A Heritage to Remember

At another time when Dad was away, Mother decided, without further delay, To renovate a couple of rooms, With paint and varnish she would groom. Using sandpaper, a paintbrush, and varnish too, With an industrious spirit, but a very small crew, She finished the dining room—“Phase Number One,” Proud of the woodwork, pleased it was done. Next, she moved the kitchen chairs and table To the dining room, so she would be able The kitchen floor to clean and paint, By today’s standards, that might seem quaint. While the kitchen was getting a new look, In the dining room we would have to cook, So the kerosene burner, our summer stove, Was moved also, to our cozy cove. Now you can be sure that it was crowded there, With hardly an extra inch to spare, In our dining room/kitchen combination, We almost had ourselves to ration. One Sunday afternoon we traveled by car To visit the Daggett family—not very far, We had so much fun; we laughed and clowned, And finally it was time to be homeward bound. Approaching the house we were completely dazed, For our eyes beheld not only a haze, But sinister smoke, (we’d not seen such before), Rolling out from the windows, as well as the front door. I jumped from the car—a foolish feat, Thinking that the auto I could beat, I would run fast, I reasoned, (what fast transportation!), And rescue my doll from the fire’s devastation. Now Dad, in the meantime, had returned From church conference; he quickly learned That the house was locked with no one there, While smoke surrounded it everywhere. “Fire!” he shouted, breaking into the place, Then men, from the neighborhood joined in the race, Carrying furnishings from each smoky room Saving what they could from gravest doom. Helplessly, we each stood by, Feeling sad at heart, and wanting to cry, Viewing our furniture as it sat in the yard, Realizing that from our house we were barred. While I was pondering this complaint, Someone approached me—an unknown saint; I don’t know whether he was short or tall, I simply remember that he handed me my doll. “How did it happen? Where did it start?” Such wonderment ran rampant in each heart; After such questions had been posed, The cause of the fire was disclosed. Each of us was responsible; we simply forgot To turn off the burner; so the fire caught The kettle’s wooden handle, ‘twas black with char, And the tablecloth, on the table, loomed near, not far! The fire extended, spreading from the latter, To a large ham, contained on a platter, And the varnished woodwork, with its once-lustrous shine, Was covered with blisters in the room where we dined. Mom’s work was for naught, yet, her spirits revived, Our house was still standing and we were alive; And that kerosene stove, where the teakettle sat, Is a family tradition we shall never forget. *** *** *** *** *** During the summer of ’45, I could be found working In Walgreen’s, in my hometown; Not only was I a cashier, but a waitress, And sometimes a cook; It seems that I did almost everything in the book. One day a man entered the restaurant, And after enjoying his meal, He stopped by the cash register, To pay his bill; Then he said to me, “Come outside a minute, I have something I want you to see.” Since most of the crowd had left, I walked a few steps to the street, And peered in the window of his car, And lying on the seat, Half awake, and half asleep, Was a baby alligator, not making a peep. But the incident I most vividly recall, Is the most memorable of all; I was washing dishes (after hours) On a volunteer basis, Since the dishwasher had broken; Our work was proceeding in very slow paces. When all of a sudden sirens and bells began ringing; So ‘midst soiled dishes, and with suds on our hands, We hurried outside to survey the scene, Wondering what all the commotion could mean. And then we heard the exciting news, That Emperor Hirohoto of Japan Had surrendered to General MacArthur, And the Allies were in command. All traffic stopped, horns were honked, The crowd let out a roar, Cheering and dancing in the streets, Something we’d never seen before; “V-J Day”—August 14, 1945 Was the end of the Second World War.