.........

My Mother was a "pack rat" and always had a lot of "stuff". She came through the depression and with that mind-set, she just couldn't ever throw anything away. If there was any remote possibility that something could be used, for any purpose, she kept it. We always had what we called "the junk room". There were boxes and boxes and boxes with everything imaginable inside. Every once in awhile Mom would go up there and go through everything, just to jog her memory and to see if there was something that she might be able to put to use at the time. When she went through the boxes, I don't ever remember her throwing anything away. Sometimes she would come across something that she could use at the time, so she'd remove it, take it downstairs and put it into service somewhere.

The first time I saw the Steins, I think I was about 10 years old. Mom was looking for something in "the junk room". She opened up a box, pulled out some paper, and there they were. I got a glimpse and asked what was that? She quickly covered them up and told me they were Steins that were Dad's. I never saw them again until I was probably 16 or 17 years old.

We were up in the "room", trying to clear some things out, when we ran across the Steins again. This time, being older and bolder, I asked questions. She then told me the story. It seems that Dad's first wife, Pauline, had some friends who had taken a trip to Germany. When they came back they brought her two German Beer Steins. Of course, after Pauline died, Dad had the Steins. When Dad and Mom got married, they ended up in their household.

I was fascinated with them. They were the prettiest things I had ever seen. I told Mom that she could leave them to me in her will. She informed me that they were not hers, they were Dads. I soon told Dad the same thing. "You can leave those steins to me in your will." He didn't say yes, no or otherwise. But ever so often I reminded him to "will those steins to me." One day I was over there helping with something, and Dad asked, very casually, did he have anything that I specifically wanted, after he was gone. I just grinned at him and said, "Nothing but the Steins". He said, "OK, just wondered", and that was the end of that conversation. Several days later, the phone rang and Mom said she needed some help with something, and would I come over. When I stepped inside the kitchen door, I saw the Steins sitting on the kitchen table. Dad said he wanted me to take them home with me. I did not argue. I packed them up and took them home.

It was soon after, that my Dad died, but before he did, he made sure that I received his legacy to me. He saw to it that I received the only thing they had that I really wanted.

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Pat's son, David got married on a Riverboat, going down the Maumee River. It was a beautiful evening, as the "Sunset on the River" picture, shows. The ceremony was a simple one, with a Protestant Pastor and a Catholic Priest. Pictures were kind of dark because we were under the roof and the light background over shadowed the people. As you can see, the food spread was fantastic. I tried to lighten the picture up, but I have no idea how it will transmit. luv BARB 9-9-2003

...

JIM HOLLAND

Headlines: Marion Star, June 18, l927 Marion, Ohio:

YOUTH, 22, SHOOTS SELF; NEAR DEATH
Clutches Girl's picture as he fires bullet.

James Holland, 716 Herman St in City Hospital: Condition Critical:
Despondent over health. Had been out of work, relatives Claim:
Fostoria Girl Coming Here.

James Holland, 22 of 716 Herman St. hovered between life and death this afternoon at City Hospital with a bullet lodged in his back following an attempt to take his life this morning shortly after he had arisen.

Despondency over ill health and worry from being out of employment were given by members of the family, as causes for the attempted suicide. For the past two weeks, Holland had been without work and this continued inactivity only served to magnify the importance of his troubles in his mind, relatives believe. He had hoped, they added, to marry Miss Florence Hale, 21, of 216 E. Sixth St., Fostoria,
in the near future and his unemployment greatly dimmed these hopes.

When his Mother, Mrs. Anna Hauver and sister, Mrs. C.E. Henry, reached his side on the back porch of the Herman St. home, where the shooting took place, he clutched the picture of the Hale girl in his left hand.

SHIRT CATCHES ON FIRE

Fire in a cigarette held in the fingers of his left hand set fire to his shirt after he had fallen and only after the tiny blaze had been extinguished did Mrs. Hauver discover that he was shot. Arising late this morning, James came downstairs and kissed both his mother and sister, who were working in the kitchen. He went directly to the back porch and immediately the gun's report startled the women.

GIRL ENROUTE HERE

The romance of Miss Hale and Holland had been in progress for several months, members of both families told The Star today. They met while Miss Hale had visited her sister, Mrs. Wm. Ingram, former neighbors of the Hollands. They had corresponded regularly and Holland was often a guest at the Hale home in
Fostoria. He spent three days there over Memorial Day and at that time seemed in excellent spirits, according to Mrs. Hale, mother of the girl. After receiving word of Holland's attempted suicide at noon today, Miss Hale left immediately for this city.

Dr. C.G Smith who attended Holland, said that his condition was very serious. The bullet, he said, had pierced the left lung, missed the heart and lodged in the back. Displaying unusual nerve strength, Holland remained conscious following the shooting until he was placed under the influence of medicine at the hospital. He was rushed to the hospital in Hess, Markert and Axe ambulance.

NOTE: He did not recover. He lived a few days then passed away from his wounds. bs.

FLORENCE HALE, LATER KNOWN AS TINY BURDETT ("AUNT TINY") AGE 18

THE REST OF THE STORY
BY BARB BURDETT SLAUGHTERBECK

YEAR 2002 - I have this huge Cedar chest and yesterday I decided to clean it out. There was stuff in there I forgot I had. So I've been sorting and pitching. Today when I got to the bottom of it (finally) I discovered this big box of pictures that were my Mom's. I decided to go thru them. They were all old family pictures. Mostly of her and her family. The pictures I just sent you were in that box. There is another picture in the box that has quite a story behind it. (I mean that literally. Behind the photo was a newspaper article, nicely folded.) It is of one of Mom's old boyfriends. If you think you would want to use it, I'll write it up for you but if not that's OK. It wouldn't be a Bryant-Burdett story as such but she married a Burdett. I know I've got that same article from a different newspaper somewhere but I haven't ran across it yet. It has more of the truth in it than this one. later BS

Jim Holland Story

EARLIER - -Mom and I were rummaging around in some boxes up in her upstairs "Junk room" when she ran across a box of pictures. I sat down to look at them and she told me who all the people were. Friends, relatives, etc. When I picked up Jim Holland's picture to ask about it, a newspaper clipping dropped out. She got a funny look on her face so I knew there was a story behind it. I asked and so she told me what happened. There was another newspaper article from the Fostoria paper. They had got hold of the story from the Marion paper and had contacted Mom. That is the one I can't find. It was essentially the same except it told the right story. Mom had told him that she was not going to marry him and that the love affair was over. I don't think he had told his Mom and sister what happened, consequently they didn't know the true reason for the tragedy. They thought it was because he had lost his job and had to postpone the wedding. Mom never told them any differently. Let sleeping dogs lie, I guess was her reasoning. Doesn't matter now because it's been too long ago. Everyone who would care, is dead. Solved a mystery for me tho. I remember for years, seeing pictures of Mom in her picture album with half the picture cut away. I always wondered who was cut out of those pic. but she wouldn't tell me. After I found out about Jim, I asked her if that was who was on the other half of the pics. She said Yes. When I asked her what happened between her and him, she said he had a dark side and was just too controlling. She was too strong minded to ever let any one control her. Even Dad never tried. That picture of Jim was dated, Dec. 24, 1926. He must have given it to her for Christmas. I have pictures of him tho because she never threw out a negative. I guess that's where I get that trait from. lol BARB

The Boy, the Wine and the Dog………

Way back in the 50's, my sister Pat was dating several boys, and was not yet serious about any of them. One night she messed up and made two dates for the same night. At the last minute, she realized what she had done and she told Mom about it. Of course, Mom was a little concerned and inquired as to what she intended to do about it. I suggested that she call one of them and beg off, for some reason or another but she choose another option. She decided that she would go with the first one that arrived in the driveway.

Mom was none too happy with the decision but, it wasn't hers to make so she just sat back and let things happen. The first to arrive was "Irvin". The minute he pulled in the driveway, Pat was out the door, in the car and GONE. Not long after that, here came Norbert. (He's the one she married, eventually.) He came to the door and I let him in. Poor Mom, she didn't know what to do so she just stood there and didn't say anything. Finally Norbert inquired as to Pat's whereabouts. Mom got all flustered so I explained to Norbert what happened. He just sat there kind of stupefied. Finally he asked if it was alright if he waited on her to come home. Mom said "Yes" but it might be awhile. He said that was OK, so there he sat. It was awfully hard for me to contain myself. I just wanted to roar because this was funny.

Dad was in the living room watching TV and Mom went in and told him what was going on. He just kind grinned and went out to talk to Norbert. He told Norbert that as long as he was going to be there for awhile, we might as well play some Euchre. Dad loved his Euchre games. So for several hours it was Norbert and Dad versus Mom and me.

Now the fun part!!! Mom always had some home-made Wine on hand. Most any occasion called for a little nip. She decided that some of that Wine was just what Norbert needed to cheer him up because he was definitely down in the dumps. She kept him well supplied as the game progressed. Finally it began to get late and it was way past everyone's bedtime so Dad suggested that he go home and come back the next day. Well when Norbert stood up, signs of excessive imbibing showed up real quick. Dad was a little concerned about him driving home but Norbert assured him that he didn't have far to go and that he would be fine.

Norbert said his good-byes and went stumbling across the porch, down the steps and headed for his car. Out in the middle of the front yard was a big round bare spot, probably about 5 foot across. There had been a dip in the yard there and Dad filled it in with some nice woods dirt and sowed some grass seed. He watered it good and then put a 12 inch chicken wire fence around it to keep Pats dog from digging in it. Just beyond that was Norbert's car, parked in the side driveway. Norbert did not see the fence or hear the dog. From inside, we heard the dog barking and growling and heard Norbert saying something and then heard thrashing noises. I turned the porch light on and went out to see what was going on. There was Norbert, face down in the mud squirming around trying to get up and the dog had him by the seat of the pants. He really needed some help but all I could do was stand there and laugh. Mom and Dad both soon appeared to see what all the ruckus was. They too joined me in laughter. Dad finally got the dog off of the poor guy and Mom brought him a wash cloth and a towel so he could get most of the mud off before he got in his car to go home. Not long afterwards, Pat came home. We told her what had happened. I don't remember what her reaction was but I'm sure it wasn't laughter. The situation must have gotten smoothed over between them because they have been married for 40+ years now

TWO LEFT SHOES

When Pat started high school, she ran around with a bunch of girls who liked to Roller Skate. Fostoria didn't have a skating rink at the time so they had to go to Toledo. One of the girls parents would take them up there and bring them back. It was a weekly thing. Rink skates were usually not very good so Mom bought Pat a real nice pair or rink skates so she wouldn't have to rent skates.

Time passed and the girls went their separate ways. Pat's skates, no longer being used, hung by the tied shoes strings, on a hook in an upstairs closet.

After Dad passed away, and Mom couldn't take care of herself anymore, She sold her house and came to live with me. Pat and I were upstairs, cleaning out her possessions, getting ready for the move, when I noticed her skates still hanging on the hook. I asked her why she hadn't taken here skates with her when she got married and moved out. They were still in a-one shape and I figured one of her girls could have used them.

She got a weird look on her face and said "here, take a good look at them." I did, but couldn't see anything wrong with them. She told me to take a closer look. I held them up together and lo and behold TWO LEFT SKATES. On one of the skate nights, when she sat down to remove her skates, evidently hers and the persons next to her, got the skates mixed up. She got two lefts and the other person got two rights. She did not realize it until the next week when she returned to the skating rink. When she put on the skates, she realized she had to lefties. She asked the attendant if anyone had shown up with two right skates and he said no. She rented skates and finished out the evening.

She was afraid to tell Mom what happened for fear she would cut her skating short, so every week Pat toted her two left shoes to the rink, rented a pair, skated all night and then came home with her two left ones. I don't recall whether Mom ever knew about it nor not. I don't think she did.

Feed that Baby!

I weighed all of 4 pounds when I was born and was a little premature. No hair, no fingernails or toenails. Mom had a bad case of morning sickness, so I wasn't getting much nourishment. The Dr. told her to breast feed me because Mother's milk would be better for me. A couple months passed and I hadn't gained much weight and was just fussin' all the time so Mom took me to the Dr. He checked me over and said I seemed to be alright and that the weight would come slowly because of being premature. He presumed that the fussing came from a little "colic" and he said that they were spoiling me.
At three months, she took me back to the Doctor. Bad news!! No weight gain.He finally sat up and took notice. He said he wanted to test her milk to see if it was alright. He was shocked to find that her milk was absolutely "no good" and it was doing more harm than anything. He informed her that her baby was starving . She came unglued. It took him a little while to get her crying stopped and to get her calmed down. He explained the situation to her and explained to her that it was not her fault.
The Dr. put me on whole milk and Pablum and in a very short time, I was putting on weight, had quit all that fussin' and Mom was a happy camper. I continued to prosper and everything turned out alright.
When I was a teenager, Mom and I were looking through a bunch of old pictures that she had stored away. I came across that picture of Dad holding me. I asked her why I was so skinny and she told me the story. 5-15-02

THE YARN CUPBOARD & THE LITTLE CHAIR THAT UNCLE BUD GAVE ME

THE CUPBOARD

My Mother liked to crochet. She crocheted all kinds of things through the years. Hats, scarves, vests, table clothes, bedspreads and etc. She had a big dining room table in, guess where? the dining room! She would line up her skeins of yarn on the table with all the colors she would need for the project.
Dad came in from the workshop one day and saw all that yarn lined up on the table. He made a remark that you couldn't find the table for the yarn. Mom told him that if she had a yarn cupboard, she wouldn't have to line it all up on the table. He immediately asked what kind of cabinet, how big and what did she want it made of. She drew the dimensions in the air with her hands and arms and said she didn't care what it was made of just so it wasn't something so heavy that she couldn't move it around. He asked if plywood was OK, and she said yes.
Dad retired to the shop and soon after was back in the house with his measuring Rule. He picked up a skein of yarn and measured how long it was and retreated back to the garage. About 3 hours later, he was back in the house. He told Mom to go to the Shop and see if what he built was what she wanted. She grabbed a skein of yarn and went out to check. It was perfect!!!
Dad asked if she wanted it painted or stained and varnished. She told him to varnish it. He had some Mahogany stain and some Boat Varnish so that was the finish he put on it. He put some old utility hinges and door handles on it but that was OK, they served the purpose.
Mom must have gotten 10,000 miles out of that old cupboard. When she came to live with me, the yarn cabinet came along. When we moved, it moved. On the day that Mom passed away, she sent me to town to get her a supply of yarn. She intended to crochet all the grandkids a lap robe for Christmas. Around eleven o'clock that night she had a heart attack and died at the hospital the next afternoon.
When I moved where I live now, I brought the yarn cabinet along and put it in the garage. I stored paints, and bug sprays, and etc. in it. One day I decided that I was going to do something with it. I had just re-done my kitchen and had new wallpaper. I scrubbed it up, painted it with my woodwork paint, wallpapered the doors and trimmed them out with molding and made a trip to the Hardware Store for new hinges and Door Handles. In my new kitchen it looks great. Mom and Dad would be proud. I just know they would be

The Piano

When I was a little kid, whenever I got someplace where there was a piano, I was banging on it. Didn't have the slightest clue what I was doing and didn't really care, I was just banging and making music. Kept me happy ! Those tones fascinated me. In my mind, I could make music out of them.

I turned six in May and Grandma Nellie came to visit in August. She said to my Dad, "Austin, this child needs piano lessons." She not only said it once but she reiterated several times. Dad said we couldn't afford a piano. Grandma said we didn't need a new one and that he could probably find a used one somewhere pretty cheap, that someone wanted to get rid of. So Dad said, Ok they'd look around.

In the spring, a friend of my Aunt, who lived next door, told her that she wanted to get rid of her piano so if she knew of anyone that was looking for one, to send them around. Aunt Hazel came over and told Mom about it and what she wanted for it. The price was $25. (Can you imagine a piano for 25 dollars?)

The following weekend, Dad got a crew together and they brought home the piano. It was huge and made of beautiful Oak. The biggest piano I had ever seen. It was originally in an Opera House. It had tremendous volume and beautiful tone and was a player piano. Along with it came a huge box of piano rolls.

I banged on that thing, and played the rolls every chance I got. Then in the fall, Mom said, OK, time for lessons. She hired a piano teacher and the fun began. At first, I enjoyed it. I was learning how to put the notes together and what all those little dots were on the music sheets. I did fairly well with the lessons until Spring arrived and school was out. Then I had no more time for practice. Summer is for being outside all the time. The teacher was starting to get on me hot and heavy about not practicing. I didn't listen so she got on Mom. This made Mom a very unhappy camper. I decided that I had to put a stop to this stuff. Now mind you, I was only 7 years old.

The lessons were at 10 in the morning. About 9:30, I'd go outside then very slowly meander down the street. I'd watch for the teacher and then hide in the bushes. Mom would stand out there on the sidewalk and call and call. No Bobbie, finally the teacher would leave and I'd go home. Of course, Mom was about as angry as she could get. I'd tell her, I was just down the street and I didn't see her and I didn't hear anyone call me. Well, this went on for several weeks and everyone was exasperated. Finally, Mom had to tell her to forget the lessons, I just wasn't co-operating. The teacher was a mite upset but so what? Now my summer was free for whatever I wanted to do.

When we moved to the country, while Dad was building the new house, I had to change schools. I was in the 4th grade. One day, I was walking down the hall and someone called to me from behind. I turned around and there was the old Music teacher. We exchanged niceties and I explained to her why I was there. She told me she gave music lessons there in the auditorium and wondered if I might like to take lessons again. She said I could get out of class to take them. That sounded neat. I told her I'd think about it. Not long after that, she ran into Mom in town and she told her about our encounter. Mom asked me about it and I said I had to think on it. Then I found out a girl from across the road, was taking lessons from her. She told me, we could have a good time playing together. I thought about it and then said OK.

There was one sad thing about all this. The teacher told Mom that the piano had to be tuned. The piano tuner came and did the job. In order to get to the strings, he had to take the player mechanism out, both upper and lower. To put them back in really upped the cost of the tuning job so Mom told him to just let it out. He offered to take the old mechanism with him to get it out of her way. Right!! He sure knew what he was doing.

I took my last lesson just a week before we left for Florida in October of 1947. Dad hauled that big old piano all the way to Florida and all the way back. It sat in Mom and Dads big house in the country until I had a home of my own, then I took it. We bought a house in the country and moved it in with us.

When my daughters were about 8 and 9, they decided to take music lessons so, we traded the old piano in on a brand new spinet and they took lessons for awhile. Neither one was inclined to take lessons for very long.

The most important and memorable part of this story is this: All those years that I was banging on that old piano, Dad was upstairs trying to get some sleep because he worked midnights. He never crabbed or complained one iota about it. It wasn't so bad in the summer because he would work in the garage all day and I could practice then but when school started, I had to practice in the evenings while he tried to sleep. Amazes me to this day that he could or would, put up with that.

THE BRAKE JOB

When my husband I were married, he was in the Army. We eloped to Indiana and got married. It was no surprise to the family; they knew it was coming. We were married in May, and in August he left the Army base in Battlecreek, Michigan, and was assigned to an Ack-Ack Battalion in Detroit. He had served time in Germany and then later, in Korea. There he was wounded but returned to battle after he healed. He was supposed to be discharged in July, but then President Truman tacked on an extra year of enlistment, so he had another year to pull after we were married. Detroit was only 90 miles away so I spent the weekends there.
Later on, he rented a house in Detroit and I moved up there. In November I became pregnant. By January I was so sick I thought I was going to die. The family became concerned and so did I, so I returned home. The morning sickness lasted until the very day that child was born. On that day I woke up at 5 o'clock in the morning with some silly little pains. It wasn't much but they got me out of bed. I went downstairs and sat for awhile. Then they began to stretch out. First thing I knew they stopped. In the meantime I had gotten everyone up. Mom told Dad this was the day and to get prepared for a trip to the hospital. Dad asked how long he had, and Mom told him it would be awhile because the pains were getting farther and farther apart. He decided he had to put new brakes on the car. Mom had a fit. She said he didn't have time to put new brakes on that car. He said he'd have plenty of time if he had some help.
That afternoon I sat on a box beside the wheels of the car and helped him put on the new brakes. Pretty good therapy. It kept my mind occupied on something besides hurting. Mom called my mother-in-law and told her what was going on. She said we should come to town in case things began happening real fast. So Dad and I finished the brakes and Mom and I went to town. We had supper at the in-laws. By 7 o'clock the pains were about 2 minutes apart so we went to the hospital. Jeanne was born a little after 11. Mom went home and told Dad he was a grandfather and he said, "See, I knew we had time to put those brakes on.