Life On the Homefront During World War Two

Perhaps some of you may remember or be interested in what was happening on the home-front during World War II. First of all, we had rationing - and how! Just a few gallons of gas a week. Even shoes and typewriters were rationed. Meat, butter and sugar were rationed. We didn't even get enough sugar to make any jam or jelly - and in strawberry season! What was a girl to do? When we went in any stores, there was a sign which said, "Take a number and wait your turn." Other signs around town and in the newspaper were asking us "Is this trip really necessary?"

There were so many men called to war that it became necessary for women to take their places in factories. "Rosie, the Riveter" was a popular topic in movies and in stories. Other women were called upon to knit cast socks for sailors in a large navel hospital. The socks had a large hole near the heel for a foot cast to go through. We were instructed to make them black or gray, but we soon learned that the men preferred them in wild colors. I made my share of them.

Our mothers were "Gray Ladies," volunteers with the Red Cross, who went to the hospital and wrote letters for the wounded men, read to them, talked to them or just nearby and held their hand. We gathered old sheets and pillow cases which we cut and rolled into bandages. Many of us women got together and packed Bundles for Britain. They consisted of warm clothes for people who had been bombed out of their homes. We sent a good many packages, hoping they would go to the people who needed them.

We had to save bacon grease in empty coffee cans and take them to a certain store where it was later made into explosives. We got paid a few cents for each pound. Peach pits were also needed to be put inside gas masks. We gathered as many milkweed pods as possible to be used in Mae Wests (life vests). To prevent any gossiping which might find its way into the wrong hands, we often saw the warning "A slip of the lip may sink a ship." Life really was a bit more complicated than you might think. Everyone watched the papers every day for names of the unfortunate soldiers who gave their life for our country.

We had a lot of scary air raid warnings. When the fire siren blew, everyone on the streets hurried to a shelter, usually a school. All vehicles were supposed to get off the streets. People at home had to put dark shades on all of their windows so no light would show through. Volunteer air raid wardens went around to make sure people did what they were supposed to do. My husband was an air raid warden. He tried to enlist for military, but his eyesight wasn't satisfactory. Air raid stations were all around the country with platforms about twenty or more feet in the air. The men who manned them had to know at sight whether it was one of our planes or an enemy plane. When the siren blew again, it signaled the end of the air raid alert and everything could get back to normal. Even false alarms were necessary. Some people built shelters in their basements and furnished them with pillows, water, canned food, medical supplies, flashlights and battery-powered radios.

Houses with large gold stars in the front window signified that a member of the family had been killed in battle. There was one in our window - as the husband of Betty, my youngest sister, had been killed in the Battle of the Bulge on the border of France and Germany. My other sister, Mary, was in the WAAC. She had her basic training in the south and was then stationed in a office in the Pentagon. Later she was transferred to Washington state and eventually married a soldier in the Chapel at West Point. My oldest brother, Robert, served in the finance department in Panama, Spain, England and Australia. Frank, my younger brother, repaired airplanes that had been shot down. He made some beautiful men's rings and ash trays out of the discarded propeller centers.

On VE Day and VJ Day everyone gathered in the middle of town and made a lot of noise. I can still picture my mother standing there pounding on a pie tin.

Box Socials

My daughter and I were talking about Church fundraisers this morning. As I recall, our most popular money-raising event in the Thirties was the Box Social. Women and girls who attended packed a box lunch for two people, put their name inside their box and then wrapped it in crepe paper and fancy ribbons and bows. Then, at the event, they were auctioned off.
The fellows tried to find out ahead of time who had packed each box. When one of them had successfully outbid the the other men and received a box, he opened it to see whose name was inside. Then he sat with her and shared the lunch. It was a great way to get acquainted!
After the "vittles" had been consumed, entertainment was provided. Sometimes it was dancing or group singing or it might be a variety show. Whatever it was, a good time was had by everyone present. I surely do miss those fun times of olden years.

The Good Old Days

One of the best things I remember about my childhood was licking the paddle when our folks made homemade ice cream. They even let us crank the handle awhile, but of course we soon tired of that.

In the late Twenties, my brother, Bob, was one of the boys who took turns pumping the organ at church. (Our father was a minister.) When the boys started daydreaming and stopped pumping, the music would suddenly cease.We sat in the choir loft with a heavy curtain half-way up in the front of us and passed notes back and forth.

I remember the old swimming hole and what fun we had there. Only a few of the kids had bathing suits and the rest of us wore our clothes in the water. We especially like to play with a large inner tube from a tractor tire. I also had a nice set of water wings.

We built tree-houses and had contests to see which one of us would stay in his or her house the longest. Cupboards were roughly made of boxes and nailed in the tree-house. These held snacks and books. A few years ago, I read of a child's tree-house being assessed in California and his parents had to pay taxes on it. We don't see them much anymore.

"The good old days were days I could master.
The pace was slower, and I was faster."

The Party Line

Hi Friends,
It's very hot today - almost 90 degrees. I should be doing something - anything... but it's sooooooo hot.
The phone rang a short time ago while I was watching "Seventh Heaven." At that moment I could see who was calling in the upper left corner of the TV screen. How times have changed. In my early childhood, one of my closest friends lived next door. Whenever we were "confined to quarters" - we rigged up our own private telephone line - a long string with an empty tin can at each end. Of course, we talked to each other in loud voices and our bedroom windows were open, but we liked to think that our phones worked.
A few years later, we had real phones installed in our homes. They were the 1882 version of wall phones with a hand-held receiver and a crank to signal the operator. I believe our number was one long ring and two short ones.
Back then, almost everyone was on a party line. When the phone rang, those sharing the line would hear it and often listen in, sometimes joining in the conversation. It was great for keeping up on the latest gossip. The difference between gossip and news depends on whether you hear it or tell it. Gossip is ear pollution. Bosford said, "Old gossips are usually young flirts gone to seed."
Some people used to say that the three fastest forms of communication are telephones, telegraph and tell a woman. H.W. Shaw said, "Old maids sweeten their tea with scandal."

A careless word may kindle strife;
A cruel word may wreck a life.
A bitter word may hate instill.
A brutal word may smite and kill.

A gracious word may smooth the way,
A joyous word may light the day.
A timely word may lessen stress.
A loving word may heal and bless

Today's telephones are too varied to even discuss. They do everything but the laundry and dishes. But then, tomorrow is another day...