Category: Legacy Project

What music did you grow up listening to?

My earliest music experience were hymns, sung to the organ, at the Community Presbyterian Church in Oakland. The old church was located across the street from the Washington School, and the organ was probably operated by foot pedal. My favorite hymns were “Jesus Loves Me” and “The Old Rugged Cross.” I memorized first verses of dozens of hymns from repetition in our services.

My parents both liked to sing at home. Dad sang western songs and Mother preferred old favorites. My favorite that Mother sang was, “You Are My Sunshine” and my favorite of Dad’s was, “Down in the Valley.” Mother did not have an ear for musical intervals and could not sing on key. She was aware of this problem and refused to let that stop her from singing. Dad had more of an ear for music and was able to sing melody a cappella. Neither of my parents learned to read music, but they wanted us to perform music, and they encouraged individual music lessons as well as participation in school band.

We had a phonograph that stood near the front door in our living room. Our phonograph was inside a tall oak cabinet and was powered by an electric motor, although it looked like the older wind-up phonographs. It played 78 rpm records and my parents had a small collection of popular music from the 30s and 40s.

I began accordion lessons with next-door neighbors Susan and Sandy Monett when we were first-grade age. Playing accordion required learning to read both treble and bass clef. Like piano, accordion helps a lot with developing an ear for musical notes, chords, and keys. As I learned to play my child-size accordion, I fixated on marches. To the consternation of my teachers, I wanted to learn only marches by John Phillip Sousa. My favorites were the “The Stars and Strips Forever” and “The Washington Post.” Sousa’s marches were written to be performed by marching bands; and it was challenging to do justice to them on the accordion.

Not long after broadcast TV reached Roseburg in 1956, a repeater was setup on a nearby mountain. The Monetts got a TV and ours was close behind. Music was part of the joy of TV and Lawrence Welk provided much of that music. I was especially attentive to Myron Floren, the accordion player. He stood still and mostly looked right at the camera with a pleasant smile. My favorite music from the Lawrence Welk show were the polkas, which usually featured Myron Floren’s accordion. Sadly for my parents, who had invested a lot in an accordion and lessons, my interest waned as popular music gained my attention.

Elvis Presley burst into youth music in 1956. I best remember his early hits “Blue Suede Shoes” and “Hound Dog.” His on-stage gyrations inspired an uproar; he was roundly condemned by the religious and criticized by the respectable press. The early Rock & Roll icon, he became a symbol of moral degeneration. I thought all this exaggerated criticism was unfair and imagined that it would only increase his popularity with youth. I didn’t realize that Elvis suffered from the criticism, especially when it came from religious figures.

Elvis still holds the record for most career music sales; a multitude of his tunes topped the charts. My favorite ballad: “Can’t Help Falling in Love,” favorite rock & roll: “All Shook Up,” favorite blues: “Heartbreak Hotel,” and favorite gospel: “How Great Thou Art.” I listened to many other Rock & Roll artists but Elvis was King of the 50s.

By age 11, I wanted to be more of a part of the action at my school. I stopped playing accordion and took up the trumpet in school band. We purchased my trumpet from neighbor and playmate, John Wilcox, who decided he had outgrown the band.

I eventually played trumpet in concert, marching, pep and stage bands. Stage band became my favorite, as the music was more contemporary and lyrical and the band was small — I could actually hear myself. The best show was “Annie, Get Your Gun,” an elaborate production for a small school. I was at the height of my trumpet prowess that year, and Greg Vasche was too busy playing basketball to bump me to second chair position.

In the 50s and 60s we listened to daytime music on KYES “Nifty 950 AM” in Roseburg. KYES went off-air each night at 6PM because KJR Seattle had first rights to broadcast on 950 KHz and the AM radio signal will sometimes travel hundreds of miles at night. KJR had better programming than KYES and reception was rarely great, usually awful. We could more reliably tune in KISN AM Portland for an evening of popular Rock & Roll.

When I first heard the Beatles playing “I Want to Hold Your Hand,” I was captivated. Their Liverpool blend of melody, vocal harmony, and an unusual guitar sound with a Rock & Roll beat was familiar, yet different enough to stand out. Their lyrics were mostly simple and easily remembered — which worked in their favor.

On TV, the Beatles appeared with clean-cut hair, matching outfits and a high-energy stage presence that drove the teenage girls mad. The year of hold your hand, I went with Erline to represent our school on TV at Dick Booth’s Teen Date. Erline was my continual growing-up heart throb — the one that I was too shy to pursue before and after that one Teen Date.

Eddie, Greg and I had played together in school band for years and we more or less jointly decided to play Rock & Roll. I took guitar lessons at Ricketts Music store in Roseburg and learned simple barred chords and a western dance hall style of playing that really wasn’t suitable for Rock & Roll. To advance myself, I decided to teach myself the Ventures instrumental style, which had become popular and seemed eminently easier than Beatles arrangements — which required singing in parts. My interest in the Ventures morphed into a fascination with the surfing sound of the Beach Boys. Unfortunately, Eddie, Greg and I could barely play our instruments, let alone play and sing in close harmonies composed by Brian Wilson of the Beach Boys.

We capped our career as a 3-boy band by capturing the grand prize at the 1965 talent contest at Oakland High School. Better for us that we were mediocre at Rock & Roll because we needed to apply ourselves as all three of us wound up at Oregon State University the next year.

Who were your best friends in childhood and what were they like?

My earliest childhood friends were Sandy and Susan, who lived next door. Susan is my age-mate, and best childhood friend.

When Susan and I were about 5, we decided to run away from home together. Susan had gotten in trouble with her parents and was being punished. This happened a lot, but for some reason, Susan was determined to teach them that she was a force to be reckoned with.

Her plan was to walk to the highway and catch a ride. We gathered some snacks and a jacket into her little suitcase and started walking down the lane towards the paved highway. As we set off together, I imagine the conversation went something like this:

Susan: I think we should go to Klamath and stay with Aunt Mickey Gibson.

Marty: I heard that Klamath is on the other side of the mountains. Do you know the way to Klamath?

Susan: I have been to Klamath, but I don’t remember the way. We could ask our ride how to get there.

Marty: If we had enough money we could take a Greyhound bus. Did you bring any money?

Susan: I have some dimes and quarters in the suitcase. That might not be enough. I think we should go to Sutherlin and stay with the Wattmans.

Marty: Good idea. Sutherlin is far, but we can walk there. Do you think we will get in trouble for walking along the highway?

Susan: Someone will give us a ride.

Marty: I’m afraid that we will get in more trouble for being on the road.

Susan: Me too, let’s go home.

Marty: Yes, let’s.

Susan and Sandy were great bicycle riders. We would ride our balloon-tired bikes on the lane and even cross the highway to the grassy hill. There was a livestock underpass, and we could go underneath the highway.

We had to push our bikes to the top of the hill; then we could coast down through the sheep pasture. It was rough riding and easy to lose control from laughing at the excitement of the bumpy ride. We had several crashes and minor injuries from downhill pasture riding.

We three were encouraged to learn to play the accordion, and went together for music lessons at the Betty Cowan Studio in Sutherlin. The accordion is not easily learned, but we made good progress in our lessons and were soon playing for the local Farm Bureau and even in a talent contest at the County Fair.

We also were encouraged by our Dads to join 4-H (Boy Scouts for farm families). The 4-H helped us kids learn about farm animals, farm crops, and homemaking. We all had lambs and sheep that we exhibited at the County Lamb Show and the County Fair. Our animal interests diverged when Susan and Sandy acquired Ginger and Copper, two fine horses. While we all were taught to saddle, rein and ride, my opinion was that Susan had more courage and skill with the horses than I.

As elementary school was winding down, Susan acquired 50’s-era social interests, like clothing, hair styles, and rock n’ roll. Soon Susan and Sandy had a collection of 45 rpm records by Elvis Presley and Fats Domino and had learned swing dance. Although I liked listening to popular rock music, I was definitely left behind with swing dancing and sock hops and actual flirting with girls.

Sandy and her cousin Linda undertook a project to help me catch up, during the “summer of love.” Two years older – they were intently interested in the social scene and especially the onset of teen-age dating. They invited me over to help them practice smiles, lipsticks, hugs, and lip-to-lip kisses. Although I felt both timid and embarrassed, it seemed harmless and I let myself be swept into their passionate embraces. They said I was doing well and that they liked my kisses. I knew that I was not really the target of their ardent attentions, and decided it would be best to not let myself get carried away with bragging about all this. So, I resisted any temptation to brag and enjoyed the sweetness of my secret.

It was harder being friends with Susan during our teens because other teens kept getting in the way. She had slumber parties with her girl friends and no shortage of older boy friends pursuing her attention. During our sophomore year, she was crowned homecoming queen. At the time she was dating an older boy from Sutherlin and she asked me to be her escort for the Homecoming dance. This made me very happy, because I felt more comfortable with Susan than with the others in my class. Perhaps by this time I had even learned to swing dance.

 

When you were a child, what did you most want to be when you grew up? When you were a teenager? When you were a young adult?

As a child, I wanted to be a farmer, especially a tractor-driving farmer. My favorite toys were bulldozers, tractors, trucks, and cars.

Dad often told stories about farmers on the Great Plains. His stories usually centered around their large machines and the extraordinary acreage they could farm in a workday. Dad’s brother Owen was a Western Kansas farmer who actually operated jumbo-sized tractors, cultivators, and combines. Dad’s stories about Owen and the machines of the Great Plains impressed me and I dreamed of being a mechanized farmer.

As I tired of playing with child’s toys, I was attracted to actual machines around our farm. I eagerly went into the fields and rode “shotgun” with Dad in his tractor-farming work.

My fascination with machines also led to imaginary play with actual machines. Dad bought an old TD-14 bulldozer for use in logging the hills on our farm, and I was captivated with the idea of operating that machine. For a time, it was parked not far from our house and I would often go out and sit at the controls, vocalizing machine noises while pulling levers, pushing pedals, and imagining myself being a grown-up cat-skinner.

In my teen years, I had an opportunity to operate the TD-14. Despite my mental practice, the machine was more than I could safely handle. In a forest setting, one needs to be very cautious, because there are many impediments and hazards, and it’s easy to get into trouble. On one occasion, I managed to get the bulldozer high-centered on a fir stump, so that the bulldozer could not go forward nor back. Attempts to get unstuck only dug a deeper hole. The practical solution was to raise the machine to clear the stump by stuffing material under the tracks. It must have taken nearly a day of hard work for two grown men to feed cut blocks of wood under the tracks and get the bulldozer unstuck.

At Oakland High School, my interests broadened. Learning of the sort needed to do well in school came easily for me. I was able to perform near the top of my classes without a lot of self-discipline and hard work. It was important to me to do well, but being first wasn’t important to me. I didn’t want the extra attention and hard work that went with being in first place.

I developed the habit of reading a lot in my teens: farming magazines, popular magazines, news magazines, and all the science fiction books in the Douglas County Library. This habit of reading broadened my general knowledge and helped me perform well on the Scholastic Aptitude Tests. Our guidance counselor attempted to influence me towards a professional career. He said, “Your scores suggest you can succeed at any career you choose: doctor, lawyer, accountant. Anything. You can gain entrance to almost any college of your choice and you should do well there. Choose a four-year university to start and avoid trade and technical schools.”

I took my counselor’s advice to heart began thinking beyond the life of a farmer. This set up a significant internal conflict, because Dad had told me more than once that he hoped I would grow up to become a farmer and inherit the family farm. When Mother and I talked about what occupation to become, she seemed to lean toward the professions as well. She could probably see that I wasn’t well suited towards the life of a farmer, especially one who would remain close to home. It must have been painfully obvious to her that the relationship between Dad and me was frayed.

In my mind, I leaned towards a career as a physician. I doubted that my manual dexterity would make me a surgeon, but imagined myself doing well as a specialist in some other discipline like pediatrics or family practice.

I remember when I broached this topic with Dad. “I want to be a doctor, and I want to enroll at the University of Oregon in pre-med, and then transfer to Oregon Health Sciences University.”

He looked as if I had punched him in the stomach. “You know that becoming a doctor costs more than $100,000 and takes 12 to 15 years of training. We are common people and can’t afford that kind of education. We have 4 children to educate and we can’t afford to keep you in school that long.” Neither Dad nor I knew anything about the resources that medical students were able to tap to help finance the high cost of their education, but his passionate refusal was enough to dissuade me from medical training.

I decided that I would need to pick a different profession – one that required only a four-year degree. I picked Engineering and Oregon State University. During my four years, I narrowed my field of study and graduated with a Bachelor’s Degree in Electrical Engineering.

Using the placement services at OSU, I was offered a career-conditional appointment to the engineering pool at Bonneville Power Administration in Portland, Oregon. As a young engineer, I found that my interests were suited to developing computer software, and I was assigned to a team of young professionals who were creating software for a new digital power system control center.

This part of my career was intensely satisfying. My education had not prepared me for this work, and constant learning was required to accomplish anything useful. Our team was constructed mostly from people with the same level of experience and we learned together and helped each other. Software development is addictive work, because it provides a lot of intermittent reinforcement. When I occasionally got my code right, I could progress to the next task.

I had gone from farmer to medical doctor to electrical engineer to software engineer and, as a young adult, I was very happy with my occupation.

What traits do you have that your parents also had and which side of the family do you resemble the most?

I’ll use the Big 5 Personality Traits as a framework for discussing this question.

When I was about 10 or 12, Dad decided to double the size of our ranch by purchasing an adjoining ranch owned by Cal Hunter. This is a strategy that worked well for him as a farmer in Western Kansas before the war.

The purchase complete, Dad set about the task of improving the place. I wanted to help, and felt proud to help plough a field. Dad used our Oliver 77 and a three-bottom trailing plough for most of the work. He borrowed a smaller John Deere Model M and single-bottom three-point-mounted plough from a neighbor. Operating the small John Deere, I was enjoying ploughing round and round the field following Dad with my left front wheel in the furrow.

Oregon has hills, unlike interminably flat Western Kansas. We were ploughing on the contour, rather than climbing at a right angle to the slope. As we progressed, our tractors left the brow of the hill and the slope increased. Neither tractor was well-adapted to the hilly terrain — they were both narrow gauge wheel tractors. I became frightened and motioned with my hand that the ground was too steep. Dad stopped his tractor and agreed it was too risky and sent me home, about a mile away.

Not long after, Dad returned with dirt on his clothes. His voice sounded shaky as he said to Mother, “You almost became a widow today.”

Dad told his story. “I was ploughing on the hillside and a rose bush got tangled in my plough. So I raised the plough out of the ground and pulled out of the furrow. So I backed up, hoping that the rose bush would fall out between the plough shears. I was watching the rose bush and didn’t notice that the plough was about to jack-knife. When I realized what was happening, that the tractor was about to tip over, I jumped off just as the tractor rolled. I was able to jump off uphill; otherwise I would have been crushed.”

Later that day we visited the scene; the Oliver had separated from the plough and rolled end-over-end down the hill and come to rest. One of the large rear wheels had broken off and was uphill from the tractor. This had been a close-call for Dad, and the tractor looked as though it was ruined.

With neighborly help, Dad loaded the Oliver on his truck and brought it home to the Farm Shop. He set to work with hammers, wrenches, cutting torch, welder, measuring tools and a few spare parts to repair the broken tractor. Though it was permanently marked by the crinkled look of hammered-out sheet metal, it was soon operating again, as good as ever.

Dad had drive. He probably should not have risked farming steep ground without better equipment. He evidently thought with care he could avoid accidents. When his attention strayed and a near-fatal accident happened, he was determined to recover his losses and complete a complicated repair through his own efforts.

I associate drive, planning and accomplishment with the trait of conscientiousness.

Mother’s family emphasized learning and education. This was surprising, as Grandfather August Brandner was a Western Kansas farmer/rancher, who probably did not attend school after the eighth grade.

According to Uncle Lowell:

“We also heard a lot about going to college. Perhaps that is commoner in minorities than in other families. At least until Dad became a naturalized citizen we were a minority family. I recall that when neighbors who spoke German (according to Mother) would come, Dad and they would go to the back of the farm buildings to visit in German so I never heard a word of German as a child — when World War I had kindled ethnic emotions.”

All of Mother’s siblings had degrees from accredited universities. Mother earned a bachelor’s degree in Home Economics from Kansas State. Eldest brother Dan earned a degree in Education and worked as a school teacher until illness forced him to retire. Brother Lowell earned his Doctorate at the University of Wisconsin and worked on staff at the Kansas State University School of Agriculture until his retirement. Sister Emma attended the University of Minnesota, Kansas State University, and Pfeiffer College and taught school in rural western Kansas. After her children were grown she studied library science, theater and women’s studies at the University of Oregon.

Mother expected that all of her children would be attending college after high school. She wasn’t specific about which college, or even if it should be private or public. She held the college plan and mentioned it often as we were growing up.

In contrast, Dad stopped attending school when he completed the eighth grade. Even though he habitually read and learned as an adult, he continually expressed feelings of inferiority about his lack of education. In a way, this served to buttress Mother’s case for the advantages of higher education.

Mother inculcated her appreciation for learning by reading to us nearly every day. She read children’s books and even adult books, even after we were quite capable of reading for ourselves. Mostly these were read at our bedside, or in the living room rocker before bedtime. Her voice was expressive and humorous. Somehow, a story was usually more interesting when she read it than when I read it myself.

One summer when I was about 12, Uncle Lowell came from Manhattan to visit for a couple weeks. He undertook a project to build a board fence between Grandmother Pearl’s mobile home and the barnyard. He invited me to help him with nailing the two-by-six boards to the wooden posts and painting the fence white. I enjoyed helping him and remember that it seemed easy although he wasn’t really all that practiced in fence building and carpentry. When it came time to leave, he insisted on paying me wages for my help with the fence. I was surprised and pleased about that, so I wrote him a rather lengthy letter explaining how I had enjoyed working for him. Not long after, he wrote, expressing encouragement for my writing and suggesting that I pursue and develop my writing talent in my college studies. Given that Lowell wrote and edited for a living, I was deeply appreciative for this unexpected praise.

I associate values for education and learning with the personality trait of openness, especially when this value is broadly expressed, as in Mother’s case.

Conscientiousness or Openness, I don’t know which is the strongest in my personality. These traits are sometimes in conflict with each other. For example, the conscientious person is more likely to be religious, deliberate and dedicated. The open person is more likely to be unconventional and spontaneous. I would say as a young adult I was more conscientious and swung more towards openness in middle and old age.

What was your relationship like with your family when you were growing up?

My paternal Grandfather, Orra Crouch, homesteaded a rural farm several miles southwest of Leoti, Kansas in 1898. He married Blanche Graham in 1901 in Syracuse, Kansas.

My Father, Harold Crouch, was born in 1915, the fifth child in a family of six children. He had two older sisters, followed by two older brothers. Eight years separated him from his next-youngest sibling.

Harold was a teenager on the ranch when Kansas endured both the Great Depression and the dust bowl. This was a time of suffering for farmers and townspeople in the high plains. Harold had dropped out of school to work on the farm after completing the eighth grade.

Orra gradually developed a mental disorder. He acted paranoid, accusing Blanche of betrayal and marital infidelity. He also accused Harold of theft and complained that Harold was not working enough, while doing very little himself. Blanche petitioned for divorce in 1941, and the court granted the divorce, finding Orra guilty of extreme cruelty.

Harold said that his sisters Eva and Gladys helped Blanche take care of him during his early childhood. It’s clear that Harold did not experience happy marital and family relations in his childhood home, especially in relation to his father.

My maternal Grandfather, August Brandner, married Pearl Finch in 1910 in Selkirk, Kansas. It was an unlikely union because August was 15 years older and he was shorter than Pearl. August was a first generation immigrant, having come from Frankfurt with his parents as a small child. Pearl’s English ancestors had been in the U.S. for several generations.

At the time they married, August owned a farm four miles north of Selkirk and was a respected rancher. Pearl had been working as a school teacher in Selkirk.

My mother, Grace Brandner, was the third of four children. She had two older brothers and a younger sister. As a young child, Grace accompanied Pearl to school where she was told to sit in the back of the room and be very quiet. She did her best to obey.

August was a generous and hospitable man, who would often welcome visitors for supper and invite them to stay the night or longer if they were in need. Grace spoke of August as nurturing and kind to her.

Education was a strong value in the Brandner household and all the children went on to eventually earn 4-year college degrees or more.

Pearl was a strong-willed woman. After August died in 1942, she became responsible for her own support. In the war years she purchased and operated a boarding house in Minneapolis. Following the end of the war and the marriage of Grace and Harold in 1946, Pearl joined the newlyweds in their migration to Oregon. They had already purchased a ranch on the Calapooya River between Sutherlin and Umpqua. When they arrived, Pearl was remembered as saying, “I see you bought yourself a shack in a mudhole.”

The stage was set for family drama.

I was born in 1947. Father was in Kansas working on a wheat harvest and a neighbor drove Mother to Mercy Hospital in Roseburg. Fortunately, the harvest was plentiful and I was a healthy baby. Mother was nurturing with all of her children, to the extent that time allowed. As the eldest, I was an only child for nearly four years and this was a bounteous time for me.

Kathleen was born in 1951, Glen was born a year later in 1952, and Annette in 1956, all at Mercy Hospital. Kathleen had the experience of a middle child, experiencing relative deprivation because Mother’s time and attention was divided between many demands. Kathleen showed an early love for animals and became the owner of many varied pets. Glen was more of an outdoorsman and hunter. Annette was the baby of the family, a role she played with aplomb, dressing up in cute costumes, and posing for pictures.

There was very little physical violence in our family, mainly just spanking for wrongdoing. The most violent sibling conflicts occurred between Glen and me. Although Glen was 5 years younger, he was very strong and quick. I tried to avoid hurting him, and avoid getting in trouble for bullying. Glen was probably fearful of his bigger brother and learned to inflict pain to protect himself. On different occasions he kicked a chair out from under me, knocking me out cold; kicked my head underwater, rupturing an eardrum; and threw a metal-edged toy penguin, drawing blood on my lip. These were three incidents I can remember. Glen probably feels guilty about these incidents, but I figure he was just good at self-defense.

I remember my relationship with my sisters as being supportive and kind, but they remind me I occasionally did mean stunts like throwing walnuts at them.

Our farm was a medium-sized farm in Douglas County. It was possible, but very difficult, to earn a middle-class living from such a farm. Therefore, Dad needed to be a hard-working jack-of-all-trades to avoid bankruptcy. He needed all the help he could get, but could not afford to pay a lot for help.

Father tended to ask for help from us by asking, “would you like to do such and such?” If we said anything but yes, he added scolding and then shaming. His words could cut deep and I developed a rather poor opinion of myself as a helper. I think that he learned these shaming tactics from his father, Orra.

Mother often was an intermediary between Father and me. She would explain him to me by saying that he didn’t have a happy childhood and he didn’t learn how to be kind and loving. She would caution, “Don’t be angry, that will hurt you more than it hurts him.” When I grew older and capable of working for him, Mother passed on compliments that she overheard Dad say to others, but not to me.

Father was often critical of Mother, particularly about household expenses, housekeeping, and her body shape. He had a fixation about overweight people, and he criticized mother for being overweight. She tried many diets and sometimes lost weight but was not able to stabilize at her desired weight. She did not thrive in this critical environment, and had trouble speaking up for herself. Fortunately, Mother had female friends, particularly Elsie Monett, who would get together most days for coffee and mutual support.

Pearl lived with our family most of the time until she died in 1971. Our three-bedroom home was at capacity, and Pearl obtained a mobile home, which was placed about 50 feet from our house. She spent most of her waking hours in our house, walking slowly to and from her mobile home, morning and night.

Father resented Pearl’s constant presence; he and Pearl were often at odds. Their arguments about religion and politics sometimes seemed to be a way to let off steam at each other.

Sometimes my family felt to me like a pressure cooker. I did a lot of reading and had the ability to block out all sounds around me. I would also let myself out the bedroom window and go for long walks in the woods by the creek. It was a way to calm down. Family conflict seemed to reach a peak in my teen years. I was openly hostile towards Dad. I sided with Mom and developed the idea that she should divorce from Father and live separately in town with us children. Clearly, this was a very bad idea, but it made sense in my fantasy world.

It is possible that the conflicts I am portraying are mild in comparison to other families. In any case, I think it would have been easier for us if we were more verbal with our conflicts; perhaps we would have worked them out rather than brooding about it for days or weeks.

Our family was mostly cut off from relatives in Kansas and Colorado. We visited with our cousins, uncles and aunts only a handful of times during my childhood. We depended more on our family and the surrounding community for support and social interaction. Our family seemed to fit into the rural community in our valley. Dad was good at interacting with the neighbors, asking questions, exchanging help and equipment. Mother was good at homemaking, crafts like quilting, and enjoyed joining in on community activities like potluck dinners.

Vacations were short-lived in our family, because there was always work to be done on the farm. We usually took one trip to the Oregon coast each year, sometimes overnight. Longer camping trips or trips farther afield were rare, which helped us savor our vacations.

What rules did your parents have and which ones drove you crazy?

My parents and I agreed on some rules:

• Avoid profanity
• Speak kindly to others
• Tell the truth
• Treat others respectfully
• Avoid violence
• Help those in need
• Take care of your possessions
• Respect possessions of others

I generally thought these rules seemed sensible and civilized. I saw other rules as arbitrary and harder to accept.

• Do your chores on time
• Do all of your homework well
• Eat all the food you are served
• Be silent and pay attention in church
• Listen to and mind your elders
• Change clothes before going outside to play or do chores
• Read a variety of good books
• Save your money for a rainy day

These rules were harder for me and my objections were logical. For example, I thought I should be able to choose only food that I liked to eat and leave the remainder. In addition, it’s hard to always be on time, hard to be perfectly still in church and hard to remember to change clothes when it’s time for play.

As a child in rural Oregon, my best source of books was the Bookmobile, a van- shaped vehicle stocked with volumes from the Douglas County Library. The Bookmobile stopped at the Calapooya Community Club House once a week. I looked forward to our visits to the Bookmobile.

My reading genre was Science Fiction, and I wasn’t much interested in other genres. I had already read childhood favorites like the Nancy Drew Mysteries, Treasure Island, and the Adventures of the Hardy Boys. So I had a standing order with the Bookmobile to bring at least one new Science Fiction book. This quickly exhausted the available books by the likes of Ray Bradbury, Isaac Asimov, Andre Norton, and Robert Heinlein.

The Bookmobile woman soon took it upon herself to enlist my parents in encouraging me to be more balanced in my reading habits. Unfortunately, I refused to cooperate with reading more widely until later in life.

Saving money was always hard for me both as a child and as a young adult. One problem was that my Mother tended to be more of a spender and my Dad more of a saver. I sided with Mother, because it seemed more fun to spend money on recreation rather than working hard and saving the rewards of all that work.

As a young child I liked to spend money on small toys, plastic models, and bicycles. At about age 10 I gradually become more interested in clothing, music, and movies. In my high school years I was interested in girls and dating. I was not successful in putting money away for college — even though I was certain that I would be going. As a young adult, there were so many expenses generated by my family of four that accumulated debt basically took the place of accumulating savings.

I did not successfully save until age 40, when I started to take stock and realize that my old age would be spent in poverty if I didn’t enact a savings plan.