My Life in the Little Brown House, part 7: Brother Vincent, Remington typewriter

There are several incidents, unrelated to each other and not necessarily related to the kitchen and the sun room as to the place where they occurred, that I remember. Two involve my brother Vincent. The first of these happened when he was less than a year old, so I was about 5 or so. It was the spring of the year and there were some newly hatched chicks out in the chicken house (either newly hatched by a setting hen, or purchased from the local Dixon hatchery, I’m not sure which). Vincent was sitting in the high chair and I had been delegated to watch him while everyone else was out viewing the chicks. I guess I tolerated this for awhile until I could not contain my interest and I too went out to view the chicks. While all the family was outside, Vincent fell out of the high chair. I have no recollection however of being punished or reprimanded.

The second incident occurred when we were both in elementary school. One noon Vincent and I were sitting on the kitchen floor in the book where the telephone was; Vincent was telling me an “off-color” story or whatever that had been told to him at school and my mother overheard what was being said. She told Vincent that what he was doing was inappropriate. In retrospect this incident illustrates a side of my character that I have observed all my life and that is that events and understandings have tended to happen later for me than my siblings and associates. Vincent was four years younger than I but he had encountered and reached a schoolboy experience with sexual knowledge that I had not. I do recall some incidents in school of this nature which I didn’t understand at the time but all at an age when I was older than Vincent at the time of the incident I’ve just written about.

Sometime or other my father had purchased a portable Remington typewriter — I’m sure it was after he married as the design was more modern than earlier, before-his-marriage, machines. Maybe he was motivated in the purchase by the thought that it would add to his bookkeeping capability, though I’m not sure just how. Once in awhile he would get it out, as on a Sunday afternoon when he had some of the few leisure times he had, and peck away at the keys. But he never acquired a usable typing skill. When he had it out, some of us older children were allowed to try our fingers at typing — that is, hitting the keys in a hunt and peck manner. It wasn’t used until he had typing class in high school that any of us learned really to type. Eventually, Clarice took it off to school with her when she was at the University of Dubuque and I don’t know what happened to it; perhaps she acquired it by default. In my case my parents gave me a used stand-up Remington as a high school graduation present, in lieu of a class ring. I recall my going to a store on Central Avenue in Fort Dodge and purchasing it.

Another memory I have of Sunday afternoons was the occasional times that we popped corn. The corn popper was a shallow, rectangular, black, thin metal contained with a long handle and a top that would slide open. The procedure was to fire up the kitchen stove and move the popper across its surface in a way to keep the kernels inside moving. The lid of the popper had a number of small round holes in it. My father like popcorn and I recall him joining us in the treat.











Old-style corn popper

The older children had household tasks that were allotted to them. These were to be carried out satisfactorily if the weekly allowance was to be given. My duty was to sweep the kitchen and sunroom floors. I don’t remember how old I was when I started or when I stopped. It was a task that did not carry over the move out to the farm, but by then such chores as milking replaced it. I didn’t learn how to milk the cow until he had moved to the farm, or to tend to feeding it, etc. I remember once when my father had one of his “sick” headaches of being asked to try my hand at milking the cow, but I wasn’t very successful — not surprising as it takes a little practice to get the knack of it. I think I did tend the chickens we had, but my recollection there is pretty weak.