Mad Bulls, Skinny Dipping, and God: Experiences and Reflections of a Mennonite Boy Growing Up During World War II by Wiens A. Emerson

Author:Wiens, A. Emerson [Wiens, A. Emerson]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Biography & Autobiography, Personal Memoirs, Biography & Autobiography, Religious
ISBN: 9781770974975
Publisher: FriesenPress
Published: 2012-10-30T16:00:00+00:00

(First Grade at New Hope Grade School; I’m in front of the teacher, brother Donald is in the second row, second from the right, and Doris is the tall girl in the back row.)

In fall and spring, windows along both north and south sides of the building supply fresh air and natural light, the only light in the building. It becomes quite dark during short, cloudy, winter days but I am used to that since we didn’t have electricity at home until last year. All of my homework and reading had to be done by the light of a kerosene lamp that puts out about as much light as a 20-watt light bulb! Really!

When we give our Christmas programs and other evening programs for our parents, several white-gas mantle lamps are hung from the school room ceiling. They provide lots of light for the potluck meals and the plays, readings, and songs that follow. The lamps mysteriously change the school room into a wonderfully exciting and festive place, totally different from our humdrum daytime atmosphere. I remember from past programs, the hissing of those gas lamps, the smell of the coal-burning stove mixed with the delicious odors of pies and casseroles, the jabbering of kids and parents in the packed-out room, and remember too well the fear of forgetting my lines in the skits that we did and the poems that we had to recite.

Sometimes the School Board or the teacher arranges for a “community program” for which a speaker or singing group gives a program. Mom calls this culture. Other than church, this is the only culture that we have. In my first grade, Mrs. Hahn’s husband told us about his escape from Russia after the communists took over. Mrs. Hahn was my teacher that year.

When the weather is mild, my brother and I walk or ride our bikes the two miles to school and back. In cases of bad weather, Pop takes us on the Desoto. Mom never drives us because of her arthritis. Sometimes we hitch a ride part way home by standing on the running board of our neighbor’s ‘35 Ford when the mother comes to pick up her kids. One time in my first or second grade, I lost my grip on the car door post and was jolted off, rolling head-over-heels into the ditch. Fortunately, the car probably wasn’t going over fifteen miles an hour because of the bad ruts. I was more embarrassed than injured. Considering how bad the ruts in the road could get after a rain, it is a wonder that we weren’t all thrown off.

One day a year, Mom and Pop pull my brother and me out of school and drive the fifty miles to Wichita to shop for clothes and other things. That is really special! Last year Pop gave me forty cents that I could use to buy my lunch and a toy. It was really hard for me to decide what to buy since about the only

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