Early Years – Memories of Richard Peabody Guion (1) – 1922 – 1945

After my Uncle Dan (Daniel Beck Guion) passed away in 1997, I realized that first-hand accounts of this particular “Slice of Life” would only continue to diminish over time. I needed to record the memories of my Aunt Biss and her brothers and share them with the family. This culminated in the idea of a Blog so that I could share these memories with anyone who would be interested in the personal histories of some members of The Greatest Generation.

Over a period of several years, whenever possible, I recorded the memories of my Dad and his siblings. 

In the summer of 2000, I went to The Island for our family vacation. I stopped and visited with my Uncle Dick. As soon as I got there, I realized that I had left my tape recorder at home. I asked questions and he talked. I scribbled down what he was telling me in my own shorthand scribble. This resulted in short memories. I made plans to come back with my tape recorder but he passed away before I could return. Therefore, his collection of memories is the shortest section.

Richard Peabody Guion

One of my earliest memories is Mom at the front Dutch door (of the Trumbull House), talking to someone from the Red Cross.  I was standing next to her and she was running her hand through my hair … it was Heaven.

At Christmas time, we’d drive down Noble Avenue and look at the Christmas decorations.

We had a circus horse named Goldie, and while she was cropping grass, I would lie down on her back.  When I’d had enough, I’d slide off her back.  I didn’t realize that it might annoy her.  The last time I did it, she kicked me.

Aunt Dorothy had a wild stallion named Nador.  He threw Lad and Dan. (Nador actually belonged to Aunt Elsie Duryee, Grandpa’s only sibling.)

One time I rode our pony Gracie down the railroad tracks.  Heading back to the barn, I lost my footing and one leg got caught, which held me as she galloped home.  I can still hear mother saying, “Whoa, whoa!”

We also had a little cart that was pulled by a goat.

We spent a couple of summers on Fisher’s Island in Long Island Sound with the Burnham’s. (Lifelong friends Grandpa and Grandma met in Larchmont Gardens in Mount Vernon, NY.)

I spent most of my time with Dad.  He was full of information and enthusiasm.  He’d say, “want to take a walk?  I want to show you something.”  After a while, he’d say, “s-h-h-h, s-h-h-h, now lie down and crawl forward.”  And we would see Fox cubs.  There was always interesting things in the field in back of the house.

I went to White Plains School for one year.  I started at Center School in second grade.  In eighth grade, I went to Edison School.  I went to Whittier Junior High School for a year, and then went to Bassick High School in Bridgeport.

Lad did some wrestling for a while … He was extremely proficient … He could beat guys older and heavier than he was.

Nelson Sperling tied a rope to a big Hickory Nut tree on the side driveway, near the steps.  We would take off from the steps, swing out in a big circle and come back to land.  The neighborhood kids couldn’t do it so well.

Tomorrow, I will post the rest of the Memories of Richard Peabody Guion.

Judy Guion

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Early Years – Memories of Elizabeth Westlin (Guion) Zabel (10) – 1922 – 1964

After my Uncle Dan (Daniel Beck Guion) passed away in 1997, I realized that first-hand accounts of this particular “Slice of Life” would only continue to diminish over time. I needed to record the memories of my Aunt Biss and her brothers and share them with the family. This culminated in the idea of a Blog so that I could share these memories with anyone who would be interested in the personal histories of some members of The Greatest Generation.

Over a period of several years, whenever possible, I recorded the memories of my Dad and his siblings. 

These are the memories of Elizabeth Westlin (Guion) Zabel, Grandma and Grandpa’s fourth child and only daughter.

Elizabeth Westlin Guion

I guess Lad taught me how to drive.  When Lad was twelve or fourteen, I don’t remember when, he and Ced and Dan and Dad went for a walk.  Dad’s eye got cut with a blade of grass or something.  So Lad drove him to the hospital, even though he was under the age, too.  Of course, Dad couldn’t drive because he couldn’t see.  So Lad drove him to the hospital and back after they took care of him.

Lad’s memory of this event is slightly different:

When I was eight, Dad took Dan Ced and I, possibly Biss, for a walk up behind our property, past the cemetery.  There was a slightly sloped hill on the lot, and all of us were rolling down the hill, including Dad.  When he got up he said there was something wrong with his eyes, some dirt or something, so we went home.  His eye got worse and more bloodshot and it began to hurt more so Mother told him he should go see the doctor.  He was reluctant but finally consented.  I asked him if I could go and he said yes.  When he got to the doctors, the doctor told him that a piece of stubble had apparently pierced his eye.  He sewed it up and when dad came out he could only see out of one eye, and that was blurred and watery.  He asked me if I would steer the car for him.  So I sat on his lap and steered the car, told him when to put on the brakes.  He did the shifting and used the clutch, but from that time on, I was very interested in driving.  I was only eight.

(I doubt Lad could have sat on Grandpa’s lap if he was twelve or fourteen. If Lad was eight, Biss would have been four or five, depending on the time of the year.)

We had an old Franklin Touring car, I fell out of the back seat of that one.  We had a Durrant and a Dodge.  I’m not sure if the Durrant was Lad’s car later or what.  I can remember a Durrant, I think it was a family car, and then, of course, we had the Packard.  Lad was looking through it and discovered a hidden bottom; it must have been a Rum Runner’s car back in the prohibition days.  The Packard was by far the best. (I think they actually had 3 Packards). Of course, none of them had windows like they have today.  You had to snap on the side curtains, you know, if it rained or something.

I started driving when I was twelve years old.  We had that lot in back of the house that Dan bought.  Well, that was mowed down, in other words, it was a lot at the time, and we had a racetrack around it.  So I started out with a Model-T Ford, and then there was an Oldsmobile truck, so I got that.

I can remember one day, I had a flat tire.  Axel Larsson was the gardener at that time because mother was already sick so she had to have somebody to take care of us kids.  Astrid and Axle and their daughter Florence moved into the cottage, the Little House.  Astrid was the housekeeper and Axle was the gardener.  He was the one who did all the stone work around the house; he built the fireplace and did the stones lining the driveway.  Anyway, the tire was flat on the truck and I was looking for a jack or something to jack it up with so I could change the tire.  Axel said, “What seems to be the problem here?”  I said, “I’m looking for something to jack it up with.”  So he said, “Well, get that concrete block over there and when I lift the truck, you just slide it under.”  So, he did.  He lifted the back of the truck up and I slid it under.  He was a blacksmith, and he used the hammers all the time so he was really burly up on top, even though he was kind of short.  When we moved to Stratford, (After I was married and had my sons) his Blacksmith’s Shop was about two blocks away. I used to take the boys down there so we could watch Axel at work.  But anyway, he fixed the flat and then I drove around the track.  There is where I learned to drive, in the backyard.  Of course, traffic wasn’t heavy like it is today.

When Dad bought the island from the Heurlin’s, (in 1945) I was married and had two children.  I tried to talk Zeke (Raymond Zabel) into going up there.  He wanted no part of it, he wasn’t interested.  I figured it would be good for the kids, it would be a vacation and it wouldn’t cost much more than food and supplies.  Zeke wouldn’t go.  After five or six years, I finally convinced him to try it.  Then I could never keep him away.  Now, if only I could have gotten him to try traveling once.  I’m sure it would have been the same way.  Then I would have had my dream of traveling all over.  I got the van, the mattress, the gas lantern and the gas stove, and then we never went anywhere, no matter what I’d say.  I figured when we retired, we would just start out with no particular destination; he could bring his guns and his fishing gear.  Anyplace we found a spot, if we liked it, we could spend two or three days there; if we didn’t like it, we could go to another place.

Dad was very determined to beat the Stock Market because it had done him in.  He was out for revenge.  He’d sit up there in his bedroom and follow the charts.(He had a Ticker Tape Machine in his bedroom)  He did a lot of investing on margin.  He had an estate worth over $100,000 (in 1964, worth $1,006,790.90 today) when he died, only ten years after he got out of debt.

Next weekend, I will post the Memories of Richard Peabody Guion.

Tomorrow, I will begin posting letters written in July of 1940, including the first letter from Dan (and Ced) from the Anchorage Hotel in Anchorage, Alaska.

Judy Guion

Early Years – Memories of Elizabeth Westlin (Guion) Zabel (8) – 1922 – 1964

After my Uncle Dan (Daniel Beck Guion) passed away in 1997, I realized that first-hand accounts of this particular “Slice of Life” would only continue to diminish over time. I needed to record the memories of my Aunt Biss and her brothers and share them with the family. This culminated in the idea of a Blog so that I could share these memories with anyone who would be interested in the personal histories of some members of The Greatest Generation.

Over a period of several years, whenever possible, I recorded the memories of my Dad and his siblings. 

These are the memories of Elizabeth Westlin (Guion) Zabel, Grandma and Grandpa’s fourth child and only daughter.

       The Old Homestead – The window in the center portion of the house is the window of the attic. In the lower right hand corner is the Little Driveway that Biss and Vinny went down.

Lad was living in the attic and used an oil stove for heat.  He lit the stove and then came downstairs to light the oil stove in the kitchen.  I was sitting out in the backyard with my boyfriend.  Lad noticed that the lights began to flicker, go up and down, so he dashed upstairs and when he opened the attic door, all he could see was an orange glow.  He knew the place was on fire so he ran down and called the fire department.  I heard the siren and said to Vinny, “Let’s go to the fire.”  As we drove down the little driveway, I could see a haze of smoke between Laufer’s house (across the street) and ours, sort of drifting across, but I didn’t think too much about it.

We parked in the driveway near the firehouse so no matter which way the truck went, we could follow it.  It turned right onto White Plains Road and I said, “If that fire truck turns at Kurtz’s Corner, then it’s my house.”  So, by the time we got to Kurtz’s Corner, the fire truck was going up the driveway.  I said, “I knew it, I knew it.”

When we got to the house, I dashed inside and got Vinny’s picture, Mother’s picture and a clock that Vinny had given me.  I had everything I needed, so the rest of the house could burn down.  I didn’t care.

Now Dad was giving a talk at the Algonquin Club (in Bridgeport) so I decided I had better call Dad and let him know that he had better not come home tonight because he might not have a house to come home to!  I called and the operator said, “He’s giving a talk right now.  Is it important?”  I said, “Yeah, I think so.”  Dad came to the phone and said, “What did you call me for?  I was in the middle of a talk.  It had better be important.”  I said, “I just wanted to tell you that the house is on fire and you’d better stay in a hotel down there tonight.”  You know, perfectly calm, as if there was nothing to it.  Of course, within twenty minutes, Dad came up the driveway.

In the meantime, Ethel Bushey had come and she asked me if I had gotten my clothes.  “Clothes?”  I asked.  “No, what for?”  She said, “At least you’ll have something to wear.”  So she made me go upstairs and get my clothes.  I put them on the lawn.  After the fire was out I was furious that I had to put them all back.  I was furious because I didn’t give a hoot about my clothes.  I had what I needed.  There was a lot of water damage but the only part that burned was up in the attic itself.  If it had started in the cellar, I’m sure it would’ve gone up fast because it was such an old, dry house. (The house was built in 1756)

I will continue with more of the Early Years and Memories of Elizabeth Westlin (Guion) Zabel next weekend.

Tomorrow, I will start a week of letters written in 1944. All five of Grandpa’s boys are in the service of Uncle Sam.

Judy Guion

Early Years – Memories Of Elizabeth Westlin (Guion) Zabel (7) – 1922 – 1964

After my Uncle Dan (Daniel Beck Guion) passed away in 1997, I realized that first-hand accounts of this particular “Slice of Life” would only continue to diminish over time. I needed to record the memories of my Aunt Biss and her brothers and share them with the family. This culminated in the idea of a Blog so that I could share these memories with anyone who would be interested in the personal histories of some members of The Greatest Generation.

Over a period of several years, whenever possible, I recorded the memories of my Dad and his siblings. 

These are the memories of Elizabeth Westlin (Guion) Zabel, Grandma and Grandpa’s fourth child and only daughter.

Art Mantle, Elizabeth Westlin Guion, Alfred Peabody Guion (Lad)

When I was twelve or thirteen, Mother sent me to Kurtz’s Store to get some groceries.  We had always charged it, so when I got to the counter I said, “Put it on our charge.”  He said, “Go home and tell your mother and her father that we can no longer carry them on the charge.  They will have to pay cash from now on.”  I felt like I wanted the earth to open up and swallow me.  I know it took Dad from then until 1954 before he could get out of debt and put a gravestone at Mother’s grave.

I started at Central High School in 1932, so it was the day after we got out of school that mother died, (June 29, 1933) freshman year.

Mother died when I was fourteen, and I hated school.  I’d hide in the closet and every morning Dad would make the rounds to make sure everybody was up and had gone to school.  I’d hide in the closet and then after he had passed through, then I’d come out.  I had the whole day to myself.  I think I missed more school than I made.  Now Dad made a mistake because I needed a permission slip to go back to school.  He was supposed to tell why I stayed home.  He said it was none of their business.  “You write it and I’ll sign it.”  So I’d write, “I stayed home with my father’s permission.”  Then he would sign his name.  So I just copied his name over and over until I got it down pat.  Then I’d just write the things and sign his name.  I’d go to school only when I felt like going to school.  How I got through school, I’ll never know.

I went to Central High School in Bridgeport my freshman year.  That was great.  I loved that school because they treated you like an adult, you were a grown-up, and you felt like you were really something.  Then the following year, they transferred us to Bassick High School, because they were going to make that (Central) into a Senior High and it was a Junior High at the time.  I hated that school (Basssick) intensely, because they still had monitors in the hall, you had to walk in a line and you couldn’t talk.  I mean, after being an adult in High School, I got this?

In my sophomore year, we were transferred to Bassick High School and I didn’t want to go because it was a new school and I didn’t like school anyway.  I liked Central and I wanted to go back there.  So, the first day of school, Dad wanted to know and I said “No, I don’t have to go to school today because were starting a new school.”  He said, “You are going to school”, so he took me.  He took Ced and I, he took us to school.  I told him my clothes weren’t ready and any other kind of excuse, but he was adamant that we were going to school.  So he left us off in front of Central, maybe I had told him I had to go to central to get transferred, anyway, he let us out in front of Central and we walked through the hall and out the other side, and walked home.  We were walking up the railroad tracks and we met some friends on Reservoir Avenue and they told us that Ruth Moy had just died.  She was a pretty girl and she had a pimple on her chin.  She put something on it to cover it up, she got blood poisoning and it killed her; so much for vanity.  So anyway, we were walking up the tracks and a train came along.  The engineer stopped and said, “Would you like a ride?”  We said, “Sure.”  We climbed up into the cab and he let us off at Church Hill Road.  Boy.  That was exciting for me.  I told everybody about it.

Tomorrow, I will continue with more of the Early Years and Memories of Elizabeth Westlin (Guion) Zabel.

Judy Guion

Early Years – Memories of Elizabeth Westlin (Guion) Zabel (6) – 1922 – 1964

After my Uncle Dan (Daniel Beck Guion) passed away in 1997, I realized that first-hand accounts of this particular “Slice of Life” would only continue to diminish over time. I needed to record the memories of my Aunt Biss and her brothers and share them with the family. This culminated in the idea of a Blog so that I could share these memories with anyone who would be interested in the personal histories of some members of The Greatest Generation.

Over a period of several years, whenever possible, I recorded the memories of my Dad and his siblings. 

These are the memories of Elizabeth Westlin (Guion) Zabel, Grandma and Grandpa’s fourth child and only daughter.

 

Elizabeth Westlin (Guion) Zabel at about 5 years old after she broke her arm

I think the second fire happened in the winter and we had one of those oil burners with holes on top to heat the bathroom.  Dick and I were sitting on the radiator in the back of the bathroom, the bathroom in Dave and Ellie’s apartment, and it was so cold, there was frost on the window.  We’d take a piece of our Erector Set, put it in a hole to heat it up and touch the frost on the window.  At one point, I leaned over a little too far, fell down on top of the oil burner and tipped it over.  I had always been taught that if there’s a fire you run out and close the door … which I did.  Dick was still on the radiator in back of the fire, and then the fire started up the curtains.  I screamed for Mother and evidently she heard the panic in my voice and she responded immediately.  As soon as she got upstairs and realized what was happening, she yelled for Lad to bring the fire extinguisher.  As she got to the top of the stairs and started walking towards the bathroom, the door opened and Dick walked out.  I put my hands on my hips and said, “How did you get out of there?”  As if he had a lot of nerve to get out by himself.  He just explained that he crawled between the bathtub and the fire and get out that way and opened the door.  Mother had on a very flimsy gown and that caught on fire and I remember she put it out.  Mother then took the rug from the hallway and threw it on the fire and put the fire out but the door was scorched where the flames had licked at it.

One day, lad had a pump and he put it over a soda bottle, to pump air into the soda bottle to see what would happen.  Naturally, the thing exploded and it cut his artery.  Of course Biss had been playing Doctor or Nurse or something and had taken all the gauze and stuff so there was nothing around for the emergency, so I was in trouble again.  I can remember the blood spurting out, you know, through the thing and they wanted to bandage to keep the blood in a little bit, but there wasn’t any left.

This is only half of the rock Biss is talking about. Bathtub Rock is behind the small rock on the left.

My first recollection of the Island was when I was about twelve or thirteen, somewhere along there.  At that time, Rusty were his family owned the Island.  He took us kids up there and of course, there was nothing on the Island.  I picked a rock to sleep on.  It was probably the big, flat rock near Bathtub Rock.  That was my bed.

One night, Rusty and two guys from around the lake, named Eustis and Sully (we kid’s called them “Useless” and “Silly”) went to a house on the mainland where some Irish policemen were on vacation.  They were going to help them celebrate.  Rusty came back three sheets to the wind, oh, he was really out of it.  He staggered up the point.

Tomorrow I will begin posting a week of letters written in 1942. Lad and Dan are in the Army and Ced is still living and working in Anchorage, Alaska.

Judy Guion

Early Years – Memories of Elizabeth Westlin (Guion) Zabel (5) – 1922 – 1964

After my Uncle Dan (Daniel Beck Guion) passed away in 1997, I realized that first-hand accounts of this particular “Slice of Life” would only continue to diminish over time. I needed to record the memories of my Aunt Biss and her brothers and share them with the family. This culminated in the idea of a Blog so that I could share these memories with anyone who would be interested in the personal histories of some members of The Greatest Generation.

Over a period of several years, whenever possible, I recorded the memories of my Dad and his siblings. 

These are the memories of Elizabeth Westlin (Guion) Zabel, Grandma and Grandpa’s fourth child and only daughter.

Dick, Dan, Ced, Lad and Biss with Mack c. 1924

(In grammar school) We always came home for lunch and one day I climbed the Maple right behind where the old dollhouse was.  There was a Plum tree there; the dollhouse and the sandbox were both there.  It was just this side of where the parking lot is now.  I can remember the Plum tree because, I was maybe five years old, and the car was parked in there.  I climbed in the car to play, driving or something and I must have hit the gear or something and put it in neutral, because it ran down and hit the Plum tree.  And of course, I got into trouble for that.  I was always getting into trouble.

At one point … evidently someone had cut down some rhubarb and when Dad got home, he was angry.  He asked, “Who did this?”  And they all said, “Biss did it.”  I didn’t but I got spanked for it anyway.

In grammar school, I was taking tap dancing lessons and Dad would always forget to give me money for them.  I’d have to go in and wake him up before I went to school.  He’d say, “The money is in my pant’s pocket”, and I’d open his wallet and there would be all this money, so instead of taking one dollar, I’d take two.  I guess this went on for about three weeks.  One morning, Dad said, “Sister, do you take any more money out of my wallet than the dollar?”  I said, “Oh, no, not me.”  Then I realized that he knew right down to the penny, how much money he had so I stopped taking it.  I’m sure he knew that I was taking it.

Dick and I were cleaning up the playroom which was the living room in the little apartment.  At that time there was no kitchen in that part of the house, and that was our playroom.  We used to put chairs in a line and that would be our train.  We had a lot of fun in there, too.  Anyway, Dick and I decided that it would please Mother and we’d clean up the room.  We had a wooden toy box where we put all our toys.  There was so much paper and stuff around that we decided we take the toys out and we put the papers in there, like a wastepaper basket, and we’d burn them.  What else do you do with paper?  So we did and of course, since the toybox was right under the window, the curtains caught fire.  Dick and I got scared and ran into the kitchen, got quart bottles and filled them with water.  Then we’d run in and pour it on the fire.  We kept running back and forth but the fire kept getting bigger.  Mrs. Parks, the housekeeper, happened to come in there and she put out the fire..

Tomorrow, more adventures during the Early Years with the Memories of Elizabeth Westlin (Guion) Zabel.

Judy Guion

Trumbull – Dear Elsie – Family History Concerning Our Grandmother – Clara Maria de los Delores Marina de Beck Guion (5) – July 8, 1940

This letter from Grandpa to his sister, Elsie May Guion, included news of the death and funeral of a close family friend which I will not include, and the very interesting Biography of their Grandmother, Clara Maria de los Delores Marina de Beck Guion. The story begins with Clara’s Grandmother, Juana Cadoret and will fill the entire week.

About three years after his marriage (to Clara Maria de los Delores Marina de Beck), Mr. Guion entered the ministry of the Episcopal Church, and many years later, while living in Louisiana, where much of their married life was spent, he became a Chaplain in the U.S. Army. His wife did not discontinue her teaching, and many years were spent in the school room either as his assistant or as a governess or as the head of a boarding school for young ladies.

Alfred Beck Guion, my great-grandfather

11 children were born to them – John Beck (Oct. 14, 1840), Clara Beck (Dec. 14, 1842), Josephine Beck (Dec. 15, 1843), Elijah Beck (Dec. 6, 1845), Adolphus Beck ((Oct. 3, 1847), Covington Beck (July 24, 1849),  Elizabeth Beck (Aug. 23, 1850),  Johanna Beck (Oct. 14, 1852), Alfred Beck (Sept. 23,1853), Almira Beck (Dec. 21, 1855) and George Beck, who died in infancy. Each child received for his second name that of Beck. John, Johanna and George died in infancy. Adolphus grew to manhood and died. Covington, when he was four years old, fell out of his bed and became blind. The other children married and became parents.

On 19 October, 18__, Mme. (Josephine) de Beck passed away in New York City. A great celebration was being held in honor of the opening of the Croton Waterworks. As she lay dying she heard the sound of a clarinet beautifully played. Calling her daughter, she said “Clara, do you hear that clarinet? That is your father playing that.” The poor wandering mind had gone back to the happy days of her youth with the beloved husband from whom she was no longer to be separated.

In 1874 Mr. Guion’s health failing him, his wife went to California to become a teacher in St. Mary’s Hall – a large church boarding school for young ladies in Benicia. Her husband soon followed her. While there, she was reunited with her brother Adolphus Gustavos de Beck) whom she had not seen since the early days of her married life. At that time he went from Cuba to the United States where he made his home, dying in California soon after his meeting with his sister, leaving two children, Mercedita and Francis Edwin.

Mr. Guion and his wife finally went to New Almaden, where he died January 17, 1879.

Clara Maria de los Delores Marina de Beck Guion

At the present time (Christmas, 1893) his wife, my grandmother is still living.

She died February 15, 1896 and her grandchildren will remember her as an extraordinary woman, accomplished to an extraordinary degree, skilled in cooking, needlework, teaching, a fine linguist, a better pianist, with a voice, which, when in its prime, was second only to the finest singers of her generation and which has yet by no means lost its strength and sweetness.

Back through the years of a long life she can look and note its many and great changes. The petted and only daughter of a wealthy Spanish family, the wife of a humble American clergyman, the mother of a large and widely scattered family, ending her days among a few of her children on the extreme western coast of the United States – the land of her adoption – the dearly loved country of her many descendants.

Tomorrow and Sunday, I will post more of the Early Years with the Memories of Elizabeth Westlin (Guion) Zabel.

Judy Guion

 

Early Years – Memories of Elizabeth Westlin (Guion) Zabel (4) – 1922 – 1964

After my Uncle Dan (Daniel Beck Guion) passed away in 1997, I realized that first-hand accounts of this particular “Slice of Life” would only continue to diminish over time. I needed to record the memories of my Aunt Biss and her brothers and share them with the family. This culminated in the idea of a Blog so that I could share these memories with anyone who would be interested in the personal histories of some members of The Greatest Generation.

Over a period of several years, whenever possible, I recorded the memories of my Dad and his siblings. 

These are the memories of Elizabeth Westlin (Guion) Zabel, Grandma and Grandpa’s fourth child and only daughter.

Elizabeth Westlin (Guion) Zabel (Biss)

One day, Ced was going to give me a ride to school on the handlebars of his bike.  We got down to Sunset Avenue and a car was coming out of there. Ced panicked and I went down.  I got my face scraped in the tar on the side of the road.  We had to go back home to get my wounds taken care of, so we started back.  A truck came along, a big Mack truck, and the driver asked if we wanted a ride, so we said, “Sure”.  I was sitting in the middle and I was all ready to grab that brake if he went beyond Kurtz’s Store because I didn’t know if he was trying to kidnap us or what.  I was watching that brake and of course he let us off at Kurtz’s corner and we went home.  Mother washed the cuts with alcohol … talk about the screaming mee-mees.

(At Center School) I fell in love with the Principal, very much and I couldn’t wait for eighth grade to come so I could be with her.  She retired to get married, either one or two years before that.  I was in the sixth or seventh grade when she retired to get married.  I was always mad at her because I wasn’t able to have her as a teacher.

My favorite game was Caddy. You got a stick and put a point on either end.  You had to paddle and you hit the pointed end and it made the small stick go up and then you hit it with the paddle.  I don’t remember where it was supposed to go or anything.  I think it was how far you could hit it but I don’t remember what the exact rules were.  My brothers probably could remember but I can’t, but I enjoyed that Caddy a lot.

I remember Dad always brought his work home with him and had to sit at the desk in the upper hallway.  Beyond the staircase there was a space and he had a desk there, and he always worked there.  Dick and I would be in bed, we’d be talking and he yell in to us to keep quiet. So we keep quiet … for maybe thirty seconds or a minute, and then start talking again.  He’d say, “I told you children to go to sleep, now keep quiet.”  So we’d keep quiet for thirty seconds, a minute maybe, and we’d start talking again.  So he’d say, “The next time you talk I’m coming in and spanking you.”  So we waited maybe a minute this time, and started talking again.  Well, boom, boom, boom, boom.  He came in and I was the closest to the door, so he spanked me and spanked me, and of course, I wasn’t going to cry.  He could have spanked me till Doomsday and I wasn’t going to cry.  I guess his hand got sore after a while, I don’t know, but anyway, he went to Dick.  The first time he hit Dick, Dick started wailing, so Dad only gave him a couple of whacks, or something.  When Dad walked out of the room, I said, “You big baby, what did you cry for?”  He said, “But Biss, he stopped spanking me.”  I said, “I still wouldn’t cry.”

I will continue with the Early Years and Memories of Elizabeth Westlin (Guion) Zabel next weekend.

Tomorrow, I will begin posting a week of letters written in 1940, when Lad was in Venezuela and Dan and Ced have just arrived in Anchorage, Alaska, to try their luck at finding well-paying jobs.

Judy Guion

Early Years – Memories of Elizabeth Westlin (Guion) Zabel (3) – 1922 – 1964

After my Uncle Dan (Daniel Beck Guion) passed away in 1997, I realized that first-hand accounts of this particular “Slice of Life” would only continue to diminish over time. I needed to record the memories of my Aunt Biss and her brothers and share them with the family. This culminated in the idea of a Blog so that I could share these memories with anyone who would be interested in the personal histories of some members of The Greatest Generation.

Over a period of several years, whenever possible, I recorded the memories of my Dad and his siblings. 

These are the memories of Elizabeth Westlin (Guion) Zabel, Grandma and Grandpa’s fourth child and only daughter.

Elizabeth Westlin (Guion) Zabel (Biss)

I used to climb trees and if my brothers went up three branches, I had to go up four just to show them that I was just as good as they were.

I started school in Trumbull in the house that the Sirene’s bought, which was originally a two-room school.  It was at the top of the hill just before Kascak’s Garage, on the left-hand side, the same side as the gas station.  It looked like a house even though it was a schoolhouse.  I think I spent my first, second and maybe third year there, while they were building Center School.  I loved that one, the original, because the brook was running right behind it.  There was a great big rock that went down to the brook and I’ve always loved rocks, for some reason or other.  I have a love affair with rocks.  I always looked at them as I’m coming up the Thruway, you know, all those different colored rocks … I loved that.  Anyway, there was this big rock and I’d sit out there at recess.  I guess some of the boys went skinny dipping in the brook and they’d be late coming back in.

In the first grade, I swore in school and the teacher washed my mouth out with soap.  The soap was so sweet, so I went home and washed my mouth out again.  I don’t know what kind of soap it was, but it left a very sweet taste, it didn’t while you were doing it, but afterwards it did.

Back in the first school, I think I was in second grade, I guess I was a jumping jack.  I just couldn’t sit still.  I never did like school anyway and I couldn’t sit still.  I forgot what it was she said, but the teacher said something about a jumping jack and then, “Sit still.”  I can remember that.  I don’t remember what punishment she did or what threat she gave me but I do remember her putting me up on the carpet for not being able to sit still.

Another time, when Dick was in first grade, and I was in second, he hurt himself and I had to take him home.  It was about a mile and a half, a pretty good distance.

One thing I remember about Center School was that I’d wait for the first bell to ring and then I’d cut across the lots because it was that close by the brook and I’d get to school on time.

A train went through town.  There were freight trains that would stop at Kurtz’s Store.  Then there was the Toonerville Trolley, which was a passenger train that went once in the morning to Bridgeport (Connecticut) and came back once in the evening.  Dad used to take that train to work and then come back on it.

Tomorrow, more of the Early Years with the Memories of Elizabeth Westlin (Guion) Zabel.

Judy Guion

Early Years – Memories of Elizabeth Westlin (Guion) Zabel (2) – 1922 – 1964

Elizabeth Westlin (Guion) Zabel, right after she broke her arm

When I was five, Lad and George Brellsford, and I think Dan, were on the fence behind the grape arbor, which was to the left of the incinerator.  They were picking grapes, sitting on the fence picking grapes.  I came over and I wanted to climb up on the fence to, because the grapes were much nicer on the top than they were on the bottom.  They told me I could pick them from the bottom … so I climbed up on the fence.  When I got to the top, I fell over into Dan Ward’s field, and evidently, my elbow hit a rock, because every single solitary bone was broken, so it was just hanging loose.  George looked over and said, “Hey Al, your sister broke her arm.”  I can remember my arm spinning just as fast as it could spin.  I was trying to get up because I was afraid Dan Ward was going to come with his gun and shoot me if I didn’t get over on my side of the fence.  And of course, I couldn’t do it.  So anyway, they picked me up and took me into the house.  Mother wasn’t home and I was lying in the living room, on the couch.  I don’t remember any pain; I was probably in shock because I don’t remember any pain at all.  I guess Mrs. Parks called Mother, wherever she was, Mother and Dad, and they came home.  Evidently, Rusty (Heurlin) was there but I don’t remember Rusty.  They told me that he carried me in his arms, cradled me in his arms all the way to the hospital so that I wouldn’t get jiggled.  I can’t remember that at all.

When we got to the hospital, the Doctor was going to cut my dress off and I was not about to let them cut my dress off because it would kill my dress.  Mother said, “But I can sew it back together.”  And I said, “But it won’t be the same.  You can’t do that.”  Obviously, they cut it off and then the nurses made the biggest mistake they ever made.  They said, “Don’t look at the light,” so I had to look at the light to see why I wasn’t supposed to look at the light.  I can remember to nurses holding my head down so I couldn’t.  I was moving and squirming so I could finally get to see that light.  Anyway, they set my arm and I think I spent one day in the hospital, I don’t think I spent more than that.

For some reason or other, I thought the doctors and nurses lived at the hospital.  There was a school across the street and you could see the kids playing outside.  I thought those were the children of the doctors and nurses.  You could hear their voices, you know, playing out there.

I had to go to the bathroom and I held it and held it.  I kept watching the door and waiting for Mother to come.  It was getting worse and worse.  I was afraid I was going to wet my bed.  I was wiggling and squirming, and I finally saw her coming.  I thought, “Oh, good, and I told her, “I have to go to the bathroom.”  She said, “Well, why didn’t you tell one of the nurses?”  I said, “I couldn’t do that!”

I can remember them giving me ice cream.  Rusty gave me a little letter (I had it for years, but I don’t know, it’s probably gotten lost in some of the moving).  It said, “Here are two nickels for you to spend anyway you want”, or something like that, and it had two nickels in it.  Then they gave me ice cream which was a big treat so I enjoyed that hospital stay, outside of having to go to the bathroom.  I felt like a little queen, you know, with everyone waiting on me.  I got a Teddy Bear … It was really something special.  I should break my arm every week.

Next weekend, I will continue the Early Years with Memories of Elizabeth Westlin (Guion) Zabel.

Tomorrow, I will move on to 1944. All five of Grandpa’s sons are in the service of Uncle Sam. 

Judy Guion