My Life in the Little Brown House, part 16: Friends, Bicycles, and Newspapers

Another friend I had was Everett Johnson. He was an only child, his parents operated the local IGA grocery store. In one of the rooms upstairs in their home he had all his toys — cars etc. — and this is where he played with them. Again I was entranced by the extent of his toys, but I was struck by his dismissive attitude toward the lot. I guess he had long since tired of them. His interest at the time lay more in adapting his wagon etc. into a simulated car, resembling one of the little cars in the Sears or Wards catalogs that one could pedal and steer. I guess it wasn’t only adapting his wagon for this purpose but actually constructing the vehicle from pieces of wood and wheels. They were steered by having the front wheels turn as the axle to which they were attached swiveled, actuated by ropes (which in turn were either pulled as with the reins on a team of horses or alternately coiled or released from a rotating rod attached to the steering wheel).

There was another aspect of my young life which in retrospect I find somewhat surprising and that was the extent to which I reached out for social contacts. This is certainly different from my personality as an adult which was always characterized by a certain diffidence and indeed a preference for solitary pursuits. I recall a number of times when I spent a short visit in the homes of my young compatriots, overnight or maybe even two nights. The two I specifically recall were with Leland Christianson and Vernon Telleen — both families represented lived on farms and I was introduced to the farm regimen, although I don’t have any specific recollection along that line. I have remembrance though of the bed I shared with Leland during the visit with him; also the outdoor plumbing the family used.

Of the visit with Vernon I only remember that, as a person interested in athletics, he had constructed a high jump facility. During the visit to use it he donned a pair of shorts and his mother on seeing this said it was too cold for that kind of attire and made him change. I recall Vernon on a return visit to my parents’ home. I also have a vague recollection that I may have also similarly visited overnight with Arthur Holmer — his parents lived on and rented my grandfather Strand’s farm. Whether my sisters or brothers ever had similar visiting experiences I don’t know.

One “toy” I had was a bicycle, and this came about because when I was born on my Uncle Carl’s birthday (and therefore perforce acquired his name) he must have felt a certain affinity for me because he gave my parents $25 for me. Somewhere along the line this became known to me and when my desire for a bicycle developed my parents agreed that the money could be used for it. The bicycle I finally selected was one offered for sale at the local Lennarson & Johnson’s hardware store. I remember my first tries at riding it, on the road in front of the little brown house. I would quite often accompany a young friend, Harris Magnusson, when he made his late afternoon rounds delivering the Des Moines Tribune or when he was making his weekly collection from his customers on Saturday morning. At that time the Des Moines paper published the morning Register and the evening Tribune. Sometime over the years the two “Tribune” may have now been dropped.

One noticeable characteristic of the Register was the color of paper used in the sport section — sort of a buff-orange. The papers were first delivered to the local M & St. L. [Minneapolis & St. Louis] Railway station but later on (perhaps as the passenger service on the line was reduced) they were delivered by car. One of the local Gowrie residents, one Ed Wynn, distributed them to a number of towns in the general area. I think there were at least two Tribune routes in Gowrie in addition to the morning Register routes. The Sunday paper was the Register and was delivered by Harris early in the morning; I was never allowed to accompany him on this delivery. I believe I broached the subject of having a paper route, but I seem to recall my parents not being receptive to the idea, perhaps because of the Sunday a.m. commitment. Sunday morning was not the time for such activity. In retrospect I have the feeling that my parents were more protective and restrictive of their children’s activities than were other families in the community.

The newspaper that my parents subscribed to was not the Des Moines paper (either of them) but instead the Fort Dodge Messenger. It was a smaller paper than the Des Moines paper and its circulation areas was probably pretty much restricted to Webster County. It arrived in the mail each day — no local paper boys. At that time in my life I was mostly interested in the comic section — I can’t ever remember actually reading the news items in the paper. I recall that the Messenger at one time revamped and expanded its comic section and I greeted this change with considerable enthusiasm. Amongst the new strips was one entitled “Scorchy Smith” — sort of a barnstorming air pilot of the (much later) Steve Canyon genre. I don’t remember the others.

















Scorchy Smith comic

Before and after the change there was one strip that somehow sticks in my memory, but I can’t remember the title now. The two main characters were sort of a bumbling man and his rather sharp-tongued wife, and the continuing low-level contest of wills between them. It was actually one of the better cartoon strips of the day and had a subtlety of humor that mostly escaped me at the time. But it did penetrate my understanding enough to be marginally attracted to it.

Although the Messenger did not have a Sunday paper we were not bereft of the multi-colored Sunday comic section. Several doors away from us lived Albert and Molly Rosene and when they had finished their leisurely perusal of their Sunday paper they gave it to us (mostly to me I think, I was the one who was mostly instrumental in getting it). The Sunday paper was their paper for the week — they didn’t get the daily paper. At that time, several of the comic strips would have paper dolls and these were eagerly cut out to supplement what we got out of the old Sears and Montgomery catalogs.

My Life in the Little Brown House, part 15: Paper dolls, Erector sets and electric trains

Sometimes the bedrooms also served as playrooms. I have mentioned the use of the window seats as storage places for toys. Even at this early stage in our lives, toys were sometimes things that were devised from materials at hand. One example of this was the cut-out paper dolls that both I and my sisters played with. I really don’t know if this play project extended to Vincent and the younger brothers or not. The dolls, and any appurtenances such as furniture, playthings for the dolls and anything else, were cut from out-of-date catalogs from Sears Roebuck, Montgomery Ward or National Bellas Hess.
























Bellas Hess catalog, spring/summer 1931

Each of these mail order companies would send out at least two catalogs every year (winter and summer) and perhaps there were actually four, with editions for spring and fall as well. My mother did a fair amount of shopping from these catalogs. I think this reflected a lack of availability in the stores in Gowrie, the relative cost of the items (tending to be cheaper in the catalogs) and the infrequency of any shopping trips to Fort Dodge, the nearest town of any size. Other families in town might even travel to Des Moines for shopping but we did not.

My mother favored Sears over the other two with National Bellas Hess as the least desired alternative — they also did not offer as wide a selection of items as the other two companies. The arrivals of new catalogs were also happenings of interest to us children. Looking into the newest “wish” book, particularly the winter catalog with its expanded toy section (for the Christmas season), was always an anticipated event. And of course the arrival of the new editions provided us with fresh material to add to, replace or augment our existing collections of paper dolls. Actually for me at least, the paper doll game consisted mostly in the cutting out etc. I don’t even recall playing with them very much once they had been prepared.

For me the toy section of the catalogs was a dream that was never fulfilled. I was attracted for example to the display of Erector sets and my parents did provide me with some of the smaller sets, but I never had the largest set with its little electric motor that ran off dry cells as I recall. Another toy that caught my eye was the electric train items. I was always entranced by the train that the Lennarson & Johnson hardware store set up in their store window before Christmas. As I remember it, it was a green Lionel passenger train and often they would have it running round and round on its long oval track. I don’t remember what they were asking for itm but apparently it didn’t sell at the price they had put on it, as it reappeared year after year. There was another store, a drug store, that would have an electric train display before Christmas, but it wasn’t on the same scale as the one at Lennarson & Johnson.

During my young years I did have a subscription to the American Boy magazine, whether my parents paid for it, or whether it came out of my allowance I’m not sure. The magazine would carry ads for Lionel and American Flyer trains, and you could write in and get their free catalogs. I did this and I spent a lot of time poring over the trains shown in these brochures. Most of them were far beyond any possibility but I recall one of the smaller sets for $13.00. I calculated that by saving my 25¢ weekly allowance for a year I could reach this goal but of course I never did. As it was, the weekly allowance was already committed in part for certain things (such as the weekly Sunday School 5¢ offering) and whatever my goal I’m sure that I could never have kept it in mind for a whole year. So I treasured the catalogs and dreamt my dreams.

























American Boy magazine, August 1930

Though I had these longings for a larger Erector set and an electric train, I can’t say that I was really envious of those of my young friends who had them, and I feel that I was happy with my lot. I recall playing at the home of one of my friends — one Clare Johnson. He had a large Erector set with the small electric motor and seeing it certainly increased my desire for such a set. In retrospect though I consider myself much more fortunate that Clare. His father was a postal mail carrier who started speculating on the Board of Trade in Fort Dodge, and managed to lose the farm they had and their home; he ended up shooting himself. Clare, his mother and his sister had to move into their grandparents’ home.

My Life in the Little Brown House, part 14: Upstairs

After the upstairs bedrooms were constructed, the stairway came into daily, even hourly use. It was a narrow staircase, with a turn at the bottom and rather steep as staircases go; like many of the features of the little brown house it was functional but without any pretense of being more than that. At the top of the stairs was a short hall leading on the left (to the east) to the bedroom for the girls and on the right (to the west). The former for the boys’ room faced north — it would have been impossible structurally for it to have faced south as the roof for the sun room extension would have interfered.

















The room was light and airy — there were two original windows facing west and the former had windows more or less all along it. Along these windows was what was termed the window seat, about chair seat height; the top of the seat was hinged so that tows etc. could be stored in the cabinet area provided. My recollection is that most of the time the bed was backed up against the west wall, although on occasion it may have been against the inner wall of the room. In the northwest corner stood my dad’s roll-top desk which had been moved up from its earlier site in the west end of the sun room; there was also the little bookcase holding his National Geographic magazines.

The clothes closet was a walk-in one, just inside the entrance to the room, to the south (left). The dresser, as also the dresser in the girls’ room, had been purchased by my parents at an estate sale. Some elderly couple at the west end of town had both died and their furniture was being disposed of. The dresser in the boys’ room had been modified after purchase. The lower portion was still intact and had 3 or 4 large drawers at the bottom with two little drawers on each end of the dresser above. Originally there had been a relatively large mirror above the drawers but this had been detached. During the period directly after the dresser bottom and the detached mirror part had been moved into the bedroom, I sat in the mirror part in such a way as to crack the mirror. As a consequence a smaller mirror was made from the salvaged mirror, [and] framed with wood from the original mirror frame. This mirror hung on the wall above the dresser where it stood on the east, inside, wall of the boys’ room. In retrospect I’m not sure there would have been room for a high mirror from the original dresser where it stood. My impression of the boys’ dresser was that it was a real antique and the original piece may have been quite tall. It was hardwood (oak I think), well made and basically a better, more attractive piece of furniture than the dresser the girls got.

At the southwest corner of the room were some low doors that led to a storage area formed by the gable above the sun room. The headroom was a little low though ample along the ridge of the roof and under the dormer; on the inside (south) side of the room it was probably not much more than 4 feet so that even at a young age we could not stand erect against the wall. The floors were oak, stained a light color and partly covered by rag rugs. These area rugs were made by some local lady who had some sort of loom for making them. My mother would accumulate rags, cut them into strips and stitch them end to end and these strips were the material for the rugs. I can still see the balls of these strips wound up that my mother took to the lady who made the rugs.

The short hall at the top of the stairs had on the south side some cabinets that my mother used for storage of bed linen, blankets etc. Then on the east side of the upstairs was the girls’ bedroom — I think it was slightly larger than the boys’ room — I recall seeing it with two large beds in it, whereas there was never more than the one bed that I slept in with Vincent as bed companion in the boys’ room. In the girls’ room the beds had the headboards at the north wide of the room with its low headroom. The walk-in closet was a little larger than the one in the boys’ room and was located just inside the doorway to the room, on the north side. To the other side of the entry stood the dresser, along the west wall. The room had the same window and window seat arrangement as in the boys’ room. In addition there was a small catchall cabinet tucked in the southeast corner of the room. I remember sleeping over in the girls’ room, whether this was occasioned by the earlier completion of that room relative to the boys’ room I don’t know.

My Life in the Little Brown House, part 13: Parlor and Downstairs Bedroom

At the northeast corner of the parlor was a small entryway having a rather large mirror just facing the front door. To the north side was a closet for hanging wraps — those that were for “dress-up” occasions. The house had a good-sized front porch that extended the width of the house and was I suppose 8 to 10 feet deep. It was bounded by a solid ledge perhaps 30 inches tall and the porch roof was supported by a number of large pillars. In the summertime screens were put up to keep out insects — these were taken down in the winder and stored somewhere out of the weather. There was some kind of furniture on the porch, perhaps a hanging swing, but I don’t recall very clearly. A sort series of broad steps led down from the porch to the sidewalk outside. This sidewalk was a place where as children we would play hopscotch, marking out on it the pattern for the game.

The remaining room downstairs in the little brown house was the bedroom my parents occupied, on the north side of the house between the stairway leading upstairs and the entryway near the front door. This room was my parents’ bedroom all during the years in the little brown house till the move to the farm, but at times it also served as a place where some of the children may have slept while quite young. I have the distinct memory of an incident as a quite young child in a crib bed placed in front o the door leading to the stairs (which was in the northwest corner of the room). From the position of the bed obstructing access to the stairway door, the stairway was not in general use signifying that the upstairs changes had yet to be made. The bed was one of the kind in which one side can be raised or lowered. I was supposed to be taking a nap and instead I was standing up in the crib. My mother came in and told me that I was supposed to be napping. I remember nothing before or after her coming in — a curious little snippet of recollection from the time I must have been not more than 2 or 3 years old. Any recollections I have before I was 6 years old are few indeed and this may be my earliest one.

Beside any crib or cribs for small children, the furniture in the room included an iron frame bedstead for my parents and a dresser. It may also have contained my mother’s cedar chest — I don’t have a very clear picture of where she had this in the little brown house. If it was in this bedroom it would have been in front of the windows on the north side of the room. On the east side of the room was a walk-in closet.

My mother kept her jewelry in one of the smaller drawers in the dresser and on one occasion my brother Vincent got into the jewelry and carried some of it out of the room, indeed out of the house. I seem to recall that the watch my mother had (which had been the gift her father gave each of his children at about the age of 21) was dropped in the vacant lot to the south of the house, where it was found in a somewhat damaged condition. The watch was one that was sort of pinned to a dress when in use and I don’t recall my mother ever wearing it — in fact I sort of think it wasn’t functional.

Another recollection I have of my parents’ bedroom was, as a young child, using it as a place where I dressed and undressed myself at the beginning and end of the day. The place where I did this was just inside the door to the room, next to the foot of the bed. When undressing I piled up my clothes in a neat little pile to be put on again the next morning. My guess is that we changed our attire perhaps once a week — maybe getting fresh underwear, stockings etc. on Sunday morning. Certainly there wasn’t the change in clothes that occurred with our children or grandchildren.

My Life in the Little Brown House, part 12: Gowrie Library

The Gowrie library did exist and function at least in the years just preceding the move to the farm. I recall one Saturday evening before the weekly bath sitting on the steps leading to the upstairs bedroom, right in the place where the steps turn at the base for the straight section of the steps, and reading from Mark Twain’s Tom Sawyer. I was reading the part of the book where Tom and Becky Thatcher get lost in the cave and I was quite afraid that something dire was going to happen. I was too young and inexperienced in the ways of authors to realize that most fiction ends relatively happily with all the heroes and heroines safe and sound. The library was situated at the back of Brunson’s jewelry store (later combination jewelry and variety store) and it was open for returning and checking out books on Wednesdays and Saturdays. Both days the hours were in the afternoon, perhaps somewhat longer on Saturdays.

The elder Brunsons (old Mr. Brunson was the watch repair man) had one child, Leonard, and it was his wife who acted as the librarian. She was a dark, plump, rather short lady with rather a brusque way of meeting people, perhaps particularly the younger patrons of the library. I don’t know if the library received some financial support from town or county taxes, such as a stipend for the librarian’s time. It was not a very large library but it was a focal point of interest for me (and I think Clarice and Vivian) and I visited it regularly, even after the move to the farm. I don’t know how the books were acquired — perhaps most of the original core had been donated — but in later years there was a section of books supplied by the state library that were periodically changed. My reading was not very edifying I’m afraid. I tended to favor Westerns (the principal authors I recall were Zane Grey and William MacLeod Raine) but I also read all the Tarzan books that the library stocked. My mother didn’t really approve of the books I read, particularly the Tarzan books but she didn’t actively oppose any of them. Perhaps she had too many problems which she felt were more important to deal with.

Before I left Gowrie to go to SUI for school, the town had constructed a town hall, which housed the fire truck, provided an expanded area for the library and I think a meeting room for such meetings as the town council. I recall visiting this new location for the town library and checking out books, but I don’t remember the hours nor who served as librarian. I’m sure it wasn’t the younger Mrs. Brunson.

One of the less pleasant memories I have of the little brown house was an incident that occurred one Sunday in the interval between arriving back from Sunday morning service and the midday meal. I was lying on the parlor rug reading and not far away Vincent was squabbling with the younger brothers. My father was irked by the squabbling and misinterpreted me as being the source of it and administered a spanking to me. I felt affronted by the injustice, particularly at the time. In the long run though its main effect was to engender in me the recognition that any person in a position of authority will on occasion make a mistake, with the further upshot that no opinion from authority is unequivocally correct. I think this recognition played its part in the questioning process that went on later in my life as to the validity of the statements I heard from the clergy and relatives regarding religion in general and the Christian teachings in particular. Nothing is taken for granted as being true, even though voiced by individuals generally respected, even loved; all too often human frailty is all too evident.

My Life in the Little Brown House, part 11: Dining Room and Parlor

Though the family income was adequate for keeping the family well clothed, housed and fed (aided by the supplementary facets of garden, chicken, cow, etc.) there wasn’t much left over for discretionary purposes. One purchase that my mother did make however was a set of china, sort of intermediate in quality between the everyday dishes and her best dishes (the latter were plain white with some gold edging, and the cups were rather small and dainty and distinctive in shape). It was sort of a black and orange (or yellow) floral design and I think it was referred to as the chrysanthemum design. The plates were not round but edged with a combination of short and long straight-line segments (slightly rounded where the segments joined). She bought this set from one of the local stores — I almost wonder if it wasn’t some sort of promotional deal for some sort of merchandise. After she got them, grandmother and her household also purchased a set of the same design, motivated I think by my mother’s purchase. I always had the feeling that my mother was more receptive to new ideas and things than were the members of my grandmother’s household.

Beyond the dining room to the east was the parlor — seldom if ever referred to as the living room. It was not a room that received as much use as the others rooms of the house. For the children any play or activity there would be much more decorous than in the kitchen or sunroom for example. The furniture consisted of the “library” table which occupied a place in the southeast corner of the room, a couple of large rocking chairs (again with the seat of some leather or leather-like material), perhaps some of the extra chairs from the dining room table set. For awhile the piano was along the north wall of the room before it was moved to the erstwhile bedroom in the northwest corner of the house. After the family purchased a radio, it was placed in the southwest corner of the parlor. This purchase was made in 1929, not a particularly auspicious time for such an out-of-the-ordinary expenditure. I recall my mother commenting that 1929 was an unusual year for expenditures — the birth of Marold (at the hospital, differing from all the other children), the radio and last of all, the Essex.

I remember the folks tried out several radios before settling on the Majestic floor model they finally chose. One they tried out was a smaller one that would sit on a table with the speaker above it. The unit that was provided for demonstration developed some difficulty and the set grew hot and emitted a peculiar burnt odor. I can well recall it when this occurred; it was in the sun room, on a temporary perch on my mother’s sewing machine. I actually have little recollection of listening to the radio very much at all in the little brown house; it was not until the move to the farm that it really began to occupy a significant niche in the daily activities of the family.

























1929 Majestic radio

Both the dining room and parlor had rugs on the floor (not wall-to-wall carpeting). These were taken outside during “spring cleaning” to be laid on the ground and beaten with [the] carpet beater to remove the year’s accumulation of dust and grime. The rest of the year they were subjected to a weekly cleaning with the carpet sweeper. My parents did have a vacuum cleaner (it stood in the cloak closet in the entry to the parlor from the front door) but sometime in its history the motor had burned out and I don’t recall ever seeing it used. Both the parlor and dining room windows were curtained by the ubiquitous lace-like curtains typical of the period in Gowrie.

There was no door between the dining room and parlor. There was a large open passageway flanked on either side by another higher open area beyond two large pillars. On the parlor side adjacent the passageway on both sides were two bookcases with ornamental glass doors in front of the shelves. The bookcase on the south contained various children’s books and others that I don’t recall now. The children’s books were a compilation that my parents had purchased all together to provide for their children’s reading — I don’t really know if the Gowrie library was functional or existent when they bought them. Included were such books as A Child’s Garden of Verses by Robert Louis Stevenson, Heidi and Pinocchio.

The other bookcase contained, amongst other books, two multi-volume sets of large books. One set was an encyclopedia which I remember using for reference material in my schoolwork. The other was a set entitled Ridpath’s History of the World. This too received some use, from me at least, but mostly for looking at the pictures, some pretty lurid and gory. I’m quite sure that both these large sets of books has been purchased by my father and I suspect they were form his bachelor days — perhaps even from his days in the teaching profession. Then there was also a scattering of novels — for example the book She by H. Rider Haggard was there. I don’t recall reading it though or other books of that character.

My Life in the Little Brown House, part 10: Bathroom and Dining Room

I remember one incident relative to the bathroom that provides some interesting sidelights on the characteristics of my parents. It occurred when Clarice was of an age when she was starting to menstruate and she was attending to her needs in the bathroom, having locked the door. My father needed, or wanted to use the bathroom — perhaps he had an urgent need to do so. Anyway on finding the door locked, and Clarice within preventing his access, he became quite angry and made some threatening remarks. My mother, perhaps aware, or sending the situation, immediately remonstrated, indeed informed my father that he wasn’t to carry out any of his threats. He promptly subsided. What eventually developed in the situation I do not recall. It does however illustrate the characteristic of my father, generally a mild-mannered person, to occasionally “fly off the handle.” I have observed this tendency in myself. The incident also illustrates the relationship between my parents in that my father’s basic regard and appreciation for my mother’s opinion and action would temper him even in one of his rare obstreperous moments.

Generally my parents were pretty much in accord in their thinking and actions. One of the few times when there was substantial disagreement between them was on the subject of an endowment-type life insurance policy. Fred Magnusson (who worked at the second bank in Gowrie — the Savings Bank — in a position similar to that of my father at the First National Bank and who moonlighted as an insurance agent) had convinced my father that he should purchase this $2000 endowment policy. My mother was opposed stating somewhat irrationally that what she wanted was my father, not the proceeds from some life insurance. In the end my father prevailed, but the company failed during the Depression and only part of the money invested was recovered.

Off of the kitchen to the east was the dining room. In the center of the room was, normally, a round oak table. The table could be expanded into a long table by the addition of boards at its center. Accompanying the table were six (eight?) oak chairs; the seats were leather-covered, or at least a leather-like material. When the table was in the round shape, four chairs would be arranged around it with the remainder along the wall at various places. On the west wall stood a sort of buffet, with cupboards for storing my mother’s good dishes and a large drawer at the bottom for tablecloths, napkins, etc. There were also some smaller drawers above the cabinets for storage of her silverware. The upper surface of the buffet was about chest high and along the back was a low mirror that ran the length of the buffet. Sitting on the upper surface, on some doilies, were two cut-glass dishes (maybe they were wedding presents) and in the center between the dishes was a large glass pitcher (and glasses?). I’m not at all sure about the latter, but there was something kept there.

In the southeast corner of the room was a china closet, with a glass door. It was tall rather than wide, perhaps five to six feet tall with several shelves in it. The door could be locked (as could the buffet cupboards and drawers) but I don’t remember the locks ever being used. The china closet contained various of my mother’s fancier dishes, including a cream and sugar set. The latter I distinctly recall as I remember on occasions as a young child sneaking a spoonful of sugar from it. There was a little ornamental spoon with the set for dispensing the sugar. I never gave any thought to leaving the spoon unwashed after I had had it in my mouth. On top of the china cabinet stood a clock, the striking kind, but which to my recollection wasn’t used, maybe it wouldn’t run.

In the northeast corner of the dining room was the cold air register that circulated air to the convection furnace in the house; it was flush with the floor. The floors in the dining room and living rooms, and I think the front bedroom were, I believe, maple, and stained dark. The woodwork was oak in the dining room and parlor.

One incident concerning the dining room that I don’t recall but I heard about secondhand was the time I was discovered (by my mother?) as a young child running around on top of the table. A memory I do have of the dining room was the time when Clarice had something wrong with one of her knees (some broken or damaged cartilage) and she had to be still in bed for some time. A bed or couch was set up in the dining room near the window side and Clarice spent the time for her knee to mend there. She must have been about 10 years old when this occurred — I think it was after Dr. Borgen took over old Dr. Erickson’s practice. Dr. Erickson was pretty much in his dotage in his last years of practice and I doubt he’d have had the insight to detect what was wrong with Clarice’s knee.

I can recall the dining room being the scene of a family meal, with grandmother’s along for the occasion but it’s not related to any particular event. Somehow or other I tie this in with a couple of food items that I didn’t like, and didn’t eat, as a child. One was chicken (a favorite, particularly for the rest of the family, when my mother would fry a young rooster) and another was the scalloped ham and potato dish that she made. I didn’t like the ham. I have the vague feeling that I was a rather “picky” eater as a child, but this is one of the childhood characteristics that I’ve outgrown. I like chicken now and scalloped ham and potatoes is one of my favorite dishes.