Petunia Ladies

Lady Petunia flower dollies.

        When I was walking in an old garden this summer where petunias had run wild until the place looked like a sheet of green summer sea with white foam-tips atop, I remembered how we children used to love to play “petunia ladies.” 

       We used to give great “flower-lady parties ’’ down in the garden, with sweet- fern seed and elderberries set out for a feast, on a palma-chienti leaf for a table. And oh, what happy times we had in dressing the “ladies!” 

       At home, Miss Petunia used to wear a plain white frock without furbelows, very sweet and becoming. But for parties there must be party-dresses. 

       We picked a blossom with a large-enough green stem—that was Miss Petunia herself in her white home frock. 

       We put her down to stand alone with her white skirt opened wide on the garden-walk. The green calyx was her little green basque with nice green tabs, such as you may see in old-time fashion pictures. 

       We stood ever so many petunia-ladies like that on the walk.

       Then we picked a great many more petunias of all sizes, and we pulled each stem and calyx off right at the open throat of the bell; and then we.dropped one of the round corollas over Miss Petunia’s head—that made one ruffle on the skirt. And so on and on, until her skirt was ruffled up to her little green waist with snowy ruffles, and then we carefully picked out the little green tabs over the last one. 

       A floret of verbena pulled from its calyx and put, corolla down, on her head gave her a hat like the one Mother Goose wears, with a high wetted crown. 

       But Lady Bernie did not always go alone to the party. 

       There were two kinds of petunias in the old garden—the wide single white ones, and the small bell-shaped red ones, and we used to dress the little red ones out in red flounces, and play they were the little girls of the stately matrons, and they went with their mothers to the party. Martha Young.

Delightful fabric dolls called Petal Pals by Ariel Appelt.

Here is her Etsy Shop.

The Taming of Mrs. Teeny Mouse

"And before you go put a pillow to
my back."

       This is the story of Mr. and Mrs. Teeny Mouse who lived in a cozy little house on the edge of a cornfield. Now Mr. Teeny Mouse was the best mouse you ever saw, always bringing home good things to eat and doing everything he could to make Mrs. Teeny Mouse happy. But Mrs. Teeny Mouse was quite different. She never thought of any one's comfort but her own, and she was very, very lazy. 

       One morning, before she was out of bed, she said to Mr. Teeny Mouse: 

       "My dear, I wish you would go and get me some tidbits." 

       "Tidbits?" asked Mr. Teeny Mouse, turning from the mirror where he was combing his whiskers. "What are tidbits, my dear?" 

       "A delightful combination of cheese and crackers," replied Mrs. Teeny Mouse. "And before you go, put a pillow to my back, and pass me my book and spectacles." 

       Mr. Teeny Mouse, who was very obliging, put the pillow to Mrs. Teeny Mouse's back, gave her the book and spectacles, and then he said: 

       "My dear, I really have no idea where these tidbits can be found. But I do know where I can get some delicious crumbly crackers, and some very tasty cheese. Now won't they do just as well as the tidbits?"

       "Teeny Mouse," said Mrs. Teeny Mouse most severely, "what I want, I want. Neither the crumbly crackers nor the tasty cheese appeal to me in the least. I want the tidbits. Nothing more, nothing less. Be off with you, and bring back the tidbits." 

       "My dear," said Mr. Teeny Mouse, "it is a pleasure to go in search of these choice morsels for you, but now I am going to ask you to do something for me."

        "What is it, Teeny Mouse?" asked Mrs. Teeny Mouse with a yawn.

       "I want you to get up and dress, and make the bed, and tidy the house before I return," said Mr. Teeny Mouse in his meek little way. 

       "To be sure I will when I feel like it," tartly returned Mrs. Teeny Mouse. 

       "But, my dear, I wish you would promise me that you will get up and dress, and make the bed, and tidy the house," gently begged Mr. Teeny Mouse. 

       "Oh, I'll see," said Mrs. Teeny Mouse, picking up her book and proceeding to read. "Be sure to bring the tidbits, Teeny Mouse.'' 

       "I shall do my best, my dear," said Mr. Teeny Mouse as he picked up his cap and knapsack, "and you be sure to get up and do as I ask." 

       "Oh, be off with you, Teeny Mouse," cried Mrs. Teeny Mouse in a peevish voice. 

       Mr. Teeny Mouse closed the door and started off in search of the tidbits, and he had quite an exciting adventure as you will read. 

       He skipped across the cornfield, straight to the farmer's cottage where he was accustomed to get his provisions. He went at once to the pantry, because there is really no place like a pantry to find all kinds of goodies.  Then he smelled cheese. He scurried over cups and saucers, tea canisters, cans, and boxes, and dear knows what all, but he could not find the tidbits.

        He found the crumbly crackers on a plate and put a few crumbs in his knapsack. He also came across a nut which he dropped into the knapsack. Then he sniffed cheese; it was the tasty kind. He was pretty certain of that. But. what horrible luck! The cheese was attached to one of those miserable mouse-traps! He saw just in the nick of time. Then he thought he would leave the pantry and look elsewhere, and so he went on into the kitchen. 

       As there were footsteps in the kitchen, he was obliged to hide behind a broom for several seconds. When he came out a big black cat darted from behind the stove. Poor Mr. Teeny Mouse really thought his time had come, but at that moment the pot boiled over and splashed on the cat, and as the cat jumped out of the window!

        Mr. Teeny Mouse scurried off to the dining room. He ran to the sideboard, where he found the bottom door ajar, and he went inside. The delicious odor of cheese came to his nostrils. He hoped it was not on one of those horrid mouse-traps. It wasn't. The odor came from a small box, which he proceeded to gnaw until he made a hole. Then he drew out a funny cracker and nibbled on the end. As it was both cheese and cracker, he thought it must be the tidbit. He helped himself, and when he could not eat another crumb he stuffed several into his knapsack, and concluded he would start for home. 

       It took a great deal of courage to pass through the kitchen again, and you may be sure, when he finally was outdoors, he lost no time running from the garden across the cornfield to his own little house. 

       "Ah," thought Mr. Teeny Mouse, as he stopped at the door to get his breath, "how happy Mrs. Teeny Mouse will be. Not only have I procured provisions for many days to come, but I have in my knapsack the delicious tidbits she craved!" 

       He went inside, expecting to see everything neat and tidy and Mrs. Teeny Mouse ready to greet him. But, alas! the house was still in the greatest disorder, and Mrs. Teeny Mouse was in bed fast asleep.

        Mr. Teeny Mouse was dreadfully provoked. "I am too good to Mrs. Teeny Mouse," he said. "Here I have risked my life to obtain tid-bits for her, and she is too lazy to get up and put our house in order. I shall teach her a lesson." 

       Forthwith he stamped over to the bed and gave Mrs. Teeny Mouse a shake. "Shame on you!" he cried.. "Get out of bed at once, and tidy up this house, and get my dinner. No more of this will I have! Get up at once!" 

       Now Mrs. Teeny Mouse was used to such a gentle Mr. Teeny Mouse that she was really quite bewildered for a moment. She sat up in bed, and rubbed her eyes, and then she said: "Oh, the tidbits! Did you bring the tidbits, Teeny Mouse?" 

       Mr. Teeny Mouse scowled at Mrs. Teeny Mouse. He said: "Out of bed, and do as I tell you, Mrs. Teeny Mouse!" 

       Mrs. Teeny Mouse gave Mr. Teeny Mouse a sidelong glance. He looked very angry, and never before had he spoken in such a cross way. 

       "Hurry!" commanded Mr. Teeny Mouse. "Hurry!" commanded Mr. Teeny Mouse, folding his arms across his breast. "And do not talk back to me."

       Then Mrs. Teeny Mouse, who had bossed Mr. Teeny Mouse all of her life, suddenly became very meek, and she hopped out of bed, and said: "Yes, my dear. In a minute, my dear. You take a stroll in the garden, and I will call you, my dear, when everything is ready." 

       Oh, my! how Mrs. Teeny Mouse worked. She shook the rugs, and swept the hearth, and made the bed, and set the table. Then she raised the window and rang the bell. When Mr. Teeny Mouse came in she was weeping. Whereupon Mr. Teeny Mouse patted her shoulder and said: "My dear, it grieved me to be cross with you. But, on the other hand, you cannot expect me to do things for you unless you are willing to do things for me." 

       "I shall be quite different in the future, Teeny Mouse," murmured Mrs. Teeny Mouse in a penitent voice. "I admit I have not been what I should have been." 

       "Let bygones be bygones," said Mr. Teeny Mouse, who was very forgiving. Then he opened his knapsack and drew out the tidbits. "Teeny Mouse!" exclaimed Mrs. Teeny Mouse. "Oh, you dear Teeny Mouse, how can I ever thank you?"

       "Don't mention it, my dear," said Mr. Teeny Mouse with a wave of his hand. And after that the Teeny Mice were the happiest little pair you ever saw. This just goes to show you really can't expect others to do things for you unless you are willing to do things for them. Linda Stevens Almond. 

Barbie's Boyfriend Ken and Other Male Fashion Dolls

       The Ken doll was first marketed by Mattel two years after Barbie in 1961. The ''back story'' to Ken is that he first was introduced to Barbie on the commercial television set where Barbie worked. These two dolls have been both friends and also a couple for over forty years.

       Ken's only fashion accessory in the beginning was a swimsuit! This is why so many boy toy fans thought him original to the beach . . . 

       Ken hair styles have varied textures from flocking to rooted acrylic strands to sculpted vinyl. His eyes are most usually painted blue, hazel or brown. He always has a strong masculine jaw line. 

• Barbie sings about Ken here.
• BarbieRocks&Magical Art with Resin - talks about her Ken doll collection
• What makes the best Ken doll? by DelightfulDolls
• There's a Ken Doll For Everyone Now by GQ mag
• MyFroggyStuff talks about sixty years of Ken Dolls

 Ken Face Molds Pictured Above:

1. Cody Simpson fashion doll from The Wish Factory
2. Ken with rooted brown wig was produced in 1992
3. Western Fun Ken,1989
4. Black Steven Doll, 1991
5. Ken face mold produced in 2007
6. Black Ken with broad shoulders, 2009
7. Pet Pals Keven, 1991
8. Zack Morris Doll from "Saved By The Bell" - 1992
9. Wedding Day Alan, 1990

Return to the Doll Guide Index Page 

Grandpa Grimm Remembers His Childhood . . .

Grandpa Grimm's Early History, as told to B. Grimm, his daughter-in-law, August, 1970s during a family interview.

       Three years old--that is as far back as I remember." It was 1896, the year of the "Great Cyclone." My father, mother, two brothers and myself were living on the second floor at 3649 Wisconsin Avenue, in St. Louis, when, one day, I saw the bricks flying off the house next door to us. The man living downstairs, who weighed 200 lbs., insisted that we come there, and I remember him leaning against the door with his full weight to keep it from blowing open. I looked out a window and saw the roof blowing off the school across the street. However, the only damage to our house was a broken kitchen window.
      I was born in 1893, in an upstairs room of a single flat at 1960 Arsenal Street in St. Louis. I was the third son, after William and Otto, born to my parents. Another brother, Charles (Charlie Grimm) was born in 1898. The only daughter born was Margaret during Grover Cleveland's Administration when there was a depression. My Daddy was a painter who drove a beer truck, harnessed to a horse, for Weiss Beer. My father was from Munich, Germany, while my mother was a native St. Louisan. I especially remember my mother explaining about President McKinley and the Spanish-American War during the years of 1898 and 1899. When President McKinley was assassinated I heard the bell on the firehouse ringing on the day he was buried and saw black crepe drapes hung all over the engine house.
      There was a diphtheria epidemic in 1895. Both my brother Otto, and I caught it. I was more sick than Otto, but Otto died from it. I remember the day Charlie was born. I was playing on the sidewalk, not a concrete sidewalk like today, but just cinders and ashes. I had a "Poppet Show" on a string and was pulling it up and down the sidewalk. (A "Puppet Show" was made in a shoe box and at night a candle was put inside to light it.) I saw the doctor go upstairs, and then a midwife also came through the front gate. I didn't know what was happening, but when I went upstairs I "had a little brother!"
      At another time when I was attending night school classes, my mother complained of feeling ill. When I left for school she was resting in the bedroom. I came home later and there was my baby sister, Margaret.
      I went to Kindergarten at Shepherd School, the same school my mother had attended. It was across the street from our house. My mother had learned German in the morning and English in the afternoon, but when I went everything was in English. However, I knew German. My parents always spoke German; my mother talked in English to us but in German to my father. I stayed at Shepherd School until the fifth grade when we moved to North St. Louis.
      In the meantime, my father had a steady job painting at the Columbia Brewery at 20th and Madison. We then lived at 2912 Madison, on the second floor. I went to Penrose School until the 8th grade and Charlie went to kindergarten at Penrose.
      About the time of the World's Fair, 1903, we moved to 1617 North Jefferson, again on the second floor of a four-family flat. There were three rooms; a "front room" for the boys, a bedroom in the center, and a huge kitchen. The plumbing facilities were outside. A hard-coal stove was in the middle room, a wood-burning range in the kitchen, but the "front room" was always cold.
      I went to the World's Fair on a streetcar several times and especially recall going on the final day when everything was free. I was ten years old and was interested in all the buildings like the agriculture and transportation ones. "The Pike," the sideshow, had all kinds of sights. There was a Wild West Show and a shooting gallery. There was a "Talking Horse" -- I remember his name was Jim Key. The huge Ferris wheel had a flower garden planted all around it in the shape of a clock. I saw this same Ferris wheel during World War I in Paris and rode on it there. (Actually, this had to be a new Ferris wheel, the one in Saint Louis was torn apart for scrap.) Cotton candy, called "Fairy Floss" came in big bunches for a nickle or dime. The most I ever spent at the Fair was 25 cents that would be equivalent to $1.50 today.
      I left the eighth grade when I was twelve years old, before graduation, because I wanted to go to work. I got a permit to work and worked for two years at the Friedman-Shelley Co. Those were "sweat shop" days, ten hours a day, $5.00 a week. We had moved to 2212 N. Market after the World's Fair and lived there for a year or two. There were five or six shoe factories within ten blocks but I lived across the street from the one I worked at and came home for a lunch that my mother prepared for me. I had a hard job---worked a leveling machine. Because I wanted to be ready for high school I went to night school for three nights a week, first at Carr Lane and later at Central High School. I had the same teacher that I had in the eighth grade.
      But in 1907, when I was fourteen years old I started painting at the brewery. My first work was in the bottling department. I packed in wooden boxes. Each bottle of beer cost 5 cents but employees would drink a free bottle every hour. In the winter my daddy put on extra painters and I became an apprentice painter. The winter was the only time the beer cellars, where beer was aged, were painted because the windows could be opened. In the heat of summer, ice machines were used and everything in the cellars became too wet for the paint to stick to the walls. The cellars had to be kept at 30 degrees. My daddy had six to eight painters working on his crew at the time.
      In 1908 my father bought his first house at 5031 Emerson Avenue in Walnut Park. He lived there until he died. The house is still standing today.
      My daddy told me about his beginnings and it always "sounded like an adventure story to me!" William was a twin, one of nine children, born in Munich, Germany, of a devout Catholic family. He knew all the Catholic Church rituals and his parents had him picked out to be a priest. He had learned a trade, painting, which he began at ten years old. Everyone in Germany had to learn some trade; the first years a boy received only his meals, no pay. At fourteen years a boy also had compulsory military training. Because William neither wanted to be a priest nor a soldier he left Munich at fourteen and worked his way to the coast. He boarded a freighter, worked as a stevedore, and landed in Baltimore, Maryland after three weeks on the ocean. Washing dishes in a restaurant there was his first job. Because Germany had many immigrants coming to the United States, he easily picked up the English language from his fellow immigrants. ("I always thought he had a brilliant brain.") After four years as a "Hobo" learning the language, and working his way west, he arrived in St. Louis. He was eighteen years old, found a job at Busch Brewery and lived in a boarding house near my mother's house. He met her at a music society program where she was an entertainer, furnishing music with her mouth harp. These societies held concerts and plays and after they were married they were both very active, William singing choral music and always Emma helping address postcards to announce meetings. Emma Vieheller married William Sebastian saying, "She liked the smell of paint." (This was always considered a family joke.)
      She had lost her mother, and her father had remarried. His child by his second wife was George Vieheller of St. Louis Zoo Fame. He was her half-brother and she practically raised him. Her father lived to be 96 years old. She was big-boned and heavy-set, while my daddy was more like my brother William, very slender and tall, about five feet nine inches. He had coal black hair and always wore a moustache and a pompadour. Neither went to a dentist in their lives, never had false teeth, and he only had one tooth pulled. He died at age 60 in 1926 of "liver trouble." He would seldom take any medicine or go to the doctor; he just rested a few days whenever he felt sick. A doctor treated mother who then lived at Charlie's farm and died there in 1950 at 82.
      My father had two sisters who were nuns in Germany, and they frequently wrote letters to him about their lives. One was a mother superior in the Catholic Church. William's twin, Anton, came later from Germany to the United States. He was a shoe cobbler who first settled in Aurora, Illinois. When the government offered land grants, (This was land given free, without rent, to be used for farming.) Anton decided to move to Wisconsin and become a farmer. His son, Albert William was named after my father, and I was named after him, Albert Anton. My daddy visited them in Wisconsin while on  singing society tours. A few times Margaret and I went with Daddy to visit them, too; we were the only ones of the family to do this. (Actually this isn't quite true.)
      I always had an idea of being a farmer, particularly a chicken farmer. We had some setting hens and I built a chicken yard with visions of going into the chicken business. Feed stores were located in all the different neighborhoods and people could buy corn and hay and chicken feed cheaply.

Horse drawn wagons in American Cities before automobiles.

      My daddy had a horse that I took care of. I was sixteen years old, and "Babe" was my responsibility. The wagon shed and stable were in the backyard. The spring wagon held extension ladders while I drove the horse to various painting jobs. A sign read "Painter, Wm. S. Grimm." The front yard of the home on Emerson had a 50 foot front lot that my daddy always kept as a garden.
      There were no sidewalks or paved streets. We had to be in at nine o'clock. My daddy had a whistle and we could hear it a block away when he blew it. We liked to watch the firemen conduct fire drills at night. The harnesses at the station house hung from the ceilings and dropped down on their horses as they took off for a fire.
      There was no such thing as restaurants; all entertaining was done at home. (Grandpa, I think restaurants existed prior to your childhood!) I was pals with two boys who took violin lessons. Every Sunday we went together to Pop Concerts at the Symphony that were held in the O'Dean Building at Grand and Finney. One of the boys had a pump organ and I bought a guitar. I took piano lessons for nine months. My Daddy wouldn't let us play anything but classical, but I would go to the silent movies, listen to the popular tunes while the picture was going on and come home and pick out the tunes by ear.
      My father insisted that Bill (William) take a musical instrument, too. He bought him a violin at a pawn shop for $7.00. He also insisted that he take lessons from the director of the singing society for nine months. By the time he was finished, he could play better than his instructor and was tuning his instructor's violin. His instructor was a overall superior musician to Bill although; he taught lessons in many different instruments. Bill practiced several hours a day, but he didn't have a chin rest on his violin to protect it from wear. Because kids dressed with suspenders in those days, just as my brother did, Bill's buckle from his suspenders wore through the bottom of his violin!
      Bill also played the banjo and piano, although only the black keys. Charlie played a banjo by ear. Margaret took piano lessons from an accomplished teacher, learning popular music. My daddy painted a sign in gold leaf once and hung it on the front door of our house. It read, "Margaret Grimm, Piano Teacher, 25 cents for half an hour." In those days, we had a family band and other children who played instruments in our neighborhood would join us in our back yard to give concerts. We also used to walk around the neighborhood and serenade people on their birthdays.
      My parents were members of a Lutheran Church. My mother insisted that we always go to Sunday School and church where ever our playmates lived and were attending. Sundays, my mother had her friends in for meals but my daddy was always going to music and picnic functions. He could always get up before a crowd and make a speech. My mother was more "retiring." She was busy making her own bread and noodles and going everyday to the butcher shops and grocery store across the street. I would often buy a dozen doughnuts for 10 cents to treat the horse, Babe, in the morning when she would come to the kitchen door through the open gate. People used to say, "I should have been a girl" because I was the only brother who stuck around home and helped my mother.
      Charlie always had a natural talent for playing baseball. In 1916 he was playing with the Municipal League, when he tried out for the Philadelphia Athletics. He was shipped to Durham, N.C., to play in the minor league. He played a season with the St. Louis Cardinals. He was the youngest player to enter the big leagues and played in his first World Series in 1932. Later when he was a manager of the Chicago Cubs at the same time that Franklin Roosevelt was running for president, I remember seeing pictures of Charlie shaking hands with Roosevelt. (video footage)
      My daddy took me to the Turner Schools for gymnastic training. I worked out on bars, sawhorses, parallel rings, boxed and wrestled several times a week, first at the Southwest Turners and later at the Northwest Turner's Hall. I even had a horizontal bar at home that I built myself next to the stable.
      A cousin of my mother's named Wendell, ran a farm on Woods Mill Road between Olive and Clayton. I went there in the summer and spent several weeks working the threshing machine and the binder, all with horses or mules. I often rode the mule up slopes that were high and thought that a lot of fun. This family had three boys my age and I would stay until I got homesick. I would take the Creve Coeur Lake Line streetcar which started at the University City "Towers." It would take about an hour. The fare was 5 cents or two and half pennies if your were under twelve years of age. At one time I owned a rubber-tired runabout without a top and one seat. I drove it out there with a horse and then pastured the horse at the farm until I was ready to go home.
      When I was twenty four years old, I was drafted into the service. It was the first time I ever saw my father cry. It was 1917, and I was drafted right after war was declared. Lots of fellows were drafted and I was glad to go. There was lots of patriotism back then. I had three months of training before I left at Camp Funston in Kansas near Fr. Riley in Lawrence, Kansas. The recruits left St. Louis by train from Union Station. I served two years over seas in France.
      After being shipped to France, I was with the 314th Engineers. We constructed pontoon bridges and I was under fire several times.
      Every unit had a band; a Regimental Band. Because they didn't have enough men with musical instruments, those who had some knowledge of music were picked for the band. I was chosen for the Army Band and was given a tuba--the double B Bass. It got me out of a lot of work! The band was used for entertainment and funerals. The company also bought me a guitar and Les Thirolf, who had played together with me at home, was given a mandolin. We took these instruments all through Europe. After the Armistice was signed, I remained in France for nine months traveling to towns and playing at hospitals. I came back to the United States in 1919.
      Two years later, in the 1920s, I was married to Minnie Wegener. She had lived in the same neighborhood as I did and I had gone out with her for two years before going into the service. We would attend vaudeville shows together. She lived at 4551 Alcott Avenue. Her dad was a blacksmith's helper doing iron work and using the anvil. Every neighborhood had a blacksmith shop and I liked to watch them shoe horses. 
      Minnie worked as a telephone operator for Shepleigh Hardware Company. We were married August 20, at the home of Pastor W. of St. Matthew Lutheran Church.
      The rest of the story can be told by my children.

Author and Interviewer, B. Grimm
August 31, during the 1970s
Montauk State Park

(Some names and dates have been changed for privacy purposes.)

Sweet Music

       The old-fashioned brass band has done more, to my way of thinking, than any other one thing to make our country the great nation that it is. The yeast of democracy never bubbles harder than when two dozen barbers and grocery clerks and farmers tear into "Dixie" or "Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean." 

       In my day a brass band marching down Main Street on a Fourth of July and bursting forth with "Yankee Doodle" was positively the grandest sight on earth. On it marched, with firecrackers popping all around. I remember once when a small boy tossed a cannon cracker into the bell of a bass horn. It made the loudest and most explosive note ever to come out of a horn.

       The more runaways a band caused, the better it was liked. In my home town every Fourth of July parade caused an average of three runaways. When the band came abreast of a skittish team of geldings, they would rear up on their hind legs, and then amidst the screams of women and the cries of children the terrified horses would plunge down the street. I know of nothing that gave a person more downright whole- some excitement than a team of runaway horses.

       Parents who exercised careful and profound judgment in assisting their sons in choosing a band instrument were well rewarded. If a boy had buck teeth and a receding chin, a wise father steered him away from a horn. Squint Peabody was a perfect case of matching the boy to his instrument. Squint had a mouth that puckered like a black sucker's, giving him a perfect down-draft for a piccolo. 

       Of course, a two-hundred-pound man looks a bit ridiculous as he clutches a piccolo against his bosom and waits through almost an entire musical selection until it comes his turn to blow a few tweets. He feels that life has sort of passed him by. But on the whole, piccolo players get as much fun out of life as anybody. In our band we always ranked the piccolo player as a panty-waist. We thought he blew a little more into a piccolo than he ever got out of it. 

       There was an old axiom that the village innocent always played the bass drum. But I wouldn't say that. My Uncle Pod Goodwin was a bass drummer and an excellent one. He wasn't really deficient; he just looked dumb as he sat on the edge of the bandstand and banged away on his drum. He didn't know any music and he didn't have to know any, and since he wanted to be in the band we thought he would do less damage beating a drum than blowing a horn. 

       Picture in your mind's eye the town park on a balmy summer evening with the bandstand gaily lighted and with the gold braid and the gold buttons of the musicians' uniforms reflecting little beads of light. There comes a dramatic pause in the music— and then the cornetist rises and points his horn heavenward. With bated breath the audience follows the silvery notes until, finally, the band director's baton drops to his side. The cornetist resumes his seat amid a thunderous wave of applause. 

       Any man who can remember back to the time he played a silver cornet solo need never feel that his life has been lived in vain. 

       Not far behind the cornetist in prestige was the trombone player. You could spot a trombone player's wife any time because she was so thin and pale and nervous. Any woman who had to listen to her husband practicing a trombone smear night after night for weeks was bound to have bulging eyeballs and the whim-whams. 

       In the good old days a town was rated by the number of musicians in its band and by the elegance of their uniforms. A brass band with an oboe and a French horn was considered very de luxe. 

       Financing a band often was a serious problem. Some bands had to play in the red year after year. But loyal boosters of a really progressive town took it upon themselves to raise a band fund every year. It was understood this fund was to be used to buy uni- forms; then, if there was a balance remaining, that, according to well-established precedent, was to go for an oyster supper. 

       Unfortunately, for some reason, band players were very fond of oysters. I remember our band boys once voted to treat themselves to oyster suppers very early in the season. Nobody seemed to keep in mind the exact amount of the surplus, and it turned out the boys ate so many oysters that the new uniforms, figuratively, went down their throats. 

       It's firm conviction that when the small town my band went out, treason, disloyalty, and subversive activities came in. I just can't imagine a subversive band member; he blew all his primitive urges right out through his horn. And it was hard for the by- stander to feel anything but complete loyalty when the boys got wound up and ripped into Sousa's March. Rural life lost something fine and honest when our band played its last concert; we haven't been the same since.

• Return to The Good Old Days

"76 Trombones" sung by Professor Harold

 Hill in Turner's "Music Man''

Learn about Meredith Wilson, America's real music man.

The Little Red Schoolhouse

       The little red schoolhouse, like the buffalo and the horse and buggy, is becoming a dim historical memory. Once upon a time it was the hub of the community, the haven of learning, and the wellspring of all the virtues. Our forefathers there learned the three R's and the lessons of life that made them the leaders of America for a century and a half. 

       They were of a pattern, clapboard or brick, painted red, four-square with a row of high windows on two sides, a small cupola with a bell to call the pupils in from the farms. Two outhouses, one for the boys and one for the girls, stood in opposite corners of the schoolyard. The schoolroom was not designed to make rosy the road to learning—a big pot-bellied stove in the center aisle, a row of desks or benches on either side, the teacher's desk up front on a little platform, with a blackboard behind. 

       There were hooks along the back wall for clothes and a shelf for the lunch boxes. There too was the water pail, with long-handled dipper-all drank from the same canteen. There was a McGuffey "ABC Chart" near the teacher's desk, a map or two on the wall, and a globe to show that the world was round. 

       The smaller pupils sat up front and progressed by age to the rear of the room. The rear desks were occupied mostly by boys, for only a very daring girl would care to be a part of the horseplay that went on there when the teacher's back was turned. One of the pastimes was shooting paper wads at the ceiling. Making a paper wad of the right consistency was an art. A scrap of paper was chewed until it became a pulpy mass and then propelled to the ceiling by the thumb. If it were expertly done, it stuck, dried out, and in time was covered with fly-specks and dust and became a permanent part of the décor. There were only a few wads in the front of the room, for here the small boys were under close surveillance, and usually lacked the technique and strength of thumb. Ages ranged from a precocious five to sixteen and up, the latter ambitious lads who wanted all the learning they could get, or came in during the winter months when work was slack on the farm. The school was a clubhouse for them, and an opportunity for juvenile courting. 

       The ability to read determined, roughly, the class you were in. Some schools took you to the sixth reader. A bright reader of eight might progress through two or even three readers in a year and find herself (for some unknown reason the good readers were always girls) reciting with classmates twice her age. On the other hand, a lazy or dull reader of sixteen might not have progressed further than the third reader. Learning was a mark of the sissy in those days and the star pupil had to endure a good deal of teasing and ridicule. 

       The curriculum was simple-reading, writing and arithmetic, the old standbys, and history and geography. Fancy subjects, like science, were unknown. There was no library and the school with a fat Webster's was considered lucky. Every pupil had a slate, for paper tablets were expensive and were used only on special occasions, like essays to be done at home. 

       The best-remembered teachers were the old maids, dedicated to teaching, loving youngsters, but too often ill-trained and poorly educated. The men teachers were usually serious young men who resorted too frequently to the birch rod. They boarded at a farmhouse near the school, went early to start the fire, sweep out, and clean the blackboards. A good one with a long tenure was paid as much as thirty dollars a month; a beginner started at twenty dollars. 

       The midmorning and midafternoon recesses, and the lunch hour, were the high spots of the day. The half-hour recess afforded just enough time for a game of three-corner-cat. In marble season the boys, and the occasional tomboy, smoothed off a place in front of the door and played for keeps. Some teachers regarded this as gambling, and forbade the game. There was crack-the-whip, the biggest boy at one end, the smallest, who was the cracker of the whip, at the other. In winter the hardiest played fox-and-rabbit in the snow; the girls and the small boys played parlor games around the hot stove. 

       Those who attended a country school may have forgotten in time the sums and the history they once learned there, but they never forget the full-bodied aroma of a schoolroom on a cold winter day, with the stove glowing red-hot. This aroma was compounded of the wet jackets drying out on the woodbox, the remnants of bygone lunches, the dust and cobwebs on the ceiling, the musty tang gathered in the tight room during the summer. All these added up to an unforgettable mixture that forever remained in memory. 

       Unforgettable too was the long walk. Fortunate were those who lived on farms adjoining the schoolhouse. Some walked through winter rain and snow over miles of muddy roads. In winter darkness fell before the home farm was reached. This was one of the reasons why the products of the little red schoolhouse were so successful. Education came the hard way, you didn't take it lightly, and it stuck with you.

• Return to The Good Old Days

An Old-fashioned Schoolhouse Students Can Visit!

Preserving old landmarks in Palm Beach County.

A school for rural children in 1880 and a park

with native plants and biodiversity.

All The Days of July . . .

         Kids can celebrate all the days of July here by using our family blog posts. I will highlight the days of celebration in the United States/Canada with a pale orange color and the world days of observation with a pale lavender highlight. Sometimes the themes repeat themselves and so I will choose to list a topic under a month that has less content in order to spread things out a bit. I will be covering all of the months of the year. Readers will notice that I make additions to the listings over time and that I also choose content that is age appropriate in order to maintain my certifications.

1.) National Postal Worker Day:

•  Post office related content here. 

2.) National Firefighter Day:

• The recycled fire fighter costume
•  fire fighter coloring pages

3.) National Hawaii Day and St. Thomas Day:

• Visit our collection of Hawaii themed crafts and articles here and here. 

4.) Independence Day (USA):

• See our American patriotic doll crafts listed here.

5.) National Apple Turnover Day

6.) National Fried Chicken Day

7.) World Chocolate Day:

•  Celebrate world chocolates on July 7th

8.) Liberty Bell Day:

• Read about the Liberty Bell...

9.) National Sugar Cookie Day:

• sugar cookies on cookie sheets
• hearts and stars sugar cookies

10.) Teddy Bear Picnic Day and National Kitten Day: 

• Our collection of teddy bear crafts and articles here. 
•  Read about "Raggedy Ann and The Kittens"

11.) Cheer Up the Lonely Day

12.) National Eat Your Jello Day

13.) National French Fry Day: 

• How we crafted deep fried doll foods

14.) National Mac and Cheese Day and Cow Appreciation Day:

• Macaroni and cheese casserole is sculpted along with many other side dishes here. 
• The Ox and The Cow article

15.) National Give Something Away Day: share your dolls, make crafts for your friends

16.) World Snake Day 

17.) World Emoji Day:  

• Read about antiquated smilies, forerunners of Emojis, originally drawn and made famous by Harvey Peake. (and also the origin of the word 'twitter.')

18.) National Tropical Fruit Day:

• Search our growing collections of tropical fruits for dolls here and tropical fruits coloring sheets here

19.) National Ice Cream Day:

• So many flavors to make and for doll's to taste!

20.) World Chess Day  and  Space Exploration Day:

•  How we made a chess board for dolls.  
•  See our favorite links to space and dollplay here!

21.) Take a Monkey to Lunch Day:

• How to sew a mini sock monkey for your dolls...

22.) National Hammock Day:

• Our doll hammock craft for lazy Summer days...

23.) National Hot Dog Day:

• Our classic doll camp foods playset includes all American hot dogs!

24.) National Amelia Earhart Day  

25.) National Thread the Needle Day and St. James' Day: 

• Check out our sewing projects for doll lovers. 

26.) National Parents Day:

• Download and print out this lovely Birth Certificate to commemorate the first time you become a baby doll's new parent. 
• Then, give your new baby doll a name...

27.) Bagpipe Appreciation Day 

28.) World Nature Conservation Day:

• The index to our large collection of nature studies...

29.) National Lipstick Day: 

• Craft doll-sized lip sticks. 

30.) Cheesecake Day 

31.) Harry Potter's Birthday: 

• Read about Harry Potter and Friends Dolls

How to assemble Easter baskets for your favorite dolls!

       Each little basket below measures less than three inches tall and two inches wide. Each one is the exact, perfect size for our American Girls, Journey Girls and My Generation Girl dolls. We gifted them to the dolls last Easter. Who knows what the bunny will bring the dolls this year?

A tiny ivy stem basket with nesting grass, a peach silk carnation and artificial plants, both front
and back sides photographed.

This doll-sized Easter basket is made out of silver and stuffed with miniature blue silk flowers
and Easter speckled eggs in: pink, blue and buttercream yellow. A tiny yellow ribbon tied into 
a bow with a mini silver bell is attached to one end.

Here are two baskets including miniature porcelain dolls dressed in their finest Easter dresses and
hats! The painted lavender basket on the left includes a miniature Bible with complete text! The 
gold painted basket on the right includes a variety of Easter eggs alongside the doll dressed in
pinks silks and white lace.

Just left, a basket with a bird's nest, candy eggs and a tiny pastel blue flocked bunny. The basket on
the right, includes a flocked white teddy bear, a nest and speckled bird's eggs.

Finally, the left painted pink Easter basket is filled with a flocked rabbit, multicolored Easter grass
and many decorated eggs. On the right, there is a fully jointed, tiny teddy bear in a silver Easter
basket with painted eggs just the right size for an 18 inch doll to enjoy!

Dear Valentine, Part 2

Lucy at her school desk.

    Monday morning Lucy could hardly wait to finish her breakfast before starting for school. She didn't even waste a minute talking to her friends in the hall. She went straight into the fifth grade classroom, looking for Miss Chase. The teacher was working at her desk.

   "I have a perfect idea for our school assembly," Lucy called out to her.

   ''That's fine, Lucy," Miss Chase said. ''I'm going to ask for everybody's ideas in a little while. You'll keep your suggestion for later, won't you?"

   Disappointed for the moment, Lucy nodded and went to her seat. Carefully she tried to copy the graceful script she remembered from the valentines. Slowly and lovingly she wrote:

"How fine, how full of sweet delight

Our lives will be when our hearts unite."

   It didn't look much like the script on the valentines, she decided. So she started to write it again when the bell rang and the school day began.

   It wasn't until late in the morning that Miss Chase brought up the subject Lucy was waiting for the assembly program.

   "February is a short month," Miss Chase said, ''but it's full of holidays: Lincoln's Birthday, Washington's Birthday and St. Valentine's Day. Our class, as you know, has been assigned to prepare the assembly program, and I hope you've all been working on ideas. Who has a program to suggest?"

   Lucy stretched her hand up as high as she could get it, but she didn't catch Miss Chase's attention.       

   "Yes, Robin," Miss Chase said to a stout, red-headed boy.

   Robin stood up. "I have a valentine play I want to suggest," he said.

    Lucy sighed. Why did he have to choose a valentine idea too? But she listened attentively as he told about his play.

   "The scene is in ancient Rome," Robin said, "and you would have to have a big urn for this play. Every February 14th there was a spring festival and the Romans filled the urn with the names of great men and heroes, written on slips of paper. On St. Valentine's Day, every youth at the festival had to draw a name out of the urn and pretend to be that great man. We could do the same thing!"

   As Robin talked, Lucy pictured herself dressed as a Roman goddess moving across the stage in graceful flowing robes. It sounded like lots of fun. Still, she liked her own idea better.

   "Thank you, Robin," Miss Chase said when Robin sat down. "That's a fine idea. You will be the leader of your group if we choose your play for the assembly."

    She wrote "ROBIN'S PLAY" on the black- board. "We are going to hear all the assembly suggestions," she told the class. 

Again, Lucy put her hand up.

   "Then I am going to ask all of you to vote for the one you like best."

   Miss Chase looked around the room. Again Lucy put her hand up, and this time she even waved it a bit. But Miss Chase did not seem to see her, and called on Peter.

   "I want to give a valentine play too," Peter said. "Mine would be about St. Valentine him- self. I read that he was put in prison for not believing in the Roman gods. When he sent a message to a little girl he had cured of blind- ness, he signed it 'From your Valentine.' That was supposed to be the beginning of valentines, although hundreds of years went by before any more were sent." 

   "That's another good idea," Miss Chase said, and she wrote "PETER'S PLAY" on the black- board right under "ROBIN'S PLAY." Lucy thought about the two plays, and about her own idea too, and suddenly a new plan occurred to her which was so exciting she forgot to raise her hand at all! She heard Miss Chase saying, ''All right, Susan, you're next."

   "Mine is a valentine play, too," Susan said.

   "Another valentine play!" Miss Chase looked surprised. Susan grinned. "It's about birds," she said. "The story comes from a poem by Geoffrey Chaucer. We'd have to fix the stage to look like a garden. "Mother Nature stands at the top of a high flight of steps. Beside her is a beautiful lady eagle. Suddenly, birds of every size, kind and color come flocking around. Mother Nature speaks to all of them. 'You have come here, oh birds, as you do every Valentine's Day, to choose your mates and fly away. Eagles, you may choose first, since you are King of Birds.'

   "The biggest eagle begins to talk. 'Mother Nature, beside you is the most beautiful eagle in all the world. She should be my wife because I am the biggest and bravest eagle here.'

   "No! No!' screams another eagle, ''she should be my wife. I am the best-looking eagle here. I deserve the most beautiful wife.'

   "A plain little eagle cries out, 'Mother Nature, hear me. Hear me! I am the plainest little eagle, but I have the warmest heart. Let her be mine.'

   "Mother Nature asks all the flocks to choose between the eagles. But before they can choose, the wise old owl says that the lady eagle should choose her own mate. Mother Nature asks the lady eagle, and she, of course, wants the mate with the warmest heart.

   "So I'll be his, if he'll be mine

   And take him for my valentine.'

she says. . .  ''I'd like to act out that play."

   Susan sat down to the sound of loud applause.

   Quick as a wink, Lucy's hand went up and, finally, Miss Chase called on her.

   "I have two ideas," Lucy announced.

   "Two ideas!" Miss Chase looked amazed.

   "I think we should give Susan's play and Peter's play - they're both short. Then we can give Robin's play, but the names on the slips in the urn should be Washington and Lincoln and Betsy Ross, people we all know. Then we'll pick children to draw these slips from the urn and act out something from the life of the person they've drawn. The audience will have to guess who they are pretending to be, like playing charades," she said.

   "Yes, yes!" shouted the fifth graders, and, "That will be lots of fun.''

   "Children!" Miss Chase called. "Lucy hasn't finished!"

Mrs. Holly's valentine collection.

   "Well," Lucy said, "I know a lady named Mrs. Holly who has a collection of old, old valentines. Some are from Washington's and Lincoln's times and some are Victorian. They're all beautiful and she promised to bring them to school if Miss Chase gives her permission."

   "I'd like to tell about her collection and introduce her to the audience. Then we could end the assembly by having the children all come up on the stage to see the beautiful valentines."

   Everybody applauded Lucy as she settled happily back in her seat. There was no need to vote.

   "Well," Miss Chase said, "Lucy has certainly worked out our program for us, hasn't she? That's just fine, Lucy. I'm very proud of you. Please ask Mrs. Holly to come, Lucy, and I'll extend my invitation too, just to make it official."

   As soon as school was out, Lucy ran all the way to Mrs. Holly's house, and told her the good news.

   "Lucy," Mrs. Holly said, "of course I'd like to come, but wouldn't you prefer to show the valentines to the school all by yourself?"

   "Oh, I'd love to!" Lucy shouted, jumping up and down. "But I didn't think you'd let me."

   Mrs. Holly laughed her merry little laugh. "I'll let you," she said. ''And Lucy, I have a dress for a Victorian ball here in the house. My mother cut it down for me when I was about your age. Would you like to wear it? It will go well with showing valentines.''

   Would Lucy! She was almost too happy to breathe.

Mrs. Holly suggests Lucy where a Victorian ball gown.

Lucy gives a valentine presentation.

   The day of the program, she glided onto the school stage in the heavy brocaded gown and stood in front of a small table holding the valentine album. She showed the audience the comic valentines with eyes that moved and hats that lifted. She showed them the quaintly simple valentines from Washington's day, and the gloriously colorful ones from Lincoln's time. She pointed out how very romantic the Victorian valentines were. And then she gave her speech, which ended:

   "St. Valentine, Washington and Lincoln, and all great people belong in our February program. February should belong to everyone who loves his fellow man. As the valentines tell us:

   "How fine, how full of sweet delight

   Our lives will be when our hearts unite."

   Then all the children and teachers and many of the parents came in a long line up to the stage to get a closer look at the valentines. They told Lucy how much they had liked the program.

   Last of all came a surprise a surprise‚ ''Mrs. Holly!'' Lucy had no idea she was there.

   "Lucy," she said, "it was a beautiful speech. Because I enjoyed it so much, I want to give you this Victorian valentine as a present."

   She handed Lucy a frilly lacy valentine covered with hearts and flowers. A glass dew- drop clung to the stem of soft, blue forget-me-nots. What a dear valentine!

   As Lucy fingered it, she knew she would always remember this day. She knew too that this would be the start of a valentine collection. all her own.

Lucy begins her collection.

• Dear Valentine, Part 1: Lucy visits the antique shop and falls in love with old-fashioned things