1931 - 1937
Make Believe and Daydreaming
In the first grade, classes began with a song "Good morning to you, good morning to you. Good morning dear children, good morning to you." The first and second grades combined then sang in reply "dear teacher" in place of "dear children." We had the salute to the flag (it had 48 stars) then sat at our desks for roll call.
When I was in second grade I noticed a little girl by the name of Betty Smith (who became a best friend). Betty was permitted to leave school to practice for a play at the little Congregational Church across the street from Trent School. Naturally, I became interested in doing the same. We were both cast as angels in Dicken’s Christmas Carol program. I had one speaking line: Pointing at (an apparition?), I said, "Look Ebenezer Scrooge, what do you see?" I delivered it with much feeling. Betty lived in a lovely home in Trentwood, and had a mother, Nora, whom we all adored.
In second grade, the kids told our teacher, Miss Isabel Nash, that Wayne Lounder had kissed me. I wasn't at all sure he had -- it must have been a rumor. We had to dance with the boys in first and second grades. The school principal, Mrs. Clara Beam, directed our music, and we did a sort of dance called "Rig-a-dee-jig and Away We Go."
One of the "big things" we enjoyed was going to "the store" -- Manfred's. We had to cross the Trent highway, but the penny candy, jaw-breakers, lollypops and bubble gum were treats well worth our trouble.
Some other of Opal 's and my friends of those days were: Harry and Evelyn Tesch, Don and Bob Walker, Pauline Eliasen and her cousin, Evelyn, Richard and Vashtie Walburn, Richard and Betty Willhorn, Ruth Panther, Bernice and Lois Boston, Mildred and Fern White, and Marilyn and Yvonne Miller.
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In Sunday School, my Grandmother Ward was my teacher. In order to appear a "big-shot" I related to the class about my having gone to an Evangelical Tent Service where I joined in and went down to the altar. I was approached by a young person who prayed with me, and then asked me whether I felt I was saved. "Yes !" I answered, because I really wanted to get away from there. I figured everyone in my Sunday School class would surely laugh. But when Grandma asked me, "Well, don 't you think you were?" I was subdued. I had no answer. |
 Grandma Lucy Ward
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My favorite church songs were "Battle Hymn of the Republic" and "Onward Christian Soldiers." I bought a castiron pig bank through that church, and dearly loved it. We used to be given little cardboard banks for offerings for missionaries.
At a church carnival, my fortune was told for me by an older girl named Lucille Ramsey. She thought she gave me good predictions, and she did, except she told me I would live to be 60. I was depressed for weeks afterward. She had put a limit on my life and it was frightening. Until I was 60 years old, I was to remember her words. My sixtieth year, I was extremely careful and watched my step!
Opal was an impertinent little gal, and I often egged her on. Once at dinner table, our dad said to her, "Opal, don't you sass me!" And I said, "Sass him, Opal!" She pointed her finger at him and said, "Sass, sass, sass". Another time she started to tell him to shut up, and thought better of it, and the words that came out were, "Sha-bash Sha-bah, sha-bash sha-bah."
There was a local wild man, whom you could never forget! Willy Willie (pronounced "Wiley") had an unorthodox lifestyle. Clad only in khaki shorts, green sun visor, and often sandals, he went from backdoor-to-backdoor, sometimes selling a kind of wheat wafer; other times just talking to whomever would listen. He was an original nature boy; a health nut ahead of his time; a hippie with long, flowing beard.
He frequently violated an order to stay off the 40-acre farm he once owned near Hillyard. The farm was seized by the county for a $100 debt and sold at a sheriff's auction. He spent many a short spell in jails from Boston to San Francisco.
When he died in 1956 at the age of 71, his devotion to animals led to his leaving behind 45 guinea pigs, six dogs and a rabbit.
Books and many articles have since been written attesting to his philosophy. Some comments were: He was known as Spokane's Ambassador of Good Will; he had the courage to live according to his convictions; he wanted to create a Garden of Eden where people and animals could live together; he talked right out of the Bible . . . he was talking brotherly love.
During those depression days, it was not unusual for tramps to come to the door and ask for food. They always got some -- I don't remember any of them asking to do chores in return. Still, we could, and did leave our doors unlocked, and if anyone knocked, we would yell, "Come in!" Never knowing who was there.
Grandma Ward had us conned. She could pull our baby teeth by using a thread soaked in red-colored water with a kind of minty taste. We thought it would not hurt us, and by gosh, it didn't!
She let us "ride" on her up-to-date Easy clothes washer. It would spin-dry, and we would sit on top, thoroughly enjoying the pretend ride.
Grandma had a deep cabinet over the basement stairway which she called her catch-all. When I moved in as owner, it was quite an all-comsuming job to get out all of her old canned food and other accumulations from years back. Also, we had a lot of old wood scraps and sawdust to clean up in the backyard from those woodsawing projects, not to mention scraps of iron and junk which was piled high under a lean-to behind the garage.
I have said that Grandma was very religious; however, to me, she was always a little "suspect'' because she kept a drink shaker on the top shelf of her cupboard. She told us it was for her hot toddy, and we never quite knew what that recipe consisted of.
In later years, Grandma was a little senile. She cooked dandelion greens, and was often seen carrying a paring knife with her, to cut some dandelions whenever she came across them. She did make dandelion wine and elderberry wine.
What did Grandpa do? He made beautiful carvings from wood. The chain carved from a single piece of wood, a block with snakes all over it, and pliers that really opened and shut were some of his accomplishments. We always had a good supply of willow whistles.
He kept bees. It was funny to see the outfit he wore when he went to get the honey. He also could make a beautiful ring from a coin, and made knives; I still have one with a brownish-red handle, and I have my grandmother's rolling pin. Also, I have kept a black cast iron cooking pot that my mother told me was used by my dad to cook up a meaty meal. He would remove the lid on our Monarch range, and set the pot directly over the flame.
Grandpa was laid-back and never got angry at Opal's and my antics. We went to Newman Lake with Grandma and Grandpa during fishing season. They fished at Muzzy's Resort. My Mom often told about the time that Grandpa said to some strangers as we were walking ahead of him, "You see that outfit up there? They belong to me!" She thought he was proud of us.
These grandparents of ours had a billy goat that continually amazed Opal and me. We thought goats ate everything including tin cans (according to what ‘they say’). We fed him paper wrappers which he ate, and lighted cigarette butts, which he also ate!
Another excerpt from Mary Hanly Berglund’s book on early-day Otis Orchards read:
D. C. Corbin, a pioneer developer, formed the Spokane Valley Land and Water Company to develop a network of canals, including Corbin Ditch.
The summer before I was in third grade I learned to swim. First at our neighborhood irrigation (Corbin) ditch located on the side of Pinecroft Hill, and later at the Millwood Park pool. At the cement Corbin Ditch, the current carried me along nicely. However, I noticed swimming was a bit more complicated in a pool. I often drifted down this ditch on an inner tube, singing to myself "Melody from the Skies." Some of the words were:
We walked the mile to Millwood to swim in the pool, buy caramel ice cream bars and read funny books. A little girl, Edith Bennett, who I thought was the most darling girl I had ever seen, was often there, and she had her funny book, and she read about Buck Rogers and his ZAP gun. Byram's Drug Store/Soda Fountain/Post Office was the store where we all congregated. The money we had to spend was earned from our picking strawberries at Quinn's strawberry patch, which was on our way home from Corbin Ditch.
Picking strawberries was extremely hot and hard work. Opal and I were trudging home after our back-breaking work and saw running around in an open field what we thought were baby quails. We gathered them up, then talked ourselves into believing they were probably not quails, but turkeys, so we took them to Quinn's house, a neighbor along the way, and left them in their dog's house. We wondered if Quinn's quails were quails (or in fact, turkeys?).
Millwood was comprised of the Inland Empire Paper Co., Millwood Park with swimming pool and band stand; Millwood Pharmacy (J. E. Tiffin, prop.); above the pharmacy was dentist, Dr. Bayne; across the street was Erma Seehorn's beauty shop (she gave marcels, henna rinses, and machine-type permanents); around that corner was the Spokane Valley State Bank; then Millwood Mercantile Co. (Roeders & Schleef, prop. ); Millwood Meat Market (H. G. Peterson, prop. ); the Millwood Hardware, owned by Frank Heitstuman--a jot-em-down store; a dry goods store next; and on the other corner was the A. B. Byram multi-complex store. Above the bank, the Masonic Temple.
The Mercantile delivered groceries; they ran a charge business. Also, deliveries were made by a breadman, Klarr. From Klarr 's bakery truck emanated the most delicious smells; sometimes we were sent out to buy ourselves a couple of cream puffs. And there was a milkman. The iceman, whom we facetiously knew was Dolly Rice's boy friend, was often conned into giving us ice chips to cool us. Opal's cute poem from her apt memory applies:
The Millwood Meat Market gave freely of bones and meat scraps for anyone 's dog. We used the bones often to feed Ted, or just as often for soup for us.
Dr. Bayne, the dentist, at one time drilled into a nerve while working on Opal's tooth. We were very apprehensive when we returned for another checkup and we had to wait quite awhile before it was our turn. Dr. Bayne finally appeared in the waiting room door and said, "Okay, who's going to be next?" With that, Opal jumped up and ran out of the room and down the stairs. She was horrified when she heard someone running after her. Of course, she thought it was the dentist! Being the only one left for "next," I decided no way and went sailing downstairs behind her!
I remember third grade very well, as a lot happened. It was a growing time for me. Dennis joined the Navy. He was just 18 years old. I cried when we took him to the train because I thought I might never get to see my big brother again. To cover up my embarrassment at crying, I fabricated sadness over a new, lost headband that I had just gotten (a hair decoration with little plastic flowers on it).
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While Dennis served with the Navy aboard the heavy cruiser, the San Francisco, he never forgot his sisters. I cannot begin to remember all the gifts, post cards from far-away places, and $1 bills he included in his many letters addressed to Opal and Leta Keener. He sent us white kimonos with an embroidered red dragon on the back, perfumes, purses, pictures of Sugarloaf Mountain in Rio de Janeiro which had blue butterfly wings in the background, shells which were peach-colored and fragile, and jewelry and souvenirs from places his ship had docked. |
 Dennis Keener
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This year was election year. My father took us to school. One of the older boys shouted to my dad, "Vote for Roosevelt!" I said, "Yes, vote for Roosevelt, because he has a pretty name!" Since then, I have said I became a Democrat when in third grade.
While shopping at Montgomery Ward with my mother, I noticed at my feet, a beautiful white gold 17-jeweled Gruen wristwatch. I immediately picked it up and showed it to my mother. We searched the lost-and-found want ads to see if anyone claimed to have lost the watch, but fortunately for me, no one had, so I became the proud owner.
On Halloween, Mom always made our costumes which we wore to school. My favorite was a Gypsy costume made of polished cotton. The yellow blouse had short, puffed sleeves; the vest was black and laced up the front through eyelets; and the orange skirt was gathered and decorated with shiny circles cut from tin and sewn over the entire skirt. I thought my outfit the best in the whole world. I kept it long after I was grown up. Halloween was party-time in those days. We didn't go out to trick-or-treat, but we did take our jack-o-lanterns and a bar of soap. We used the soap only on windows of houses where no one was home.
The fanciest valentine was given to me by a boy named Steve Buck. It was pale blue with lots of lace. It must have been home-made. (I suspected his mother had something to do with the construction because it was very pretty.)
Third grade and fourth grade were combined at Trent School. In fact, the school had only four rooms for the entire eight grades. I would catch James Blount, a fourth grader, standing up and looking across the room at me. I pretended I hadn't noticed. I became smitten with him until I was into sixth grade. I cut out his picture from the class picture, and secretly put it inside the back of my wristwatch.
My penmanship was bad. I was told I wouldn't get to go on to fourth grade if it didn't improve. That was hard to take as my grades otherwise were always high.
Elstark Eastman, a boy who was of good upbringing, obviously was a boy who wanted to become my boyfriend . . . third grade? . . . and he said his mother wanted me to come to lunch at their house on the following Saturday. I half-way didn't want to go, but I was pretty shy, and didn't want to hurt his feelings. Well, when Saturday came, I didn't go, and made up the story that either I or Opal had fallen from our willow tree, whoever it was didn't feel well. I felt guilty about the fib, and went to lunch there the following Saturday.
Trent School always had a May Day Program. It was held outside, and we had a real maypole. In time to music, crepe paper streamers were woven over and under and around the pole by the older girls. We girls all wore new organdy dresses. Opal's and mine were always alike (Mom always wanted twins?). Even though we were quite short of funds, Mom always seemed to have enough to dress us as prettily as other girls. The May Day highlight was when the older classes sang Joyce Kilmer’s "Trees."
Another indication of what I was like in third grade: We had a story that began . . ."It was a sunny June afternoon. Saturday had come at last. Jane was sitting on a low limb of an apple tree wishing that she could see a fairy." I often climbed up in a tree in our pasture, never quite remembering to do it in June, or on a Saturday afternoon, so I never saw a fairy.
Most mothers made their little girls wear ugly tan cotton stockings which were held up by garter belts. But this made us uncomfortable, and the first moment we were out of our mothers' range of sight, we would roll those stockings down to ankle height. It was a lot nicer, freer feeling to have bare legs. Teachers never told us we shouldn't do this.
On Saturdays, we always knew Mom would get out the mop and bucket and scrub the floors. Always we had the radio on and she played the station with Sousa Marches. I never cared for that kind of music.
Besides preserving most of our food, Mom used a separater which miraculously spouted out cream and milk simultaneously. She also made our butter using a glass churn which was turned by hand.
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The depression hit our family very hard. Both my brothers quit high school. Dennis went away to the Navy -- to make it easier on the rest of us. Leo worked to help out. My dad was not well. He definitely had to be worried about money. He had worked doing carpentry, and later worked at the cement plant. |
 The Keener Family
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One summer my dad worked as a "ditch-walker." That meant he was responsible for irrigating large plantations of alfalfa. The one time I saw him working there was when we took his lunch to him. It wasn't interesting work, but it did bring in some money.
From Otis Orchards: The First Fifty Years:
I was given free piano lessons. Three of us from third grade at Trent school were taken to Spokane for lessons from Mrs. McIlhenny each week. I seemed to have some musical talent, but the lessons were short-lived and I didn't become very accomplished.
"How old are you, Mr. Keener?" Hearing these words spoken sounded to this eleven-year-old as if they had an implied finality.
I stood at the foot of my father's bed not really wanting to hear his reply. My father, gravely ill with severe bleeding ulcers, answered Dr. Yarnell simply, "Forty -two." I caught in the doctor's attitude a feeling of resignation. I knew deep inside that things were not going to be the same for this family. We would have to survive without our loving, kind father.
In 1936, ulcers were not always a "curable" disease. My father was confined in the Deaconess Hospital in February. I, always the daughter who must be secure, asked mother, "How much is this going to cost?" And she answered, "It doesn't matter -- just so long as he lives!"
He passed away and mother was left with two small daughters to take care of during the worst possible time -- the Great Depression. Dennis was home on leave from the Navy for the funeral.
I think that from the time I lost my father, I felt I was different from other children. Whenever someone asked anything about your dad, I had to say, "I don't have a dad.
Before this time, Dennis had met and married Gladys McDonald in San Francisco. She was a Spokane girl.
They had a baby boy, Johnny, in September, 1936.
Left a widow with two little girls to support, Mom got into government WPA (Works Progress Administration) work. First she was sewing at Deaconess Hospital, then later worked as a cook at our school. She got us our clothes through ADC (Aid for Dependent Children, another Government Program). She very cleverly made us mittens out of heavy woolen socks by using her sewing machine to round out the thumb and palm areas. Leo bought us our winter coats. The social workers wouldn't give any monetary assistance so long as Leo lived at home and worked, so Leo took a tent and slept in it down by the river.
In the Navy, Dennis had a good friend he called "Chubby" Mason. He always told Chubby about his little sisters (the brats). Once on a leave, he brought Chubby home, and we "brats" were charmed by his tall Navy tales.
Whenever my friends wanted me to join them in a bicycle ride, I always had to borrow someone's bike. I yearned for a bicycle of my own. I envisioned myself building one for myself, but could never get the parts I needed! It would have taken more skill than I had to make a bike!
Throughout much of our childhood, we loved to visit a beautiful park-like place called Blakley 's Gardens. I believe the Blakleys were from the 1877 pioneers of "John Blakley" who were listed in History of Spokane County. They homesteaded 160 acres. The park overlooked the Spokane River. On acres of lush grass, it was made up of hedges, stone bridges, and statues wearing just fig leaves. It wasn't really an open-to-the-public park, but no one ever said not to trespass. Later, when it was sold, we were sad to see there wasn't anything left . . . just the stone bridge.
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The Spokane River provided many amusements for Opal and me as we grew up. For instance, we swam at River Lake which was a deep pool set off from the usually swift currents by several large, basalt rocks -- perfect for sunning oneself on, and jumping from. At River Lake, our dog, Ted, would come to our "rescue" when we yelled "help!" He would swim out to us and take hold of our wrists which we conveniently held out for him to grasp, and then swim with us to shore, proud to have done a good deed. I really thought he was going to drown me once when instead of taking hold of my outstretched wrist, he put his considerable weight on my back, pushing me under. I do know some of your past actually flashes through your mind when you think you are about to drown, as I was going through some of that during that experience. |
 The Spokane River
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The Inland Empire Paper Company owned the land along the river, and in the old days, their discarded paper was disposed of in an area by their railroad tracks where they constantly burned these various grades of paper. We often played there, and took home papers that were still intact. Sometimes, the smoldering papers looked safe enough to walk on, as the burning, hot coals were far below. I happened to step onto such a place and my foot sunk in, anklet (sock) deep, and my anklet filled with hot material, causing me excruciating pain. I received a bad burn. Stripping off my shoe and sock, I ran for the river's edge, I cooled my burn in the icy-cold river long enough so I could tolerate it until I got home. This was when you don't put water on burns, but later years, it was exactly the right thing to do. Embarrassed, I crawled through my bedroom window so my mother wouldn't know what a foolish (or dangerous) thing I had done. I left the explanations to Opal, and I didn't get into trouble.
Having big brothers was an enticement to our getting into trouble. Dennis had sent a pair of Walther target pistols from Montevideo, Uruguay, to Leo, and they were kept on the highest shelf of the kitchen cupboard so we couldn't reach them. Several times Opal and I got them down, loaded them, and then, off to the river we'd go. Opal must have trusted me most, because she allowed me to shoot a tin can lid out of her hand; another time, a cigarette out of her mouth. I'm glad, glad, glad I was a sharp shooter.
One day we found gunpowder out in our old shed and thought we would try spreading it along the ground and lighting it. It burned well, but we hadn't known whether it would explode, or exactly what it would do.
All us kids liked to get an old sheet of tin and sit on it while we careened down the steep, graveled river embankment. Wonderful fun, but I felt my life was out of control during the ride for the few moments it took to get to the bottom.
One day Opal and I found that someone had tied a raft upon the riverbank. Instinctively, we had to do it! Fully clothed, we got on the raft and set it free to drift down the river. Do you think we had any misgivings about having no way to steer it, or how we were to get off? Of course not! When we noticed our predicament, clothed, we had to jump into the cold water and swim to shore. And we watched while someone's raft went swiftly on its way down the river.
Another time it was a rowboat (with oars!) which we commandeered. We never knew who owned it, but Leo must have been on our tails, because all of a sudden, someone was shooting at us. Bullets rained down all around us. We took ourselves to shore, tied up the boat, and went straight home. Leo never did own up to the shooting, but we knew it couldn't have been anyone else.
A couple of other attractive nuisances on IEP property; one we called a "tramway," and the other, I was never sure what it was. The tramway was made with stout cable which had a short piece of pipe (about 15 inches long) around it. The beginning of the tramway was at the top of a tall evergreen tree. Climbing a ladder, you took a deep breath and zipped down a distance of about thirty feet. The landing was always a thrill.
The other caused me grief years later when my oldest son, Barry, was seriously injured. A tree growing on a steep bank had a rope attached to it with a knot in the end. One would make a fast run holding onto the rope, and swing way out over the bank and gain footing on the opposite side of the tree. I was never brave enough or foolhardy enough to try it.
We also found it fun to play "singing star." An open boxcar on the lower railroad tracks made a pretend stage.
Always fascinated with junk piles, we spent lots of time searching out treasures and brought home various finds such as old face powder compacts, pretty bottles, and anything else we thought interesting.
A popular entertainment of the thirties was the "Walk-a-thon." We went to these events to watch favorite couples dance until they literally could drop, and they often would. The couples became well-known and we cheered for the ones we liked. The only song that I remember from that time was, "The Lady in Red, the fellows are crazy for the lady in red. . ."
I often typed on Grandma's Underwood. I "wrote'' my future life story. And it was in part : I would be very popular in high school; I would go to California and become a famous actress (or dress designer, I hadn’t decided which to pursue); I would drive a convertible with my huge St. Bernard in the back seat; I would also have all the glazed donuts I could ever eat.
Opal and I did some silly things. We would sit in our chickenhouse and watch the chickens eat. We thought they liked for us to sing to them. They usually cocked their heads and stared at us. They actually did seem to listen and appeared to appreciate our talents.
I remember getting the idea of canning food for the chickens. We knew they would never eat it, but we put vegetable peelings and food scraps etc. into fruit jars and buried them around here and there in the garden. They weren 't left there very long, as they would have interfered with plowing.
I copied all the words to popular songs of that time in my notebook. When I heard a new song on the radio, I would use a scribbled "shorthand" to get as many words down as I could, and the next time I heard it played, I grabbed the notebook again to try to finish the song. Eventually, I had quite a repertoire of songs.
I was the tallest person in the entire sixth grade, but I did not grow any taller after that.
Mrs. Nina Yager, my teacher, wanted me draw a picture on the blackboard for Christmas. She watched me and said, "Artists always begin a drawing in a place where I would never expect they would."
Mrs. Yager wrote in my autograph book:
Also:
Never a good cook, I never wanted to be, but Opal was a natural. I always was the clean-up person. We often made candy by mixing peanut butter with equal parts of sugar. We pressed this into a pan and cut it into squares. It was easy enough to make and we liked it. In winter we had snow ice cream; new snow with sugar and heavy fresh cream. Yumm!
On one occasion when I tried to cook, I was dutifully following a candy recipe. Mom came into the kitchen and saw me standing there holding a thread by one end with the other end submersed in a mixture on the stove. "What on earth are you doing?" I informed her that the recipe says "cook until it spins a thread.". . ." That became a family joke.
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One summer I took up tap dancing through a program that was free. Betty Smith, June Foster, Mary Sarakinoff, Charlotte Watts and I performed at several special summer events. We wore white satin halter tops with black sateen slacks. It was great fun. |
 Tap Dancers
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This was the summer I received my very first permanent. In those days, getting a perm was quite invoIved -- done by electricity. Huge, heavy rollers were each attached to your head by electric wires connected to a big machine. After all of my rollers were wound, the electricity went off! I sat patiently with a head full of heavy curlers! I had to be patient, what else could I do? My beauty operator said, "Cheer up, the worst is yet to come." I didn't see any humor in her remark. This was a quote I later have learned that was taken from a man named Philander Chase Johnson.
Opal and I had tonsillectomies at the same time when I was 12 and she was ten. As always the way, I was the sicker one. Coming out of the anesthetic, I obviously was doing some moaning and groaning. Opal sat up in her bed and said to me, "Be quiet, you worm!" Incidentally, she ate toast that first morning; I could not eat anything.
On a hot, heavy summer's night in August a girlfriend spent the night with me. We slept outside on a cot and watched the sky as zillions of stars went shooting across the skies. I later learned that this phenomenon regularly recurred every year in August.
Opal and I at times teased our Mom. This one time she was sitting deep in thought and we heard her pensively saying, "Time ticks on . . .What for? . . .I wonder what for?. . .I wish somebody would tell me what for?. . ." We repeated her words whenever we wanted to tease her.
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