If This Porch Could Talk

By Arlene Curns

If This Porch Could Talk was written when Arlene was ninety-five years old and takes place in the 1990s--a kinder, gentler time, a golden era that we will never know again. Arlene relied on stories recorded in journals that she has kept for many years, providing a wealth of memories to draw from.

Her story is centered around the historical background of her beloved hometown of Flint, Michigan. It is a tapestry of real life--sincere, heartfelt, a sweet, nostalgic story.

It was 1995 when Arlene and her husband Jack purchased a home in Mott Park, Flint, Michigan, for a summer home. They embarked on a restoration project, refreshing the home. A Victorian porch was added across the front of the home, and many conversations took place on that porch. Some stories are humorous, others are sad. It celebrates memories of her family, days that she thought were ordinary. Looking back, they seem extraordinary.

A great deal of Flint history is recorded. Some of the stories relate to things that are only memories such as Christmas shopping in Flint's magical downtown, dining at the Carriage Room on Smith-Bridgman's mezzanine, and the old farmers market. Other stories describe traditions that continue to this day--the Old Newsboys Sale, Applewood and the Sloan Summer Fair. Other historical topics touched on include the brick street in the downtown area, the metal arches proclaiming Flint as the Vehicle City, Glenwood Cemetery, and the Whaley House, among others.

The flashbacks are interesting and beautifully written. Live again a thrilling performance of the Shrine Circus through Arlene's vivid description. You are there! Arlene has a way of painting a picture with words. You feel as though you are right beside her.

If you enjoyed her debut book, Homemade Noodles & Cars, you're sure to treasure this one too. Her story is uplifting and leaves you with hope in your heart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Oct 5, 2023
• ISBN: 9798888321577

Book preview

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If This Porch Could Talk

Arlene Curns

ISBN 979-8-88832-156-0 (paperback)

ISBN 979-8-88832-158-4 (hardcover)

ISBN 979-8-88832-157-7 (digital)

Copyright © 2023 by Arlene Curns

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Title Credit: Candice Beyea

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

In honor of the love of my life, Jack, and our beloved children: Carol Ann, Barbara Lee, Ronald Reed, and Gerald Jack.

Testimonials

Preface

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Epilogue

About the Author

In honor of the love of my life, Jack, and our beloved children: Carol Ann, Barbara Lee, Ronald Reed, and Gerald Jack.

Testimonials

In her second book, Arlene shares more Flint history while expanding her family's story. All ages will enjoy her memoir.

—Gayle Barlow

Arlene's book is a valuable reference for the history of Flint, Michigan. She has many wonderful recollections that capture the enduring memories of a once vibrant and booming American city during its golden age. This diary will stir memories of those who lived in the Vehicle City decades ago just as the family stories do around your holiday table. I highly recommend this book and hope all will enjoy it as much as I did.

—Arthur A. Busch, Attorney

Arlene is a genuine treasure. Her memories add context and texture to a story that is uniquely American and only exceeded by her exquisite storytelling skills. Arlene's recollection of her life is nothing less than a snapshot of the last 100 years of Americana, from a very unique perspective—hers! Arlene just so happened to have grown up, come of age, raised her family and developed her career in Flint, Michigan, the very epicenter of the prosperity of the American Century.

—Gary L. Fisher, President, G. L. Fisher Capital Management, President of the Genesee County Historical Society

Arlene's devotion to her parents, husband, children and friends will take you into a world that life's dreams are about. It will guide you into the ups and downs, laughs and tears that make life worthwhile.

—Carol and LeRoy Gerow

Arlene Curns is an exceptionally good writer with her God-given gift for telling stories. If you have not experienced her talent, you are in for a treat with this, her latest memoir.

—Virginia Mallady

Proverbs 3:5, 6—Trust in the Lord with all thine heart, and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths. KJV

Preface

I'm often heard exclaiming, I'm almost a hundred!

The truth is, I'm ninety-six. But oh, the things I've seen and heard and done in almost a century. Hard to believe the little girl raised in Flint, Michigan, during the Great Depression experienced such a life. Over the years, some famous people crossed paths with my husband, Jack, and me.

George Jones, often considered the undisputed king of country music, lived right across the street from us when we spent our winters in Florida.

When comedian Bob Hope flew into Flint in his private jet to do one of his famous one-man shows, Jack and I were asked to pick him up at Bishop Airport, drive him to the IMA, and after his performance, drive him back to Bishop.

At the Buick Open in Grand Blanc, I had the good fortune to meet Arnold Palmer, my favorite golfer, and he gave me a copy of his scorecard.

Jack had the incredible experience of spending the weekend at the home of Betty Grable, a famous movie star, singer, and dancer; and her husband, Harry James, a famous bandleader.

And Jack had the honor of cooking a meal for President Franklin D. Roosevelt when he was serving in the Navy during WWII aboard the Presidential Flagship, the USS Augusta.

All this seems a lifetime ago, but the best was yet to be, for the sweetest part of my life are my family and friends. They are the fabric of my ordinary days.

Chapter 1

It was a miracle. You could call it nothing less.

Jack and I had spent many afternoons traveling up to Houghton Lake to search for a cottage where we would live in the summer. We weren't having any luck finding anything for sale on the lake in our price bracket that came even close to meeting our expectations.

Then one day, we were slowly cruising along Houghton View Drive, enjoying the scenery when we noticed a man bending over in his yard.

Jack excitedly exclaimed, He's putting a For Sale sign out!

We coasted to a stop beside the gentleman and inquired about the cottage.

Yes, it's for sale, he said. Come inside, and we'll talk.

Mr. Zettey and his wife, Anne, and Jack and I sat at their kitchen table. The Zetteys were purchasing a larger cottage a few houses away. We agreed on a price, and an hour later, we had our own little piece of heaven at the lake.

What are the chances that we would be at that exact spot the precise moment Mr. Zettey was placing that For Sale sign in his yard? It was a miraculous gift from God.

Now, ten years later, we were going to put our own For Sale sign out.

Chapter 2

Looking back, it seems as though it was just yesterday when we sold our lakefront cottage at Houghton Lake.

I had read a book written by a renowned Christian financial advisor, in which he stated that you should never keep two homes unless you had to. Jack and I had been keeping two homes for many years—a summer home in Michigan and a winter home in Florida. We enjoyed very much following the sun from north to south. It was the best of both worlds. But those words written by the financial advisor, who supposedly knew all the answers, kept ringing in my ears. Were we being foolish keeping two homes?

The thought that we should sell our cottage in Michigan that we both dearly loved and then live all year-round in Florida kept going through my mind.

Our lakefront cabin was a perfect summer place. It was built of full logs. Like every place we have ever lived, I'm always on a quest to make everything perfect in it, and I did that the summers we spent in the cottage.

Our Cabin at Houghton Lake

The logs on the interior were restored to their original beauty by applying a coat of Minwax, giving them a mellow glow—a rich patina. The chinking between every log in our cabin was scraped out, refilled with fresh grout, and then painted white with a one-inch brush. Perfection! I have to admit I just won't give up until I'm satisfied with the results.

You could call our cabin a foursquare, I guess. It was the usual living room, kitchen, and two bedrooms, all equal in size, and one bathroom. It had a lovely porch extending all the way across the front—glassed and screened—and an entry room at the rear. The living room had double windows overlooking the lake and a large stone fireplace with a massive golden oak mantel. Windows on each side of the fireplace brought the outside in.

We hired professionals to renovate the kitchen. When the old cupboards were removed, much to our surprise, we found straw formed in the shape of bricks that had been used for insulation around the windows and doors. The old sink had a patterned cloth curtain hanging beneath it held in place with a cord that hid the plumbing underneath—no cabinet.

The renovated kitchen was beautiful and had all the helpful things needed for entertaining, including new appliances. We enjoyed very much having family and friends come to visit, and the new kitchen would be a great help entertaining them.

With double beds in each bedroom, a sofa bed in the living room, and another one on the front porch, we could comfortably sleep eight adults. Our grandkids loved sleeping in the front yard in their tent or on inflated mattresses on the porch or in the middle of the living room floor. The front porch was a welcoming place to sleep, a cool breeze flowing through the open windows, the rhythmic sound of the waves lulling you to sleep.

Lovely maple trees graced our front yard, offering shade to the cabin. There was a concrete wall with four steps leading down to a walkway that is called a parapet. The dock was attached to the parapet. Our speedboat bounced on the gentle waves, secured to the dock. It was a splendid lakefront property.

It wasn't a quick decision, but after a great deal of discussion, Jack and I decided that we loved Florida, we had family living there, we enjoyed being there, and the decision was made to sell our cabin.

The next weekend, we put a handmade sign made of a fifty-cent sheet of poster paper out on the corner that simply said, Cabin on the lake for sale. We could have sold our beloved little cottage countless times that day. The response was unreal. Potential buyers were coming in the back door, viewing the cabin, then going out the front to see the lake. It was like a queue of ants marching to a well-stocked picnic.

It was a cozy cabin, perfectly furnished, that many could imagine themselves living in. The location on the south shore was excellent, and it was in the price range of most.

Family members volunteered to help us escort people through the house, pointing out the features, but the lake, just steps from our front door, sold itself. We had a full-price offer in minutes and started taking backup offers.

The first offer did fall through when, sadly, the prospective buyer's wife was diagnosed with cancer. Jack called the next name on the list, and they were thrilled.

The buyers wanted to purchase not only the cottage but everything in it, right down to the tiniest little detail. They said, Just give us the cost—we want all of it!

It was beautifully decorated, cottage-appropriate. I gave them a figure, charging them just what we had paid for things, not inflating the cost at all.

The vintage wood trunk with the metal bands and leather handles; the gorgeous baby's breath wreath over the trunk; the old wicker fishing creel with the worn leather strap that hung by the back door; the wooden pie safe with the punched tin doors; the mini icebox that served as an end table; the oil painting of the old fisherman in the rowboat that graced the fireplace; the antique chest with the hand-painted lid that was our coffee table; the five-tiered jewelry cabinet that Jack had built by hand; the designer handmade one-of-a-kind doll perched on top of the trunk, dressed in the peach taffeta, lace-trimmed outfit, and leather boots that I had purchased at the Posie Patch Florist Shop; all the furniture; all the dear things I had so lovingly chosen for the entire cabin—all gone in one fell swoop. Our cabin and everything in it were sold.

We just took our personal belongings and left for Florida.

Chapter 3

We take three days and two nights driving to Florida. You can't be closed in a car for three days with someone unless you love them dearly. With Jack and me, our childhoods were very different, and you might not think we were a perfect match, but we get along like two peas in a pod.

Jack was born in 1925 to an unwed mother—a beautiful young girl with blonde hair and blue eyes. She had fallen in love with a married man and became pregnant. It was a hopeless situation because the birth father's wife was expecting a baby at the same time, and he chose to stay with his wife.

Pressured by her family, even though she didn't want to, she gave the baby up. Three months after the baby was born, this sweet little boy was adopted by Manley and Lois Curns and was raised as an only child.

In my eyes, the Curns family would have been considered not wealthy but at least comfortable financially. Manley Curns was a barber and had his own business—a barbershop near the corner of Dayton and Dupont Streets. Lois was a milliner by trade, but when they adopted their baby, she became a stay-at-home mom.

They built a lovely home on Dupont Street at the corner of Dartmouth in 1929, during the Great Depression. They were able to build a small cottage at Houghton Lake too. They were also the proud owners of a brand-new car.

*****

I was born on New Year's Day in 1927 to Hazel and Blanchard Crane, the youngest of five children. There were four girls and one boy, smack-dab in the middle. Lucille was the eldest at twelve years of age, Agnes was nine, Don was six, Edna was three, and then I was born—little stairsteps.

Mom said I was a good baby, and my siblings doted on baby sister, so I always had someone to carry me around or play with me, take me for a ride in my wicker buggy, or rock me to sleep. It's no wonder I was good.

My father was a factory worker, and we lived in rented houses. Photos establish the fact that they were nice family homes, but they didn't belong to us.

When the Great Depression devastated America, Dad lost his job at the foundry in Saginaw. My maternal grandfather owned a saloon/restaurant on Chevrolet Avenue at the bottom of the hill, kitty-corner from the General Motors plant known as Chevy in the Hole. Grandpa sent a truck to Saginaw to bring us to Flint with a promise of a job for Dad at his saloon. That's how it came about that we moved to Flint. I was three years old.

*****

Even though we grew up in the same city, Jack and I did not know each other. Jack went to school at Civic Park, Emerson, and Northern, and I attended Durant, Doyle, Dort, Longfellow, and Northern. We didn't go to Northern at the same time. By the time I got there, Jack had joined the Navy. Our paths wouldn't cross for a while, but God had a plan for us to meet one day.

Jack joined the Navy when he was sixteen. It was 1941, before Pearl Harbor, and he wanted to join. His mom and dad had recently gotten a divorce, and his life was all torn apart. Because of his age, both parents had to give their permission for him to join the Navy. Many of his friends had joined the service, and Jack pleaded with his parents until they gave their consent.

Jack was stationed aboard the USS Augusta, the Presidential Flagship. He served in the Atlantic and was at Normandy on D-Day. Following Normandy, the Augusta was ordered to the Pacific. It was while in the Pacific that Jack was injured, and because of that injury, his left leg was amputated at midthigh.

While Jack was serving in the Navy, I was living the typical life of a teen growing up during World War II. Remembering, my life seems like a charmed fairy tale. Our family home was like being raised in a warm, fuzzy cocoon, immersed with love.

When I was fourteen, I got a work permit and obtained my first job. My last class at Northern was over at two in the afternoon. I boarded the bus at the corner of McClellan and Detroit Streets to go downtown to work.

WWII—17 years old

Jack at Boot Camp

In the tenth grade, I was an usherette at the Palace Theater. In the eleventh grade, I worked at Kresge's $1.00 Store, and my senior year, I was employed at Citizens Bank.

When I graduated from high school as a member of Sigma Chi Lamba National Honor Society, I was hired at AC Spark Plug Division as secretary to the director of personnel—a prestigious job right out of high school.

My mom and dad sold the family home that held all my childhood memories soon after I graduated. It saddened my heart, but Dad wanted to purchase the general store that was for sale in the little hamlet of Henderson where he grew up. My sister Agnes and I got an apartment to share in a home on Jackson Street.

It was the summer that I was nineteen when I met my future husband, the love of my life. I met Jack through my sister Agnes. Ag was dating Ritchie Bush, a friend of Jack's, so she was acquainted with Jack.

Ag and I were downtown Flint, shopping one Saturday, and we went in the restaurant at the Flint Athletic Club on Harrison Street for lunch. Jack happened to be there having lunch, too, and when Ag and I finished eating, we stopped for a moment to say hello to Jack, and Ag introduced me.

It was fate—a divine appointment—call it what you will. Six weeks later, Jack and I met again at a dance. We danced together several times, and he asked to take me home. I was happy to say yes. We went out for a bite to eat and chatted for two hours. He was a lot of fun, and I enjoyed being with him.

Six months later, we were married.

*****

We've had an amazing life together. We were married on January 18, 1947. We started out married life on $89 a month, Jack's disability check for losing his leg while serving in the Navy. In the first four years and five months after we were married, we were blessed with four babies—Carol, Barbara, Ron, and Jerry. All our children were born at Hurley Hospital.

How is it possible that when the babies were handed out in heaven, Jack and I got the perfect ones—the ones with the cutest noses, the sweetest rosebud mouths, nicest-shaped ears, most beautiful sparkling blue eyes, and the dearest winsome smiles? I know, every mom feels the same about her babies, and I praise God for that.

We raised four wonderful children. We took them to church every Sunday—we didn't send them; we went with them. They are all great kids. They love and respect their mom and dad. They have all invited Jesus into their heart as Lord and Savior. They have all led productive lives and love their country. If it sounds like we are proud of our children and love them completely, it's because we do. If I had to choose between death and loving my children, I would use my last breath to tell them, I love you. I know Jack feels the same.

We have loved every moment of this fabulous life God has blessed us with. Jack had a very successful career in the automobile business, many years as used-car manager at Applegate Chevrolet. My career peaked as executive secretary to the director of marketing and research at General Motors Parts Division—my own office on mahogany row.

After our children were married, and we were empty nesters, we traveled a great deal going to many delightful countries. When we decided to