The Stalker

I never heard of a "stalker" when I was growing up. Mom warned me that there were people who did "bad" things but I never felt that I knew anyone who was like that. That changed, however.

I had seen a very tall, very skinny boy who was a year or two ahead of me in school. I saw him at school but never anywhere else. I noticed him because he was so very tall. He dropped out of school, probably after 8th grade.

Mom was baby sitting across the street sometime after I began working at Rexall. It was evening. I was home alone so I pulled the shades in all the rooms of the house. (This is what families did at night - pulled the shades and closes the curtains.) I was reading in the living room when, suddenly, I heard someone scratch on the screen. It realy started me. I didn't know what to do.

I got up and walked into the front bedroom. I turned on the light and picked up a hairbrush from the dresser. I brushed my hair while I thought about what I should do. I was alone and afraid and we did not have a telephone. I finally decided I would go open the front door.

I turned on the porch light and yanked the door open! Then I heard these running footsteps beside the house. Can you imagine how it sounds when a very tall person runs? It is a sound I can still remember in my mind. I did catch a glimpse of the boy as he ran away. I did go across the street and stayed with Mom until she could come home.

Several weeks later I worked the Sunday evening shift at the Rexall. Mom came to pick me up. When we got to our kitchen door - it was open! Every burner on the gas range was turned on. We checked each room in the house. We found all the dresser drawers in the front bedroom were dumped on the floor! It was very scary.

I don't remember whether he bothered again. We did talk to the county attorney. He came over and we stood on the porch to talk - it was summertime. I really don't know what happened after that. The boy may have been sent away.

The rest of the story - as Paul Harvey always said - Many years later this boy was living with his aunt in my little hometown. For some reason, he got angry at his aunt and stabbed her to death. Then he did spend a number of years locked up.

I remembered my fear for many years. His obituary in the hometown paper freed me from my fear of him.

Clothes from the 50s

These are some of the clothes I wore when I was in High School. The only things Mother did not make were the sweaters and the pleated skirt. The first picture is of the pleated skirt and sweater - Mom did not make this. Note the "waist cincher" that was style then. The second picture is of black velvet blouse with a plaid satin skirt - Mom did make this. The third photo is a straight skirt she made of a pair of Dad's pants - She was ahead of her time using menswear fabric! The fourth photo is a 2 piece corduroy skirt and "weskit" - this is like a vest. Note the scarves we wore at the neckline of blouses and with sweaters.We also wore penny loafers and anklets. Hemlines were about 4" above the ankle.

We also wore corduroy jumpers with long-sleeved blouses. I loved sraight skirts with kick pleats in back. Most straight skirts had a split in the back up to about the knee so we could walk in them.

Mom once bought me a neon green sweater with white printing on the front. I don't think she read the printing because it said, "Sharp curves ahead!" I do not know what she was thinking when she bought this. I guess she just liked the colors! i did not wear it very often!!!

We wore our jeans rolled up about three rolls - so only about 4" was between the bottom of the jeans and the top of the anklets!

These were the stlyes I wore when I was in high school. The poodle skirts came later!

My First Job

Things are never the same after a death in the family. We know things will be different. Suddenly there were two people who lived in our home, instead of three.

After Daddy died, I went to both drugstores to ask for a job. The one, where I thought I wanted to work, was not hiring. So I applied at the Rexall Drugstore. They hired me to be a "soda jerk" and paid me 35 cents an hour.

The schedule was 4-6:30 p.m. three days a week; 6-10 p.m. two days a week; Saturday from 8 a.m. to 4 p.m.; and Sunday from 9 a.m. to 6 p.m. The next week it was two days a week 4-6:30 p.m.; three days 6-10 p.m.; and Saturday noon til 10:30 p.m. I may not have the rotation exactly correct but you get the idea.

I couldn't drive alone at night because I was only 15 years old. Mom would usually take me to work and pick me up when I worked the evening shifts.

The first day I worked some guy came in and asked for condoms - I had no idea what he wanted. The senior high school girl, who worked with me, took over and really laughed at my naivete'.

My main responsibility was to work at the fountain but I could also help out elsewhere in the store, if the fountain wasn't busy.

We served cokes and rootbeers from machines - and oh, how I hated to clean the insides of those machines! We made milk shakes, malts, ice cream sodas, chocolate milk called a "400". If we made an ice cream float with the chocolate milk, it was called and "800." The "400" came in a small coke glass while the "800" was in a large glass. We also made coke and rootbeer floats, limeades, and we served coffee.

We sold sweet rolls, donuts, sandwiches made with ham salad, chicken salad plus toasted cheese sandwiches.

My least favorite customer came in with her young daughter at 10:25 on Saturday evenings. Every machine and the grill would be cleaned up for the next day. This lady always ordered shakes and toasted sandwiches! So we would have to clean up the grill and the milk shake machine again! Of course, we were anxious to get finished so we could go to the dance at the American Legion Hall.

The clerks all learned to make shakes, ham or chicken salad. We also made "simple syrup" - water and suger - which we used to sweeten the limeades. We made it in a five gallon container. One time I dropped this glass container on the floor in the back room. Oh, my! What a sticky, ugly mess! I had the pleasure of cleaning it up! Yuck!

A married couple owned the store. The man was easy going but we hated to see his wife come in. It was like the "good" cop and the "bad" cop. He let us get away with some goofing off - but when she came in, she certainly didn't let us get away with anything!

The man would often put a scoop or two of chocolate ice cream in a coke glass and then put carmel sauce on top. I tried it out. Yum! Delicious!

I worked at the Rexall for three years in high school. I was a cheerleader the last two years. Two other clerks from my class were also cheerleaders and worked there. The store would close during the games so we were free to go. However, if we were scheduled to work Friday evenings, we would return to the store after the game and wait on customers for an hour or so before we could go to the Friday night teen-age dance at the Legion Hall. Of course, we didn't change out of our cheer leading uniforms and worked in them.

Working at the Rexall was a good experience. When the man who hired me and his wife sold out, we got a new boss. He was one of the good guys. He expected us to work but he also allowed us to have some fun.

The Aftermath

A death in the family is a shock to all concerned whether it is expected or not.
Most of the next days are a blur for me. I remember some things and other things were shared with me by family members.

I was so afraid Mom would want to have Daddy's body at home. However, she did not and I was so thankful she didn't.

Our next door neighbor lady was among the first to stop by. Others came including some of my classmates. I was saddened later when I overheard one of my classmates telling another that she "was the first one who had come to see me."

I was insistent that I was not going to the mortuary to "view the body." My brothers were equally insistent that I would do this. Of course, there were three of them and they were bigger than I so I went. "The body" was in a burgundy robe - my Daddy did not own a burgundy robe! I think probably "the body" wasn't really ready for "viewing."

A fly lit on Daddy's ear - and I knew he could not ever brush away a fly again. that is when I walked out.

Inez, my sister-in-law, tells me the funeral was on a misty, rainy, gray day. I do not remember this at all.

Sometime before the funeral, Daddy's brother Claude arrived. I heard his voice when he came in the back door. He sounded just like Daddy. He looked so much like Daddy only he was slighter in build. It was good that he was there.

The morning of the funeral, September 13, brother Bill and I were in the chapel look at all the flower arrangements that were placed at the end of each pew. He read one card and I would read the next. I got along just fine until I read the card from the sophomore class, my class. Then I started to cry. That was the end of reading the cards on the flowers.

Later our family was seated in a side room. I could look out the open front door. I was quite surprised to see Don and his friend Duane walk up the front steps. I guess I didn't even think about classmates and school friends coming to the funeral.

A men's quartet sang. My band director played "Taps" at the cemetery. He missed the last high note. When I said something to him about it later, I think I made him feel bad. It was one of the things that I have always remembered.

Our preacher was a man who immigrated to the US from Holland after WWII and he had quite an accent. He was a very nice, caring man.

The chapel at the mortuary was full. Daddy knew so many people from his job in the post office and I think most people liked him.

I know my mother grieved. No one told me it was important to grieve any loss, whether it would be putting away a teddy bear because one was too old to carry around a bear any longer or the loss of someone we loved. So I didn't know how to grieve.

A dear friend asked me many years later why I never talked about my Dad. I told her there was nothing to talk about because he was dead.

Forty years later I did my grieving, sitting in a chair in the Ness City Cemetery, writing a dialog with my Dad. There were about a dozen pages of writing. Grief is hard work but it is necessary so a person can get back to living life.

September 7-10, 1951

Some memories have been fun to relive and think about. Others are painful but healing comes with the remembering.

September 10, 1950, is a melancholy date for me. A few days earlier, Dad made an appointment with a doctor in Hutchinson for a checkup. The day of the appointment, Daddy told Mom that she needed to stay home with me because he could go down alone and come back the next day.

Daddy set out for Hutch and got about 40 miles from home where he had a heart attack. He picked up a hitchhiker who drove him to Daddy's sister's home. I'm not sure who drove him on the Grace Hospital in Hutch. Perhaps it was one of his nieces.

That afternoon brother Bill came to school to pick me up. I was in Geometry class. He didn't tell me much - mainly that he was driving Mom and me to Hutch where Daddy was in the hospital.

We stayed with some good friends there. The first day we all went to the hospital. Daddy had an oxygen tent on him (much different from the way oxygen is given now). It made a strange sound.

I said over and over that I knew Daddy was going to be fine and we would all be able to go home again.

I think Daddy lived two or three days but I am not exactly sure. The last evening I went to Warren and Zella's (our friends). When bedtime came, I went to bed.

Mom came back to the house about 2 a.m. and woke me up to tell me my Daddy died. I remember I smiled and felt guilty for many years because I smiled. It took someone to remind me many years later that by smiling I was being a good girl and doing what Mom always told me to do - smile.

The memories of this time in my life were many. So I have divided them in two parts. This is part one.

My Classmates

Twelve of us started in first grade together; eight boys and four girls. Ten of us went all the way through school together; six of the boys and all four girls. My neighbor and good friend Jim joined us in second grade and stayed through graduation.

Other boys and girls joined us as we progressed. Some were new in town and others moved to town from the farm. Our little home town had public and parochial elementary schools. The children from both elementary schools were funneled into the public high school. Forty-four of forty-eight students in the class of 1953 graduated.

We moved to a new elementary school when I was in 2nd or 3rd grade. I liked all my teachers and I admit to being teacher's pet in 3rd and 4th grades. Both of those teachers had husbands serving in WWII.

All of my elementary teachers were ladies except for the sixth and eighth grades. It was different having male teachers in elementary school. I liked school, my teachers and I made good grades.

We started band lessons about 4th grade. So my poor Mom had to listen to me practice (and squawk) the clarinet. Later I got paid back because both of my kids played clarinet!

The eight years are rather dim memories now. My classmates are wonderful friends. The class of '53 were always close knit and we have grown closer as the years have passed.

One little sidelight, I got my first kiss in the hallway in 2nd grade from another 2nd grader. I was quite incensed about it! If you look at the photo carefully, the boy wearing the suspenders was the guilty party!

And, oh yes - do you kow whilch little girl is me???

My Big Brother

My brother Bill graduated from High School in 1939. He left home to go to Business Colege and later worked in the oilfields in Oklahoma. I was about four years old when he left home.

His high school senior picture was on the library table in the living room. Mom told me that I would put my elbows on the edge of the table to hold myself up and talk to "Billie" asking where he was and, especially, when he was coming home. I really missed him. Bill was an important figure in my life. He always had a book in hand so I learned to love reading and going to the library.

He offered me advice on how to behave. "Do as I say, not as I do." He smoked heavily after WWII but he didn't want me to. Sometimes he drank a little too much. He was an outgoing guy who never met a stranger. He had the gift of gab so necessary to be a salesman.

Whenever he came home to visit, he always slept in the bedroom in the basement. He snored really loud! Mom and I always wanted to get to sleep before he went to bed because you could hear him upstairs. He had sleep apnea, I am sure.

He took me to my piano lessons in Ransom. We would listen to Spike Jones and his orchestra in the car. If you don't know Spike Jones' music, you might want to seek it out. He was a good musician but made his money by playing crazy songs! The songs were funny and we laughed and laughed.

The summer before I went to college, he mixed me a drink. He wanted me to know how alcohol tasted so I would know if the punch was spiked. Yuck! I did not like it! (It was pretty strong!)

He came to Manhattan in December 1953 to bring me home for Christmas. I was stuck in "Student Death" - Student Health - with strep throat. He made all kinds of promises to the doctor so I could go home. The doctor did release me, requesting that I take it very easy and get lots of rest.

Of course, I went to Kansas State because that is where Bill graduated in January 1950. He served in the Army from 1942 to 1946. He attended K-State on the GI Bill and finished up in 3 years.

He became a Farm Bureau agent and lived and plied his trade in Jetmore, another small town about 25-30 miles away.

He bought a brand new Chevy Bel Air in 1954. That summer after I finished classes, I came home but I worked for him in Jetmore as his secretary. He gave me his 1954 Chevy to drive back and forth from Ness to Jetmore. I made it a practice to never tell him what time I left Ness nor did I tell Mom what time I left Jetmore because I drove very fast. I didn't break any laws because, at that time, the speed limit was what was "right and proper" for the condition of the road the the weather. You could probably call me "Lead foot!" I would roll down all the windows and turn the radio on full blast and away I would go!

Bill was the communicator of the family. He would call the twins, Mom and me and share all the family news.

He moved to Colorado sometime in the late 50s. He worked as a State Farm agent for about 37 years. He was very good at it. He served parents, then their children and grandchildren in those years.

The photo of Bill and me was taken in 1945. Mom always told me that I was a bit bashful. Can you see it in the photo? The hat with the "braids" was one of my favorites. Note the muff in one hand.

I loved my brother Bill. He was a very special part of my life for nearly 60 years. I still miss him today.