Are We There Yet

Are We There Yet

Traveling with children is a challenge. I don’t remember too much about me as a child going on vacation, just a few snatches here and there.

Every year we went to Batavia, New York to visit family. We went by car and many of those trips were before interstate highways. It would take all day to travel from Gloucester City, NJ to Batavia. My brother and I must have had some entertainment. For me it was probably books or coloring books and crayons. I remember that all radio stations were country/western. We would always stop for a picnic lunch about halfway on a not busy road. I remember sometimes it was next to railroad tracks and sometimes a stream. We would have sandwiches, if made at home - cheese (mom didn’t want us getting food poisoning). There must have been coolers, I just don’t remember. If we made sandwiches at the rest stop it was canned meat – spam or deviled ham. Of course we had to have baked beans, cold right from the can. This was mom’s favorite and the first word she spoke as a baby – even before mama or dada. I don’t think I’ve had cold baked beans since for no particular reason. We would be excited for progress when we passed Painted Post and knew we were close when we reached Geneseo.

About every two years or so we went to Tampa, FL to visit my grandparents if they hadn’t been to see us in a couple of years. Today people routinely go to Florida but in the 50s and 60s rarely. It took Disney World to make Florida a destination for those of us in the northeast. I don’t remember driving to Florida that often back then. There was no I95 so small roads through towns for a 3 day trip. One time during a winter trip my brother was a baby, and he came down with chickenpox and the doctor said no problem going but keep him warm. My mom kept him in a snowsuit during the day and a different one at night while the daytime one aired out.  By the time we got to Tampa he was covered with pox from head to toe. Usually, it was a trip by train or bus with my mom. Dad used his vacation week to go to Batavia with us. Once when I had cereal for breakfast on the train it was awful – they put cream on the cereal. Another time at one of the stops it was pouring rain, and a boy came on selling peanuts. We bought a bag and didn’t think anything of the bag being wet since it was heavy rain. To our surprise they were boiled peanuts, something I never had and haven’t missed since. Some of these trips were during segregation or the civil rights era. Having not experienced segregation it was a surprise when crossing into Virginia and the bus stopped and all Black people were told to move to the back of the bus. At a bus stop somewhere in the south we got off the bus to go into the station food counter and stopped when all eyes were turned on us. We went into the side for “colored”. That’s when we noticed the water fountains on the platform were labeled “white” and “colored”. Then after protests started on another bus trip my mom and brother sat in the front seats and I behind them. I was about 10 or 11. A Black woman came on and sat next to me. She was very nice. The thing I marveled at was she had very large feet. Little did I know that my adult feet would match hers. I was too little to realize that her sitting in the second row of the bus and sharing the row with me, a white child she was making a statement. My family was fine with the situation but I’m sure there were some on the bus who didn’t like the changes happening. Another time when we went to Tampa on the train, the trip started out with some drama. My brother, Terry was preschool age and terrified of large buildings. We got on the train at 30^th St. Station in Philadelphia. My mom had to drag him through the station with him screaming at the top of his lungs.

My children’s first trip out west was when Travis was 18mos and Sean 4. It’s a long car trip. The places we visited were fun and sometimes with surprises but the drive itself was torture. Impossible to count the “are we there yet” and how it seems like the kids need to see every bathroom on the route. Coming home Bill said “How about I pull into the next airport and you, and the kids fly home? I’ll drive the rest of the way by myself.”

Traveling with kids definitely makes us want a vacation from our vacations.

#traveling with children, #Batavia NY, #Tampa Florida, #Segregation, #Civil rights protests, #Arlene Moore,  #Arlene Baker

Traugott Vogel

 

Air Force Tech School and Emanuel Vogel

Today I shared a story with my church about a young man I met while attending “Aircraft Maintenance School” at Chanute Air Force Base in Rantoul, Illinois. The young man’s name was Emanuel Vogel, and he was born in Germany. We were in the same Sunday School class and were ushers in church. He told me about his family and that his father, Traugottt Vogel, had written a book called Under the SS Shadow. Traugott was in the Hitler Youth Corp. His father was a SS officer. When Germany got desperate they sent Youth Corp teens into battle during the Battle of the Bulge. Traugott who was only about 14-yrs-old was scared and ran away to find his father. When he did he found the father had been killed by resistant fighters. No one would help him bury him and the priest would not allow the burial to me in the graveyard. Only the town drunk would help him bury his father outside the graveyard. Eventually Traugott got a job on a US Army base. Eventually he was able to accept the Americans. He attended a Billy Graham crusade and gave his life to God, eventually becoming a minister of churches in Germany, Texas, Arizona and California.

#Chanute AFB, #Emanuel Vogel, #Traugott Vogel, #Under the SS Shadow, #Arlene Moore, #Arlene Baker

Favorite Photos

I've always liked this picture of my mom, Millicent “Midge” Moore and me. It was in front of our apartment at 803 Chambers Ave. in Gloucester City, NJ. I always feel a close to her when I see this picture. It’s black and white but I still see the colors. 

The second picture is my mom’s favorite picture. This is in DeSoto Park in Tampa, Florida. My grandmother, Hazel Wiedrich and my mom made a path up to their house using upturned car batteries (sorry, people were so environmental conscience in the early 1950s). The third person is me.

#52 Ancestors, #52 Ancestors 2020, #Favorite Photos, #Arlene Moore, #Millicent Wiedrich, #Hazel Bristol

At Work In the Grocery Store

For most of us we spend more time at work than any other activity except sleeping. I spent 37 years as a teacher and then school librarian. I also worked as a substitute teacher for 5 years both before and after being a regular teacher. Before that I worked four years in a grocery store working my way through college. I refereed high school hockey, basketball and softball for about 10 years while working at my other jobs. I wish I kept a journal all those years – so many memories lost.

I worked at Two Guys grocery store in Cherry Hill where I stocked shelves. Mary Matolla, an older lady, and I were the only female stock “boys”. The guys were a variety of young and old. I don’t remember all the names. Jack Cassidy was about my age. He was a typical young guy of that era, long hair, drugs, former college student. He was a pleasant guy to work with. Another one whose name I can’t remember was about the same age and went to the Rochester Institute of Technology. Reds Gilbert(?) worked part time at Two Guys and full time at another grocery was with my mom. He got me the job. John Slane was the assistant manager of the stock bunch. He was a homosexual whose adversity made him a little negative. But he was always nice to me and I counted him a friend. Myrtle Kennedy, Chris and Shirley were some of the cashiers. Myrtle was older and a little tough but nice too. Chris was about my age and like Jack Cassidy was a child of the hippie generation. Shirley was a large lady and a nice person, basically happy. Later my mom would occasionally see her at bingo. Earl was the produce man who lived in Westville. Minnie Rosencrantz worked in the meat department. I grew up in an Irish Catholic town and unbelievably I didn’t know Minnie was Jewish until after several years she was talking about a holiday. Mr. Hanigan was the receiver. Mr. Pratt was the area supervisor. He was a large heavy man who had been an Army officer and ran and treated us like we were his soldiers. Eugene Salzgruber worked in the department store side. I dated him a few times and was on a company bowling team with him. He was a big happy guy. I think he eventually married an older woman with children and died somewhat young.  My job was mainly the “candy aisle”. It ran the entire length of the row, quite long. I’ve never seen that much in any other store. Also, there would be displays on the endcaps. I also stocked other things as needed. The worst was the sugar. The pallet weighed 1 to 2 tons you and would pull it out with a manual hand truck that had the forks of a forklift truck. The aisles were wide enough that the pallet could be pulled down it. Occasionally it was puzzling when a customer would call you boy when my hair was to my waist and I wore a pink smock. OK, the guys at that time had long hair. I hated the beginning of the month when food stamps came out and I would have to jump on the register. No scanners in those day and items would be marked like 3 for 59 cents. That way if they bought just one the price would be a penny more. Registered didn’t calculate change. Sometimes I think I should have continued to work part time after I started teaching since I made less teaching. It wasn’t such a bad job.

#Work, #Grocery stores, #52 Ancestors, #Two Guys store, #Arlene Baker, #Arlene Moore, #52 Ancestors - Work

A Very Patriotic 4th of July

A Very Patriotic 4^th of July

52 Ancestors 2019 – Independent

In 1976 the 4^th of July was a big deal. We were celebrating our country’s 200^th birthday. This was the culmination of months of events marking the start of our nation. For me that day was especially memorable. I didn’t go to a parade, visit an historical landmark, go to a picnic or do any of the thousands of events observed throughout the country. I was in San Antonio Texas.

What was a Jersey girl doing there? Going through or as many know surviving basic training. I had joined the Air Force Reserve. I was 25 and had been a teacher for several years. I left for San Antonio the Monday after school let out on the previous Friday. I flew from Philadelphia to San Antonio. Once there I was met along with other trainees by a sergeant who took us to a room to wait for others and a bus to Lackland AFB. When we got off the bus on base we were taken to a room where additional information was given. I think most of us were feeling a little intimidated. We had to go to a bathroom and give a urine sample to check for drugs. Even though we were not in this reception room that long I made a few friends that would be in my training flight and later in my tech school class.

From there we went to our barracks. These were modern facilities ^nd floor with a “patio” underneath where we would form up into ranks. Another squadron was on the other side of the building. On the first floor between the two “patios” was the mess and the laundry rooms. The barracks was divided into two rooms with half of the 50 or 60 squadron recruits in each. Our bunks were singular. With a locker at the end of the bunk and chair against the wall. The drill sergeants had their own room. Only 1 sergeant stayed at night. Beyond that was the latrine and day room. The first days were tough. Years later I found a letter in a pension file in the US Archives that a 2nd great uncle wrote to his mother. In that first letter after joining the 7^th Cavalry, he asks her can you get me out of this. I think most of the people who join the military think this.

with air conditioning which was really welcomed in the Texas summers. The barracks were on the 2

The 4^th of July came, and we were only a week and a half into training. Basic training is a specific number of days and weekends and holidays don’t count. So, 4^th of July meant I more day added to basic training. We didn’t train that day and spent it in the barracks. But then in the evening we could go down on the “patio” and watch fireworks that were miles away. We were disappointed not to spend our country’s 200^th birthday with a little more excitement. But think of it. We were serving that same country perhaps not as dramatically as those Americans in the Continental Army but what a terrific 4^th of July.

#July 4, 1976, #Air Force basic training, #Arlene Baker, #Arlene Moore, #Bicentennial, #Air Force basic training 1976, #52 Ancestors Independent