This blog initially came from a desire to put down everything I can remember about my past in a form that will be readable later - either when my kids have a desire to know or when I have forgotten and wish to remember........ The more I wrote, the greater my desire became to know more - about my past, about my family... where they came from, what my parents remember - what yesterday was REALLY like for someone who LIVED it.
So, I have asked my parents to talk to me about their childhoods.... growing up, places they saw and things they did - which they did start to share with me. It seemed to make them very happy that I asked. Of course, that made me happy that I DID ask!
We talked for a long time - and I got some insights - most into my dads childhood so far. Next time, must make sure my ipad is fully charged and type FAST! - but, more to come on that.
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This is where I put the disclaimer - hopefully to be read by all who are searching for facts.
Disclaimer - all that is written here is from my memory. At 50+ - my memory is fairly intact - however, as most, it is 'colored' by me as a person, my perceptions. If one is on a historical fact hunt - do NOT look here. What is here is my memories - and those that have been shared with me. No portion of this can be taken as 'historical fact' - it is NOT. All that is written here is what I remember and what I have been told.
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This blog is also partially driven by a renewed desire to know more which came with the dawning of realization of the reality of age...that the things which I still consider 'new' are now old. Part of this is driven by the photographer in me - the person who realized that everything changes every second and that each second has its very own beauty. (500 pictures taken inside of 1.5 hours of ONE sunset from ONE place - deciding which to keep and which were redundant and discovering that EACH WAS DIFFERENT!!!!! in some way.
I find the past fascinating. History has always been a subject of interest for me. Until now, I thought I preferred ancient history and truly abhorred the more recent history - in particular, the US History taught in school. In retrospect, it wasn't US History I hated - it was the way it was taught. Dates. Battles. Places. People. Memorize. No studying what living day to day was like, or the anthropology of our society. The discussions were all of Antietam, Valley Forge, General Custer, Robert E, Lee, bloodthirsty Indians and oppressive British - how the country was formed - politically. And most was 'politically correct' - for instance, it wasn't till I was out of school for a LONG time that I found out that we -the almighty US- imprisoned many people of Japanese descent in internment camps during WWII. Why? Why wasn't I told that my country wasn't perfect? I mean, gee whiz - my country is like all the other countries of the world - its made of people. People are imperfect.We tried to improve on an existing societal structure because we didn't like the one we left behind.... Britain, Ireland, Scotland, France, Spain, Italy, all had their own culture blended from many years of territorial wars and melding of populace's...Now, I realize that WHAT happened is not nearly as important as the WHY it happened. And not the 'WHY' that is part of the beliefs structured by political convenience, the WHY that belongs to the people who lived it, who made history happen!
Contained herein is MY history - the 'why's of who I am, where I came from. It is as factual as my memory - and equally as faulty. Please take it for what it is - NOT what it is NOT.
Friday, May 2, 2014
The Old Homestead
There were very few homes on Holcomb St when Frank and Margaret purchased theirs. Holcomb is divided into two sections by Ocean Avenue. The Anderson home was on the side away from the beach - but it was only a short walk of perhaps 100 yards to the sea wall. The end of Holcomb away from the beach, at that time, was a small airport - much like Tweed New Haven is today. Shortly after the end of World War II, the airport was decommissioned and sold to a developer to build lower-priced homes that were primarily for sale to returning GI's. Among the streets in this new development were Fair Sailing Road, Contact Drive, Skyline Drive and Compass Lane - all very navigation-oriented whether by sea (which was quite close) or by air.
The home in which the Anderson family lived was quite unique. From the outside, it looked like a very small Cape Cod surrounded by three quarters of an acre of land. The detached double garage and a single garage which doubled as a 'shed' or storage for outdoor tools were added by Frank and Margaret. These two outbuildings were separated by a small grove of beach and oak trees. The driveway was very narrow at the street end, opening up to a large Y-shape to access the outbuildings. The trolley ran on tracks on what was referred to as "the Grove" side. Eventually, the trolley too went the way of the dinosaur and the tracks were covered over by crushed gravel. Near the tracks, there was an outdoor fireplace. This could be used to burn leaves in the fall and roast hot dogs in the summer. The previously mentioned airport was just beyond the trolley tracks.
When Frank and Margaret's house was originally built, its purpose was to serve as a nursing home. To this end, it had three bedrooms upstairs and 2 more downstairs and a large porch where residents could sit out and enjoy the cool sea breezes on a hot summer night. The back door opened into an eat-in kitchen and a pantry.
From the kitchen, one could walk thru an archway into the formal dining room. Another larger archway led to the formal living room. This living room held a lovely fireplace which was adorned with a mantle built into the wall above it and a small window on each side. The front door was placed in between two more windows with a side door leading to the porch.
From the pantry, one looked at the door to the basement. This door was kept closed and locked always - with the key in it. To the left, the next door was a bedroom with two windows which looked out on the back yard and drive respectively. In the far right corner of the room, a small door. As a child, this door often spooked me - it was too small for people - well, adult people anyway. It was, however, the right size for, say, gnomes or trolls.... EEK! Its true purpose was accessibility to the plumbing as the bathroom was on the other side of the wall the door was on. The bathroom was standard for its period. Done in gold, black and lavender, the tub was under a window, toilet and radiator opposite each other, a pedestal sink stood nearest the door. Slightly further down the hall on the right was another bedroom, and on the left - a staircase leading to 3 more bedrooms upstairs.
This was perfect for Frank, Margaret and their three girls. Frank and Margaret had their bedroom on the first floor. The bathroom was on one side of their room, the kitchen on the other. They turned the second first-floor bedroom into a 'den'. This was the room that the family retired to each night after work, chores and school to share quiet family time with before-bed activities such as reading, sewing, knitting, crocheting. The living room, with its fireplace and built-in mantle, and dining room were kept for formal occasions only. Large, metal Venetian Blinds were drawn all day in order to keep the carpeting and furniture colors from fading in the sunlight.
Each girl had their own bedroom upstairs. The largest of the bedrooms belonged to the oldest girl - Edna. The middle bedroom, containing two closets and overlooking the driveway and trolley was Eileen's. One of the closet's in Eileen's room contained a small dormer window in the shape of a semi-circle. The second closet had a panel which could be removed, allowing one to crawl into the rafters. Just outside her window, there was a large oak tree that shed copious acorns in the fall. Edna's and Eileen's rooms both had double windows and closets. The smallest, overlooking the back yard, was Dorothy's. This room contained no closet - however, it DID have THREE windows! The girls shared a "Water Closet" - a small room with only a toilet.
To assist the sea breeze with cooling the house in the summer, Margaret had a large industrial fan installed on the second floor. On very hot, muggy nights, they would turn on this fan. Vents would appear from an opening in the ceiling of the second floor hallway and the powerful fan would rumble to life - almost immediately the breeze could be felt throughout the house!
Frank had a very green thumb. The yard was coaxed to yield all kinds of vegetables and fruit. Apple trees grew next to peach trees. Wax beans, green beans, tomato's, lettuce, eggplant, and squash were all loving tended by Frank and artfully prepared for the family dinner by Margaret.
Frank loved to tend his gardens - often, during his later years, he would spend all day caring for his plants, tree's and shrubbery. He had a bevy of beautiful roses and mums. One red rose bush - he coaxed to grow on a trellis placed against the chimney - this remained for many years a glorious tribute to his abilities. Every spring, Frank would obtain a few yards of loom. This was dumped in an area between the double garage and the fireplace. Frank had an old wooden screen door which he used to strain rocks and other particles out of his loom as well as breaking it down to a fine dirt. This kept his soil loose and well aerated. Tomato's, though, THOSE were Frank's passion. He grew some of the best, roundest, reddest, juciest, tomatos around!
Margaret kept a spectacularly clean house, starting her day at 5AM by cooking a solid breakfast of eggs, toast and bacon for the family. Everyone was required to have a 4 oz glass of their choice of juice as well, tomato and orange were the usual offerings - occasionally, there was the prune juice for its effects on the bowels. Coffee for the adults and milk for the girls. Butter was scarce during the war years - most of the time, one had a block of lard which came with a packet of yellow stuff that you mixed to give it color. Margaret rarely used this in her cooking, preferring, instead, to use the grease left over from the bacon she cooked. This made for the very tastiest of fried foods! We know today that this was not a particularly healthy method of cooking - but at this time, even smoking cigarettes was considered a normal part of daily life - nothing was known of the horrible side-effect of shortening ones life!
Milk was delivered to the home early in the morning. There was an insulated metal box with a lid folks kept on their porches. They put their empty and washed glass milk bottles in the box at night. In the morning, the milkman would replace these with full bottles for the day's use.
Being near the West Haven beach - less than 100 yards - the house never really got too hot in the summer. In fact, the small grove of Beach trees growing in between the big and little garages shaded the majority of the back yard and the house. The cool sea breeze ensured that only the muggiest of summer days would be uncomfortable. In winter, the Gulf Stream ensured that those living on the coast would not be burdened by the same volume of snow or cold that the inlanders would have to deal with.
Margaret was a fortunate woman - she had what few did in those days - a REAL automatic washing machine! No scrubbing dirty clothes by hand for her! Well... except for unmentionables.... and diapers. Automatic drying machines were TRUE luxuries then - Margaret always hung her clothes out on the clothes line. This line was strung between the back door and the side of what the family referred to as 'The Little Garage". Being fairly low to the ground, Margaret also had a 'clothes pole'. This was a fairly long (perhaps 7 feet) wood stick with a notch at the top. One would hook the clothes line into the notch of the clothes pole and then straighten it out - which brought the distance between the clothes line and the ground to 7 feet - allowing long items such as sheets to dry without touching the ground.
The clothes line had more than one use! It was also, on occasion, a guide line. If you recall - Margaret had little tolerance for folks imbibing in alcohol, having spent her growing years with her over-indulging father. Frank, like most men, loved the baseball games. It happened that Quiqley Stadium was in West Haven - and Frank would occasionally spend an evening at the baseball game with 'the boys'. Beer and hot dogs, of course, were the requisite nourishment at such times. Of course - with the adrenalin pumping, it is fairly easy to over-indulge in the liquid libations............ and on a rare occasion Frank did.
How he got his HUGE car into the driveway without driving over the lawn and then INTO THE GARAGE never leaving a mark on car or garage - was oft a mystery. It was then that the clothes line was put to its second use as a guide line..... using his hands, Frank would edge from the big garage to the little garage, and then to the clothesline strung on the left side of the little garage. From the clothesline, it was hand-over-hand to the house...............
where diminutive Margaret waited patiently in the kitchen for her errant husband ...........
Who would finally get his feet in the door - just - where Margaret would mete out her special brand of rolling-pin justice ensuring that her bed would NOT be slept in by a snoring, drunken male. For he who over-imbibed - the kitchen floor was certainly a good enough place to spend the night!
Tuesday, October 22, 2013
The Terror of Grace New Haven
What didn't
please the adults was waking up in the middle of the night to an infant needing
feeding, AND a 3 year old who could not breathe........ Terrified, Dot
and Chuck left the two small boys with their grandparents and trundled Beth to
their pediatrician's office. The doctor recognized the seriousness of the situation and sent the two frightened parents and their child to the Emergency Room
of what was then called Grace New Haven Hospital in New Haven. Doctors there were able to stabilize
Beth's breathing with the aid of an Oxygen Tent and adrenalin. It was
determined that Beth had asthma and she would need testing to determine what
had caused the allergic reaction that had triggered the asthma.
In the
following weeks, it was found the allergies were to ragweed, pollen, housedust,
and 'timothy' - or common grass. Beth would need weekly shots to help her build
up immunity to these very common allergens. This was a rather large blow to the
young parents. In the early 60's, asthma was a disease about which little was
known. Patients, especially those whose bodies were still forming and growing,
did not have the best chance of surviving - and less, it was thought, in the
humid climate of the Northeast.
Doctors urged Chuck and Dot to move west to Arizona or New
Mexico where the air was far drier. It was thought that the humidity had an
adverse impact on mucous production. While the young couple would have done
anything for their children, they did not feel that moving so far away from
family would be a wise thing to do. Could they guarantee Chuck a job? What if
Beth needed care? Who would they depend on if not her grandparents. They would
need to be extra vigilant to ensure their daughter even survived. This also meant that Chuck and Dot would have to save for a little bit longer in order to purchase a home of their own.
There were weekly clinic visits to pay for, medications to be bought and scheduled into each day like Quadrinal to keep the bronchioles open and a cough medicine to relieve congestion. When all else failed, there was a green powder called Dr. Schiffmann's Asthmador. This over-the-counter remedy, containing belladonna and stramonium, was exceptional at relieving the bronchial spasms of an asthma attack. You put a small portion into a fire-proof bowl or on tin foil and lit it with a kitchen match. This powder sparked and gave off a thick smoke which one inhaled into the lungs.
While no one using this for its intended purpose in its intended method ever got 'high' from it, at some point in the mid to late 60's, teens discovered the hallucinogenic effects of this medication when NOT used for its intended purpose and began rolling it into cigarettes to smoke for the 'high'. In the 70's, with the advent of newer bronchodilators such as ventolin (prescription) and primatene mist (OTC), this medication, sadly, went the way of the dinosaur.
Many of these medications have side effects which were then unknown, such as stunting the growth or development of the young body, or over-stimulating the patient and making them 'nervous'. Some grew introverted and quiet. Some loud and overly boisterous.
(borrowed from Yale School of Medicine Archives. original may be found here. )
There were also many trips to Grace New Haven Hospital's Emergency Room and week-long stays in the Fitkin Building. In those days, the main hospital was three sided with a lovely courtyard and fountain in the middle of the rear. At Christmas, the hospital would stop the water in the fountain, and place a huge Evergreen tree over it. This was decorated with lights for the patients and staff enjoyment. Each of these buildings had a name. If one was facing the front entrance, the Fitkin Building was to the left, Tompkins Pavillion was to the right. The center was known as the Clinic Building, faced the courtyard. The actual front was the Winchester Building located on Cedar St. Surrounding the courtyard side of the Fitkin and Tompkin pavillions were porches which ran the entire length of the pavillion. Several of the windows were actually large doors leading out onto these porches - however, children were not allowed out there as it was thought that these were unstable.
The first two floors of the Fitkin building were for Cardiac and Critical care. The next 3 were pediatric units. Each of the pediatric floors were laid out in the same way. At the head of the hall was the nurses station. Off of that, there was a quiet room for doctors to write their reports. Then began the patient rooms. Closest to the nurses station were the private rooms for patients who were critically ill. A little further down were semi-private rooms for less critically ill patients. Near the end of the hall were the open wards. These rooms had either 4 or 6 beds. At the end of the hall, there was a large, brightly decorated, open room with windows. There were many toys, sometimes a piano, games, dolls, and books that were donated to the hospital (or bought by nurses). There was also a television in this room - this could be turned on for programs like Captain Kangaroo, Bozo the Clown, or Romper Room. If a child was ambulatory, they could spend time playing or watching television under the watchful eyes of parents.
About half way down the corridor, there was a supply room. This room contained linens for the beds and medical supplies - medications, medication cups, emesis basins, bath basins, an autoclave for sterilizing medical instruments (which were not disposable in those days), bedpans and an assortment of other supplies.
Frequently, in the hustle and bustle of the day, one could find wheelchairs left outside some of the rooms. There were large wooden ones, small wooden ones, and the newer metal chairs.. some locked, some did not.
Interestingly, the supply room was usually not kept locked. The "Employee's Only" sign was, for the most part, obeyed. There were, of course, exceptions to every rule. Beth, that precocious 3-year-old, was the exception. She COULD read - and certainly enough to know that the sign meant for her to KEEP OUT. However, most children of that age would not have been quite that literate. There was also a red line in the corridor just outside the nurses station. This line was for the children to stay behind. They were NOT allowed to leave the floor unaccompanied by an adult - preferably a hospital staff person or a parent.
From the time that Beth was 3 until will after her 7th birth day, she spent at least a few weeks in every year on one of the 3 Fitkin floors. The nurses alternately hated and loved her. If there was mischief, they could be certain that she was most likely in the middle of it. Wheelchair races were one of the chief time-occupiers among the young patients. They traded them back and forth until they got the one they liked the best - and raced from the red line at the head of the hall to the large dayroom at the end. While this was not exactly the best occupation for children, it was tolerated for a short time each day - usually until the first 'near miss'. Then the nurses would have the wheelchairs all removed from the floor by orderlies.
Since Beth was receiving weekly injections at the clinic, she became familiar with the hospital layout. She had made friends with some of the radiologists on the second floor. She also befriended some of the kitchen help on the fifth floor. And the secretary at the Pediatric Clinic - Corrine. And Miss Lally - the head nurse at the clinic. And the nurse who manned the steam room on the third floor. And then there was a craft center on the fifth floor that was used both for occupational therapy and keeping children occupied with a crafting project. Ice cream sticks (tongue depressors) were used to build many things like baskets or small houses. These were decorated with uncooked macaroni shells painted in water colors. While Dot spent all the time she possibly could with her daughter, she could not be there all the time. She still had two very small boys at home to care for. Margaret and Frank made multitudinous trips to spend time with Beth. As did Edna, Dot's oldest sister. Chuck and Dot always came at night and stayed until visiting hours were over. But - there were times when there was no one, and while Beth made friends with other children, she much preferred the company of adults. She could often be found in the radiology department, or in the steam room or even visiting Corrine. The staff on the floor she was SUPPOSED to be on often had to look for her if she was needed for a treatment.
Sometimes, Beth even decided when she was well, much to her doctors chagrin. One such decision came on a crystal clear day in February. As the doctors were making their rounds, they came to the large 4-bed room to check on their patients, only to find Beth riding a blood pressure machine like a scooter. One young doctor, trying his level best to be an authority figure, asked her if she had been told she could be out of the oxygen tent - which was still draped over her bed and running............ The reply came as quick as could be, "Yes, my doctor told me I could and they are coming soon to turn off the oxygen tent and remove it." And off she rode on her makeshift scooter before the frazzled young man could open his mouth to utter another word!
At the age of 5, Beth had the worst asthma attack of her young life. None of the traditional practices or medications worked to relieve the symptoms. Chuck spent all night with her in the Emergency Room, pacing and worrying while Dot was at home with the two boys doing the same.
The year before, Yale School of Medicine had rewritten their working contract with Grace New Haven Hospital, renaming it Yale New Haven Hospital. Grace Hospital was already a "teaching hospital" with a 3-year nursing program and an affiliation with Yale School of Medicine which went back many years. This name change made the affiliation more easily recognizable.
With a teaching hospital, frequently, procedures are done which are new, or just new to a particular disease. Such was the case this night - in order to allow better air flow, it was thought that a tracheotomy might help. Surgeons could then run a small tube down the trachea, attach it to a large oxygen tank and force pure air into the lungs. The procedure was accomplished and had the desired effect of alleviating the respiratory failure.
A tube in ones trachea can make it quite difficult to talk or sing, both of which Beth did incessantly. In true chatterbox form, though, she quickly overcame this difficulty, however, she only allowed a few folks to know that she had. This allowed her the element of surprise with other folks, such as the doctors that made their rounds..... and some of the nursing staff. An unsuspecting staff member would ask questions about her health for their charting to which Beth would respond in a whisper. When the staffer was turned to leave, Beth would speak a cheery, "See ya later!". The staff member would turn in surprise to see Beth engulfed in giggles!
Another time, a night nurse came to give Beth medication. She gently tapped the door to Beth's room which was slightly ajar and in a stage whisper, asked, "Are you awake?" To which the child responded in a voice as dripping in acidic disdain as her 5-year old larynx could manage, "I wasn't - but I am now!".
The coup d'grace that earned her the title of "Terror" was slightly post blood-pressure machine riding.... Well on her way to recovery but not quite ready for discharge and hyped up on the epinephrine cocktail of the day (epinephrine was the base of most early asthma treatments), the ebbulent child recruited a cohort from the next bed who was at much the same point in her recovery. These two decided that they should like to be on the proper side of the needle and become doctors. They drafted an almost life-size doll from the day room to be their willing (and very patient) patient. Of course, doctors require supplies to treat their patients, don't they? So, our two would-be physicians slipped down the hall and into the supply closet. There they found a treasure trove of supplies such as can be found in any good doctors office. Linens, bedpans, thermometers, alcohol wipes, bandages, and......... of course, every good doctor must have a syringe to administer needed medications. After holding their breath and ears to the door, they slipped quietly out of the closet and back to their waiting patient. Along the way, they acquired a wheelchair and a blood pressure machine - all of which they hauled in and quickly drew the curtains around the patient and themselves.
They busied themselves attempting to discern what was ailing their placid patient by taking her temperature and getting her blood pressure. This done, they scratched their heads and determined that whatever disease this was would most certainly need to be treated with a shot of .............. hum... well, ginger ale would have to do! Beth whipped the syringe from its packing and attempted to withdraw ginger ale from the cup drawing up the plunger as she had seen her own doctors do. Barely had she gotten the "correct" amount of "medicine" in the syringe barrel than her "hospital" was "raided" by the current head nurse of the floor - a Miss Lally by name.
Miss Lally attempted to be the understanding accomplice at first, allowing the girls to help themselves to such supplies as they wanted, however, syringes were strictly off-limits as they could get very hurt. The young ladies looked quite contrite and agreed they would not take any more.
Leaving them on their honor, Miss Lally returned to her duties. Of course, it wasn't too long until our young doctors decided that pills (applesauce) and drinkable medicines (old ginger ale) were simply NOT going to save their patient. They MUST be able to fight her dreaded disease with medicines which could ONLY be given by injection.
Once more, they went up the hall to the supply closet - this time, openly. After all, they HAD been given tacit permission to do so. Boldly walking in, they took more bandages and other assorted items. Hidden in the bandages, of course, was the very necessary needle.
Proceeding back to their "hospital room" and drawing the curtains once more, our daring duo attempt once more to inject the correct amount of ginger ale into the arm of the doll..... This time, they heard the squeeking of the nursing shoes on the linoleum floor and hurriedly hid the needle in the drawer of the metal nightstand. Miss Lally drew back the curtains to two very guilty-looking young "practitioners" and asked what they had taken. They, of course, replied that they had only taken bandages. "See???", they said - displaying the bandages for the nurse. "Very well.", replied Miss Lally.
And left.
They heard her shoes squeeking up the linoleum hall.
They thought.
They also thought they had successfully retained the needle and pulled the wool over the nurses eyes - which overjoyed them to no end.... Laughing delightedly, they returned to medicating their patient.
And then the curtain was pulled back quickly! There stood Miss Lally who had not left at all. Facing Miss Lally with a stunned and very guilty looks on their faces were Beth with the syringe dripping ginger ale, and her companion.
Three strikes.
Beth was OUT.
Never again was a supply closet left unlocked and the "Terror" was born.
Many of these medications have side effects which were then unknown, such as stunting the growth or development of the young body, or over-stimulating the patient and making them 'nervous'. Some grew introverted and quiet. Some loud and overly boisterous.
(borrowed from Yale School of Medicine Archives. original may be found here. )
There were also many trips to Grace New Haven Hospital's Emergency Room and week-long stays in the Fitkin Building. In those days, the main hospital was three sided with a lovely courtyard and fountain in the middle of the rear. At Christmas, the hospital would stop the water in the fountain, and place a huge Evergreen tree over it. This was decorated with lights for the patients and staff enjoyment. Each of these buildings had a name. If one was facing the front entrance, the Fitkin Building was to the left, Tompkins Pavillion was to the right. The center was known as the Clinic Building, faced the courtyard. The actual front was the Winchester Building located on Cedar St. Surrounding the courtyard side of the Fitkin and Tompkin pavillions were porches which ran the entire length of the pavillion. Several of the windows were actually large doors leading out onto these porches - however, children were not allowed out there as it was thought that these were unstable.
The first two floors of the Fitkin building were for Cardiac and Critical care. The next 3 were pediatric units. Each of the pediatric floors were laid out in the same way. At the head of the hall was the nurses station. Off of that, there was a quiet room for doctors to write their reports. Then began the patient rooms. Closest to the nurses station were the private rooms for patients who were critically ill. A little further down were semi-private rooms for less critically ill patients. Near the end of the hall were the open wards. These rooms had either 4 or 6 beds. At the end of the hall, there was a large, brightly decorated, open room with windows. There were many toys, sometimes a piano, games, dolls, and books that were donated to the hospital (or bought by nurses). There was also a television in this room - this could be turned on for programs like Captain Kangaroo, Bozo the Clown, or Romper Room. If a child was ambulatory, they could spend time playing or watching television under the watchful eyes of parents.
About half way down the corridor, there was a supply room. This room contained linens for the beds and medical supplies - medications, medication cups, emesis basins, bath basins, an autoclave for sterilizing medical instruments (which were not disposable in those days), bedpans and an assortment of other supplies.
Frequently, in the hustle and bustle of the day, one could find wheelchairs left outside some of the rooms. There were large wooden ones, small wooden ones, and the newer metal chairs.. some locked, some did not.
Interestingly, the supply room was usually not kept locked. The "Employee's Only" sign was, for the most part, obeyed. There were, of course, exceptions to every rule. Beth, that precocious 3-year-old, was the exception. She COULD read - and certainly enough to know that the sign meant for her to KEEP OUT. However, most children of that age would not have been quite that literate. There was also a red line in the corridor just outside the nurses station. This line was for the children to stay behind. They were NOT allowed to leave the floor unaccompanied by an adult - preferably a hospital staff person or a parent.
From the time that Beth was 3 until will after her 7th birth day, she spent at least a few weeks in every year on one of the 3 Fitkin floors. The nurses alternately hated and loved her. If there was mischief, they could be certain that she was most likely in the middle of it. Wheelchair races were one of the chief time-occupiers among the young patients. They traded them back and forth until they got the one they liked the best - and raced from the red line at the head of the hall to the large dayroom at the end. While this was not exactly the best occupation for children, it was tolerated for a short time each day - usually until the first 'near miss'. Then the nurses would have the wheelchairs all removed from the floor by orderlies.
Since Beth was receiving weekly injections at the clinic, she became familiar with the hospital layout. She had made friends with some of the radiologists on the second floor. She also befriended some of the kitchen help on the fifth floor. And the secretary at the Pediatric Clinic - Corrine. And Miss Lally - the head nurse at the clinic. And the nurse who manned the steam room on the third floor. And then there was a craft center on the fifth floor that was used both for occupational therapy and keeping children occupied with a crafting project. Ice cream sticks (tongue depressors) were used to build many things like baskets or small houses. These were decorated with uncooked macaroni shells painted in water colors. While Dot spent all the time she possibly could with her daughter, she could not be there all the time. She still had two very small boys at home to care for. Margaret and Frank made multitudinous trips to spend time with Beth. As did Edna, Dot's oldest sister. Chuck and Dot always came at night and stayed until visiting hours were over. But - there were times when there was no one, and while Beth made friends with other children, she much preferred the company of adults. She could often be found in the radiology department, or in the steam room or even visiting Corrine. The staff on the floor she was SUPPOSED to be on often had to look for her if she was needed for a treatment.
Sometimes, Beth even decided when she was well, much to her doctors chagrin. One such decision came on a crystal clear day in February. As the doctors were making their rounds, they came to the large 4-bed room to check on their patients, only to find Beth riding a blood pressure machine like a scooter. One young doctor, trying his level best to be an authority figure, asked her if she had been told she could be out of the oxygen tent - which was still draped over her bed and running............ The reply came as quick as could be, "Yes, my doctor told me I could and they are coming soon to turn off the oxygen tent and remove it." And off she rode on her makeshift scooter before the frazzled young man could open his mouth to utter another word!
At the age of 5, Beth had the worst asthma attack of her young life. None of the traditional practices or medications worked to relieve the symptoms. Chuck spent all night with her in the Emergency Room, pacing and worrying while Dot was at home with the two boys doing the same.
The year before, Yale School of Medicine had rewritten their working contract with Grace New Haven Hospital, renaming it Yale New Haven Hospital. Grace Hospital was already a "teaching hospital" with a 3-year nursing program and an affiliation with Yale School of Medicine which went back many years. This name change made the affiliation more easily recognizable.
With a teaching hospital, frequently, procedures are done which are new, or just new to a particular disease. Such was the case this night - in order to allow better air flow, it was thought that a tracheotomy might help. Surgeons could then run a small tube down the trachea, attach it to a large oxygen tank and force pure air into the lungs. The procedure was accomplished and had the desired effect of alleviating the respiratory failure.
A tube in ones trachea can make it quite difficult to talk or sing, both of which Beth did incessantly. In true chatterbox form, though, she quickly overcame this difficulty, however, she only allowed a few folks to know that she had. This allowed her the element of surprise with other folks, such as the doctors that made their rounds..... and some of the nursing staff. An unsuspecting staff member would ask questions about her health for their charting to which Beth would respond in a whisper. When the staffer was turned to leave, Beth would speak a cheery, "See ya later!". The staff member would turn in surprise to see Beth engulfed in giggles!
Another time, a night nurse came to give Beth medication. She gently tapped the door to Beth's room which was slightly ajar and in a stage whisper, asked, "Are you awake?" To which the child responded in a voice as dripping in acidic disdain as her 5-year old larynx could manage, "I wasn't - but I am now!".
The coup d'grace that earned her the title of "Terror" was slightly post blood-pressure machine riding.... Well on her way to recovery but not quite ready for discharge and hyped up on the epinephrine cocktail of the day (epinephrine was the base of most early asthma treatments), the ebbulent child recruited a cohort from the next bed who was at much the same point in her recovery. These two decided that they should like to be on the proper side of the needle and become doctors. They drafted an almost life-size doll from the day room to be their willing (and very patient) patient. Of course, doctors require supplies to treat their patients, don't they? So, our two would-be physicians slipped down the hall and into the supply closet. There they found a treasure trove of supplies such as can be found in any good doctors office. Linens, bedpans, thermometers, alcohol wipes, bandages, and......... of course, every good doctor must have a syringe to administer needed medications. After holding their breath and ears to the door, they slipped quietly out of the closet and back to their waiting patient. Along the way, they acquired a wheelchair and a blood pressure machine - all of which they hauled in and quickly drew the curtains around the patient and themselves.
They busied themselves attempting to discern what was ailing their placid patient by taking her temperature and getting her blood pressure. This done, they scratched their heads and determined that whatever disease this was would most certainly need to be treated with a shot of .............. hum... well, ginger ale would have to do! Beth whipped the syringe from its packing and attempted to withdraw ginger ale from the cup drawing up the plunger as she had seen her own doctors do. Barely had she gotten the "correct" amount of "medicine" in the syringe barrel than her "hospital" was "raided" by the current head nurse of the floor - a Miss Lally by name.
Miss Lally attempted to be the understanding accomplice at first, allowing the girls to help themselves to such supplies as they wanted, however, syringes were strictly off-limits as they could get very hurt. The young ladies looked quite contrite and agreed they would not take any more.
Leaving them on their honor, Miss Lally returned to her duties. Of course, it wasn't too long until our young doctors decided that pills (applesauce) and drinkable medicines (old ginger ale) were simply NOT going to save their patient. They MUST be able to fight her dreaded disease with medicines which could ONLY be given by injection.
Once more, they went up the hall to the supply closet - this time, openly. After all, they HAD been given tacit permission to do so. Boldly walking in, they took more bandages and other assorted items. Hidden in the bandages, of course, was the very necessary needle.
Proceeding back to their "hospital room" and drawing the curtains once more, our daring duo attempt once more to inject the correct amount of ginger ale into the arm of the doll..... This time, they heard the squeeking of the nursing shoes on the linoleum floor and hurriedly hid the needle in the drawer of the metal nightstand. Miss Lally drew back the curtains to two very guilty-looking young "practitioners" and asked what they had taken. They, of course, replied that they had only taken bandages. "See???", they said - displaying the bandages for the nurse. "Very well.", replied Miss Lally.
And left.
They heard her shoes squeeking up the linoleum hall.
They thought.
They also thought they had successfully retained the needle and pulled the wool over the nurses eyes - which overjoyed them to no end.... Laughing delightedly, they returned to medicating their patient.
And then the curtain was pulled back quickly! There stood Miss Lally who had not left at all. Facing Miss Lally with a stunned and very guilty looks on their faces were Beth with the syringe dripping ginger ale, and her companion.
Three strikes.
Beth was OUT.
Never again was a supply closet left unlocked and the "Terror" was born.
Sunday, October 20, 2013
New Day, New Blog
The Intellectual side of a Dragon is always good to share. However, sometimes, even Mother Dragons do not want to be very intellectual. Sometimes we want to be just plain people with off-beat thoughts and ideas.
We even have a past, a present, and we hope for a future both for us and our offspring. (Sometimes, though, our offspring are just plain uncooperative with that future thing.)
At the 'double nickle' stage of my life, my memories of yesterday are crystal clear while the memories of five minutes ago are often foggy. Yes - I can remember back to infancy but please do NOT ask what I had for breakfast today because if it wasn't coffee - I have no clue what it might have been!
So, this new day, I am creating a new blog. For my first post, I would like to go back in time.... a very long way..............
Come with me now, back in time, to a 3-family house on Dixwell Avenue in Hamden, CT. - where the Acme Plaza now stands. The house was owned by an older woman named Mrs. Baldino. She lived on the first floor and rented out the upper two floors. On the second floor lived a young, single mother with her two boys.
The third floor was rented by a newlywed couple who lived there with their first child. The handsome, young dark-haired man is an Army veteran who was using the education portion of the GI bill to obtain his BA in Accounting at Quinnipiac College. The fresh-faced, lovely, and even younger bride is not truly ready to be a mother but ready to fly her nest. In those days, there was only one acceptable way out of "the nest" for young ladies - and that was to marry. This is what she chose. Along with marriage, of course, comes motherhood. The baby, a girl, had been born on a Tuesday evening in late spring. She was an easy birth and welcomed on both maternal and paternal sides of the family as she was the first "grandbaby" offspring of both.
This third floor walk-up apartment that was unbearably hot in the summer and frosty in the winter. It had a small yard with an almost hidden path in the back which led to a marsh. In the yard there was a swing set made of metal. Charles, the young husband, had an older blue-gray Peugeot Sedan that he used to travel to work and school. The wife, Dorothy, did not yet drive. Fortunately, just as many neighborhoods in those days, all she needed, grocery stores and the like, were within walking distance.
A little bit about the families of Charles and Dorothy.......... Herbert, Charles' father, was in a sanitarium for tuberculosis patients. In those days, this was an incurable disease and sanitariums were as hospice's are today, places where folks were made as comfortable as possible until their spirits left their physical bodies. Charles' mother, Lillian, still lived in the family home in Westville - a section of New Haven, CT. Sadly, for many years, she was a very heavy drinker. Charles had one older sister - Joan.
Dorothy's family came from New Bedford, Massachusetts. Dorothy's mother, Margaret, was a very strong woman - life had made her so. As the oldest of 8, Margaret was responsible for all the younger siblings. In fact, she was more mother to the youngest, Helen, than sibling.
Prior to Margaret Corcoran's birth, Father and Mother Corcoran emmigrated from Ireland to Boston, MA. Father Corcoran bought several properties around the Boston area and rented them out. Young Margaret was sent out to collect the rents as Father Corcoran was frequently too inebriated to collect them himself. Her mother worked as a seamstress to supplement the rental income. Father Corcoran was not a nice man when he imbibed - which he did often. Margaret grew very intolerant of inebriation after so many years of living with Father Corcoran.
Eventually, Margaret met Thomas, a fine young man of Swedish descent who had served in the US Navy. Thomas Francis Anderson preferred to be called by the diminutive of his middle name - Frank. They married and set up housekeeping in New Bedford, MA.
Frank had not had an easy childhood any more than had Margaret. He was forced to leave school at 9 and work full time to keep the family financially afloat. As an adult, he eventually found permanent employment with "The News" company. Eventually, Frank was promoted and moved to another paper, The New Haven Register and the Journal Courier by name. This led him to move his family to the New Haven, Connecticut area where the offices of these papers were located. Dorothy was the youngest of their family with two older siblings by the names of Edna and Eileen.
On a hot June day in 1957, in the well-kept back yard of Margaret and Franks house in West Haven, CT, Charles (Chuck) took Dorothy (Dot) to be his wife. Dot, despite being the youngest, was the first of the three Anderson girls to be wed. Chuck and Dot had a delightful time honeymooning on Cape Cod and in the spring of 1958, Dot presented Chuck with their first offspring - a baby girl that they named Elizabeth Ann. Truth be told, Dot did the naming. Had Chuck had his way, Elizabeth would have been Deborah.
Back to our third floor walk up, Dot cared for her infant daughter while Chuck worked and went to school. Chuck's handwriting was atrocious - so, they had invested in an Underwood Typewriter on which Dot typed Chucks thesis papers in between washing diapers by hand. In 1960, Chuck graduated from Quinnipiac College with a BA in Accounting and a minor in Computer Science. He found a wonderful job at US Electrical Motors in Milford, CT.
Chuck and Dot eventually moved back to West Haven to Dot's parents home in West Haven both to save wear and tear on Chucks older Peugeot and to save money for a home of their own.
It was during this time of many people under one roof, the middle Anderson sister, met and married a wonderfully caring and quietly intelligent man by the name of Joseph Coppola. The reception was a small affair held in an adjunct room at the church. The family discovered, much to their chagrin, why it is not a good idea to have a child at a reception. The bride had a lovely 3 tiered wedding cake which was well and duly sampled (well, at least the frosting was) by the only child in attendance. The cake received a "two-thumbs-up" from the small sampler.
In June of 1961 - 2 days after their fourth wedding anniversary, Dot had her second child - a son. They named the new addition traditionally - after his father and grandfather. Charles Herbert took his place in the crib in Chuck and Dot's room in the Anderson homestead. Elizabeth was moved to Eileen's bedroom as Eileen had moved with her husband to a home in North Haven, CT. In August of that same year, Eileen had her first, Patricia.
June of the following year saw the birth of Dot's third and last child. By this time, Elizabeth was a precocious 3-year old who had found her voice along with a vivid imagination. She was oft heard singing (loudly) the chorus to the song "Mrs. Murphy's Chowder" or "Won't You Come Home Bill Bailey". Sometimes, a little TOO precocious....... While in the hospital after the birth of the third boy, Dot called home. After to speaking to her mother for awhile, she spoke with her daughter Elizabeth and told her that her new baby brother's name would be Donald. The 3 year old responded, "OH - you mean Donald Duck is my brother?". Somehow, I can't imagine that was among ANY of the responses Dot might have imagined coming from her pronouncement.
Elizabeth, or Beth, was a quiet sort of child most of the time. A loner who preferred the company of animals or her imagination over other children. She could create a story in her mind whose imaginary pages told a tale that lasted the entire day....... a story of Indian Princess's and their faithful horse or deer companions. A deceased squirrel could (and did, much to Dot's dismay) become a napping pony, a branch became a spear or a bow and arrows.
The majority of the human company she spent time with were adults - they accepted her curious traits - and often encouraged them. She learned quickly - which pleased the adults, and could read and write the basic words of a grocery list before beginning kindergarten.
When they had lived in the 3rd floor walk up, Beth had a walker which she learned how to propel quite speedily getting exactly where she wanted to.................... backward. Never forward. Only backwards ...... This too pleased the adults - in an odd way.
We even have a past, a present, and we hope for a future both for us and our offspring. (Sometimes, though, our offspring are just plain uncooperative with that future thing.)
At the 'double nickle' stage of my life, my memories of yesterday are crystal clear while the memories of five minutes ago are often foggy. Yes - I can remember back to infancy but please do NOT ask what I had for breakfast today because if it wasn't coffee - I have no clue what it might have been!
So, this new day, I am creating a new blog. For my first post, I would like to go back in time.... a very long way..............
Come with me now, back in time, to a 3-family house on Dixwell Avenue in Hamden, CT. - where the Acme Plaza now stands. The house was owned by an older woman named Mrs. Baldino. She lived on the first floor and rented out the upper two floors. On the second floor lived a young, single mother with her two boys.
The third floor was rented by a newlywed couple who lived there with their first child. The handsome, young dark-haired man is an Army veteran who was using the education portion of the GI bill to obtain his BA in Accounting at Quinnipiac College. The fresh-faced, lovely, and even younger bride is not truly ready to be a mother but ready to fly her nest. In those days, there was only one acceptable way out of "the nest" for young ladies - and that was to marry. This is what she chose. Along with marriage, of course, comes motherhood. The baby, a girl, had been born on a Tuesday evening in late spring. She was an easy birth and welcomed on both maternal and paternal sides of the family as she was the first "grandbaby" offspring of both.
This third floor walk-up apartment that was unbearably hot in the summer and frosty in the winter. It had a small yard with an almost hidden path in the back which led to a marsh. In the yard there was a swing set made of metal. Charles, the young husband, had an older blue-gray Peugeot Sedan that he used to travel to work and school. The wife, Dorothy, did not yet drive. Fortunately, just as many neighborhoods in those days, all she needed, grocery stores and the like, were within walking distance.
A little bit about the families of Charles and Dorothy.......... Herbert, Charles' father, was in a sanitarium for tuberculosis patients. In those days, this was an incurable disease and sanitariums were as hospice's are today, places where folks were made as comfortable as possible until their spirits left their physical bodies. Charles' mother, Lillian, still lived in the family home in Westville - a section of New Haven, CT. Sadly, for many years, she was a very heavy drinker. Charles had one older sister - Joan.
Dorothy's family came from New Bedford, Massachusetts. Dorothy's mother, Margaret, was a very strong woman - life had made her so. As the oldest of 8, Margaret was responsible for all the younger siblings. In fact, she was more mother to the youngest, Helen, than sibling.
Prior to Margaret Corcoran's birth, Father and Mother Corcoran emmigrated from Ireland to Boston, MA. Father Corcoran bought several properties around the Boston area and rented them out. Young Margaret was sent out to collect the rents as Father Corcoran was frequently too inebriated to collect them himself. Her mother worked as a seamstress to supplement the rental income. Father Corcoran was not a nice man when he imbibed - which he did often. Margaret grew very intolerant of inebriation after so many years of living with Father Corcoran.
Eventually, Margaret met Thomas, a fine young man of Swedish descent who had served in the US Navy. Thomas Francis Anderson preferred to be called by the diminutive of his middle name - Frank. They married and set up housekeeping in New Bedford, MA.
Frank had not had an easy childhood any more than had Margaret. He was forced to leave school at 9 and work full time to keep the family financially afloat. As an adult, he eventually found permanent employment with "The News" company. Eventually, Frank was promoted and moved to another paper, The New Haven Register and the Journal Courier by name. This led him to move his family to the New Haven, Connecticut area where the offices of these papers were located. Dorothy was the youngest of their family with two older siblings by the names of Edna and Eileen.
On a hot June day in 1957, in the well-kept back yard of Margaret and Franks house in West Haven, CT, Charles (Chuck) took Dorothy (Dot) to be his wife. Dot, despite being the youngest, was the first of the three Anderson girls to be wed. Chuck and Dot had a delightful time honeymooning on Cape Cod and in the spring of 1958, Dot presented Chuck with their first offspring - a baby girl that they named Elizabeth Ann. Truth be told, Dot did the naming. Had Chuck had his way, Elizabeth would have been Deborah.
Back to our third floor walk up, Dot cared for her infant daughter while Chuck worked and went to school. Chuck's handwriting was atrocious - so, they had invested in an Underwood Typewriter on which Dot typed Chucks thesis papers in between washing diapers by hand. In 1960, Chuck graduated from Quinnipiac College with a BA in Accounting and a minor in Computer Science. He found a wonderful job at US Electrical Motors in Milford, CT.
Chuck and Dot eventually moved back to West Haven to Dot's parents home in West Haven both to save wear and tear on Chucks older Peugeot and to save money for a home of their own.
It was during this time of many people under one roof, the middle Anderson sister, met and married a wonderfully caring and quietly intelligent man by the name of Joseph Coppola. The reception was a small affair held in an adjunct room at the church. The family discovered, much to their chagrin, why it is not a good idea to have a child at a reception. The bride had a lovely 3 tiered wedding cake which was well and duly sampled (well, at least the frosting was) by the only child in attendance. The cake received a "two-thumbs-up" from the small sampler.
In June of 1961 - 2 days after their fourth wedding anniversary, Dot had her second child - a son. They named the new addition traditionally - after his father and grandfather. Charles Herbert took his place in the crib in Chuck and Dot's room in the Anderson homestead. Elizabeth was moved to Eileen's bedroom as Eileen had moved with her husband to a home in North Haven, CT. In August of that same year, Eileen had her first, Patricia.
June of the following year saw the birth of Dot's third and last child. By this time, Elizabeth was a precocious 3-year old who had found her voice along with a vivid imagination. She was oft heard singing (loudly) the chorus to the song "Mrs. Murphy's Chowder" or "Won't You Come Home Bill Bailey". Sometimes, a little TOO precocious....... While in the hospital after the birth of the third boy, Dot called home. After to speaking to her mother for awhile, she spoke with her daughter Elizabeth and told her that her new baby brother's name would be Donald. The 3 year old responded, "OH - you mean Donald Duck is my brother?". Somehow, I can't imagine that was among ANY of the responses Dot might have imagined coming from her pronouncement.
Elizabeth, or Beth, was a quiet sort of child most of the time. A loner who preferred the company of animals or her imagination over other children. She could create a story in her mind whose imaginary pages told a tale that lasted the entire day....... a story of Indian Princess's and their faithful horse or deer companions. A deceased squirrel could (and did, much to Dot's dismay) become a napping pony, a branch became a spear or a bow and arrows.
The majority of the human company she spent time with were adults - they accepted her curious traits - and often encouraged them. She learned quickly - which pleased the adults, and could read and write the basic words of a grocery list before beginning kindergarten.
When they had lived in the 3rd floor walk up, Beth had a walker which she learned how to propel quite speedily getting exactly where she wanted to.................... backward. Never forward. Only backwards ...... This too pleased the adults - in an odd way.
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