Chapter 19
Farewell to my In-Laws
Eventually I gave the lecture circuit away, and the entertainers folded, since TV became our biggest competitor. None of them wanted to go through the prison and the mental hospital scenes again.
I was still working at Globe union weekdays, and my debt would be paid off within the month. Although Bill wanted me to quit my job because of my still tender hands, I wanted to continue working because the money was needed for our upcoming move to Australia. I agreed to finish at the factory when we were able to afford to go to South Dakota to pay my debt and say our farewells to Mother and Dad.
The children had kept our secret, as far as we could ascertain. At least none of our friends gave any indication that they had heard a rumour. The time was approaching when we would need to ask our friends for references. A police clearance had to be obtained, also, to complete our immigration application. When the Sheriff, Tom Hartig, called at our house, he probably caused some speculation in the neighbourhood. The police car in our driveway! Maybe not - Don was also our neighbour and friend.
We told Bill’s sister, Grace, and her husband, Lloyd, our secret. Bill needed Lloyd to give him a business reference. We asked them not to tell Grandma and Grandpa Frost before we made the trip to South Dakota to see them.
They were sad that we were going so far away, but agreed that it was our life and if that’s what we wanted to do, we should follow our dream. I wondered if they thought it was all my idea and if they believed Bill when he said he had given it a lot of thought about Australia being a good place to raise the children.
We called in to see Blanche and Red, Bill’s sister and brother-in-law at Mitchell, and told them the news. Blanche was not happy about her brother Bill going so far from home. I am sure she was convinced it was all my idea.
The big day had come for the children to let go of their secret. It was as if the secret had been building up inside of them to the point of bursting. After the deflation they were rather limp and listless; they really had enjoyed having a secret. It had given them a bond within the family that no one else could share. Janis wanted more! “When can we have another secret Daddy? That was fun! I didn’t tell Brian!
The folks in town now knew that we were migrating. Bill Partlow handled the sale of our house. One of the executives from Globe Union bought it and wanted possession within three weeks. The house yielded only $1,500 equity, and I cried when I witnessed the small return from the auction sale. It was foolish of me to attend! We’d had to put our items in with someone else’s household possessions that looked better than ours. I wasn’t sure if that was a good move. Our possessions looked cheap and nasty, spread out on the lawn surrounded by snow. We still had to save enough furniture to set up housekeeping in a unit for six weeks, till we were ready to leave for California. The rest we sold privately and it yielded a better return than the auction.
We moved into Vetville, a Veterans’ housing estate, where our family had many other children to keep them entertained. We had a hard time getting Billy to bed at night, as most of the other children stayed up till late. Ada Harmann was babysitting one day, and after returning from a speaking engagement in Fort Dodge, I asked, “Where’s Billy?”
“He came in and got the hammer to help his friends demolish the old garden shed across the alley,” Ada said.
I flew out the door and saw Billy, who was the only one on the roof of the shed while eight other boys were hammering and knocking down the walls of the building beneath him. I got him off the roof and told him to stay on the ground. One of the other boys got on the roof, swung his hammer, and hit Billy in the back of the head. I hadn’t heeded the wisdom of turning a blind eye and not interfering! He probably would have been safer just falling off the roof! He already had four stitches in his chin – he’d bent a stop sign with it when racing Alice Garrels on their bicycles. He had four more stitches in the back of his head and I had four more aspirin for my headache.
When we even make it to California!
We let Billy hold the hammer again to help his Dad build a crate six feet long, three feet wide and three feet deep. We called it our family coffin. The length of the crate measured the length of our tent poles - a tent that had been used only once, for a wonderful holiday at Lake Okaboji, Iowa. I had already told Bill that housing might be difficult to find in Melbourne, and I would be prepared to set up our tent on the beach while Bill went off to look for a job. I was getting into the swing of this adventure now!
Our economical system of packing kitchenware meant there was to be only one item of everything for each of us. It was agreed that a warm blanket for each one would be a good idea, too, knowing how unpredictable Melbourne weather could be. We were leaving in the winter and arriving in the summer, which didn’t mean that we knew what to expect! After adding my featherweight portable Singer sewing machine, the clock radio and the coffee percolator to the crate on top of the tent, it was starting to look as though the crate would not be big enough. We had to make it do!
The most difficult choice for the children, all book lovers, was deciding on only ten books apiece. Janis chose small Golden Books, Billy went for comics, Diane had no trouble choosing; but it was very frustrating for Jerilyn, the bookworm of the family. She wished she could take all her books. Bill selected model train books, and I could take only ten of my diaries. Our family’s history was wrapped up in those diaries - all a part of the fabric of our existence. At that moment I was questioning whether this move was worth it! Would it fray the strong, loving threads that bound us together!
The children decided to play one of their favourite games of pretend. They lined up the chairs to represent a train, and we all got on the train to go to California.
Two big cardboard boxes became the ship we would board to Australia, and we merrily waved to everyone seeing us off at the dock. That was a game I played with the children often - when it was just pretend. Suddenly, it was for real!
Edna Reynolds gave us one of the first farewell parties. That was followed by a farewell at the church - the church members may have gone broke saying goodbye to me so often! I could see myself crying all the way to California, and hoped that once I saw the ocean it would lift my spirits. Bill remarked that I would most likely cause a tidal wave with my tears. Our last family farewell was at the Jones’s house for supper the night we were to leave. Grace had prepared a lavish meal to which our family could not do the justice it deserved. Our luggage, including pillows, was stacked by the front door. Grace had packed a box of goodies, and when Lorraine came to take us to catch the train, she, too, had a box of yummy bakery items. To carry those delights, we had to stuff them in with the pillows. For the children, each pillow had a
sturdy handle sewn to the pillowcase (in which I found an extra book or two smuggled by the owners).
The folks in town now knew that we were migrating. Bill Partlow handled the sale of our house. One of the executives from Globe Union bought it and wanted possession within three weeks. The house yielded only $1,500 equity, and I cried when I witnessed the small return from the auction sale. It was foolish of me to attend! We’d had to put our items in with someone else’s household possessions that looked better than ours. I wasn’t sure if that was a good move. Our possessions looked cheap and nasty, spread out on the lawn surrounded by snow. We still had to save enough furniture to set up housekeeping in a unit for six weeks, till we were ready to leave for California. The rest we sold privately and it yielded a better return than the auction.
“He came in and got the hammer to help his friends demolish the old garden shed across the alley,” Ada said.
I flew out the door and saw Billy, who was the only one on the roof of the shed while eight other boys were hammering and knocking down the walls of the building beneath him. I got him off the roof and told him to stay on the ground. One of the other boys got on the roof, swung his hammer, and hit Billy in the back of the head. I hadn’t heeded the wisdom of turning a blind eye and not interfering! He probably would have been safer just falling off the roof! He already had four stitches in his chin – he’d bent a stop sign with it when racing Alice Garrels on their bicycles. He had four more stitches in the back of his head and I had four more aspirin for my headache.
When we even make it to California!
We let Billy hold the hammer again to help his Dad build a crate six feet long, three feet wide and three feet deep. We called it our family coffin. The length of the crate measured the length of our tent poles - a tent that had been used only once, for a wonderful holiday at Lake Okaboji, Iowa. I had already told Bill that housing might be difficult to find in Melbourne, and I would be prepared to set up our tent on the beach while Bill went off to look for a job. I was getting into the swing of this adventure now!
Our economical system of packing kitchenware meant there was to be only one item of everything for each of us. It was agreed that a warm blanket for each one would be a good idea, too, knowing how unpredictable Melbourne weather could be. We were leaving in the winter and arriving in the summer, which didn’t mean that we knew what to expect! After adding my featherweight portable Singer sewing machine, the clock radio and the coffee percolator to the crate on top of the tent, it was starting to look as though the crate would not be big enough. We had to make it do!
The most difficult choice for the children, all book lovers, was deciding on only ten books apiece. Janis chose small Golden Books, Billy went for comics, Diane had no trouble choosing; but it was very frustrating for Jerilyn, the bookworm of the family. She wished she could take all her books. Bill selected model train books, and I could take only ten of my diaries. Our family’s history was wrapped up in those diaries - all a part of the fabric of our existence. At that moment I was questioning whether this move was worth it! Would it fray the strong, loving threads that bound us together!
The children decided to play one of their favourite games of pretend. They lined up the chairs to represent a train, and we all got on the train to go to California.
Two big cardboard boxes became the ship we would board to Australia, and we merrily waved to everyone seeing us off at the dock. That was a game I played with the children often - when it was just pretend. Suddenly, it was for real!
Edna Reynolds gave us one of the first farewell parties. That was followed by a farewell at the church - the church members may have gone broke saying goodbye to me so often! I could see myself crying all the way to California, and hoped that once I saw the ocean it would lift my spirits. Bill remarked that I would most likely cause a tidal wave with my tears. Our last family farewell was at the Jones’s house for supper the night we were to leave. Grace had prepared a lavish meal to which our family could not do the justice it deserved. Our luggage, including pillows, was stacked by the front door. Grace had packed a box of goodies, and when Lorraine came to take us to catch the train, she, too, had a box of yummy bakery items. To carry those delights, we had to stuff them in with the pillows. For the children, each pillow had a
sturdy handle sewn to the pillowcase (in which I found an extra book or two smuggled by the owners).
The dome observation car, right in front of our carriage was ideal for bedding the children down for the night. They could lie there and look at the stars before they fell asleep. We checked them often, as neither Bill nor I could sleep.
For breakfast we were hungry, and the children opened the boxes of goodies. There were plenty of doughnuts and our favourite long johns from the Hansens’ bakery. Grace had baked chocolate chip cookies and added a container of orange juice for the children, while Bill and I had our thermos of coffee.
The children couldn’t stop talking about watching the stars from the dome car; the heavens seemed so close they felt as though they could have reached out and touched them. It was much better than being in the observatory at Cherokee, where I took Jerilyn and Diane to observe the galaxies. Now they were seeing the stars for real, out in the countryside and away from the city lights that tended to spoil the splendour. Our family was excited about every new discovery.
During the second night, the children decided they would sleep in their seats because there were too many people still in the dome car. At about 2.00am we pulled into Las Vegas, Nevada, where most of the passengers were eager to see all they could of that infamous city. Bill had disappeared down the aisle, Diane at his heels to spend the twenty-minute stop off the train. The conductor approached me, accompanied by a man and a woman.
“Madam, the train is completely booked and these two folk need a seat. With your permission, Madam, we could bed the children down in the dome car and I would personally watch out for them myself,” the conductor pleaded in a Southern accent. “I will get them pillows and blankets and make them very comfortable.” The children didn’t mind at all; they had the dome car to themselves once more, with a personal attendant. Billy was about to blurt out the fact that they had slept there the night before, but I quickly clamped a hand over his mouth.
Our newly acquired travelling companions settled across from us, thanking us profusely. After we introduced ourselves and agreed to a first name basis, they were eager to tell us of their escapades over the last three days and nights at the crap tables in Las Vegas.
They had driven there in their sports car from Walnut Creek, California. They couldn’t believe their luck! On the first day, they won on every game going in the casino, eating breakfast, lunch and dinner with the left hand while the right hand pulled the lever on the slot machines. They admitted they were completely addicted on their first trip to the gambling city.
Never had we witnessed anyone so hyped. They fidgeted continually, wondering if the bar would open soon and walking the aisles looking for the conductor. I kept putting my head down on my pillow, hoping they would take the hint and be a little quieter. Other passengers were asking them to hush, too, and they would do so for about ten minutes, until the excitement returned and the decibels crept higher.
When they began to lose the tens of thousands of dollars won on the first day, Chuck and Shelley sold their sports car, clothing, jewelry and suitcases they had brought with them. They hadn’t even taken the time to check in to a hotel; they would take short naps in one of the lounges until an attendant moved them on. Changing casinos didn’t change their luck, and eventually they had nothing left as collateral apart from the train ticket home. They weren’t planning on staying at home long - only long enough to get a mortgage on the house and see what else they could hock, to return to Las Vegas as soon as possible. They were sure they could win it all back!
Checking on the children gave me an excuse for a break from their continual chatter with eyes blinking dollar signs. I took my pillow with me, stayed in the dome car and slept peacefully. Bill pretended to nod off. At last, Chuck and Shelley deflated, and dozed off from the exhaustion of a three-day binge. They were still sleeping after everyone else left the train at Los Angeles. With their heads tilted back and mouths wide open, they looked grotesque. We knew also, how broke they were!
We had to stop on the platform, count heads, bags, suitcases and pillows, and look for a taxi. That was a tight squeeze! The more we laughed the sillier we became. The driver commented that it was a pleasure to drive such a happy family, after all the drunks and angry people he’d had in his taxi earlier that day.
We had booked into the pink Huntington Hotel, right on the beach. The children wanted to go to the water’s edge and look at the sea right away. We left Bill in our room with the luggage and unpacking while we headed down the outside stairway attached to the pink brick wall of the hotel. The stairway was three storeys high and from the hotel to the waters edge was close to 500 metres. The children were firing questions at me, one after another: “Where is our boat? Why is the ocean so far from the hotel? Why aren’t there any other people on the beach? Why can’t I see the land on the other side? Can we catch fish in this big lake? Are we going swimming later? Did you bring your swimsuit, Mom?”
“Stop! Stop right there!” I interjected. “Now we are going to sit down on the sand and I will answer all your questions before this gets completely out of hand. First, let me warn you that you need to roll your pedal pushers up over your knees, and Billy: you take your pants off and give them to me, because a wave will surprise you and you’ll get very wet. Just remember that every third wave is the one with the surprises, and we don’t have enough changes of clothing for the next three days. I don’t want to have to wash any more than I have to.”
“I don’t want to take my pants off, Mother! Everyone will see me in my underpants,” Billy objected.
“It’s wintertime in California, too. That is why no one is on the beach, so who will see you? Besides, your underpants look just like swimming trunks” I insisted.
“The boat is called a ship, Diane, and it’s tied up further down the coast. Now; the reason they built the hotel so far from the ocean is because the ocean is very unpredictable. Sometimes a king-tide may come all the way up to the basement of the hotel. Are there any more questions?”
“I still want to know why I can’t see land on the other side of the ocean,” Billy persisted, as he removed his pants. No one complained about being chilly, as the temperature felt warm to us, having come from below-freezing temperatures in Iowa. It felt good to put my feet in the water. After a while, the three older children moved a couple more steps further out where the third wave hit them unexpectedly. They were soaked to the skin and thought it hilarious.
Back at the hotel, Bill had flopped on the bed and fallen asleep as soon as we left. The poor darling was stuck with those talkative passengers on the train, and didn’t get much sleep during the night. We tossed towels everywhere and upended suitcases, frantically searching for dry clothing, the children all talked at once, telling their father all about the ‘big ocean’, and wanting to know how soon he would be ready to go to the beach with them. Little did they know their father had an aversion to water - anything deeper than a bathtub was not his idea of fun.
Bill went out to buy some lightweight rope to string up in our room as a drying line. By the time he got back our nephew, Steve Jones had arrived. Steve was in the navy and stationed at
We went to a movie close by the hotel and saw ‘
