to the left and at the back of the school yard stood two small edifices, which while not labeled, were known as "Boys" and "Girls", used· for necessary comfort. Last but not least the willow tree by the wood shed.
I will never forget my first teacher, tall and thin, with a long stern face, steel rimmed spectacles and dark hair combed in a pompador. When he got mad a vertical vein showed prominently in his forehead, and, as we were not angels, he got mad frequently. Girls who misbehaved had to sit in the corner, but boys were sent out to the willow tree for a switch, and then whipped with it, or sent back for a larger one if the first one was too small.
According to modern theory, my personality is warped. I was left handed, and both I and my teacher were stubborn. After he had broken a lot of chalk and several pencils, slapping· my hand, I gave in and learned to write with my right hand.
Besides our regular school work the big beys shoveled snow, carried water from a neighbor's home and split and carried in wood. The girls washed blackboards, tidied the room, and supervised the small children, often hearing their lessons. We worked and played, quarreled and made up, hoped and despaired, even as today; but I believe we got a better education that stayed with us longer, and that gave us the idea it was necessary to work to gain anything, and that school, too, was work, not play to while the time away.
School began at 8:00 AM and let out at 4:00 PM with an hour for lunch and two 15 min. recesses. One teacher taught all grades- with some help from the older girls- and each class recited in nearly every subject. We studied or did written assignments while others recited. I am sure that ie why I can concentrate- I don't ignore
the noise- I don't even hear it. With blackboard work, spelldowns, mental arithmetic contests, memorizing everything from the multiplication tables to the preamble to the Constitution, or the Gettysberg Address, and learning poems regularly, helped us both to learn and retain. And program performances before our parents and neighbors helped us banish stage fright and awkwardness. Among my memories is the filling of two full blackboards with 7x9-63, I did remember!
The picnic we took each year before school let out for summer, the Christmas programs, with the treats we all received, the songs we all sang; with a lump in the throat as we sang "America" and saluted the flag.
From this small school have come many children; solemn and mischievous, bright and dull -- they are scattered over the far parts of the earth and many are passed on through death's door. In all walks of life have this school's graduates been represented. Of those I have heard of, included are two Governors of Oregon, one of our great Senators, and one of our state Superintendents of Schools. Doubtless there are many more. This little school, and the discipline expressed by the ringing of this small bell have had their part in forming the History of this state, and this Nation.
If this old school bell could talk
What stories it could tell!
But for this bell and for it's school
Has rung the last farewell.
A modern bus calls girls and boys
to ride to school today,
To a modern school with modern rule
And less work now than play.
Where is the old Geography
The blackboard work each day,
The History, the rule of three,
And recitations, grave or gay?
The one room country school has gone
With it's teacher, to it's fate;
But from it's teaching came the men
Who rule our Country and our State.
The bell that called us all to school was a hand held one with a wooden handle & what I believe to be a nickel or chrome finish bell.
At some time, the clapper came out and some enterprising farm boy replaced it with a piece of baling- or, as we called it - hay wire, and a nut for about a half inch bolt. This is the way it was when I attended Gibbs school in the twenties, and it was still that way when our children went to school there in the fourties.
Somehow I acquired the old bell when the school was closed and consolidated with Springbrook.
The same old building stands on the corner, with the woodshed to the left. It is now used as a shooting range, but as we go by, it brings back memories of days when a calmer pace, pride in accomplishment, and a higher moral standard were a regular part of our lives in Gibbs Community, in the Northeast corner of Yamhill County, Oregon.
Written and compiled by Ola Winters Ingraham, December 1979
Who herself attended the school, with many others of her family, and many others who still remember the old school, some of the teachers, and many pranks, problems, and happy occurrences there.
This school bell has a history and a place in the history of Oregon. This is the bell that called me to school in the 1920s, and, as far as I can find out, it called my father to school. It is the bell used in one of the first schools started in the Northeastern part of Yamhill County. It is also closely associated with our family history. When the original log schoolhouse was burned down, the present building was erected on donated land near the center of the community.
A typical one room school complete with a wood burning stove high ceiling, kerosene lamps in wall brackets with dull brass reflectors, a platform (one step high) in front of the room, and blackboards all around the room between the high windows, some of them just painted on the wallboards, others painted on beaverboard. The desks were arranged with the large ones at the back of the room and small ones in front.
When 1 was attending school at Gibbs, the desks were wide enough for two children, with tops that raised up and vertical book storage under them, an ink well in the top and a pencil slot beside it. Even then some of the smaller children had to have a block of wood to rest their feet on and some of the biggest boys could not sit straight in their
desks because of their long legs.
The entry had one outside door and two inside ones, coat hooks. shelves for supplies, a bench with water pail complete with the communal dipper- until germs were discovered, when we each had to furnish our own personal cup or glass. A wash basin and soap were not
so private and one towel did for all of us, a clean one ·being supplied each week.
In front of the school house was the flagpole, where the star pupil for the day or week had the honor of raising the flag, the woodshed stood to the left and at the back of the school yard stood two small edifices, which while not labeled, were known as "Boys" and "Girls", used· for necessary comfort. Last but not least the willow tree by the wood shed.
I will never forget my first teacher, tall and thin, with a long stern face, steel rimmed spectacles and dark hair combed in a pompador. When he got mad a vertical vein showed prominently in his forehead, and, as we were not angels, he got mad frequently. Girls who misbehaved had to sit in the corner, but boys were sent out to the willow tree for a switch, and then whipped with it, or sent back for a larger one if the first one was too small.
According to modern theory, my personality is warped. I was left handed, and both I and my teacher were stubborn. After he had broken a lot of chalk and several pencils, slapping· my hand, I gave in and learned to write with my right hand.
Besides our regular school work the big beys shoveled snow, carried water from a neighbor's home and split and carried in wood. The girls washed blackboards, tidied the room, and supervised the small children, often hearing their lessons. We worked and played, quarreled and made up, hoped and despaired, even as today; but I believe we got a better education that stayed with us longer, and that gave us the idea it was necessary to work to gain anything, and that school, too, was work, not play to while the time away.
School began at 8:00 AM and let out at 4:00 PM with an hour for lunch and two 15 min. recesses. One teacher taught all grades- with some help from the older girls- and each class recited in nearly every subject. We studied or did written assignments while others recited. I am sure that ie why I can concentrate- I don't ignore
the noise- I don't even hear it. With blackboard work, spelldowns, mental arithmetic contests, memorizing everything from the multiplication tables to the preamble to the Constitution, or the Gettysberg Address, and learning poems regularly, helped us both to learn and retain. And program performances before our parents and neighbors helped us banish stage fright and awkwardness. Among my memories is the filling of two full blackboards with 7x9-63, I did remember!
The picnic we took each year before school let out for summer, the Christmas programs, with the treats we all received, the songs we all sang; with a lump in the throat as we sang "America" and saluted the flag.
From this small school have come many children; solemn and mischievous, bright and dull -- they are scattered over the far parts of the earth and many are passed on through death's door. In all walks of life have this school's graduates been represented. Of those I have heard of, included are two Governors of Oregon, one of our great Senators, and one of our state Superintendents of Schools. Doubtless there are many more. This little school, and the discipline expressed by the ringing of this small bell have had their part in forming the History of this state, and this Nation.
If this old school bell could talk
What stories it could tell!
But for this bell and for it's school
Has rung the last farewell.
A modern bus calls girls and boys
to ride to school today,
To a modern school with modern rule
And less work now than play.
Where is the old Geography
The blackboard work each day,
The History, the rule of three,
And recitations, grave or gay?
The one room country school has gone
With it's teacher, to it's fate;
But from it's teaching came the men
Who rule our Country and our State.
The bell that called us all to school was a hand held one with a wooden handle & what I believe to be a nickel or chrome finish bell.
At some time, the clapper came out and some enterprising farm boy replaced it with a piece of baling- or, as we called it - hay wire, and a nut for about a half inch bolt. This is the way it was when I attended Gibbs school in the twenties, and it was still that way when our children went to school there in the fourties.
Somehow I acquired the old bell when the school was closed and consolidated with Springbrook.
The same old building stands on the corner, with the woodshed to the left. It is now used as a shooting range, but as we go by, it brings back memories of days when a calmer pace, pride in accomplishment, and a higher moral standard were a regular part of our lives in Gibbs Community, in the Northeast corner of Yamhill County, Oregon.
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The Story of Louise Gibbons and Her Brother Dick
Written by Louise Gibbons This is a story about Dick and Louise. Dick (Richard Ellis Erickson), born January 23, 1935 in Tillamook, Oregon (the land of cheese, trees, and the ocean breeze, as Daddy always said) and Louise (that's me), Louise Marie Erickson - now Gibbons - born January 5, 1937 in Aberdeen Washington. This is mostly a story about my brother, Dick, but because I only know what a sister knows, it is a story about me also and our times, especially when we were young. The family story has always been that Dick took care of me from the day I was born. He was the perfect big brother. I, of course, don't remember that far back but was told he hovered over me and told Mother to take care of business when I fussed for whatever reason. This no doubt made me a spoiled little girl (I'm sure I was in favor of that!) |
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One early story has it that Dick, when in second grade, was charged with the responsibility of taking me to school. We lived on Interstate Avenue at the time, a very busy highway. We had to cross the highway to reach our school. Apparently, he would deposit me at the kindergarten classroom and I would promptly turn (after he went out of sight) and go home. This habit of simply leaving places where I wasn't happy continued well into my 50s, so I suppose I received little punishment for the behavior! It's a wonder I made more than one or two such trips, however, crossing busy streets and wandering around out there alone. Life was different then and threats to children not so great but still, I'm sure it wasn't perfect. On the other hand, I was a very plain looking child (no golden curls) so probably attracted little attention. I'm amazed I wasn't spanked within an inch of my life and forced to stay in school but Mother once said she just gave in and kept me home that year.
Another story I heard when growing up had to do with Dick running away rather frequently. Mother's solution was to tie him to a tree in the yard. When a policeman showed up in response to a neighbor's phone call, Mother explained that if he could think of a better way to stop Dick from running away, she'd sure try it. Dick was probably about.6 at this time. In those days, parents weren't immediately hauled up before the judge for disciplining their children.
In any case, I remember when World War II began because the old kronewho lived next door to us (I guess on Interstate Ave.) ran to our house in great agitation - the sort of adult behavior a little girl would remember, I guess. I was almost five at that time; Dick was six, almost seven. I have no memory of the beginning of the war as such other than the old krone racing around.
For reasons I don't know, Dick and I went to the Gibbs School in the country for my first-grade year and his third grade. We lived with Auntie Ola and Jerry and Irene and Deryl. They lived in a two-story brown- shingled house on their property down Rex Hill from the schoolhouse at that time. During that winter the house burned to the ground. We were in Portland shopping and when we returned home, all roads leading to the house were manned by family or neighbors to head us off before we reached the house. I was devastated because my baton was hidden behind the sofa (so the other kids wouldn't take it) and was gone - forever! Being a normal self-centered little girl, I have no idea what Dick lost in the fire that was meaningful to him. Or Irene or Deryl either for that matter. So, we all went to live at Grandma and Grandpa's house - the lean-to house on the old family property. I remember sleeping in the room beside the living room where Grandma and Grandpa's bed was. I suppose Irene slept in the other little bed there, too. I have idea what they did with Dick and Deryl - to Auntie Helen's maybe. And, Ola and Jerry must have been sleeping somewhere. Joyce was born while we lived there, essentially homeless. (None of us “older kids” liked her...she was THE INTRUDER – aren’t kids awful?)
In any case, after that one school year at Gibbs., we returned to Portland to live with Mother (Mommie, as she was called then) and Daddy in a house that I don't recall moving into on Milwaukie Avenue in the Bybee area of S.E. Portland. The war was going on and we were all aware of it. I remember the rationing - food, gas, etc. We received a lot of food from Grandpa's farm - meat and all the vegetables we could use. In the summers, the ladies of the family all got together and canned stuff. And, of course, there were fall root vegetables and apples that lasted a long time without canning.
Daddy couldn't go to war because of a hearing problem as I recall, but his brother Jay was in the Army and came to visit when on leave. I thought it was exciting. Mother worked in the shipyard during the war. She was a master electrician and I still have her union card. Dick and I just did what kids do - he played with his pals and I played with mine. We used to play kick the can out in the street at night in the summer. And, at Halloween, one old couple (probably in their 30s!) in our neighborhood always gave us each a Hershey bar. That was about as good as it got. Most people handed out popcorn balls. What a drag!
At some point, someone dreamed up a nifty game. (All of these nifty games we played were played in the evening… no normal daytime stuff for us!) We strung piano wire across Milwaukie Avenue in front of our house. It was a moderately busy street but with enough lulls in traffic to allow the stringing. Then, we caught cars:. It was great fun. Until we caught a police car. Then the whole gang just split. I rim down someone's outside stairs and hid in their basement. I have no idea whose house it was! I'm sure some other really wicked kid in the neighborhood thought up that neat game 'cause Dick and I were fairly strictly disciplined and probably wouldn't have been that imaginative...then.
Speaking of our rearing, we were trained up very strictly. Mother was the disciplinarian. Daddy read books and listened to opera when he wasn't working (he drove truck- a semi - to Coos Bay). Punishment was swift and painful, involving as it did a long skinny stick (like you get in old window blinds) applied to bare bottoms. If one of us tattled on the other, the one who did the tattling was punished. I clearly remember one time during the war when our uncle Ira (Mother’s brother) lived with us (for more reasons I don't know...we were always acquiring someone to live in our home), Dick and I knew Ira had a drawer full of candy and gum from which he drew to send gifts to their brother Hugh who was in the Army in the South Pacific. Well, one day, Dick and I raided the drawer. Mother went sky-high as usual (she over-reacted a bit) and we received our usual smacking on the butt. Daddy took exception big-time. It must have been big-time because I do remember that one. His reasoning was that Ira kept the candy and made no secret of it and should not expect kids who very seldom had candy or sweets of any kind to stay out of it if they were left alone in the house. l think he had a good point - but my bottom still hurt for its appointed time.
So okay, I digressed. Sometime during the three years we lived on Milwaukie Avenue, Dick was picked up by the police (in the daylight) for shoplifting at either the hobby shop or the dime store up the street. It caused quite a furor with Mother, I tell you. She marched him up the street and made him take back everything he stole. To my knowledge, he never again in his entire life took anything that didn't belong to him - but he did go to jail once when he was 14. That comes a little later in the story.
At another time, Dick and l dreamed up a great game one night. Both Mother and Daddy worked at night and Ira was there with us but Ira was a very heavy sleeper. So, we decided to use my bed as a sort of “early trampoline.” We stood up on the headboard which was iron and fell over onto the mattress. Apparently, we didn't watch the clock because this was all too much fun and I was standing on the headboard when the door opened. There was Mother and she was NOT happy. We were marched to the basement and soundly paddled. My additional punishment was that I had to sleep in the basement for two weeks.. Now, l had a nice bedroom upstairs on the second floor. This was a big, roomy house. Dick's room was in the basement, but it had all been fixed up and l guess he liked it there. In any case, I had to sleep right out there in the middle of the basement. Not good. Either we never did anything that bad again or we began learning how to hide our misdeeds a little better.
In any case, while we lived in town during the school years, we spent every summer at Ola and Jerry's - by now, the shotgun house they lived in from 1942 on. Irene and I shared a closet-sized bedroom and the boys - Dick and Deryl - shared the other identical one. Both bedrooms were carved out of space that most people today would consider adequate for a walk-in closet.
We earned spending money by picking blackcaps (black raspberries to those who don't know any better!). It was up early - 5 AM - and out to the fields. (In those days at that time of day, the farm report was always on the radio...a real piece of Americana). We packed our lunches. Auntie Ola made bread once a week and it was the best eating in the world when it was hot from the oven - slathered liberally with homemade butter - but b y the sixth day, spread with peanut butter or that yucky cheese spread with pimento in it, well that was enough to make anyone sick! And Kool-Aid! To this day, I cannot stand the smell of Kool-Aid and certainly would never drink it intentionally.
Then, when the sun got hot in the afternoon, we were sent home and spent happy summer days at Tessman's pond - deep in the woods right next to the Ingraham farm. It had a waterfall that was colder than ice, being in the deep woods, and a pond that was a lot of mud. So, we dug and dug to enlarge the pond so we could “swim.” (When I saw Irene and Alan Tessman in the spring of 1996, we got to talking about the pond and they reported it is just as it was then except it's not deep enough for swimming) Actually, it took Irene and me quite a long time to persuade the boys (Dick and Deryl, Alan and Dean Tessman, and I don't know who else) that we should be able to go swimming at the pond. They actually believed it was for boys only. Outrageous!
We pretty much paired off girl-girl and boy-boy within the family. I don't know what the boy-boys did but we girl-girls had very fertile imaginations and managed to use up every available hour in every day. All of this being done during the war, the war we wandered down a neighbor's driveway one day and, spotting a soda bottle half full of water standing on a tree stump decided that was a secret code and at the end of the road was a nest of spies. Oh, my! The hours we spent either putting more water into the bottle or pouring some out, quite certain that the level of water in the bottle was giving a vital signal to the bad guys outside the compound. Or, we would build a secret house in the woods by finding a somewhat open spot inside an area of trees, moving logs around to make seats for ourselves and spreading fir needles around for the floor. And we would talk about boys. We were very enterprising. I'm sure the boys did very ordinary things in comparison! The four of us kids occasionally would gather up potatoes and dispatch. ourselves to a part of the farm away from the house and trees. We'd then build a fire and cook our potatoes in a frying pan over the fire. If you've never eaten nearly-raw burned potatoes, you haven’t lived!
The boys helped Grandpa with haying. Irene and I didn't do anything useful except embroider things like dishtowels. Once in a while, we were allowed to go to the field; usually, the boys had all the fun. When we rode on the hay wagon, it was high enough for us to pick the really best green apples up higher on the tree. And when we got to the field after trekking back and forth over all these different fields, we girls played while the boys had to load hay on the wagon. Of course, there were field mice and I wasn't keen on those especially when one of the boys did one in with the pitchfork and it spurted blood all over. Yuck!
I remember one trip back to the barn (it was a HUGE barn!) when the hay load was particularly high. Grandpa always told us to not make a sound as we went into the barn because it could spook the horses and cause some serious trouble. Well, one time, I didn't burrow deeply enough in the hay and my nose scraped on a beam. I yelped. The horses jumped. Fortunately, Grandpa was an excellent horseman and was able to control them but that always sweet-tempered man was anything but sweet tempered when I climbed down off the hay. He was fierce and I truly believed he hated me forever. He didn't but I believed it at that moment.
Grandpa (Ellis Aden Winters) was a quiet, humorous, very kind man. It was a family joke when he sneezed. That man could sneeze! Probably, people heard it in Newberg, ten miles away! Certainly, we all heard it if we were at the house and he was at the barn. And his laugh. His laugh was as hearty as his sneezes. He had a twinkle in his eye and a splendid disposition. Grandma did, too. She (Mabel Laura Duncan Winters) was kind and gentle, didn't laugh out loud but sort of chuckled. She was fat. Not grossly obese but not exactly sylph-like either. She cooked on a wood stove in that lean-to house and cooked everything to death. It's hard to make hamburger tough but she just about managed even that! We always ate at the big table that filled the entire kitchen, almost.
On the table, there was always a glass with celery stalks in.it in water. Dessert nearly always was canned fruit. Once in a while, we had ice cream and the dairy put a balloon in each quart or half gallon (I was just a little kid...how'd I know what size it was?). We four kids took turns (without arguing, mmd you! And we never counted Joyce in the distribution either!) getting the balloon and that was a major treat. It may seem like child abuse, but we received gifts once a year - at Christmas and I don't recall there being more than about two per each.
There was so much stuff stuffed in that kitchen it's a wonder it worked. I suppose everyone just stood sideways to get past. We washed our hands in a pan of water because the only running water in the house was at the kitchen sink and that wasn't used for washing hands. The toilet was in the outhouse and it seems to me in the early days, the toilet paper really was the Sears catalog. In the winter, it was awful. Cold. In the summer it wasn't terrific. Smelly. But, what the heck, it's a memory, isn't it? Our times around the farm really were good times. The thrashing parties when neighbors came to help put up the grain for winter were especially fun. Lots of people - the men running machinery, the women including little girls preparing an enormous spread to be served at lunchtime to the crew. It was rather party-like. At other times when it was just family, we kids played outside after dinner while the grown-ups played pinochle in the living room - or sometimes we would just sit and watch them. Without a lot of conversation about it, we children were seen and not heard.
In town, we took piano lessons from Mrs. Wood, a very nice lady up a couple blocks or so from our house and played duets in recitals. Dick and I pretty much got along all the time. Once in a blue moon, we were taken to the Poll Parrot Restaurant up Milwaukie Avenue for hamburgers. Dick ordered his with onions one time without knowing they were going to be cooked onions. He just about gagged getting that sandwich down but the rule was absolute - if you ordered it, you ate it. That rather encouraged asking questions if one wasn't sure.
We lived on Milwaukie Avenue during Dick's fourth, fifth and sixth grades in school and then suddenly Mother sold the house. Daddy didn't know it was coming - really weird. Sometime during that three years on Milwaukie Avenue, we acquired a little girl with big blue eyes and golden curls. I can't recall her name but clearly recall that I thought I was being replaced.
Looking at pictures of myself at that age, it was no contest. How can you pit knock knees and a skinny head with pigtails pulled back ‘til it looks like no hair at all with blue eyes and golden curls? I don't know where she came from; I do know Mother wanted to adopt her and the little girl's mother wouldn't let her do that. Dick and I never talked about it so I don't know if he noticed she was there.
When Mother sold the house, she moved us into a three-bedroom house in Kellogg Park with our uncle Hugh, his Australian wife Gladys and their baby, Kenneth. They had all just returned from the war; Kellogg Park was one of the very first developments to spring up. Why she did that has never been explained. The house was crowded; Gladys was strange and that wasn't a kid's recollection, either. She was just plain balmy. Maybe drinking whiskey with a beer chaser had something to do with it. At any rate, the house was beside the railroad tracks. In the summer, the caboose came to a stop right beside our house and the trainmen would frequently put a big block of ice in our yard so Dick and I could sit on it and stay cool. I don't know how he felt about it, but I sure didn’t feel wanted in that place. Then, too, this was the beginning of a moving marathon that went on for three years.
First, we packed our boxes and moved to a rental house in Durham, Oregon - out near Tualatin. In fact, it was beside the highway then being built - I mean, right beside it! My girlfriend and I used to ride her horses on that road. We now call that road I-5. It was a pretty nice house. Daddy still drove the truck at night and Mother had taken a job as a waitress at the Cloud Room, a nightclub. So , both of them were gone at night. I guess I was about nine years old then and Dick was eleven. Being always the caretaker he would sleep in an overstuffed chair in the living room within seeing distance of my bed so I could go to sleep. When Mother came in at 2 in the morning, she would get him to his own bed for the rest of the night. We still took piano lessons and practiced before school so we took turns getting up at 5:30 to practice. It must have hard for Dick after sleeping in one place and another the night before.
Sometimes, we were sent to the neighbor behind us which required going through some high bushes. It was spooky. Dick was always right there with me and never teased me about being afraid. I was afraid. Nothing ever seemed settled.
Daddy didn't work on Saturday nights so those were really fun times. He had a Model-T Ford and would let Dick and me drive it to the store and back - one drove to and the other drove from. My driving was jerky to a ridiculous and uproarious extreme. I imagine Dick's driving was pretty good. Then, sometimes Daddy would put boxing gloves on us - one glove on me and one on Dick - and we would box. One night we blacked his eye! Then, other times Daddy made lemon pies. He made the world's best lemon pie! There was so little just plain fun in our family that involved adults that I know I just loved those evenings with Daddy. I learned at a later time that he would promise to do things with Dick - like take him skiing - but would then just go off without him, without even waking him. Dick never talked to me about that but it had to hurt very deep.
One Saturday when we were there having a good time, a policeman came to the door. Daddy could see him through the glass so he sent us to the basement. When we were allowed to come back up Daddy was sitting in his chair crying. The policeman had served divorce papers on him. Mother had divorced him once before when I was five but I don't remember that except that we went one time to see Mother in a hospital and I learned later it was a mental ward. They remarried I guess the next year. That must have been when Dick and I went to Gibbs School. (Putting this together is a good exercise...helps me make sense of things that don't make any)
So, Daddy moved away. While he packed his things, Dick and I climbed up into the tree houses he and his friends had made (mine was on the very lowest branch...I was a ninny). Neither of us wanted to be near the event. Then, I remember hugging Daddy goodbye and I suppose Dick did, too. And he was gone. And the boxes soon came out and we were moving again. We had been at that house six months. For the next 2-1/2 years we would move almost as if on a clock every six months. I attended 9 grade schools in 8 years and I rather assume Dick did, too.
First we went to stay with friends of Mother's...Bonnie (her hairdresser;..bleached blonde) and Cliff her husband…darkly handsome) and Aunt Nonnie (her mother). We had to call her “Aunt” Nonnie even though she wasn't related. We had to eat wheat germ. We had to go to Mother's room and be quiet after dinner. I don't know about Dick but I definitely was not happy there.
One evening when I wanted to go half a block up the street to visit a girlfriend, Dick wouldn't let me and tried to block the door. l raced from the front door to the back door and back again over and over and finally broke the pane in the back door and while he stood stunned, raced out the front door. He was right to try and keep me there. I was stupid. A little girl been murdered not far from our house not long before and her body was chopped up and put in the sewer. He was doing what he was supposed to do. And we had been warned that if we caused any trouble we would be put in foster homes and probably wouldn't been together.
We stayed there six months and then packed our things and went back to the country to live with Ola and Jerry. Their house was rather like a revolving door for the Erickson kids. Six months somewhere else; six months with them. At least they were family and were very good to us but still, it was an unsettling life we led.
Finally, when Dick was beginning high school (9th grade) and I was entering 7th grade, Mother bought a house on Brooklyn Street in Portland where we lived until we both left home. He continued to be my guardian, deciding which of my friends were “appropriate” and which were not. He had an interesting way of expressing his opinion. He didn't speak of it; he simply left the room and went away whenever a Louise friend he didn't think appropriate walked in the door.
While we lived on Brooklyn Street, Dick had his second encounter with the Portland Police Department. He went to visit his friend, Don, one Saturday evening and I was home doing whatever dumb thing I did when alone, probably reading (we didn't have TV in those days). Since we had a curfew of 9:30 pm to both be in the house, when he didn't arrive by 10, I became concerned. We also had an absolute direction that we were never to call Mother at work for any reason whatever - ever! Well, when Dick didn't arrive by 11, I broke the rule and called Mother to report that he wasn't home and ask where he was. She tersely told me he was all right and I should go to bed. So I did. Well! The next morning, Mother went to jail and picked up my big brother and brought him home. He and Don had come up with a better game than when we caught cars on Milwaukie Avenue. Don lived on Clinton Street, a fairly busy street, and they decided to act out a murder as cars came down the hill. One would be stabbed by the other (using a rubber knife) and the stabbed fellow would fall into the gutter. When the car would screech to a halt, the stabbee would jump up and run like hell. This worked fine until the car that screeched was a police car! His only comment upon returning home that Sunday morning was that he was never going to go there again. They gave him cold mush and warm milk for breakfast and he didn't like that at all!
While Mother worked and we amused ourselves, Dick and I had an ongoing ping-pong tournament night after night. I don't believe the tournament ever finished. We probably got tired of it eventually. Sometimes I prepared our dinner and sometimes Mother prepared something and left it in the oven for me to finish. We then had responsibility for cleaning up the kitchen, doing the dishes and closing all the cupboards. More than once, we were roused from bed to put away the dishes or close the cupboard doors when she arrived home at 2:00 A.M.
Once when Dick and his friend Dick Loney were going on a double date, they had some spare time and decided to play a couple hands of poker. Being a good little sister, I whined until they let me play, too, the upshot being that l won all the games and took their money! They never let me whine my way into a poker game after that.
Dick played trumpet in the high school band. Mother and I loved to watch them march and hear them play. Otherwise, he wasn't involved in many school activities. l was involved in everything that was going on and he became known as “Louise's brother,” a title he resented for a Iong, long time. After I moved to Washington, D.C. in 1962 and returned a couple years later for a visit, he glowed when his friends introduced me to their friends as “Dick's sister.” He had finally come into his own!
l fell madly in love with the idea of being married in 1955 and did that (got married). Stupid move. Shortly after, Dick married Norma Bonge. Neither marriage lasted. I know why mine didn't; don't know about Dick's.
Later, when I was in Portland State College (as it was known then), I lived at Mother's house on Brooklyn Street for the first quarter and then Dick and I moved together into an apartment on Park Street. It was in a Victorian four-plex. Our apartment was above a psychic reader who had a red neon sign in the front window. We came close to being kicked out before we moved in since we invited a few of mostly my college friends in for a moving-in party the night before we moved in. Many more showed up than we anticipated and we made horrendous noise. Somehow, he managed to calm the man at the bank who managed the apartment and we stayed there in compatible coexistence for 3 years. Dick was fun to be around; he was the perfect roommate - he helped equally with cooking meals and cleaning He continued his secret communication system regarding my friends and that caused me to take a second look at those he walked out on as they came in the door. Through the years, Dick always was my sounding board. He guided and directed me; he taught me to drive a car; he helped me understand the male creatures I dated; he was my friend.
Dick had a wonderful sense of humor. When he and l were together, we had a peculiar communication system than neither of our spouses could quite understand. It involved starting a sentence that brought a thought that led to a totally different thought and so on. We knew what we were doing; no one else did! What fun! One evening while I was in college, a friend of mine dropped by and, noticing a photograph of me on the bookshelf, he asked if it was me. I told him it was my sister Laura, my twin sister. From that point on, Dick fell right in with the gag and we invented the most incredible story about Laura. She was something else! Lived in San Francisco, behaved very badly …a real slut! Somewhere along the way, Daddy showed up to visit and he, too, fell right into the sad, sad story of my twin sister Laura. We were all laughing as we invented this yarn but my friend (who really was an awfully nice, very bright young 4.0 student), took it all seriously and was devastated several weeks later when he asked about my sister Laura and was told it was all a joke. It never occurred to Dick, Daddy. or me that anyone would have taken our act seriously.
Dick was as smart as they come. However, when we first shared the apartment on Park Street, he decided he would take a class at PSC in the evening. So, having not attended school above high school level and having never studied a foreign language, he signed up for Russian. After two classes, he quit. He said he couldn't compete with the Reed College students in the class.
I will love my brother Dick until the day I die – his quick wit, his grace and style, his caring compassion. He was quite a guy!
Another story I heard when growing up had to do with Dick running away rather frequently. Mother's solution was to tie him to a tree in the yard. When a policeman showed up in response to a neighbor's phone call, Mother explained that if he could think of a better way to stop Dick from running away, she'd sure try it. Dick was probably about.6 at this time. In those days, parents weren't immediately hauled up before the judge for disciplining their children.
In any case, I remember when World War II began because the old kronewho lived next door to us (I guess on Interstate Ave.) ran to our house in great agitation - the sort of adult behavior a little girl would remember, I guess. I was almost five at that time; Dick was six, almost seven. I have no memory of the beginning of the war as such other than the old krone racing around.
For reasons I don't know, Dick and I went to the Gibbs School in the country for my first-grade year and his third grade. We lived with Auntie Ola and Jerry and Irene and Deryl. They lived in a two-story brown- shingled house on their property down Rex Hill from the schoolhouse at that time. During that winter the house burned to the ground. We were in Portland shopping and when we returned home, all roads leading to the house were manned by family or neighbors to head us off before we reached the house. I was devastated because my baton was hidden behind the sofa (so the other kids wouldn't take it) and was gone - forever! Being a normal self-centered little girl, I have no idea what Dick lost in the fire that was meaningful to him. Or Irene or Deryl either for that matter. So, we all went to live at Grandma and Grandpa's house - the lean-to house on the old family property. I remember sleeping in the room beside the living room where Grandma and Grandpa's bed was. I suppose Irene slept in the other little bed there, too. I have idea what they did with Dick and Deryl - to Auntie Helen's maybe. And, Ola and Jerry must have been sleeping somewhere. Joyce was born while we lived there, essentially homeless. (None of us “older kids” liked her...she was THE INTRUDER – aren’t kids awful?)
In any case, after that one school year at Gibbs., we returned to Portland to live with Mother (Mommie, as she was called then) and Daddy in a house that I don't recall moving into on Milwaukie Avenue in the Bybee area of S.E. Portland. The war was going on and we were all aware of it. I remember the rationing - food, gas, etc. We received a lot of food from Grandpa's farm - meat and all the vegetables we could use. In the summers, the ladies of the family all got together and canned stuff. And, of course, there were fall root vegetables and apples that lasted a long time without canning.
Daddy couldn't go to war because of a hearing problem as I recall, but his brother Jay was in the Army and came to visit when on leave. I thought it was exciting. Mother worked in the shipyard during the war. She was a master electrician and I still have her union card. Dick and I just did what kids do - he played with his pals and I played with mine. We used to play kick the can out in the street at night in the summer. And, at Halloween, one old couple (probably in their 30s!) in our neighborhood always gave us each a Hershey bar. That was about as good as it got. Most people handed out popcorn balls. What a drag!
At some point, someone dreamed up a nifty game. (All of these nifty games we played were played in the evening… no normal daytime stuff for us!) We strung piano wire across Milwaukie Avenue in front of our house. It was a moderately busy street but with enough lulls in traffic to allow the stringing. Then, we caught cars:. It was great fun. Until we caught a police car. Then the whole gang just split. I rim down someone's outside stairs and hid in their basement. I have no idea whose house it was! I'm sure some other really wicked kid in the neighborhood thought up that neat game 'cause Dick and I were fairly strictly disciplined and probably wouldn't have been that imaginative...then.
Speaking of our rearing, we were trained up very strictly. Mother was the disciplinarian. Daddy read books and listened to opera when he wasn't working (he drove truck- a semi - to Coos Bay). Punishment was swift and painful, involving as it did a long skinny stick (like you get in old window blinds) applied to bare bottoms. If one of us tattled on the other, the one who did the tattling was punished. I clearly remember one time during the war when our uncle Ira (Mother’s brother) lived with us (for more reasons I don't know...we were always acquiring someone to live in our home), Dick and I knew Ira had a drawer full of candy and gum from which he drew to send gifts to their brother Hugh who was in the Army in the South Pacific. Well, one day, Dick and I raided the drawer. Mother went sky-high as usual (she over-reacted a bit) and we received our usual smacking on the butt. Daddy took exception big-time. It must have been big-time because I do remember that one. His reasoning was that Ira kept the candy and made no secret of it and should not expect kids who very seldom had candy or sweets of any kind to stay out of it if they were left alone in the house. l think he had a good point - but my bottom still hurt for its appointed time.
So okay, I digressed. Sometime during the three years we lived on Milwaukie Avenue, Dick was picked up by the police (in the daylight) for shoplifting at either the hobby shop or the dime store up the street. It caused quite a furor with Mother, I tell you. She marched him up the street and made him take back everything he stole. To my knowledge, he never again in his entire life took anything that didn't belong to him - but he did go to jail once when he was 14. That comes a little later in the story.
At another time, Dick and l dreamed up a great game one night. Both Mother and Daddy worked at night and Ira was there with us but Ira was a very heavy sleeper. So, we decided to use my bed as a sort of “early trampoline.” We stood up on the headboard which was iron and fell over onto the mattress. Apparently, we didn't watch the clock because this was all too much fun and I was standing on the headboard when the door opened. There was Mother and she was NOT happy. We were marched to the basement and soundly paddled. My additional punishment was that I had to sleep in the basement for two weeks.. Now, l had a nice bedroom upstairs on the second floor. This was a big, roomy house. Dick's room was in the basement, but it had all been fixed up and l guess he liked it there. In any case, I had to sleep right out there in the middle of the basement. Not good. Either we never did anything that bad again or we began learning how to hide our misdeeds a little better.
In any case, while we lived in town during the school years, we spent every summer at Ola and Jerry's - by now, the shotgun house they lived in from 1942 on. Irene and I shared a closet-sized bedroom and the boys - Dick and Deryl - shared the other identical one. Both bedrooms were carved out of space that most people today would consider adequate for a walk-in closet.
We earned spending money by picking blackcaps (black raspberries to those who don't know any better!). It was up early - 5 AM - and out to the fields. (In those days at that time of day, the farm report was always on the radio...a real piece of Americana). We packed our lunches. Auntie Ola made bread once a week and it was the best eating in the world when it was hot from the oven - slathered liberally with homemade butter - but b y the sixth day, spread with peanut butter or that yucky cheese spread with pimento in it, well that was enough to make anyone sick! And Kool-Aid! To this day, I cannot stand the smell of Kool-Aid and certainly would never drink it intentionally.
Then, when the sun got hot in the afternoon, we were sent home and spent happy summer days at Tessman's pond - deep in the woods right next to the Ingraham farm. It had a waterfall that was colder than ice, being in the deep woods, and a pond that was a lot of mud. So, we dug and dug to enlarge the pond so we could “swim.” (When I saw Irene and Alan Tessman in the spring of 1996, we got to talking about the pond and they reported it is just as it was then except it's not deep enough for swimming) Actually, it took Irene and me quite a long time to persuade the boys (Dick and Deryl, Alan and Dean Tessman, and I don't know who else) that we should be able to go swimming at the pond. They actually believed it was for boys only. Outrageous!
We pretty much paired off girl-girl and boy-boy within the family. I don't know what the boy-boys did but we girl-girls had very fertile imaginations and managed to use up every available hour in every day. All of this being done during the war, the war we wandered down a neighbor's driveway one day and, spotting a soda bottle half full of water standing on a tree stump decided that was a secret code and at the end of the road was a nest of spies. Oh, my! The hours we spent either putting more water into the bottle or pouring some out, quite certain that the level of water in the bottle was giving a vital signal to the bad guys outside the compound. Or, we would build a secret house in the woods by finding a somewhat open spot inside an area of trees, moving logs around to make seats for ourselves and spreading fir needles around for the floor. And we would talk about boys. We were very enterprising. I'm sure the boys did very ordinary things in comparison! The four of us kids occasionally would gather up potatoes and dispatch. ourselves to a part of the farm away from the house and trees. We'd then build a fire and cook our potatoes in a frying pan over the fire. If you've never eaten nearly-raw burned potatoes, you haven’t lived!
The boys helped Grandpa with haying. Irene and I didn't do anything useful except embroider things like dishtowels. Once in a while, we were allowed to go to the field; usually, the boys had all the fun. When we rode on the hay wagon, it was high enough for us to pick the really best green apples up higher on the tree. And when we got to the field after trekking back and forth over all these different fields, we girls played while the boys had to load hay on the wagon. Of course, there were field mice and I wasn't keen on those especially when one of the boys did one in with the pitchfork and it spurted blood all over. Yuck!
I remember one trip back to the barn (it was a HUGE barn!) when the hay load was particularly high. Grandpa always told us to not make a sound as we went into the barn because it could spook the horses and cause some serious trouble. Well, one time, I didn't burrow deeply enough in the hay and my nose scraped on a beam. I yelped. The horses jumped. Fortunately, Grandpa was an excellent horseman and was able to control them but that always sweet-tempered man was anything but sweet tempered when I climbed down off the hay. He was fierce and I truly believed he hated me forever. He didn't but I believed it at that moment.
Grandpa (Ellis Aden Winters) was a quiet, humorous, very kind man. It was a family joke when he sneezed. That man could sneeze! Probably, people heard it in Newberg, ten miles away! Certainly, we all heard it if we were at the house and he was at the barn. And his laugh. His laugh was as hearty as his sneezes. He had a twinkle in his eye and a splendid disposition. Grandma did, too. She (Mabel Laura Duncan Winters) was kind and gentle, didn't laugh out loud but sort of chuckled. She was fat. Not grossly obese but not exactly sylph-like either. She cooked on a wood stove in that lean-to house and cooked everything to death. It's hard to make hamburger tough but she just about managed even that! We always ate at the big table that filled the entire kitchen, almost.
On the table, there was always a glass with celery stalks in.it in water. Dessert nearly always was canned fruit. Once in a while, we had ice cream and the dairy put a balloon in each quart or half gallon (I was just a little kid...how'd I know what size it was?). We four kids took turns (without arguing, mmd you! And we never counted Joyce in the distribution either!) getting the balloon and that was a major treat. It may seem like child abuse, but we received gifts once a year - at Christmas and I don't recall there being more than about two per each.
There was so much stuff stuffed in that kitchen it's a wonder it worked. I suppose everyone just stood sideways to get past. We washed our hands in a pan of water because the only running water in the house was at the kitchen sink and that wasn't used for washing hands. The toilet was in the outhouse and it seems to me in the early days, the toilet paper really was the Sears catalog. In the winter, it was awful. Cold. In the summer it wasn't terrific. Smelly. But, what the heck, it's a memory, isn't it? Our times around the farm really were good times. The thrashing parties when neighbors came to help put up the grain for winter were especially fun. Lots of people - the men running machinery, the women including little girls preparing an enormous spread to be served at lunchtime to the crew. It was rather party-like. At other times when it was just family, we kids played outside after dinner while the grown-ups played pinochle in the living room - or sometimes we would just sit and watch them. Without a lot of conversation about it, we children were seen and not heard.
In town, we took piano lessons from Mrs. Wood, a very nice lady up a couple blocks or so from our house and played duets in recitals. Dick and I pretty much got along all the time. Once in a blue moon, we were taken to the Poll Parrot Restaurant up Milwaukie Avenue for hamburgers. Dick ordered his with onions one time without knowing they were going to be cooked onions. He just about gagged getting that sandwich down but the rule was absolute - if you ordered it, you ate it. That rather encouraged asking questions if one wasn't sure.
We lived on Milwaukie Avenue during Dick's fourth, fifth and sixth grades in school and then suddenly Mother sold the house. Daddy didn't know it was coming - really weird. Sometime during that three years on Milwaukie Avenue, we acquired a little girl with big blue eyes and golden curls. I can't recall her name but clearly recall that I thought I was being replaced.
Looking at pictures of myself at that age, it was no contest. How can you pit knock knees and a skinny head with pigtails pulled back ‘til it looks like no hair at all with blue eyes and golden curls? I don't know where she came from; I do know Mother wanted to adopt her and the little girl's mother wouldn't let her do that. Dick and I never talked about it so I don't know if he noticed she was there.
When Mother sold the house, she moved us into a three-bedroom house in Kellogg Park with our uncle Hugh, his Australian wife Gladys and their baby, Kenneth. They had all just returned from the war; Kellogg Park was one of the very first developments to spring up. Why she did that has never been explained. The house was crowded; Gladys was strange and that wasn't a kid's recollection, either. She was just plain balmy. Maybe drinking whiskey with a beer chaser had something to do with it. At any rate, the house was beside the railroad tracks. In the summer, the caboose came to a stop right beside our house and the trainmen would frequently put a big block of ice in our yard so Dick and I could sit on it and stay cool. I don't know how he felt about it, but I sure didn’t feel wanted in that place. Then, too, this was the beginning of a moving marathon that went on for three years.
First, we packed our boxes and moved to a rental house in Durham, Oregon - out near Tualatin. In fact, it was beside the highway then being built - I mean, right beside it! My girlfriend and I used to ride her horses on that road. We now call that road I-5. It was a pretty nice house. Daddy still drove the truck at night and Mother had taken a job as a waitress at the Cloud Room, a nightclub. So , both of them were gone at night. I guess I was about nine years old then and Dick was eleven. Being always the caretaker he would sleep in an overstuffed chair in the living room within seeing distance of my bed so I could go to sleep. When Mother came in at 2 in the morning, she would get him to his own bed for the rest of the night. We still took piano lessons and practiced before school so we took turns getting up at 5:30 to practice. It must have hard for Dick after sleeping in one place and another the night before.
Sometimes, we were sent to the neighbor behind us which required going through some high bushes. It was spooky. Dick was always right there with me and never teased me about being afraid. I was afraid. Nothing ever seemed settled.
Daddy didn't work on Saturday nights so those were really fun times. He had a Model-T Ford and would let Dick and me drive it to the store and back - one drove to and the other drove from. My driving was jerky to a ridiculous and uproarious extreme. I imagine Dick's driving was pretty good. Then, sometimes Daddy would put boxing gloves on us - one glove on me and one on Dick - and we would box. One night we blacked his eye! Then, other times Daddy made lemon pies. He made the world's best lemon pie! There was so little just plain fun in our family that involved adults that I know I just loved those evenings with Daddy. I learned at a later time that he would promise to do things with Dick - like take him skiing - but would then just go off without him, without even waking him. Dick never talked to me about that but it had to hurt very deep.
One Saturday when we were there having a good time, a policeman came to the door. Daddy could see him through the glass so he sent us to the basement. When we were allowed to come back up Daddy was sitting in his chair crying. The policeman had served divorce papers on him. Mother had divorced him once before when I was five but I don't remember that except that we went one time to see Mother in a hospital and I learned later it was a mental ward. They remarried I guess the next year. That must have been when Dick and I went to Gibbs School. (Putting this together is a good exercise...helps me make sense of things that don't make any)
So, Daddy moved away. While he packed his things, Dick and I climbed up into the tree houses he and his friends had made (mine was on the very lowest branch...I was a ninny). Neither of us wanted to be near the event. Then, I remember hugging Daddy goodbye and I suppose Dick did, too. And he was gone. And the boxes soon came out and we were moving again. We had been at that house six months. For the next 2-1/2 years we would move almost as if on a clock every six months. I attended 9 grade schools in 8 years and I rather assume Dick did, too.
First we went to stay with friends of Mother's...Bonnie (her hairdresser;..bleached blonde) and Cliff her husband…darkly handsome) and Aunt Nonnie (her mother). We had to call her “Aunt” Nonnie even though she wasn't related. We had to eat wheat germ. We had to go to Mother's room and be quiet after dinner. I don't know about Dick but I definitely was not happy there.
One evening when I wanted to go half a block up the street to visit a girlfriend, Dick wouldn't let me and tried to block the door. l raced from the front door to the back door and back again over and over and finally broke the pane in the back door and while he stood stunned, raced out the front door. He was right to try and keep me there. I was stupid. A little girl been murdered not far from our house not long before and her body was chopped up and put in the sewer. He was doing what he was supposed to do. And we had been warned that if we caused any trouble we would be put in foster homes and probably wouldn't been together.
We stayed there six months and then packed our things and went back to the country to live with Ola and Jerry. Their house was rather like a revolving door for the Erickson kids. Six months somewhere else; six months with them. At least they were family and were very good to us but still, it was an unsettling life we led.
Finally, when Dick was beginning high school (9th grade) and I was entering 7th grade, Mother bought a house on Brooklyn Street in Portland where we lived until we both left home. He continued to be my guardian, deciding which of my friends were “appropriate” and which were not. He had an interesting way of expressing his opinion. He didn't speak of it; he simply left the room and went away whenever a Louise friend he didn't think appropriate walked in the door.
While we lived on Brooklyn Street, Dick had his second encounter with the Portland Police Department. He went to visit his friend, Don, one Saturday evening and I was home doing whatever dumb thing I did when alone, probably reading (we didn't have TV in those days). Since we had a curfew of 9:30 pm to both be in the house, when he didn't arrive by 10, I became concerned. We also had an absolute direction that we were never to call Mother at work for any reason whatever - ever! Well, when Dick didn't arrive by 11, I broke the rule and called Mother to report that he wasn't home and ask where he was. She tersely told me he was all right and I should go to bed. So I did. Well! The next morning, Mother went to jail and picked up my big brother and brought him home. He and Don had come up with a better game than when we caught cars on Milwaukie Avenue. Don lived on Clinton Street, a fairly busy street, and they decided to act out a murder as cars came down the hill. One would be stabbed by the other (using a rubber knife) and the stabbed fellow would fall into the gutter. When the car would screech to a halt, the stabbee would jump up and run like hell. This worked fine until the car that screeched was a police car! His only comment upon returning home that Sunday morning was that he was never going to go there again. They gave him cold mush and warm milk for breakfast and he didn't like that at all!
While Mother worked and we amused ourselves, Dick and I had an ongoing ping-pong tournament night after night. I don't believe the tournament ever finished. We probably got tired of it eventually. Sometimes I prepared our dinner and sometimes Mother prepared something and left it in the oven for me to finish. We then had responsibility for cleaning up the kitchen, doing the dishes and closing all the cupboards. More than once, we were roused from bed to put away the dishes or close the cupboard doors when she arrived home at 2:00 A.M.
Once when Dick and his friend Dick Loney were going on a double date, they had some spare time and decided to play a couple hands of poker. Being a good little sister, I whined until they let me play, too, the upshot being that l won all the games and took their money! They never let me whine my way into a poker game after that.
Dick played trumpet in the high school band. Mother and I loved to watch them march and hear them play. Otherwise, he wasn't involved in many school activities. l was involved in everything that was going on and he became known as “Louise's brother,” a title he resented for a Iong, long time. After I moved to Washington, D.C. in 1962 and returned a couple years later for a visit, he glowed when his friends introduced me to their friends as “Dick's sister.” He had finally come into his own!
l fell madly in love with the idea of being married in 1955 and did that (got married). Stupid move. Shortly after, Dick married Norma Bonge. Neither marriage lasted. I know why mine didn't; don't know about Dick's.
Later, when I was in Portland State College (as it was known then), I lived at Mother's house on Brooklyn Street for the first quarter and then Dick and I moved together into an apartment on Park Street. It was in a Victorian four-plex. Our apartment was above a psychic reader who had a red neon sign in the front window. We came close to being kicked out before we moved in since we invited a few of mostly my college friends in for a moving-in party the night before we moved in. Many more showed up than we anticipated and we made horrendous noise. Somehow, he managed to calm the man at the bank who managed the apartment and we stayed there in compatible coexistence for 3 years. Dick was fun to be around; he was the perfect roommate - he helped equally with cooking meals and cleaning He continued his secret communication system regarding my friends and that caused me to take a second look at those he walked out on as they came in the door. Through the years, Dick always was my sounding board. He guided and directed me; he taught me to drive a car; he helped me understand the male creatures I dated; he was my friend.
Dick had a wonderful sense of humor. When he and l were together, we had a peculiar communication system than neither of our spouses could quite understand. It involved starting a sentence that brought a thought that led to a totally different thought and so on. We knew what we were doing; no one else did! What fun! One evening while I was in college, a friend of mine dropped by and, noticing a photograph of me on the bookshelf, he asked if it was me. I told him it was my sister Laura, my twin sister. From that point on, Dick fell right in with the gag and we invented the most incredible story about Laura. She was something else! Lived in San Francisco, behaved very badly …a real slut! Somewhere along the way, Daddy showed up to visit and he, too, fell right into the sad, sad story of my twin sister Laura. We were all laughing as we invented this yarn but my friend (who really was an awfully nice, very bright young 4.0 student), took it all seriously and was devastated several weeks later when he asked about my sister Laura and was told it was all a joke. It never occurred to Dick, Daddy. or me that anyone would have taken our act seriously.
Dick was as smart as they come. However, when we first shared the apartment on Park Street, he decided he would take a class at PSC in the evening. So, having not attended school above high school level and having never studied a foreign language, he signed up for Russian. After two classes, he quit. He said he couldn't compete with the Reed College students in the class.
I will love my brother Dick until the day I die – his quick wit, his grace and style, his caring compassion. He was quite a guy!
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Velda Winters' Story Wins Cedar Chest
Velda Winters was presented with a handsome cedar chest at Thursday’s assembly for having written the best paper entitled “Happy Discovery” in a better homes contest sponsored by the Power’s Furniture company. A second prize – a mahogany rocking chair – was presented to Thelma Stabence for her paper called “I Ask You.” “Home Should Come First,” by Josie Stark merited third place. Such a large number of commendable papers were written that five students received honorable mention on the following stories: Robert Orth, on his paper, “So Harry Helps,” Matilda Duncan, on “Good Home Environment Words Wonders,” Clara Dezerick on “Home First”, Irene Yarness on “Impressions of Home”, and Barbara Kirkland on a manuscript entitled “The Home Should Come First” |
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THE HAPPY DISCOVERY
By Velda Winters
As usual Dora met Jack at the door, but her pleasant smile was gone and in its place was a countenance that would have made the most bitter object envious.
“Why, Dora, what's the matter!” exclaimed Jack.
“Oh, Jack,” sobbed Dora, “We have another invitation to a dinner at Clara's and--and we just can’t go—that’s all.”
“And just why can't we go!" asked Jack.
“Well, we can't have Clara and Tom here to dinner and until we can I won’t go there again,” replied Dora, who seemed much relieved at the opportunity of telling her troubles to Jack.
“I don't really see why we can’t have them come! I know I should enjoy having them,” hastily added Jack, trying very hard to please Dora.
“But, Jack,” insisted Dora, “We can’t invite them here to dinner when we have the kind of furniture we have. Why, I should be embarrassed to death if Clara even stepped into the dining-room. You know as well as I do that our dining-room furniture is absolutely impossible.”
For a moment Jack was silent; then he replied, “I am sorry Dora, for I realize how our furniture looks but I don't see how we can do anything about it at present.”
Nothing more was said about either the furniture or the dinner.
Nevertheless Dora couldn’t entirely forget it and when she picked up the paper it was quite natural that she should notice advertisements.
She became so interested that she looked at and read every furniture advertisement in the paper. The main thing she noticed was that you could get some of the best standard makes of furniture at very reasonable prices and with easy monthly payments. These points interested Dora and when she had finished reading the last advertisement she showed it to Jack. At first he was not interested at all and said she was foolish for thinking you could get really good furniture so reasonable. After Dora had showed him several of the interesting advertisements he finally agreed to go with her and look at some furniture.
The next day· on Jack's noon hour they looked at furniture. At first Jack was critical but it did not take him long to become just as interested as Dora was. He soon discovered that the announcements they had seen in the paper had been correct. The best furniture could be gotten at very reasonable prices and with easy terms, too.
After they had looked at furniture four or five times they decided that it would be wise to face the situation squarely before looking farther. They brought up all questions involved and finally decided that by omitting a few movies, their weekly dinner down town, Dora's marcell and Jack's after dinner cigar, they could afford to get some new furniture. The sum to be paid monthly was quite small so they decided that they could afford to get something besides the new dining-room set. This brought up a new question but it was soon settled in favor of new rugs in the dining-room and living-room.
“Just think, Jack,” enthusiastically exclaimed Dora, “With a new dining-room set, a new rug in the dining-room and one in the living-room plus what I can do myself I can make this house almost as attractive as Clara's!”
Jack and Dora were very happy as they entered the store and picked out the furniture that was to be theirs, but their cup of happiness was completely filled the evening they had Clara and Tom to dinner. Clara said she thought their dining-room was lovely and wanted to know where they ever found such attractive rugs. Neither Jack nor Dora said where or how they got their new furniture but after Clara and Tom had left Jack said, “I certainly wish I had known we could get such lovely furniture so conveniently sooner.”
Dora's only reply was, “I am glad we know now.”
By Velda Winters
As usual Dora met Jack at the door, but her pleasant smile was gone and in its place was a countenance that would have made the most bitter object envious.
“Why, Dora, what's the matter!” exclaimed Jack.
“Oh, Jack,” sobbed Dora, “We have another invitation to a dinner at Clara's and--and we just can’t go—that’s all.”
“And just why can't we go!" asked Jack.
“Well, we can't have Clara and Tom here to dinner and until we can I won’t go there again,” replied Dora, who seemed much relieved at the opportunity of telling her troubles to Jack.
“I don't really see why we can’t have them come! I know I should enjoy having them,” hastily added Jack, trying very hard to please Dora.
“But, Jack,” insisted Dora, “We can’t invite them here to dinner when we have the kind of furniture we have. Why, I should be embarrassed to death if Clara even stepped into the dining-room. You know as well as I do that our dining-room furniture is absolutely impossible.”
For a moment Jack was silent; then he replied, “I am sorry Dora, for I realize how our furniture looks but I don't see how we can do anything about it at present.”
Nothing more was said about either the furniture or the dinner.
Nevertheless Dora couldn’t entirely forget it and when she picked up the paper it was quite natural that she should notice advertisements.
She became so interested that she looked at and read every furniture advertisement in the paper. The main thing she noticed was that you could get some of the best standard makes of furniture at very reasonable prices and with easy monthly payments. These points interested Dora and when she had finished reading the last advertisement she showed it to Jack. At first he was not interested at all and said she was foolish for thinking you could get really good furniture so reasonable. After Dora had showed him several of the interesting advertisements he finally agreed to go with her and look at some furniture.
The next day· on Jack's noon hour they looked at furniture. At first Jack was critical but it did not take him long to become just as interested as Dora was. He soon discovered that the announcements they had seen in the paper had been correct. The best furniture could be gotten at very reasonable prices and with easy terms, too.
After they had looked at furniture four or five times they decided that it would be wise to face the situation squarely before looking farther. They brought up all questions involved and finally decided that by omitting a few movies, their weekly dinner down town, Dora's marcell and Jack's after dinner cigar, they could afford to get some new furniture. The sum to be paid monthly was quite small so they decided that they could afford to get something besides the new dining-room set. This brought up a new question but it was soon settled in favor of new rugs in the dining-room and living-room.
“Just think, Jack,” enthusiastically exclaimed Dora, “With a new dining-room set, a new rug in the dining-room and one in the living-room plus what I can do myself I can make this house almost as attractive as Clara's!”
Jack and Dora were very happy as they entered the store and picked out the furniture that was to be theirs, but their cup of happiness was completely filled the evening they had Clara and Tom to dinner. Clara said she thought their dining-room was lovely and wanted to know where they ever found such attractive rugs. Neither Jack nor Dora said where or how they got their new furniture but after Clara and Tom had left Jack said, “I certainly wish I had known we could get such lovely furniture so conveniently sooner.”
Dora's only reply was, “I am glad we know now.”