Fourth & Liberty

1. Indian Giver by 1910 Fruitgum Company

2. I Started a Joke by The Bee Gees

3. Traces by Classics IV

4. Proud Mary by Creedence Clearwater Revival

5. Touch Me by The Doors

6. Aquarius/Let the Sunshine In by The 5th Dimension

7. Dizzy by Tommy Roe

8. Build Me Up Buttercup by The Foundations

9. Son of A Preacher Man by Dusty Springfield

10. Games People Play by Joe South

11. Hooked On a Feeling by B. J. Thomas

12. Time of the Season by The Zombies

13. Both Sides Now by Judy Collins

14. Magic Carpet Ride by Steppenwolf

So the road trip of all time was over and we made our way back to Pennsylvania in time to start school. I was in the Third Grade now and was still going to the old schoolhouse across the street and Mrs. DeChano was my teacher. I was going to miss Miss Jones, my second grade teacher, as she was very much like Miss Honey in the book, "Matilda." Every one in the class loved her. Second grade was a dream. For some reason, the year I was in first grade they bussed us out to Tiona where I had Mrs. McNeal, to whom I promptly informed on the first day of that school year that I was not allowed to bring home anything lower than a 5 (our version of an A) and so she shouldn't give me any! Mrs. McNeal was a good friend and colleague of my Great Aunt Gwen's and I can just imagine the howls of laughter in the teacher's lounge that day! Of course, Aunt Gwen told my mom and, as it goes, it became family lore. I was, at the time, confused as to what was so funny. They had told me I was not to bring home anything less and I was just passing along information. I hadn't learned the whole "you get what you earn" idea. I soon did, but it was no problem. I loved school and put my whole heart into everything. I was a good student and thus brought home nothing lower than an A. I did have problems in the classroom citizenship areas in that I was a talker - or as the teachers put it - "likes to socialize too much." Huh. Some things are constants I guess.

So - back to third grade. The thing I remember most about third grade is one of the most humiliating experiences of my life. You see, I always had a problem with bladder control. Nothing was wrong with me physically, I just was so afraid that I'd miss something that I'd hold it and hold it until, ultimately it was too late and I'd wet my pants. I had no control at night and wet the bed until I was I don't know how old. The problem at night was I was deathly afraid of the dark and if I did wake up, there was no way I was getting out of that bed, hanging my feet over the side of the bed where the monster that I knew for a fact was lurking under my bed was going to get me. No sir! No way! Then, when I got past the monster stage, I had these dreams where I got up and went to the bathroom, only it was just a dream! And I'd wake up and find that I'd wet the bed. It was very frustrating for everyone involved - lots of wet sheets, ugh! Anyway, I'd sort of gotten the wetting the pants under control by the third grade but one day, in class, we were working on a project and I got way involved. I needed to use the restroom but wanted to be sure and finish my project so I didn't take the time to go. We had to clean up our projects and get back to our seats and start the next subject, which I did. But not too long into the lesson I realized I was in BIG trouble. I wiggled and jiggled, hoping to keep it at bay until after class. I guess it was just too much because no matter how hard I tried, it started to leak out. It puddled on my chair and then cascaded down onto the floor, becoming a little stream which rolled down the aisle. The stream formed a sort of arrow pointing right back to me! Finally, one of the kids at the back of the row noticed the water and raised their hand - "Mrs. DeChano, there's a leak somewhere because there's water running down the aisle here!" She came to inspect immediately, of course! We all jumped out of our seats and I tried to be as surprised as everyone else, but the "arrow" wouldn't let me escape and it pointed right to my desk! Mrs. DeChano was as quick as Sherlock in her detective work. The drops from the hem of my skirt probably helped out greatly. She ordered me to clean up my mess and sent me home to change. I did but I did not want to return to class! I'm pretty sure this was the last time anything like this ever happened.

It was as if my parents understood and took actions to help me out of my embarrassment but I know this is not the case - I just like to think of it like this now and then. But, shortly after this incident, we moved away from Clarendon. Not too far - just into Warren - but it would mean a new school for me. New friends - new home - new everything. Warren was huge compared to Clarendon and we were living right down town on the corner of 4th and Liberty. We rented a house but this house was enormous! There was a stage in the living room for heaven's sake! I'd love to search out the history of this home to see what purposes it played in the history of the town. Surely it had to have been a hotel or something at one time or another. It was one of the many grand homes that lined the streets of Warren and we could not believe that we were to be living there! We were within walking distance to everything - most notably the movie theater!

I have to tell you about the inside of this house. You walked into a vestibule which then opened into this grand room with the stage. Mind you, I was a little girl, so I'd give almost anything to go into this house today and see just how big this room actually is, but I remember we were all amazed, parents included. There WAS a stage so it had to be pretty big, right? The stage was set against the far wall and the stairs going up to it were on the right and left sides, if I remember right. There were swinging doors on each side of the stage on the floor level which led back to the kitchen and dining areas. So, as you walked in from the vestibule, you'd walk across the great expanse of the living room, or floor area, to the stage area and, if you wanted to go into the kitchen you'd walk either right or left of the stage and through the swinging doors to do so. There were back staircases from this service area up to the upstairs but I preferred to use the grand staircase back out off of the main living room. This stair case was out of the movies! This is my little girl mind telling this story so temper it as you wish, but, off of the main room you'd walk through this double wide doorway into the large cavity that held the stairway which was open to the top of the second floor. The staircase had to be ten feet wide, at least. To start up the stairs you'd go to the right and go up about five steps and you came to a landing. In front of you were double doors which opened into a sort of den with a large fireplace and bookshelves. Picture Mr. Rochester in here, if it helps. To continue up the stairs you turn left and go up another ten steps or so and you arrive at the middle grand landing. There are a bank of windows against the wall with a window seat running the whole course. This landing is probably around twenty feet wide as it leads you across to the left to continue up the last flight of about twelve stairs to the upstairs parlor area. This is it's own room as it is very large and all upstairs bedrooms, family rooms, and hallways come off of it. We had a little TV room up here and this was where we hung out, for the most part. I had a room to myself most of the time except when Cheryl would come back now and then to stay with us - then she'd take the top bunk in my room. (She used to have her boyfriend shimmy up the drainpipe outside of the house and into our room.)

I remember it being winter while we were at this house. Lots of fires rolling in all the fireplaces. We also had a huge St. Bernard while we lived here and he was a great old dog. Didn't slobber much and was very docile. Brenda used to take her naps using his belly as her pillow. It was very cute. She also used to ride him around, much like a pony! I was afraid of him at first - I had been mauled by our neighbor's dog in Clarendon a few years before and developed a great fear of dogs. When I realized he wasn't going to try to eat me I think I enjoyed him quite well.

Like I said, new house meant new school. I finished third grade at Market Street Elementary. I can't remember my teacher's name but I remember the first day of class. It was not good. The walk was definitely further than across the street but not too far. I got to walk past our stately court house every day as I walked over 4th Street to Market Street, took a right and headed down to the school which, I believe, was on the corner of 2nd Avenue. I felt so alone and didn't know a soul. Aunt Gwen wasn't a teacher here so I didn't even have her! I was this little pipsqueak of a kid. Some kids said hello but there seemed to be the class "leaders", the cool kids, whom everyone looked to to see if I was going to be accepted or not. One of these was a girl named Shannon. She had a kind face and I thought we'd be good friends but not so! She made it clear that I was not going to be accepted into this class easily. I went home very forlorn. My parents encouraged me but it continued in this manner until one auspicious evening. . . .

Every winter they hosed down the tennis courts at Beatty Jr. High School and turned it into an ice skating rink complete with a fire to warm yourself by and a hot chocolate shack. I didn't skate, but we'd found some double runner type of skates which you tie on to the bottom of your boots and I thought I could maybe use those. So my brothers agreed to drag their little sister along as we walked over to the skating rink one brisk winter night. They literally dragged me - on our sled!! Cute, huh? Anyway, we got to the rink and I made several attempts around the ice on my double runners but they kept coming off. I knew my brothers were not going to want to leave just yet so I pulled the sled over to the side, just outside the rink and sat on it and waited for them and watched people go around and around. Well, who should show up but this Shannon girl! I was embarrassed as she was obviously a good skater and had real skates - not little kiddy double runners! We made eye contact but then did our best to avoid each other. I tried not to look at her when she'd come around but you know I was watching her as she skated away from me! She came around this one time and the tip of her skate must have caught on a rut in the ice because she fell and went splaying right out on to the ice - hands and feet spread out - right in front of me. Then everything went in to a sort of slow motion. I saw the next skater coming up behind her and they weren't watching what was happening in front of them and they didn't see Shannon until it was too late. They attempted to make a jump over her hand but fell short and came down right on her finger. Yes - skate blade on tiny finger - it got bloody. But it was as if nobody else had seen what happened except me. I jumped up from my sled and tried to alert someone but there was too much noise. Shannon is crying and holding her bloody finger and the next thing I know I'm running around to the opening in the fence with my sled and out onto the ice where she is. I help her onto my sled and pull her over to the side and to where the adults are to get her some help. She definitely needs to go to the hospital. She is whisked off and, by this time, people are noticing that something happened - it must have been all the blood out on the rink! My brothers find me and I'm upset and I guess we decide to call it a night.

The next day Shannon wasn't in class but the kids are talking about what had happened. I notice furtive glances over in my direction and head jerks telling people that it was I, the new dorky kid, who had helped her out. I still don't think they were going to let me "in" but when Shannon came back to school she walked straight to me and started talking to me, thanking me, and her and I began a friendship that would last straight on through high school. I still like to keep tabs on her and saw her last at my 20th reunion. We still talk about the night at the ice rink. Her and I would have lots of fun times ahead.

The move to Fourth and Liberty sparks off a series of moves. I'm not exactly sure what was going on at this time that caused all of these moves. But I would have some unbelievably memorable moments along the way. I still, though, to this day, long to go back inside of the house on Fourth and Liberty - and I do, mentally, every time I hear Judy Collins sing "Both Sides Now."

P.S.

As I pulled the photo of the house out of my scrapbook to scan, I noticed there was writing on the back. My mother had taken the time, for which I am most grateful, to make some notes about the specs of the home. She wrote:

6 bedrooms (very large)

2 kitchens - 1 up, 1 down

2 baths

coat room

library

family room with fireplace

dining room

living room (very large)

full basement with rumper room

6 room attic or 4th floor

8 ft. wide staircase (she was equally impressed as I as she underlined this remark!!) so I wasn't too far off in my estimation!

Grandpa's Ditties

1. And the Band Played On by The Mellomen

2. By the Light of the Silvery Moon by Doris Day

3. Lida Rose by the Buffalo Bills

4. Five Foot Two, Eyes of Blue by The Viscounts

5. Carolina in the Morning by Al Jolson

6. Let Me Call You Sweetheart by The Mellomen

7. Beautiful Dreamer by The Buffalo Bills

8. Yes, We Have No Bananas by The Mellomen

9. Jeepers Creepers by Louis Armstrong

10. Tea For Two by The Buffalo Bills

11. Ain't We Got Fun by Rosemary Clooney and Bing Crosby

12. Bicycle Built for Two by Elm City Four

Perhaps you've noticed that these songs aren't the usual Pop/Rock selections I post. However, they are the songs which I associate with today's topic - my Grandpa Alspaugh, Charles Ephraim Alspaugh. He was only alive the first eight years of my life yet I have always felt a profound connection to this man. Today I'd like to share some of these remembrances.

At young ages you are influenced by impressions. My take on those impressions are that grandpa was a bit of a rascal! He liked to tease and cause mischief! And, given his many, many years of smoking, he had a raspy, raucous laughter that made it impossible for you not to giggle along. One thing I can say for the Alspaugh family is that there was always laughter - be it good times or not - something was always found to laugh about.

Grandpa was also musical and I believe he either performed on Vaudeville or in some sort of musical shows back around the 1920's. I remember him doing the old soft shoe dance around our house on Main Street in Clarendon. It was so easy to picture him in an old straw hat and carrying a dancing cane - maybe he actually wore those - who knows? Maybe my little girl mind filled them in. All I know is that he always had a ditty he was singing. I believe he also played the organ.

I know he and grandma lived in Scandia, PA - that's where my dad spent his teen years, but I don't remember a house associated with them. My dad drove me by it in later years but it sparked no recollections at all. Grandpa and Grandma moved away when I was young but I remember him walking me to school one day when I was in kindergarten. The school was almost directly across the street from us. It wasn't a long walk at all, but he was adamant that he walk his little granddaughter to school. The street I had to cross was a busy one so it was probably smart to have someone with me. I remember reaching up and taking his hand which was covered in raised, bumpy veins. There were callouses and his skin was dry, just like my daddy's. His hand swallowed mine and I felt safe with him. We walked along the sidewalk and as we walked he whistled or quietly sang little nonsense songs, looking down to give me a wink and a smile. As we got to the cross walk he bent over and gave me a little hug and pat on the head and watched as I crossed to the other side. I turned and gave him a little wave and then he was gone. I don't have any other memories of him until our trip to Baker, Oregon in 1968.

I had mentioned before that I had become ill while my grandparents were tending us kids while my parents were away on a business trip. It must have been a bad flu of some sort but I was vomiting and, to this day, remember it being one of the worse bouts of flu in my life. My grandparents kept me in a little room just off of their kitchen. I lay in that little bed and drifted in and out between fits of nausea and would stare out the window to the saw mill next door. I would watch the logs go up and into the mill. There were piles of sawdust everywhere and the smell of fresh cut lumber filled the air. It rained all the time, it seemed, and you could always feel the moisture around you. The sounds of the mill were oddly soothing to me and the activity gave me something else to focus on other than this horrible flu.

Grandma was always busy in the kitchen and I remember pots a-bubbling and steaming on the stovetop. It was August so I'm thinking she was probably bottling fruits or blanching vegetables. She was an industrious sort of woman - a tiny-framed woman with reddish hair who was always busy, busy, busy. She had a small, raspy voice and a wonderful sense of humor. She could give back as good as she got!

One of those pots on the stove was brewing up some venison stock, I know, because grandpa had gone out and talked to grandma about how he felt that that was what my little body needed. Some of you may think, EW!, but I had grown up on venison - the sweet meat of deer that grazed on lush, thick, green foliage - not dried up sagebrush.

As I lay in that bed, drifting in and out, my grandfather kept vigil beside me. He wasn't bothersome and didn't try to make me talk a lot. He just sat there in a chair, looking out the same window as I, deep in thought, and softly singing about Casey waltzing with a strawberry blonde (I always pictured my grandma in this role) or about a bicycle or about calling someone sweetheart. His legs were crossed and his foot that was suspended in the air would tap out the beat. He had a great profile - a rather strong nose in a strong face. We had been told he was part American Indian and you could see it in the high cheek bones and large forehead. We had also been told of Jewish ancestry in his family and those could also be features of those ancestors. His face was remarkable by all standards - aging only made his strong features stand out more, not soften like many people's do. He wore heavy rimmed glasses, too, and his hair was thick and white against his crackled, olive skin.

Occasionally I would wake and he would lean over and give me a smile and pat my hand. I wouldn't say I knew him well before or after this, really, but I felt one very important thing - and that is that he loved me. He wanted me to remember him. He thought I was special. Just like my daddy made me feel like I was special.

As my nausea passed, grandpa brought in cups of the venison broth and spoon fed this hearty liquid to me. It was delicious and I soon was my old self again - scrambling out to find out what the cousins and my siblings had been up to all those days while I was sick in bed.

Now, let me remind you of how, when my parents returned from their trip, my grandfather began pestering my dad about going home through Idaho Falls so they could be sealed together in the temple. He was unrelenting until he got his way - then passed away almost as soon as they exited the temple. Had he felt some prompting whilst he sat by me, staring out that window? I have always wondered. I can still see his face - so intent yet so at peace. I will ask him one day.

These songs are all fun songs. I wish I could know all the songs he sang. He always had jokes, too, and I am thinking that some of them might have been a little risque by my grandma's fussing at him sometimes. She'd call out, "Now, Charlie . . . . . !"

Eight years is all . . . . yet he has had such an influence on me! I have felt him close by me many, many times. Looks, gestures, almost a silent movie is he in my recollection but so powerfully present. I look forward to seeing him again and doing the old soft shoe together. He will put his head back and laugh and I will giggle and perhaps it will be as if time had stood still . . .

Baptism and Temple Blessings

1. Everything That Touches You by The Association

2. Dream a Little Dream of Me by The Mamas & The Papas

3. Chewy, Chewy by Ohio Express

4. Elenore by The Turtles

5. My Special Angel by The Vogues

6. Cry Like a Baby by The Box Tops

7. I Got the Feelin' by James Brown

8. I've Gotta Get a Message to You by The Bee Gees

9. Sunshine of Your Love by Cream

10. La-La Means I Love You by The Delfonics

11. The Unicorn by The Irish Rovers

12. I'm Gonna Make You Love Me by Diana Ross & The Supremes

13. For Once in My Life by Stevie Wonder

On May 14, 1968 I turned eight years old. This is a special age - the age of accountability. The scriptures tell us that this is the earliest age of baptism - when you are considered able to tell the difference between right and wrong. This is pretty accurate and I'd like to think I was pretty good at telling the difference. Making the right choice isn't always easy though and Satan steps it up in the temptation department when he knows someone is getting ready to take that big step. All in all, I'd say I was a pretty good kid but definitely not perfect!! I was willing and able to follow the steps of my family and be baptized. I had loved the difference the gospel had made in our lives.

In the recently finished baptismal font (with which I had helped) I was baptized on June 29, 1968 in the Jamestown, NY chapel. My father had received the priesthood by then and was able to both baptize and confirm me. I was nervous and I'm pretty sure he was, too! I will never forget that day and the feelings I had as I dressed in the bathroom. The door to the font was opened and I looked across to the other side where my father approached from the men's bathroom. He walked down the stairs and over to me and reached our for my hand to help me down the stairs into the waters of baptism. We walked over to the side closest to the faucet and put our hands together in the way we had been practicing. A glance up to the missionaries assured us we had everything right and then the short but powerful prayer was pronounced. I had shared some of my anxieties about the water with my dad and he knew to hold me especially secure. The water was warm - perfectly warm and a feeling of comfort and peace filled my little soul. As he immersed me in the warm water I had a sense of flight, almost soaring and was a little worried that I wasn't fully submerged - but we got the OK when I came up out of the water.

Isn't it amazing the difference a few short seconds can make? I was free from sin - pure as the day I was born. The joy in my heart, even as a child, let me know that I wanted to feel like this forever. I was sure that that was how heaven felt. I tried to explain to my mom while we were changing how I was feeling but the words were just not available to my eight year old mind. I think she knew what I was trying to say, though. Sometimes there just aren't words, only impressions. And the understanding you have of gospel principles are very clear. It's alright if you can't express them to others, those moments are meant for your own personal use and uplifting.

After the baptism we assembled back in the chapel and I was confirmed a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints by my father. I felt and heard the pronouncement, "Receive the Holy Ghost." I now had a helper on board to help me as I journeyed my way back to Heavenly Father. A helper who, I'm sure, gets very weary at my knot-headed ways at times!

The next wonderful event would take place on August 10th on that forever trip out west I spoke of last time. We were going to the temple to be sealed for time and eternity as a family. I'm not sure how the Manti temple was chosen for this. Perhaps because it was close to Elder Law's home and we were going to stop and visit with him and he was going to go to the temple with us. He and his family lived in Springville, Utah and I used to wonder why we didn't just go to the Provo Temple as it was closer - but it wasn't built until 1972! The Manti temple is beautiful, though, and I'm glad to have a connection with it. I have often thought I'd like to go back there to do temple work someday.

I don't remember if we stayed with Elder Law's family - maybe some of us did. But I remember being at his parents' home and visiting with his siblings. He had family, an uncle I think, who was in the music business and had made some recordings so there was a common interest between the adults. We kids were amazed to discover a jar on a shelf in someone's room that held two globs of what looked like maybe giblets! Alas - they were tonsils! Either Elder Law or one of his siblings had saved theirs! I remember running away and thinking "EW!!!" But I'm pretty sure my brothers were thinking with great regret that they hadn't saved theirs. Marvin still had his ( and would until his senior year.)

The day at the temple was very special. I remember the peace that invaded your soul as soon as you walked through the door of that holy place. I wasn't sure what to expect - not much had been said about what was going to happen. My parents were led away and us kids were taken to the nursery where we played and were attended to by the sweet sisters there. I remember building with these huge wooden blocks. There were dolls, too, which made me happy. It was a happy place and it was a comfort to have my brothers with me. I'm sure I would have been traumatized had I been taken away alone. At the appropriate time the sisters announced that it was time to get into our special clothes. I had a beautiful white dress for the occasion with a sheer organza fabric with embroidered flowers over a white cotton sheath. It had little puffy sleeves and a sort of fabric corsage made from the flowers in the organza on the chest. It didn't spin as it was an a-line cut but I could forgive it because of how dainty and beautiful it was! I remember thinking how very princess-like everything seemed with the white and the soft light.

My temple dress

We were taken to a sealing room where we met with our parents, also in all white. My brothers and sisters and I and our parents knelt around the altar. I remember the mirrors which we looked into and could see for forever. I'm not remembering many details, but I'm remembering impressions and feelings. They were feelings of comfort and all being right.

We left Manti after the sealing and traveled to Mesa, Arizona to visit with Elder Stanley Miller and his family. We loved it there and had a great time swimming in their pool that was shaped like a kidney! He had siblings that were close to our age so we had fun times together. My parents and some of the Millers went to Nogales one day and they came back with vanilla that smelled like no vanilla I had ever smelt - heady and sweet! And they came back with sombreros, too! Arizona seemed like an entirely different world to us Pennsylvanians! There were spiders and snakes to worry about and it was soooo hot!! This was August, mind you! We thought it was quite the adventure.

Stanley Miller, Mom, Sharon Miller - taken around 1996

All was great until it came time to leave. A few days before we left, the Millers received terrible news that a daughter that was traveling home for a visit had been in a bad car accident in one of the canyons. Elder Miller had been so excited for us to meet her. The car had rolled and she and the passengers were in pretty serious condition. We left for Oregon with a bit of a heavy heart and wondering how things were to turn out for his sister. We later learned that she did recover, but was left with some lasting effects. We would eventually meet her but that would wait for about a year or two.

We visited the grounds of the Mesa temple while we were there and I, again, sensed that peace and comfort that I would soon associate with any House of the Lord. It was very different than the Manti temple in style, but the purpose and feeling were the same.

Music in America was on the verge of great change - or at least I was going to start noticing that things would be different. This week's playlist is still fairly simple - a mix of bubble gum pop and folk music. But, soon, the climate would change. I had grown up with Elvis and was a very little girl when The Beatles landed so I wasn't as acutely aware of the changes they brought to music as I was going to be with the advent of the late 60s and early 70s. Troubles, they were abrewing - and the need for the peace and serenity of the temple would be even more so.