From Where I Sit

By Pat Spilseth, Columnist

Does this happen to you? When I hear a familiar tune I might recall a heart-throbbing teenage romance or remember slow dancing at Lakeside ballroom with the spinning silver ball overhead. Certain smells like lilacs remind me of graduation; popcorn kernels popping remind me of the Glenwood theater; chocolate chip cookies or a beef roast with onions remind me of Mom’s kitchen; and sounds like church chimes, wailing sirens or a piercing whistle recall more memories. Often the memory reminds us that what we’re thinking about is no longer part of our current life, but isn’t it fun to remember? Those memories promised endless possibilities for our future…

The soft whirring of an electric fan reminds me of trying to fall asleep on sultry summer nights. Though I’d open my tall bedroom windows with patched screens preventing mosquitoes from coming inside. Restless, I’d try to sleep, but I’d throw off the covers. It wasn’t until Mom brought in a whirring fan that I could fall asleep. That hypnotic fan blew circulating, warm breezes onto my body. The fan’s gentle whir lulled me to sleep.

Murmuring, indistinct voices from the kitchen carried their way upstairs to my bedroom at night. It was comforting to envision Mom and Dad sitting in their La-Z-Boy chairs discussing their day’s events downstairs in the kitchen or the living room as they relaxed before climbing the stairs to bed. I felt safe and secure, content with life even though I was nestled in my bedroom far apart from the family. Though my bedroom shared a wall with the women’s jail, not even the sounds of angry women prisoners stomping and yelling in their cells and around the bullpen could disturb me.

Shuffling cards told me the folks were playing whist, a favorite party card game of the fifties and sixties. When my parents and the Barsness relatives gathered together, they would often play cards. Dad and the uncles would smoke their Lucky Strike cigarettes, as the women dealt cards and served dessert with weak Lutheran coffee. Aunt Ruth would perform her magical, shuffling of the cards, with her glamorous, ringed fingers spinning them in a circle. Her magic tricks were fun to watch. Ruth always wore fancy earrings of sparkly stones and several rings on her fingers, usually a black onyx ring and a birthstone ring, always set in gold. Memories of huge family get-togethers, especially at holiday time, return to my mind when I hear the shuffling of a well-used deck of cards.

Church bells chimed, ringing out the notice to get up to go to Sunday mornings church. Both Glenwood Lutheran and the Roman Catholic church had lovely carillons in their bell towers. Sometimes favorite hymns like “Onward Christian Soldiers” and “Just As I Am” would be played by the bells. The chimes and bells were the invitation to go to church. Sunday was a day of rest, which always began with church services and Sunday school. In the evening we’d have Luther League for the kids where we shared a meal and played some games. I think we also did some Bible study, though my memory fades about that…

At noon, six and ten o’clock, the fire whistle would blow from the fire station across the street from the jail and courthouse. The noon whistle and a six o’clock whistle meant it was time to get home for a meal with the family. Usually the noon whistle meant a hot meal that Mom had cooked, perhaps roast beef and mashed potatoes, yellow niblet corn and a salad of a curling lettuce leaf and half a peach decorated with a dab of Miracle Whip and a cherry. The 10 o’clock whistle told everybody that it was time to be home and get ready for bed. Nothing good happens if you’re out later than 10. Such was the thought to stem teenage curfew rebellion. We believed that old slogan “Early to bed; early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise.”

Sucking a cherry coke through a straw while spinning on a padded stool at Setters’ Drug Store soda fountain is  one of my favorite memories. Whether it was a lemon-lime or a cherry coke, it didn’t matter as long as my pals Janet Holtberg and Diane Femrite were serving cokes and sharing newsy tidbits behind the counter. Teenagers needed to know the latest…who had a date? Who was breaking up? Who had been invited  to prom? Where were they buying or borrowing their prom dresses?

Dishes rattling in the kitchen was Mom’s signal to me that I should come set the table for a meal. I liked the regularity of home-cooked meals with my family at the kitchen table. It was a rare instance when either my Dad, Barbie or me was missing at the dinner table. Meals meant family time and check ups on school work.

Rain dripping and rushing down drain pipes recalls the fat wooden rain barrel we had at the house we lived in before moving to the jail. Mom collected rain water, soft water, to wash our hair. It was so much nicer than the hard water that come out of our kitchen faucet and made our hair silky smooth.

Carillon bells, cards shuffling and indistinct voices…all carry fond reminders of childhood memories.

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To contact Pat, email: pat.spilseth@gmail.com.