Archive | May 2026

Woolworth Treasures

May27

I stared, mesmerized by the small turtles climbing around in the display box. I wanted to touch the darling, small creatures. I reached out my hands but didn’t touch them because they didn’t belong to me. A sign by the box said the turtles cost 15 cents each. That wasn’t very much. I knew I had that and more in my piggy bank at home.

When we had entered Woolworth’s store a little while earlier, Mom stopped to look at the clothing and houseware displays. Impatiently, I scooted ahead to pass all that, plus the hardware section to get to the back of the store where they kept fish tanks and parakeets. I never wanted a fish or a bird but enjoyed looking at them. This store was so much more interesting than the dreadful fabric stores Mom spent most of her time at when we shopped in Marshfield.

My family lived on a farm twelve miles from Marshfield, and we very infrequently came to this town, since the small town three miles from our farm could supply most of our needs. About the time I was about to search for Mom to insist she come look at the turtles, Mom finally showed up. I immediately began begging, “I want a turtle! They’re only 15 cents! Aren’t they the cutest little things? Can I have one? Please?”

Mom watched the small, shell-clad reptiles climb over each other, as well as the damp sand and rocks for a minute before admitting they were cute, but emphatically stated, “No! We will not buy one! I’ve heard that people can get sick with salmonella from handling turtles.”

My heart was broken. The only thing that would have made me feel better would have been to sit and eat at Woolworth’s lunch counter. The smell of fried hamburgers and onions filled the store and called me to sit on one of the stools at the long counter which ran nearly the whole length of the store from the front to the back. The thought of eating somewhere other than at home seemed exciting. Mom quashed that idea even faster than my turtle idea. “No, we have food at home.”

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Applying Myself

May20

Recess was over. Instead of quietly filing back to their assigned desks, a handful of students got into a scuffle in the closet at the back of the room where we hung our coats and left our wet boots. Sister Florance called out the names of the usual classroom trouble-starters and the noise level dropped. The second time she called out the names, everyone returned to their desks.

Our teacher, a nun I considered elderly because she had a very wrinkly face, stood at the front of the classroom studying all 50 of her students, row by row before saying, “I’ve decided that we are going to do an art project for the rest of the afternoon. You need a rest from all the end of the semester tests you’ve been taking this past week.”

I sighed gratefully. I knew I had done well on some of the tests but felt ashamed of how poorly I had done on others. The tests that I hated the most were the story math problems. For example, instructions on how to figure the measurements of a room just by being told the room size were impossible to understand.

Forgetting all that, I threw myself into following Sister’s directions. She demonstrated each step. This was my favorite way of receiving instructions. As usual, a few of the students in the class jumped up from their desks to wander around the room like untrained feral children. Sister repeatedly reminded them to sit back down. They continued getting up to sharpen their pencils and poke their friends. Some of the students were doing the art, but not according to the directions.

That year when parents visited their children’s classrooms and talked to their teachers, my mother was told that, “Kathy has what it takes to get good grades in all subjects…if only she would just learn to apply herself.”

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Another Dam Ship

May13

I frowned and requested, “Say that again. What is our cruise ship’s name?”

My daughter Tammie, who plans, organizes, schedules and purchases tickets for all our vacations, repeated and explained, “It’s called the Eurodam. The ship belongs to the Holland America Cruise Line.”

We had never taken a cruise for a vacation before, so I didn’t know what to expect. I doubted the experience would be like the 1980’s television show “Love Boat,” and I hoped it wouldn’t be like some of the cruise stories I’d had people tell me about: the ship being one huge, non-stop floating buffet.

Tammie and I started to explore the possibility of taking a cruise vacation because I like traveling and visiting different places, but dislike packing and unpacking as we move from one hotel to the next. I wanted a vacation where I could visit several cities while staying in one place. Our cruise to Alaska and back through the inside passage checked all the boxes on my ‘want list.’

Our cabin in the Eurodam matched a typical hotel room: well-appointed and stocked with everything we would need. Unlike a hotel room, our cabin also came with a cabin steward. The steward seemed to materialize out of thin air shortly after we stepped into our cabin. He introduced himself and asked if we needed anything.

 Cabin stewards clean and service the cabins assigned to them. It was like having a guardian angel watching over us. We never had to ask for extra towels, and on more than one occasion we found them on the bed, folded to resemble an animal such as a dog or elephant. While smoothing the wrinkles out of the bed sheets, he occasionally left chocolate candies on the pillows. Each morning, he left that day’s activity itinerary and dining room menu in the mailbox next to our door.

Instead of packing and unpacking while the ship carried us from one city to the next, we attended presentations, activities, and recitals. When we wanted to relax, we took advantage of a small library and lounge chairs in the ship’s Crow’s Nest Lounge.

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Up-Close and Personal

May6

School had let out just a few days ago at the end of May. My newly minted summer vacation still felt cool and relaxed around the edges. While foraging in the kitchen for a midday snack, I heard the WDLB radio announcer report that a criminal had escaped from a Wisconsin prison. Mom looked up from the mixing bowl she was stirring and seeing my worried expression said, “That prison is a long way from here.” I shrugged and relaxed.

Continuing with his news report, the radio announcer explained that the criminal had family living in Northern Wisconsin and someone who looked like the criminal had been seen walking on a local road last night. When a car approached, the man disappeared into a nearby woods.

I liked listening to the radio that Mom kept on the kitchen counter and playing from sun-up to sun-down every day. The radio station played many different types of music and reported local and national news. It also had story programs for children, and soap operas like Helen Trent.  One of the things I liked about the radio station was it was located nearby, on the outskirts of Marshfield, and the announcers were men and women who lived in the area.

Usually, the news reported by WDLB wasn’t as scary as it was that morning. Even Mom’s nerves were jangled by the news. She didn’t want anyone to go for bike rides or walk far back to the woods. She didn’t have to tell me to stick close to home. I feared that the bad man would show up at our farm.

The next few days were hot, and the hay fields grew tall. Daddy cut his first crop of hay. He didn’t worry about the criminal because his focus was on getting the hay dry enough to safely put it in the barn before the next rain. Relief came to everyone in the family a few days later. Rain held off until the cut hay was tucked away in the barn, and the WDLB announcer reported that the escaped criminal had been captured.

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