In the summer Jackie and I spent a lot if time in Keokuk, Iowa. We were pretty
much free to roam even from an early age. We could walk the mile or so downtown
to "spend" our two-totters, little plastic handles that hooked two quarts of
milk together in the grocery. These could be exchanged for two cents at the Kresge's
store . We would take our bag of two-totters that my grandmother had saved for us
to the back of the store where they did lay-aways... and we would get a voucher. Jackie and
I each got our own voucher and then wandered through the store seeing what we
might buy. They were also good at the soda fountain at Kresge's, though we could
usually count on Aunt Marge to treat us to a sundae on her break. She worked at
Kresge's so all the sales clerks knew us.
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| Main Street, Keokuk 2010 |
One year there was a drawing for a
bike. I was so sure it was mine. We got a call one day at Nana and Papa's
house for me to come to the store to claim my prize! When I went, they called
third place and it was another child, then second prize and it was me......a
badminton set....we had fun with it, but it was not the bike.
Another
thing we would do to amuse ourselves during the summer visits was plan somewhat
elaborate silly hoaxes. One was to take our camera and wander the downtown
getting people to pose for us. We explained we were' intern cub reporters' for the
local paper and that there was going to be a "clean city" or "adorable pet"
picture page. We would have the person pose by a trash can tossing in some wad
of paper or pose with their dog in the park. We could convince most anyone to
cooperate... and what was the worst that could happen? Mother was very annoyed with
us, but Nana thought it was funny. Another time we created Beatles posters
advertising a concert in the local park. We assumed no one would take them
seriously, but believe it or not, a half dozen or so people showed up at the
band shell on the advertised night! We wandered by to overhear their
conversations.
The house Nana and Papa lived in was once the house of
his parents. They had immigrated from Sweden in 1889, with their four children,
Amanda, Sevrin, Clara, and Ertle, with my Papa Frank on the way. He was born in
America a few months after they arrived so was the first natural born US citizen
in the family.
Papa had a workshop/ studio down a little path from he back
door. There was also a shed to the left of the path where Nana stored boxes and
jars. On the far left a bit farther down the path was the garage where papa's
fishing boat was stored and last was a sandbox area for us just before Papa's
shop.
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Jackie on left, Linda on right in sandbox area.
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On the other side of the path was Nana's vegetable garden. She always
planted tomatoes, peppers, green beans, radishes, carrots and turnips. Behind
the shop was a deep ravine where we tossed all sorts of things. It was thick
with trees and always felt cool and damp. Once I found a tiny gravestone shaped
like a heart sticking out of the grass a few feet down the ravine. I was sure it was a secret grave of some long ago relative. It turned out
to be a "mistake" as Nana explained it: someone had ordered a tombstone and Papa
had written the name down wrong! Not much to be done with a tombstone inscribed
incorrectly!
Papa often would spend long hours in his shop, and it was not a
place you just walked in, but he sometimes invited you. He might be using his
lathe to make something, painting a landscape, or smoking his pipe. You never
knew what you might find. It always smelled like turpentine and sawdust with a
touch of cherry tobacco. There were graduated table vices you could clamp to
hold scraps of wood. He always had old Currier And Ives calendars tacked to the
wall and the windows were dense with the soot and grease from his stove and
pipes. He had set up a buzzer system to the house so Nana could let him know
when to come in for lunch or dinner.
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Prayer time at Nana and Papa's
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One summer when we were quite small we
were left with Nana and Papa for several weeks. I had long hair that was always
getting tangled and messy. Nana did not enjoy trying to comb the hair of a
fidgety child, so she asked me if I wanted a permanent. I knew what that was, as
I had spent many hours in the blue and white kitchen while my mom gave permanents
to Nana, Marge and assorted relatives. The family stories and gossip ( most of
which I did not understand) they shared made it very exciting. I agreed that I
wanted my hair short and curly.
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| Linda with short curly hair, age 5. |
Nana obliged. She also let me play in the
sandbox dressed only in my shorts. By the end of my visit, when mom and dad came
to collect us I was all but unrecognizable - my curly brown had bleached out in
the sun and my skin was brown as could be. Papa had coached me to say when asked
my name: "my name is Linda Lee Carlson and I live at1516 Park Street!" Needless
to say, my mother was NOT amused with my metamorphosis! Nor was she happy that
Jackie and I were not attired in our matching "outfits". Mother would pack our identical suitcases with identical or "coordinated" outfits for us to wear. We were to wear the matching outfits each day.
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| Here we are in our Maxine outfits...not quite matching, but coordinated. |
Once Jackie so hated the puffy legged rompers with wide sashes that needed to be tied in the back, that she wore hers backward and inside out.
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| This is a little blurry, but you can see the puffy rompers. This was in front of Nana and Papa's house. |
The only matching sets we liked were the cow girl outfits decorated with embroidery and fringe and topped with felt cowboy hats.
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Our mother, Maxine, Nana, Papa and Aunt Marge
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