Thanksgiving and Christmas at Ives Elementary School in the 1930's

The Great Depression in Detroit, Michigan, in the 1930's, brought sadness to schools for teachers lost their jobs and families fed other families, Thanksgiving and Christmas being the most tragic times. I always worried when our teachers in the 5th and 6th grade asked us all to remember to bring food for the Thanksgiving and Christmas baskets to be delivered to a poor family, whose name would be on a piece of folded paper handed to our teacher by our principal, Mr. Ellsworth. We'd watch as our teacher silently read the name of the poor family and wondered if she would look up and direct her gaze of pity toward one of us. I'd sit in utter silence as I prayed that our name wasn't on the list of families that were too poor to have a Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner.

Our mother would send us back to school in the afternoon with a #2 can of whole tomatoes. I always wanted to bring a pie from a bakery, something elegant, rather than the can of tomatoes. Each room had a large bushel basket lined with lovely paper, and as the basket began to fill up with the groceries we had brought, we all began to feel very worthy and kindly toward one another. Finally the day came for the butcher in our neighborhood to bring the turkey wrapped in heavy wax paper and decorated with a large red and green ribbon. We tried not to examine anything in the basket too closely because our teacher had warned us not to be too familiar with the basket's glorious and abundant delicacies. I was glad that the #2 can of whole tomatoes was hidden from view on the very bottom of the bushel basket.

I was relieved when my father came home with our own turkey! I wondered why my mother never served tomatoes with our grand and elegant dinner. I wondered why she thought the poor family should have a #2 can of whole tomatoes for their Thanksgiving or Christmas Dinner. I would have liked to think they were having a pie from the bakery. And when we returned to school after the holidays, I waited for someone to mention the awfulness of the #2 can of whole tomatoes that was in their basket. Imagine!

Well, very thoughtful of you, dear, to glide right over the cheese debacle from that night in London's finest restaurant.  You only barely mentioned c'est la geurre to that mirthless waiter who was bringing the cheese tray.  C'est la fromage his angry reply as he slammed the pungent morsels onto the table. How like you, dear, to mix up war and cheese.  You've done it all your life.  Who knew it could offend?  By God, we ate every specimen to show our peaceful intentions.  Alas.  We were violently ill for days afterward.  The nuns were very kind to us, though.

I Remain As Always, Your Devoted Miss Blue

Dear Miss Blue,

The Diner has been so busy this season with seekers of Truth coming forth with gifts to entice the humble; tiptoeing among the diners, and, frankly, causing such a stir among the cooks in the kitchen - with my most dedicated chef about to untie his cover-all apron and depart - that I had to step up and shoo the Seekers, who, by the way, were in the kitchen now, out of the kitchen, past the tables and chairs and out into the Christmas Eve darkness.  Not a minute too soon, for as I returned inside I was relieved to see the diners removing their coats and hanging them up next to their booths, ready to enjoy the amazing moment with the Flaming Plum Pudding! And it was so wonderful Miss Blue. Just a tiny second when the lighted match hovers over the Brandy soaked Plum Pudding, and the diners leaping up and clapping their hands with glee! Chef Schubert, always dedicated, I just don't know what I would do without him!

Fanny's gift of the Cow Salt and Pepper Shakers arrived early on Christmas Eve, time enough to open and exclaim and place on the Diners' Table nearest the Christmas Tree for everyone to see. I filled them with sugar and salt, rather than salt and pepper since little children in their holiday finery wouldn't want pepper to make them sneeze, although I will return to the traditional salt and pepper as the cows would have it.

I have read recently, well, just two days ago, about the cheese debacle in Australia having to do with cheese triangle placement on sandwiches. What to do, say I?  Anything that breaks the traditional ways is Always a Debacle, don't you think so, Miss Blue?

Pearl, Lighting the Match on Christmas Eve

Dearest Pearl,

You didn't say what was keeping you so busy lately but I'm sure the diner was humming with Christmas shoppers and weary Hindus seeking enlightenment.  Say, were you able to use the cow salt and pepper shakers Fanny picked out for you?  She found them in a dusty little shop on Drury Lane - very close to Picadilly Circus and the restaurant that was the scene of the cheese debacle so long ago when we were young. 

I Remain As Always,
Your Devoted Miss Blue

Literature at Ives Elementary School

Dear Miss Blue,

Well, this has been such a busy time for me, hardly enough time to read about Bertram and his imagination. Yes, imagination that I stumbled upon long ago, during our once a week hour in a class called Literature.  Literature meant we were allowed access to a magazine rack near the door to the school's hallway, among other wonderful pastimes.  I liked the magazines best, since most of us didn't have subscriptions to magazines.

 The hour was spent in a number of ways suitable to fourth graders in our school, Ives Elementary, on Philip Avenue, just a cut through the backyards between our street, Marlborough, and Philip Avenue. We could perform just by raising our hand and announcing whatever it was we wanted to perform,  jokes, poems, songs.  Especially wonderful and new to me was Elecution. I loved it when one of my friends, Ruth DeVoe, dramatized The Blue Wart or Oh Joy, I Wish I Could Be A Boy, my favorite.  And so I memorized the words and gestures for future times - mainly when we visited our relatives in Kentucky.  They didn't like The Blue Wart, preferring I Wish I Could Be A Boy! But it was the race to the magazine rack to pull out the Child Life magazine that I loved best. Always flipping through the pages to find the most recent Bertram story; Bertram and His Kangaroo and Bertram and his Giraffe.  I wanted to be Bertram. My mother was sad, I think, that we didn't subscribe to Child Life.  She didn't say that we couldn't afford the magazine subscription, instead she suggested our library on Kercheval, eight or nine blocks from our house. Never, did I find Child Life there, just Boy's Life!

Love from Pearl