Growing Up Toppsie

By Arlene A. A. Wright

This is about the saga of a woman born into poverty during the Great Depression, her trials and tribulations during her growing up years, her early marriage, and her struggles in raising four children. After twenty years, she finally divorced her tyrannical husband and moved to the city of her birth. After her children were grown, she enrolled at the University of Minnesota to earn a degree, working days and studying evenings. She successfully became a graphic designer and worked for a publishing house where she met her soul mate. They moved to San Diego, where they were married. Working together, they became successful publishers of educational materials called Whole Language, changing the way children learn to read. After seventeen years, that marriage ended in divorce, and she finally found time to once again devote time to her art, both painting and sculpting, before settling down to write twenty-one children's books. She surrounds herself with friends and family, has been on several boards, and is making substantial donations to her first love—the arts!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Apr 2, 2020
• ISBN: 9781645848097

Book preview

Chapter 2

Oelwein, Iowa

Iwas eight years old when my parents moved to Oelwein. Once again, they packed up household—dogs and family—and moved to another Iowa town just about twenty-five miles north of Fairbanks called Oelwein.

The following year was 1941; I had turned nine in August of that year. It was the year of Pearl Harbor! I remember the day we all huddled around our radio while President Roosevelt announced the bombing of Pearl Harbor. At nine years old, I did not know the seriousness of the country being at war.

A year earlier, sister Evelyn quit school to get married, and early that December, she gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. He was born just days before Pearl Harbor. At nine years old, I had become an aunt! I fell in love with and adored my little nephew. He had soft red hair and big blue eyes. Evelyn and her husband moved in with us, so for a time, I got to hold baby Dickey often.

Every summer, while my daddy worked for the railroad, we had railroad passes. After school was out for the summer, Mother, Ginny, and I would get on a train heading to Minneapolis, where my grandmother and three of my uncles lived. Uncle Bill was married with two children. Our destination was always Uncle Bill and Aunt Clair’s house, where they lived with their two children, Robert and Joyce. Joyce was a few months younger than me, and Robert was just about nine months older than me. We were best of buddies, looking forward every year to getting together to play.

My cousin Robert was adorable with soft brown curly hair and large blue eyes. After that first year we were together, in winter, we got word that little cousin Joyce had died of pneumonia. A few years after Joyce died, my aunt and uncle had another baby girl they named Gloria. Gloria was several years younger and was an annoying little girl while Robert, Ginny, and I played.

My grandmother lived in an apartment near a lake. We would take the streetcar to her apartment building to visit. Uncle Glenn still lived at home while he attending college. He soon would be going into the military. I believe my Uncle Bill was too old, like my dad. Uncle Sid had just gotten married and had been drafted. His new wife, Marie, was going to have their first baby after he left to go to war.

The next year, Momma got a letter from Grandma. Girls, Momma said, your grandma is coming for a visit. She’ll be here tomorrow with her new husband.

Ginny and I joined hands and began to dance in a circle around Momma, singing, Grandma’s coming! Grandma’s coming!

My real grandfather died before I was born. He was the only grandfather the family had. I hardly knew my grandma, but I just knew that I loved her.

Now I have a grandpa! I squealed with delight.

Mother scurried around, tidying up the parlor and kitchen while we girls did our bit by doing our chores. We were all so excited! Everyone but Daddy, that is.

He was muttering under his breath, saying, I suppose I have to kill another chicken and dig up some potatoes. He knew my grandma thought Momma had married beneath herself.

They drove in on that summer day. Momma said, Grandma looked radiant and so happy. Her long dark-auburn hair was braided and pulled back in a tight bun. She looked very old to me.

Her new husband was tall with gray hair; he didn’t say much. He too knew that my grandma didn’t like my dad. Grandma thought my dad was too gruff and unpolished. Their stay was a bit strained and brief, staying but a day before they were off, once more becoming nothing more than a memory.

The war had been declared, and my mother’s youngest brother, Uncle Glenn, had enlisted in the Air Force. He wrote that he would stop for a visit on his way to his assignment. We were filled with excitement. A college graduate, my Uncle Glenn was not much more than a teenager. He was tall with soft blond hair, and he was very handsome in his Air Force uniform. After he arrived, Daddy took pictures of all of us together with Uncle Glenn in his uniform.

After Uncle Glenn caught the train to his new assignment, we discovered that he had left an unwanted guest. On his way to visit us, he had slept overnight in a jail facility for lack of a hotel. The jailhouse extended that courtesy to servicemen. Apparently, the jail was host to bedbugs as well. Oh no!

All during my childhood and right into young adulthood, I found that my dad could do almost anything. Without a blink of an eye, he went to his toolbox and came back with a blowtorch. Lifting the mattress edges, he quickly swept the edges of the mattress with the flame. Like magic, no more bedbugs!

My sister Ginny and I used to walk to the public library every Saturday to borrow books. The library was a good walk from the house across the railroad tracks, which was right next to a pickle factory. The smell was overwhelming and still lingers with me today. Opposite the pickle factory lived a black family. I believe they were the only black family in Oelwein. As a child, not knowing any better, I related that pickle factory smell with black people. As I grew up and made friends with people of color, I realized the smell was entirely the pickle factory. Such were memories from my growing-up years that still linger in my head.

In Oelwein, my new teacher thought that since I had started first grade after just turning five, I was too young for third grade and held me back in second grade. During recess, she would keep me in for special tutoring. I missed out on so much playing but gained a world of help with my schooling. Her name was Miss Finely, and I liked her very much. Being held back a year was a smart move. I was immature at seven, with no social skills other than my interaction with my older sisters. I was still very shy, with no self-confidence.

From the time I was four until we became teens, my sister Ginny felt it was her job to boss me around. She, being two years older, always got to be the teacher when we played school. She always got to be the mother when we played house, and when we got older, playing cowboys and Indians, she always got to be Roy Rogers.

When we were still very young, sometimes in the middle of our playing, Ginny would slap me, making me cry, and then she would run into the next room and play innocent. When I complained to sister Beverly, she’d advise me, Sometimes when you are playing, just haul off and slap her. I did and caught holy hell, while Ginny always got away with it.

As we grew up, Ginny became my caretaker. If anyone bullied me, she was fast to come to my aid. I counted on her to be there if ever I needed her.

Ginny also got us into trouble a few times. With Christmas coming and at age seven, I no longer believed in Santa Claus. Ginny said to me, Arlene, I was in the basement, and there are two big packages hanging from the ceiling. Let’s go down, and take them down to see what they are. We did and found out they were big baby dolls that opened and shut their big blue eyes! We were so thrilled! I believe that would be my first doll ever!

Of course, we couldn’t put them back where we found them, so we were in deep trouble. When our daddy found out what we had done, he threatened to not give them to us. That scared me, so I swore I would behave from then on!

Christmas morning came, and there under the Christmas tree were our beautiful big baby dolls. Ginny’s doll had a blue dress, and my doll had a pink dress. It was my first real doll. And I loved her so much!

Chapter 3

Move to Durango

Once more, my family picked up and moved—this time, to a little one-horse town called Durango, Iowa. Durango had a grocery store with a filling station, a small post office, and a tavern. More importantly, Durango had a train depot with an apartment upstairs. It was the smallest town yet!

The surrounding area was steeped high with stone bluffs and beautiful vegetation surrounding it on one side of the highway. A creek called the Little Maquoketa ran thorough it on the other side of the highway. In those first summer days, my mother spent a good many hours fishing in that little creek. Her catch often was little silver flat fish called crappies and a bigger muddy-looking fish called catfish.

One year, she snagged a turtle. Often, she made me accompany her along with my constant companion, Duke. When she snagged that turtle, she told me to run and get help to haul it in. We ate turtle that night. It wiggled and jiggled in the pot while it cooked. The turtle almost seemed to be alive. It made me not want to eat it!

Often in the spring, Dad would take us all hiking up those beautiful rock bluffs while we hunted for a little Christmas tree-shaped mushrooms called morels, a delicacy. My mother would clean them, slice them in half the long way, then dip them in egg batter and crushed soda crackers, then fry them gently in butter. So delicious!

Durango was a seven-mile drive from the larger town of Dubuque. Our family had dwindled to just Ginny and me. Evelyn had her little family, which now included a baby girl. Sister Beverly had quit school in the eleventh grade and moved to Rockford, Illinois, with her best girl friend from school to work in a war plant.

After nephew Dickey started talking, he said the cutest things! Once, when his Momma had bought him a new pair of shoes, we asked him, Dickey, how do your new shoes fit?

He said, My shoes shit shine!

When people asked him his name, he would say Ditsy Cox for Dickey Fox. He was the most adorable little boy, and I loved him so!

My parents, along with Evelyn and her husband, Bob, often would frequent the local tavern. While sitting at the bar with Dickey in tow, he would sit on a stool next to his momma and say, Gimme a bea, as he had heard his parents say often. I repeat, he was adorable!

While Momma and Daddy sat in the tavern, Ginny and I would go into the owner’s home in back of the tavern. They had two sons; the older one was a college student, and the younger son named Tommy was close to my age. The owner’s wife, Mary, played honky-tonk piano while Tommy entertained Ginny and me until it was time to go home.

The owner’s wife, Mary, played honky-tonk piano in the back room of the tavern to entertain people. It was such fun to listen to her play; there was seldom music at home. Ginny and I used to turn on The Hit Parade on the radio every Friday night; that was about it, so I loved hearing Mary play that honky-tonk music on the piano!

Our apartment over the depot was meager, with no electricity and no running water. Dad bought kerosene lamps for light in the evenings and a battery-run radio. The refrigeration was an icebox. My mother cooked with bottled gas. It was very primitive. We had a well downstairs where every morning, Dad would haul up enough water for the day. Our toilets were outhouses downstairs and across the cinder-covered ground.

In the summer, the outhouses hosted great hairy yellow-and-black spiders, which hung in the holes where we had to sit. I was terrified of being bitten and terrified of spiders forever after.

I had never thought of us as being poor. To me, it was no different than anyone else. I thought of it as just the way things were. Years later, cousin Robert said, Your folks were so poor! It occurred to me that he was right; we did live at poverty level.

My dad was the foreman of the railroad maintenance. He had three men under him as they rode the handcar up and down the tracks to make sure the tracks were clear of debris, animals, or anything that might be a hazard to oncoming trains, also repairing broken tracks when they found them.

Downstairs, manning the switches and incoming and outgoing mail, sat a depot agent. He used the Morse code to communicate with other agents up and down the railroad. The mailbags were hung on a hook so the passing trains could hook it as they went by, tossing the bag of incoming mail on the ground. Eventually that depot agent was drafted into the army. My mother took on the important assignment of depot agent.

Ginny and I went to a country school that seemed like a couple of miles walk up the highway. All the town children would meet and walk those miles of highway together to our little country school, which sat high on a hill at the end of our walk.

We had one teacher for all seven grades—usually a new college graduate at her first teaching job. Grades were from first grade to seventh grades. Ginny was in seventh grade while I was just starting the fifth grade.

In my grade, there were just two others a lanky farm boy named Delbert and a town boy named Donnie. Donnie belonged to a family of three children: a younger little chubby girl named Charlotte, who always smelled like soda crackers to me, and a brother named Pete.

I thought Donnie was really cute. Ginny and Pete were in the same grade; they soon became boyfriend and girlfriend, while Donnie and I also became boyfriend and girlfriend at the tender age of ten. We often held hands and kissed, his being my first kiss!

On Saturdays, Pete and Donnie’s parents would take the five of us to the big town of Dubuque to watch a serial movie, usually Nyoka, Queen of the Jungle or Tarzan. Sometimes there was also Hop Along Cassidy or a Gene Autry movie. What fun!

Another family in town had a boy they called Junior and two girls, Phyllis and Jennet Ouderkirk. They were part of the group who walked to school together on Highway 52. The grocery store owner had two children—a girl and a boy named Roberta and Robert Bock. A little farm girl named Mary Jane Brockman was a part of our group. Yet another family had two children—Glenn and Yvonne Frederick.

All together, we were thirteen strong always walking against the oncoming traffic. We had great fun just trudging off to school together, rain or shine! Back in those days, parents never drove their children to school. Most often families had one car, and dads took that car to work and back.

One winter, there was a terrible snow-and-ice storm. Our happy group bravely walked through the miserable weather, only to get to school at the end of our walk and find no schoolteacher. We could not get in out of the severe weather. Apparently, our teacher could not get to school that day; the highway was so treacherous.

At last, one of the fathers came driving up the hill to where we were all huddled, freezing. He piled us into his car and drove the slippery highway back into town.

One year, that tiny little country school had a Christmas play, and I was chosen to play the main character. I was taught to sing Oh Come All Ye Faithful in Latin. I was terrified! Luckily, it was a very small audience of just parents.

I got through it just fine, and to this day, I can recall those Latin words.

Unfortunately, since it was a country school, I was forced to study agriculture, something I would never have use of. One of the assignments we had was to draw pictures of the earth’s layers. That part I enjoyed doing. I believe in my heart I have always known that I was an artist.

On Friday afternoons, we had what the teacher called music appreciation. The school had a windup Victrola, where she would play music while we put our heads down on our crossed arms on our desks. I believe I did enjoy our music appreciation time; it was my first introduction to classical music.

In summer, during good weather, I would ride my hand-me-down bike out on the country roads, singing to the top of my ability. My dog, Duke, would run along beside me. He was a great and loyal companion. He never left my side.

Often on a Saturday, when no one was home, I would go into the house and turn on Milton Cross broadcasting from the Metropolitan Opera in New York City. I so loved the beautiful voices of the women who sang.

I remember thinking, When I grow up, I want to sing like that! Whenever I was alone, I sang, trying to duplicate the voices. How wonderful, I thought, to be able to sing like that!

My favorite sister, Beverly, always sang. I, being the younger sister, idolized her and became a singer as well. Whenever a train would go by, I would raise my voice and sing loudly. All my life, I have always loved to sing.

One spring, a rattlesnake bit Duke, and his little head swelled up like a balloon. He could no longer go up and down the steps. We made a bed for him on the porch, and when I came home from school each day, Duke would stretch his little neck up to watch me coming up the steps. I would gently pick him up and carry him downstairs for him to do his job and then pick him up once more, carefully placing him back in his bed. I don’t remember how long it took him to recover, but he had me to worry about him and care for him until he healed.

Sometimes I would ride my bike with Duke right alongside me to Mary Jane’s parents’ farm. Mary Jane and I would gather eggs or feed the chickens or sometimes just stay inside, playing with her games.

Mary Jane had an older sister, Collet, who didn’t live at home but visited on weekends. Collet had a beautiful dress with rows and rows of black fringe. One time, Mary Jane let me try it on; I did my best to make it shimmy and shake. I loved that dress and vowed I would have one like it one day. It never happened!

Roberta’s mother and father held a band rehearsal in their store on weekend nights. Ginny and I had been invited to come and listen. It was great fun to listen to live music, something we had never experienced before. We had promised our parents we would be home early.

At the end of the evening, we put our coats on and said our goodbyes to Robert and Roberta after thanking their parents. Then we quietly slipped out the side door into the darkness of the night. I shuddered as we stepped outside into the cool night autumn air.

Gosh, I didn’t know it got this dark at eight o’clock, Ginny said.

We shivered at the thought of having to walk the lonely country road all the way home in the inky black night. Ever since I could remember, I had been afraid of the dark. My older sisters made sure that I knew about the wolves and the boogeyman while I was still very little.

It was late September, and the night air was already nippy. The two of us clutched our coats tightly around our throats and began the walk in silence. We were both afraid to tell the other how frightened we really were. I clung to Ginny’s arm.

W-w-why d-d-didn’t we go h-home when I w-w-wanted to? I asked, shivering.

I was having too much fun to go home early. Besides, we don’t get to watch Roberta’s dad rehearse with his band very often, and I like to spend time there. Her mother and dad always have fun things going on at their house.

But we promised Mom and Dad we would get home early, I said. Now we’re going to get it for being out so late. We should have come home when I wanted to.

Oh, stop complaining. You were having fun too. Don’t be such a baby.

We walked side by side together in silence. Except for a tiny sliver of a moon, there was no light at all on the lonely country road; the stars were hiding behind the drifting clouds.

Ginny said, I wish we lived in the city. At least in the city, there are streetlights.

Suddenly, we heard a car approaching. We held our breath. Mom and Dad had warned us to never take a ride from strangers. What if the car stopped and wanted to give us a lift? The headlights began to wash the road behind us with light.

Ginny grabbed my hand and quickly headed into the ditch. Jump, Arlene! Hurry, before they see us!

We leaped into the ditch and ducked our heads down just as the car full of noisy teenage boys went speeding by. We coughed as we breathed in the dust kicked up by the passing car.

Whew! That was a close call, Ginny whispered.

Th-th-there’s something in this ditch with us, Ginny. I’m scared! I said, shaking like a leaf.

Oh, Arlene, don’t be silly. Come on, let’s get back up on the road, Ginny scolded.

Me-e-e-e-e-o-o-o-w! came a loud wail from behind us.

We both whirled around just in time to see a pair of glowing green eyes staring at us in that dark ditch; a large black cat hissed at us as if to say, Get out of my territory!

We both screamed and scrambled out of that ditch as fast as our legs would go. Back up on the road, we walked ever so briskly toward home. Only halfway home and already we had had two frights.

I think my sister Ginny was sorry we stayed so late, especially now, because she didn’t want me to think she, too, was scared. Our mom and dad had instructed many times: Ginny, because you are the oldest, you must always watch over Arlene.

I knew she sometimes resented the fact that she wasn’t allowed much freedom from me. She would rather not have a little sister tagging along everywhere she went; she made that very clear to me many times.

A cloud slipped silently in front of what little moonlight there had been. The night became even darker and colder. There was a very cold breeze. The dried leaves on tree branches made a spooky rustling sound. Somewhere faraway, a dog barked. Then another dog let out an eerie howl closer on the other side of us, as if to answer.

I felt Ginny’s hand squeeze harder. I’ve got an idea. Let’s sing a song. It will make the time go faster! Ginny said with enthusiasm. I could hear the fear in her voice.

What should we sing? I asked.

Let’s sing ‘Yankee Doodle Dandy,’ like we did last Fourth of July at the picnic. Remember how much fun we had?

We began to sing, softly at first; slowly, we became more and more courageous and sang louder. Soon, we drowned out all the night noises and began to feel more confident. In the distance, we could see home and felt safer. We began to skip as we sang. Suddenly, without warning, there came a blood-curdling scream! Never in my life had I heard anything like it! We clung to each other and stared wide-eyed into the dark, suddenly silent night. The only sound now was the pounding of our hearts. Then without a word, we turned and ran as fast as we could, as though there were demons after us!

We quickly ran up the steps and reached the front door at the same time and burst into the safety of the living room, where our Mom and Dad were sitting.

Momma, Daddy! There is something terrible outside! It screamed at us! we shouted together.

Whoa! Slow down, girls. Tell us what you heard, they asked calmly.

As we told the story of the long scary walk home in the dark, I felt as though my eyes would pop right out. They were opened so wide while we retold what we had been through, ending the story by describing the terrifying scream out of nowhere.

I think I know what you heard, said Daddy. It sounds to me as though you may have heard a screech owl, just a little old harmless screech owl! He chuckled. Nothing to be afraid of. Daddy held his arms open and enclosed us inside. Soon we were all laughing and hugging!

I’ll never stay out late again, Ginny promised. Next time, I will listen to Arlene when she wants to go home. Momma gave us each a