My Biggest Thrill

WWII ends — We return to Indiana
To new jobs, a mortgage and bills.
Lomie did more than her share
And still provided me with thrills.
But , after seven years, the biggest thrill,
And I don’t mean maybe,
Was when she cried, “I killed the frog!
We are going to have a baby!”

Each day, Lomie became more beautiful
And I was as thrilled as I could be.
I knew it could not be fun for her,
But she seemed more happy than me.
She gave me a seven pound baby girl,
We named her, Lola Kris......
I was so proud, yet felt very humble,
For all I could give her was a kiss.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, KRIS!

Lomie and Her Flowers

A memory of Lomie caring for her flowers.  They were pretty little things all right --- but to put so much time into them, depending on you to water them, feed them, weed them, and whatever else flowers need.  They were not worth it to me; I could never be a flower gardener....  Lomie could never have been otherwise.

Lomie's Lifetime Creed

"Some people hate life; not me --- just leave me alone and I will enjoy everyday.
I have friends who expect the best of everything; disappointed with anything less.
I expect nothing; take what I receive, with no questions.  I find that best.
The great things are not found by constant running from here to there.
The sun rises and the sun sets, everyday... and God has put his beauty everywhere.
I have made mistakes and still blunder some --- that's true,
But I get things done -- and each day life turns out exciting and somewhat new.
I may not have all that I promised myself; but it's true, indeed,
That I have the best things in life and far more than I need...."

Lomie is gone. She died August 14, 2011

Suddenly, I've found there may not be an ending to our story.
It's just as well - I'm not even sure of the real beginning - I expect no glory.
But I've had a great life in this world, with Lomie and our daughter, Kris.
I may have a few more years to go.... But if not, I can tell you this.
"When I wake up in that other world and remember what was left behind
I'll start my search for Lomie again, though I know she will be hard to find."
THERE'S JUST ONE LOMIE!

Lomie at the GE motor factory

Life kept right on improving; it became easier to climb the hills.
With Lomie's help, the mortgage was paid and we had fewer bills.
She worked many hard hours; no complaints and meant no put-on
When a friend asked her, Why?  She replied, "This beats pick'n cotton!"

My Woman, My Woman, My Wife

Hands that are strong, but wrinkled

Doing work that never gets done.

Hair that's lost some of the Beauty,

By too many hours in the Sun.

Eyes, that show some disappointment

And there's been quite a lot in her life.

She's the foundation I lean on,

My Woman, My Woman, My Wife

Thank God for making Country Girls

I met my Country Girl (Miss Polly Tucker) at Dew's Cafe in Marion, Alabama November 18, 1941 and married her December 5, 1944....

Cause Country Girls are sweeter than a tube full of honey
And Country Girls are warmer than the Alabama sun
They know how to touch you, they know how to love you

I'm so glad that God made Country Girls

Lomie's 90th Birthday

Happy 90th Birthday dear Lomie!  We've had Sixty Six wonderful years together.

And if I had it to do all over again I would do it with you.

I wouldn't want to miss a thing that we've been through.

Lomie nothing can compare with the good love that we've shared.

And if I had it to do all over again I would do it with you

Mother's Day

God bless you, Mom!

You were the greatest a boy

could ever have.

January 29, 1941

According to my diary, seventy years ago today, I gave up my paper route and notified Mr. Mitchell that Saturday would be my last day to work for him at his service station.... saying, "I intend to enlist in the Army Air Corps within a week or two ---- if they will take me."

Prodigy

I mentioned in my last blog-post that, in 1934 as a 13 year old freshman, I was the basketball coach’s pet. I thought it might be interesting to expand on that statement.

Ernest Curtis was both our high school principal and coach that year. At the beginning of the basketball season, he called the boys that came out for the team into his office for a meeting and a written test on basketball rules and regulations. Hooray for me, I was the only one to answer every question correctly. At the meeting Mr. Curtis also said he wanted us to start practicing ‘free throw’ shots during our noon recesses; and made a promise to take any of us that made 48 out of 50, to see the Indiana State Basketball Championship game. Well — Hooray again! On my very first attempt I made all 50 shots! A feat that I was never able to repeat — and no other team member was ever able to duplicate.

Needless to say, Mr. Curtis was impressed enough to take me in as his prodigy. It didn’t matter how small I was, he was determined to make me a star. I was his pet, both on the court and off! I started every ‘B’ team game... Dressed for the varsity team and sat on the bench next to Curtis during the games. And actually played a few minutes in two or three games that were out of reach.

And at season’s end, Mr. Curtis kept his promise and took me to see the 1935 Indiana High School Championship game at the Butler Field House in Indianapolis.

As a side note: Ernest Curtis was a cousin of Glenn Curtis who was the Martinsville high school coach and had won two consecutive Indiana High School Championships with the famous John Wooden as his star player. One night during 1934-35 basketball season Mr. Curtis took me to Vincennes, Indiana to see John Wooden, who at that time was a pro-player with the Indianapolis Kautskys, play against the Harlem Globe Trotters. Glenn Curtis was there, too, to watch his high school prodigy perform as a pro. Ernest Curtis introduced me to Glenn Curtis, saying, “This is I my Johnny Wooden!” Wow! It was the highest honor ever paid to me!

However, my fame as a basketball prodigy ended that year. Mr Curtis was replaced by a new high school principal and a new basketball coach.... I could not please either.... My bubble burst! The results might make another story for a future blog-post.

The Teen Years

I was thirteen years old when I started high school in 1934. The total enrollment was approximately eighty students. Basketball was the main sport. I was five feet five and weighed about one hundred and ten pounds. My feet were so small I had to order child size basketball shoes. But I was the coach’s pet and made the ‘B’ team’s starting five and dressed for the varsity. In my sophomore year, we had a new coach. I was too small, in his eyes, and spent most of the time sitting on the bench. However, in my senior year, we had another new coach and I was grown up, all of five feet ten and weighed one hundred and fifty pounds. I made the starting five on the varsity team.... Sorry to say we had a losing season.... But all in all, it was probably the happiest year of my teen-age life.

During my senior year, Dad closed up his shop and accepted a job as shop foreman at the Ford Dealership in Linton, Indiana. We moved there shortly after I graduated, but lived there for less than six months before moving back to a small farm home on the outskirts of Sandborn. That move, too, lasted only six months. Our home burnt to the ground in less than an hour in late 1939. We barely escaped with our lives. Nothing else was saved.... but the community of Sandborn helped us to get restarted.

After being burnt out, Mom and Dad bought a nice big modern home in Sandborn. Four bedrooms and a bath upstairs. Six more rooms downstairs, plus a full basement and large front porch. My, my! How great that would have been when we kids were growing up!

From the time I graduated to my 20th birthday, was the hardest period of my life. I wasn’t hurting for money – for that matter – I never did... I may have been the richest teenager in Sandborn. I even had a savings account. I never quite understood the hardships other kids complained about during the depression. I was always able to find enough jobs to keep me in spending money.... Delivering daily newspapers and working as a grocery clerk on Saturdays. In the summertime, I picked tomatoes, strawberries, green beans, etc. for a truck patch farmer that had a contract with a local canning factory. And for a time I worked with a hay-bailing crew. But that was kid stuff and odd jobs. The nearest to a full time job was working at a service station; eight to ten hours a day, six days a week for twelve dollars.

I was nearly twenty years old. War news was becoming serious. Defense jobs were opening up in the big cities. Boys a little older than me were beginning to be drafted. In January 1941, I went to Indianapolis and applied for a job at the Allison factory; an aircraft engine manufacturer. After a couple of weeks, with no reply, I decided to enlist in the Army Air Corp.

Update

Since October, when I failed the eye exam for driver licenses, it has been a period of stress. It was determined that I had thick cataracts in both eyes. Left eye surgery was performed November 8, my kid brother died November 10; I missed his funeral. I had to get another physical exam before the Eye Center would perform surgery on my right eye. The physical went well but my doctor was concerned that I only weighed 142 lbs; down from 155 lbs when I had my annual physical September 7.

Daughter, Kris, and my two granddaughters arrived December 21 for the holidays. Surgery to my right eye was performed December 22. Received my driver licenses December 23, after a month long debacle with the county tax office.

I’m glad to report that surgery to both eyes went well. I went in for a follow-up exam yesterday. I’m now have 20/30 vision in both eyes. No more eye drops needed! No more frequent visits to the Eye Center are required — my next appointment is May 17.

I’m now comfortable working at the computer without glasses, but need 1.50 corrective glasses for reading newsprint. Needless to say, I’m thrilled!

My only concern now is the need to put on a little weight. I haven’t weighed less than 150 lbs since I was a senior in high school.

By-the -way, maybe it’s due to the fact that I can see a lot better today than I could three months ago, but when I stepped out of the shower this morning and looked at myself in the mirror, I saw in ‘plain view’ a skinny and wrinkled 90 year old man for the first time. It ain't a pretty sight to see!!!!!

Depression

— In 1929 when I was about nine years old. Dad was making about $30.00 per week; a good wage in those days.  But then came the depression; and as it worsened, Dad’s pay was reduced to $20, $10, $8.  In 1932 the Ford dealership folded. The owner owed Dad quite a bit in back wages, and finally said, before throwing in the towel, “Ralph, take all the tools and equipment you want for what I owe you. I can’t raise a penny in cash!”

We lived in one of the nicest homes in town; full basement with a coal furnace for central heat, but it had no bath or running water. It sat on a long lot, about one acre, with a barn like horse and buggy shed at the very back end. Dad turned it into his garage. He never lacked for business. Money was scarce, but there was waiting list for people needing their cars and farm equipment repaired. Quite a bit of his business was done by barter...  It seemed that Mel Baughard was the only one that could afford to pay with cash. His Duesenburg was in Dad's shop often. Not that it needed anything done; Mel just enjoyed swapping jokes with Dad.

Dad would sometimes receive a hind quarter of beef or half a hog from farmers in lieu of cash for farm equipment repairs.  Mom would cold-pack most of the beef (a canning method) and cold pack fresh pork, Good! I get hungry thinking about it. Our basement was always well stocked with canned meat, vegetables and fruit. The smoke house with cured meat. We kept chickens, so we had poultry and eggs. Depression or not; we ate better than a lot of millionaires.

I helped Dad in the garage by washing parts, but he seldom assigned any mechanical work to me. I really don’t think he wanted me to be a mechanic. And to be truthful, I didn’t necessarily want to be one. I liked working at Gregory’s Grocery and delivering papers, better.

However, when I turned sixteen, I needed a car! Dad had several on the lot next to his garage: A Cole Eight touring car, a Graham Paige sedan, a 29 Studebaker sport coupe, a 1930 Pontiac sedan and a 1929 Model ‘A’ Roadster with rumble seat.... All in need of repair. I asked Dad for the Model ‘A’ Roadster. He said I could have it, but I would have to get it in running condition on my own.... He didn’t have time to touch it!

I became a mechanic: Pistons re rung, valves ground, brakes fixed, new coil, points, condenser, and spark-plugs. Carburetor and generator rebuilt, New water hose and fan belt — tie rods repaired, king pins re bushed. Seats replaced with used ones form another Model ‘A’.... Then I painted it red with black fenders. All for under $10.00... But I wasn’t done. No way was Dad going to let me drive it until I could get new tires and licenses plates.

I ordered the new tires from Sears and Roebuck for about $30.00 on credit. It was the first time in my life I had been in debt — but what a wonderful company Sears was. I could own the world for $4.00 a month.

When Dad found out that I had bought the tires on credit, I got my first official lesson in economics. “The reason the world is in this depression is because people bought stuff they didn’t need and couldn’t pay for by using credit.” “Never, never,” he said, “go in debt or borrow money unless you are absolutely sure it will either make you money or save you money!”

The Model ‘A’ Roadster was strictly for joy riding. No top — but it made excellent transportation to the strip-pond near Pleasantville for a swimming parties, roller skating in Elnora and matinee movies at Bicknell or Linton. It could carry five kids, easily, but often had two or three more. I kept it for about two years. However, after two minor accidents, it wasn’t worth fixing up anymore..... but I had paid Sears in full... No pain!

1929 Model 'A' Ford Roadster

It was probably early spring in 1929 when I felt a need to go down to the Ford Dealership to see Dad about something. I slipped down the back alley which led directly to where Dad worked. Upon entering the dealership, there on the show-room floor sat the most beautiful thing on four wheels that I had ever seen. It was a 1929 Model ‘A’ Ford roadster. It’s color was light tan. The top was down and the rumble-seat opened, much like the attached photo. I immediately fell in love with it.

A few months later, Dad bought one very similar to the one I fell in love with. It was the first car Mom learned to drive.... And lordy how she did drive.... wide open most of the time, whether on paved, gravel or dirt roads. She made frequent trips (10 to 20 miles) to see aunts, uncles, cousins and other relatives I never knew existed before. It was sometimes scary to ride with her!

Dad, on the other hand... even though he was a race car driver in his youth, was a much more cautious driver than Mom. I loved to go on Sunday afternoon drives with him, as he often let me sit in his lap and steer... explaining the rules of the road as traveled.

The Model ‘A’ Ford roadster was finally replaced by a 1934 Pontiac sedan as the family car. Both cars played major roles in my life a few years later.

Childhood Memories

I can’t find any pictures of me during my pre-teen years, so I will use an excerpt from my autobiography to describe what it was like growing up in a small Indiana town.

In the summer of 1928, Dad was hired as Service Dept. Manager at the new Ford dealership in town. The increase in his income made it possible for our family to move to a larger and nicer home that was about ½ block from school.

Sandborn, Indiana, at that time, was a booming little community (population about 640) We had a high school, grade school, three protestant churches, three grocery stores, two cafes, a drug store, meat market, post office, two hardware stores, two doctors, a dentist, switch board, lumber yard, barber shop, railroad depot, two service stations, two grain elevators, stock yard, two auto dealerships and the Black Cat movie theater.

Our new home sat almost in the middle of it all. A half mile in any direction would reach the city limits. But we and about everybody else in town had a garden and chickens. Looking back, our home was like a magnet. The minute Chuck, Lavon and I would step out side with a baseball and bat a gang would show up for a baseball game at the school’s playground. If we headed for the old swimming hole at a nearby creek, a dozen more kids would follow. When evening came our front porch was usually full of neighborhood boys and girls. Mom was Mom Laughlin to all of them.

Mom was a strict disciplinarian. She could give orders and follow up on them faster than anyone I’ve ever known... but fair and with love. From the earliest days that I can remember, we had chores to do until noon; then we were free to do about anything we wanted for the rest of the day. But the chores came first and they had to be done right. Floors mopped and waxed, rugs swept, porches scrubbed, wash water heated, lawns mowed and gardens tended. Mom was the household boss, secretary and financial manager, We kids never knew when the depression hit or how long it lasted. She saw to it that we never wanted for anything

Mom had one small quirk, though. She seldom did any grocery shopping. A running bill was kept at Gregory’s grocery and when Mom needed something; baking powder, salt, pepper, sugar, flour, or whatever; she would send one of us kids to the grocery for it — one item at a time --- often, several times a day. She went on Saturday night to pay the bill and stay for the cash drawing.

Mom and Dad 1927

At six years of age I’m sure I loved my mom, but I absolutely idolized my dad. I remember him sitting down with me on the living room floor with an encyclopedia type book, showing me pictures and telling about World War One airplanes. And I remember sitting on his lap, listening to a Crosly radio that had three dials and a horn-like megaphone, during broadcasts of the news about Charles Lindbergh’s solo flight in the Spirit of St. Louis from New York to Paris. Dad even used his globe to show me the route Lindbergh took. (He used the same globe to follow my WWII episodes). I also remember him giving me a cast iron replica of Lindbergh’s airplane. Besides my lifetime idolization of Dad, I’m sure he created my early interest in aviation.

Early Girl Friends

In my latest post in regards to my starting to school at age five, and the mention of a couple of girl friends in the photo, one of my followers sent an e-mail saying, “Boy, you started young, didn’t you?”

In case anyone else wonder about my early girl friends, I’m posting the same explanation I sent to him:

As for school day girl friends. Helen, a banker’s daughter, lived directly across the street from me when we started first grade. We walked the two blocks to school together nearly everyday, regardless of weather. I don’t recall ever being driven to school. In 1926, Sandborn, Indiana was still in the late horse and buggy days. Very few families had cars for the mothers to use for errands. Most of them couldn’t drive a Model T Ford if one was available. I sort of wonder how many 5 year old kids today walk to school?

Helen, my first grade girl friend, soon lost interest in me. She grew more sophisticated each year. We never socialized in later years in any way other than school activities. Margaret Beth, the other girl friend I mentioned, latched on to me in our sophomore year — practically pushing away any other girl that came near me. That situation created a conflict with me and the High School principal, which I might explain later in a teen-age post.

Margaret and I never really started dating until I became 16 years old and had my own Model ‘A” Ford roadster for dating and pleasure driving. In my point of view (I don’t know hers), our relationship was never a serious affair. But it might have became one if she had not moved to Florida shortly after graduating from high school. Who knows??? There were no other steady girl friends in my life until Lomie......

First Grade

I started 1st grade when I was 5 years old. In the photo above, I am in the front row, fifth from left. My first girl friend, Helen, lived across the street from me. She is in the second row, third from left. We walked to school together nearly everyday. Margaret Beth, the girl third from right in the third row was my high school steady girl friend. Miss Martha, was my favorite teacher of all time. I enjoyed school and was eager to go.

Nearly all that are in the picture continued on together through graduation from high school in 1938. Thelma, the girl fifth from right in the second row, died last month, leaving me as the sole survivor of my first grade classmates.



65 Years Ago

I went to bed early tonight; tossed and turned for awhile, then suddenly remembered that January 5 was an eventful day in my life.  It was 65 years ago today that my official discharge orders from the Air Force came through.  They read:

"At midnight of the day you return home you will revert to inactive duty.  Your commission will remain in force during the present emergency and up to six months thereafter, unless sooner terminated."

We Are Our Memories

It has been suggested that I take each five years from my life and write about my most vivid memories from that time. Sounds good to me. I can use old photos to jolt my memory and take excerpts from an autobiographical story that I wrote nearly thirty years ago.

Attached is my baby picture. I was born at Plainville, IN a little over 90 years ago. Dad worked at a machine shop there. Of course I can’t remember the event, but the photo indicates the very beginning of my life.

A short time later we moved to Westphalia, IN where Dad worked as a mechanic at a Chevrolet dealership. My kid brother, Chuck, was born there in January. 1923. I don’t remember that that event either.

My very first memory is of my baby sister’s (Lavon) birth in March, 1925. We lived on the main street in the tiny town of Sandborn, IN. Dad was working as a mechanic for the J.W. Shanks garage and machine shop at that time.

My Aunt Audrey came to assist Mom with Lavon’s birth.  Her husband and three children came with her. My three cousins, my brother, Chuck, and I were instructed to stay outside.  Mischievously, we tried to push Uncle Roy’s Model T. We managed to move it and one of the rear wheels ran over my foot. I wasn’t really hurt, but let out yell as if I were. One of my cousins ran into the house screaming that I had been ran over. Mom was certain that I had been killed. And I’m certain Lavon entered this world, before the doctor could get there to help with her arrival .

Off and Running Again

This photo of me was taken on my 90th birthday.  I thought by being dressed in suit and tie I would look a little younger.  I was mistaken!  The photos of me at the golf course with Adrian and Kate do a lot better job.

I've had a problem loading photos for the past few days, but finally found the trouble.  Now maybe I can get back in the mood for making future posts.  I'm looking forward to writing about the pleasures and anxieties of being a nonagenarian.

I went to the Eye Center today for a follow up exam to my cataract surgery.  I got a satisfactory report.  Left eye is 20/30 - Right is 20/50 and should improve over the next few weeks.