I recently read an article in a school paper stating that tardiness is becoming a major problem in many school across the nation. It brought back memories of my being tardy in the first grade.
My father raised sugar beets. In those days the children who were big enough to help with the harvesting were kept out of school during the harvest. When the “big kids” were working in the beet harvest, I, being a first-grader and too little for the work, was the only one going to school.
We had to walk about a mile to the little town of Snyder, Colorado to attend school. The road followed the railroad track. Every morning, a big long freight train belching heavy black coal smoke from its stack came along. When my older brothers and sisters walked with me, we talked and laughed and I hadn’t paid any attention to the smoke, but when I had to walk alone I was afraid of it. I thought it would fall on me and hurt me. First-graders weren’t taught any scientific knowledge that smoke goes upward and wafts away. In my mind, the only way to keep this terrible thing from happening was to walk around the smoke. The walk took me far out of my way to school and I would be tardy.
The teacher was going to punish me for being tardy all the time. I started to cry so she said she wouldn’t do it that day, but if I was tardy again, she definitely would. The punishment was to have a sign labeling me as TARDY, pinned on my chest and stand in front of the class – more humiliating than painful.
Next day I was, of course, late again. The freight train went every day at the same time! I wasn’t going to be subjected to THAT punishment by THAT teacher, so I didn’t go to school. I hid in some bushes alongside the blacksmith shop. I stayed in there until noon, then I crawled out and went to my grandmother’s house which was not far away. I often ate my lunch at my grandma’s as she would give me a glass of milk to go with it. After lunch I went back into the bushes until school was dismissed. I wasn’t learning much in the bushes. I hated to miss school. I liked school; I played it after school and on weekends, using the back of my mother’s Majestic range as my blackboard.
When the teacher contacted Mother about my absence, Mother confronted me and my fear of the train smoke came out. My older sister told me Santa Claus stayed in the smoke. Just the Christmas before I sat upon Santa’s lap and gave him the mittens that Mother had made for me to give him as a present. He
spoke kindly and had given me a sack of candy and nuts. I liked Santa, a lot! I followed the road without fear and arrived at school on time.
I was not very fond of Miss B. (Yes, I remember her name). The very first day of school when I had my hand raised to ask permission to leave the room, she did not acknowledge it. As I recall, it was near dismissal time she probably thought I could wait, but I COULDN’T! I had to use a lot of sheets from my treasured new tablet to blot up the wet floor under my desk. My face burned with shame. I liked her even less after the tardy incident.
Another time when I “rosied” my cheeks with a dampened piece of red crepe paper, she made me go wash my face. I could accept that, but not the other two humiliating experiences. I had been so proud and was so happy to be going to school with my new tablet, pencils, and crayons, but on those days my pride and my happiness was at low ebb. At the end of the school term, she gave each student a lovely little booklet with pink cord and tassel. A nice oval photo of her was on the front and the inside pages listed the students in the class. On my way home I tore that into bits, stamped the pieces into the dust in the road and spat on them.
I have since learned to be a more forgiving person. How many times I wish I had that lovely souvenir of first grade! I gave the same kind of souvenir to my students I when I taught school. I had to admonish, discipline, and upon occasion, punish a student. I hope none of them felt about me as I did about Miss B.
On Sept, 17, 1944 during Operation “Market Garden” in World War II. Nijmegan, Holland and its neighboring town of Arnhem witnessed one of the biggest airborne operations of our times. It involved many Allied troops who eventually paved the way, battling through Europe and Germany, to draw to a close Hitler's dictatorship and restore democracy and freedom.
In Operation “Market Garden” the objective was to seize and hold all important canals and bridges, including the strategic bridge over the river Maas at Grave; the huge bridge spanning the Neder Rijin at Arnhem; and the railway and highway bridges over its Maas-Waal branch at Nijmegan. These bridges, if taken intact, would provide the Allies with a back door into Germany. Operation “Market Garden” was later featured in the book and film “A Bridge Too Far.”
With the first airborne troops to drop out of the skies over Holland was Pfc. Calvin C. Gilbert of Harlem, who was with the U.S. Army Parachute Infantry Regiment. Gilbert was the only Montanan in the action at Nijmegan, a Dutch town just across the border from German territory. Gilbert, a member of I Company 505th Parachute Infantry Regiment, 82nd Airborne Division, enlisted Oct. 6, 1943, shortly before his 19th birthday. His parachute training was taken at Fort Benning, GA. Infantry pay was $21 per month and the Airborne Division paid an extra $50 per month. This was an incentive for Gilbert, who had an allotment held out of his pay for his widowed mother, Emma Gilbert, and two younger brothers, Kenneth and Gaylord, of Harlem.
Gilbert's military specialty was anti-tank gunner. He made jumps in combat on June 6, 1944, D-Day (Normandy invasion), Ardennes. Rhineland and Central Europe. It was in the Ardennes Forest on Jan. 2, 1945, just after the Battle of the Bulge, the last great German offensive of the war, that Gilbert got shot. In his own words he had described it thus: “The bullet went in my nose, hit the roof of my mouth and drove that into my tongue. It ricocheted and came out near the bottom of my right eye and tore through my earlobe. It split my whole face, broke my right and left jaw, cracked my neck and game me a chronic headache.”
After hospitalization in England he asked to be reassigned and was sent to a unit that was fighting along the Elbe River in Germany. In addition to the Purple Heart, Gilbert earned a Good Conduct Medal, Distinguished Unit Citation, Belgian Fouragere. Dutch Milafairex, Bronze Service Arrowhead and the Bronze Star. Because of its many campaigns and battles, the 82nd Airborne Division was selected to march in the Victory Parade in New York after the war ended. Gilbert was proud to have served with the 82nd.
Ironically, Gilbert was killed Sept. 15, 1983 by a drunken driver (an enlisted seaman) just two days before the 39th anniversary of the Sept. 17, 1944, drop-in Operation “Market Garden.”
Gilbert was a brother of Charles and Lewis Gilbert of Harlem and the father of Wanda (Ruben) McKinney of Havre.
Now that we have two Pastors among our extended family, I should like to relate the memory at the little white Baptist Church which we attended in Manderson, Wyoming.
The minister, Reverend Ayers, was our nearest rural neighbor so we knew him fairly well, even so, we kids were apprehensive about the “dunking” which we termed the immersion of baptism in the Baptist faith. Mama wanted us to be baptized and five of us were to be baptized on Sunday. To make sure we kids wouldn’t be afraid, Mom, to allay our fears was baptized FIRST. In later years we learned that Mom had been confirmed in the Zion Lutheran Church in Benkelman, Nebraska when she was fourteen years old. We called our Mom a Zion Lutheran Baptist. I was in third grade at the time of my baptism. I wore my new nightie for my dunking. I thought we couldn’t be bad AFTER baptism, so afterward, to test my “purity”, I went down the hall and around the corner to whisper a cuss-word. Oh, My! It didn’t work, I thought. I mentally debated telling the minister, but decided not to be dunked again. From that baptism I am a ninety-four year proclaimed Baptist.
Dear Classmates :
I, Elsie Gilbert Nelson, sister of Iris Hay, shall not attend the All Class Reunion for health reasons. I had shingles in 2005. The aftermath of shingles was damage to the myelin coverings of the nerve from the base of my spine following the nerve down the hip, the leg and into the foot. It is painful for me to sit very long. My condition is termed Postherpetic Neuralgia. To help alleviate the pain I have an electric device called TENS in the medical field. When I had shingles the vaccine was not yet approved by FDA. It is now, and people 60 years and older are urged to get the shot. If one has Medicare, Medicare will pay its share of the cost.
I was 99 years old Feb. 3, 2012. Since I graduated from Hood River High School in 1932 in a class of 66 students, I shall give a synopsis of what I did after graduation.
I taught school in a rural school. I met my husband and received my M.R.S. degree.
My husband and I purchased two motels-one in East Havre and one in West Havre: business was good until WWII when gas was rationed . We had relatives manage the
motels and we went to work in the shipyards. I worked night shift at Oregon Shipyard, Portland, Oregon. I worked on the outfitting docks. When work was completed on the Liberty ships, they were taken on a trial run on the Willamette River. I used an acetylene torch as a burner. I burned parts of metal as needed by the ship fitters. I received an E for Excellence from the Maritime Commission and a " Ships for Victory" pin from the Maritime Commission. The Liberty Ships were supply ships. Each was capable of
carrying 2,840 jeeps, 440 light tanks and three million c-rations.
The German submarines were sinking so many ships we had to work 7 days a week, also during the flu season we worked 7 days a week because of absenteeism.
During WWII, food, gas, and two pairs of shoes were rationed in stamp books.
My sister (Lilly) and I learned to drink our tea without sugar, we still like it without sweetness. People had to bring food for any gathering, thus, Pot Luck began and continues to this day.
First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt campaigned to have day care centers for children of working mothers. Three million women had entered the work force. Eleanor argued that to have a stable workforce and no neglected children, day care centers were needed. She pleaded with young Edgar Kaiser to construct a spectacular day care center at Swan Island. The center was completed with the newest play equipment and the most sophisticated teaching devices, a cafeteria staffed by nutritionists, and an infirmary staffed by nurses and doctors. With the costs covered by the Maritime Commission and operating costs borne by Kaiser, nothing was spared. The attempt to have a wholesome, happy environment for the children was so successful day cares were built all over America.
My best friends were Elsie Wren and Lois Isenberg. They lived nearby and we all boarded the bus at the same place. I stayed at my sister & brother-in-law’s Zella & Walter Forry. To earn money for graduation expenses I picked strawberries for a near neighbor, Yasui (?)/Ogawa(?). It was a depression year in 1932.
I did not order a class ring, only six photos and no announcements. I bought floral voila material and a pattern to use to sew my graduation dress. Mrs. Wren sewed the dress for me as my graduation gift. I purchased a pair of white sandals to complete my attire.
A classmate, Jessica Davenport was in the news writing class, same as I was. Principal Frederick Knight taught the class. Three of us sent the school news to The Hood River News. Jessica said she tried to have more news printed than I did but she couldn’t. Harold Brown had more news printed than either of us - he printed the Sports News.
One assignment was to interview a business owner and I interviewed Mrs. Buckwald, the owner of a bakery. She gave me a two layer white cake.
Wayne Cunliff was my school boyfriend. He would go to the sports events as a musician in the band. He brought me a compact. Every girl used a compact. Laurence Kinkaid was Wayne’s buddy and best friend. Maria Burns, Frances Level and I went to dances on weekends. Harold Miller gave us rides to the dances. I think he was Marie's cousin.
In 1956 I thought I would renew my teaching certificate. I wrote for a copy of my high school credits. Mr. Knight, Principal and teacher replied. He included this message with the credits, “ I remember you. You were in my news writing class!"
After the war ended, my husband and I went back to motel operations. I, eventually, attended a Real Estate School and became a licensed, bonded broker. We purchased some business buildings for rentals and had contractors build others. We had rentals until 1970. My husband died in 1970, then I sold most of the property and I am planning to sell the rest now.
Does anyone know anything about Waverly Ray? My brother Calvin C. Gilbert in WWII was enrolled in I Company 505th Army Infantry 82 Airborne Division. I had purchased the book, " Ready", about the 505th Paratroopers. In the book was a standing photo of a paratrooper with the name printed under it WAVERLY RAY. I have always wondered if he was Waverly Ray from our graduating class.
An envelope "Miss Elsie Gilbert" was in my mailbox by the road in front of Spring Coulee School. The note inside was:
Tuesday night in Kremlin
Dear Elsie: Is that OK?
I hoped to see you as I drove past but saw no light so went past.
May I stop for you Friday night?
There is some kind of show and dance in Gildford.
I am going to stop anyhow.
Sig
**I remember I wore a pretty red dress. We went to The Glendora show and danced to their spirited music the rest of the evening.
Students were permitted to stay out of school to help their parents harvest when I was in first grade. Papa raised sugar-beets and my older siblings were helping with the harvest. I was walking home from school by myself. A freight train was stopped at the crossing in the little town of Snyder, Colorado. The road and the railroad were close to each other. Three hoboes (as they were called then) were sitting in the doorway of an open freight car; one called out to me, "Come here little girl and I'll give you some candy."
The world was a much safer place in those days of 1919. We children were never warned not to speak to strangers nor not to take candy from anyone. I didn't even have time to say anything. Immediately, a soft voice, close to my ear, said to me, "If you do you'll never see your mother again. " The voice had to be my Guardian Angel. I ran all the way home.
