Dodie then and now, again

At right, Joanie with her big sister on the family trike. (Note the used brick sidewalk in the middleground, a big deal to Dode at the time. And the rail fence, another addition to the property.)

But the big addition, prompted by Joanie's arrival, was the addition of another bedroom and conversion of the screened in porch (see two posts prior) to a spacious family room.

All this happened during the time between these two photos.

The new "master" bedroom rode above the garage, off the same landing that led farther upstairs. The new family room had space for a dining table, sofa and chair, the TV, ironing board, large chest, and a high chair. The family gathered here at all parts of the day and night.

Dodie was domestic goddess, making solid dinners, packing lunches, fixing breakfasts, keeping house, doing laundry, gardening, chasing kids, and, occasionally, stepping out with Ed for dancing or having friends in for bridge club. In her spare time, she sewed a lot for the kids, for herself, and for the house.

For several years she crafted fancy holiday candles. One type was made by pouring melted and tinted paraffin into square milk cartons filled with crushed ice and centered with a taper.

The more memorable candles started as a tall taper to which were added tiers of wax cooled and cut into disks and layered over the taper to achieve a tree shape. The coolest thing about these candles was the final touch: Mom would whip melted paraffin until it resembled thick cream and ice the tiers, sprinkling stars and glitter on the "frosting.' She sold these at some of the large department stores downtown.

During this period -- the mid-1950s into the 1960s -- there were the semiannual treks to Fort Lauderdale in the family wagon.

That meant tooling down 2-lane roads through Ohio, Kentucky, Tennesee, Georgia, and Florida, a grueling three-day campaign featuring sibling rivalry, arguments about where to stop for lunch, dinner, and overnight; dirty diapers needing to be cleaned, and plenty of whining from everyone on board.

There were annual Pickrel family reunions in the summer and the famed adults only Christmas party. There was church on Sunday, dinners out occasionally at Don & Sis in Maumee and the Delft House on Bancroft Street in Toledo. There were Sunday rides in the car with ice cream cones from Isaly's in Bowling Green. There were dogs that came and mysteriously disappeared, an electric train set up in the basement (American Flyer), lots of ping pong, and Dad's jazz and classical music playing the nights he was home. (He traveled one night a week to visit all those 17 counties.)

It was a time of keeping up appearances, taking care of one's property, getting kids to checkups at doctor and dentist, PTA meetings, and, unfortunately, ongoing strife between Ed and Dodie over Ed's drinking habit.

At some point, the tension became a pathology and the entire household tuned into the dynamics between the two parents. On top of that, Dorothy's suspicions of others were gradually transforming from a neurotic tendency to true paranoia. That both parents could continue to function says as much about the pressure of the post-war family era as it does about the strength of Ed's and Dorothy's individual character.

When things were good, and they often were, there was always a certain breathless and fearful anticipation for that signal comment to trigger an argument. When times were ugly, there was frantic waiting for the crisis to pass. Usually but not always, the peak was on Saturday night, with accord being reestablished in time for a Sunday afternoon ride.

No one could say Ed and Dodie didn't give their best to the challenges of being married, being parents of kids ranging from high schooler to toddler, and being responsible citizens. They certainly tried and cared.

It's easier to see that and realize their efforts now than it was then.

NOW:

Today, Mom said to me: "I think I'm dying."

She looked right at me with a question in her eyes and I had to concur.

"You are, I said. It's alright. You've had a good long life."

Mom was unsure of her exact age, but knew it was old. We then talked about how Maudie (her sainted mother-in-law) lived to 94.

A few minutes later, she asked: "Am I dying?"

I looked directly at her and said, "You are."

She caught her breath, then smiled, and said, "You always tell me the truth."

Since late January her decline has accelerated, at first slowly but in these last weeks, more rapidly. She walked into this lovely Ebeid Center but that was about the end of her mobility.

She has good days and not so good days. Dode's good days are brightened with her sense of humor, her interest in what's going on around her (real and delusional), her continued interest in food, fashion, and decor, and her taste for big band music and Little House on the Prairie.

On her bad days, she lies very still, very pale. She has scary catarrh. Sometimes she clings to the rails of her bed. "I feel like I'm going to fall off," Dodie will say. (She resists being moved at all.) Then, she likes softer music and fairy tales. I'm working my way through them the same as I did for the grandchildren.

Sometimes Marilyn sings to her and she loves that. Marilyn and I are spending more time at Ebeid Center, just hanging with Mom. It's a very pleasant, airy, clean place looking out over a sloping meadow with pond. Deer, squirrels, ducks, and geese come close to the door, in hopes of a handout. Hannah comes by and Edward and Kiki visited not long ago. Mom wants to see Kiki ("Little Sweetie") again. Linda and Ted were up last weekend and want to come back.

It's an interesting phenomenon, this pulling together watching your mother move away from you. It's not unlike watching a baby progress in tiny increments, only Dorothy is moving in the opposite direction.

She is largely pain-free, non-anxious, and still cheerful as she can be. What a way to go!!!

Love,

Sally

When it warms up a bit more, Mom can be moved in her bed

Lotsa photos

The early ages and stages of Joanie. It's clear what a welcome newcomer she was and how she loved her family .

I will post more photos in a day or two. Just found these in Mom's "things," we we had sort of dropped into the house next door and not touched. I was thrilled to find so many photos of Joanie as well as letters and cards she has faithfully sent Dode and Ed and Ted over the years. When she was little, we didn't realize how very talented Joanie was, but she soon showed us all.

Welcome, Joanie!!

June is a wonderful month to be born -- all that sunshine and greenery outside, high spirits and reasonable temperatures.

Joan Elizabeth Gravett just made it into June, arriving on June 30, 1957, at Toledo Hospital.

The fourth and final child for Ed and Dorothy, she was a calm and happy baby favored with sleek blonde hair, blue eyes, and warm, true smile.

Naturally, as youngest sibling, Joanie got lots of attention, especially from her older sister, Marilyn, who treated the new arrival as her own little pet baby. (The next post will contain more pictures of the two little girls together. )

These photos were taken on the back porch of the house, just off the dining room, with a lovely panorama of the Gravett backyard and nearby backyards. On a fine day, it was the place to be, with its southern exposure.

Joanie was a post-40s baby for Dodie, who spent the pregnancy worrying that she might be a Downs child -- we still used the word, mongoloid, in those days. The word carried such a stigma then. One of Mom's friends had indeed given birth to a Downs child and there were whispers . . . .

For Ed, Joanie as another mouth to feed, but as he loved babies, pragmatism gave way to adoration as he loved to hold her and talk with her and play music for her. By then, Ed was into the trombone and had built a fancy music stand in the basement where he practiced jazz tunes. He also listened to some of the best on records. Classical music and jazz were pretty standard accompaniments to evening and weekend life at 120 East Seventh.

For Ted and Sally, the new baby was adorable but they were busy with their growing school and social calendars. (Sally will confess to being embarrassed upon learning that Mom was pregnant again. After all, Sally was a freshman in high school. Ted was 8 and in 3rd grade, busy in Cub Scouts and figuring out how to take things apart.)

Still, Joanie's sunny smile and happy demeanor won over everyone and Sally soon came to look on her youngest sister as a delicious addition to the family.

For Dorothy, life became even more complicated, of course, with a high-schooler, a grade-schooler, a kindergartner, and a baby. But Dodie lived motherhood and doted on her newest baby as much as she had doted on the older kids at their age.

But suddenly, it seemed, the three-bedroom house was becoming cramped.

Next post: pictures.

Then, an expansion at home to accomodate the expansion of the family.

Please leave comments and (Marilyn) corrections so I can keep this record straight.

Love,

Sally

Perrysburg Part Deux

The new house at 120 East Seventh St., was where the Gravetts grew and flourished for decades.

Colonial was the decorating style of the times and so Dodie found sofas and chairs in quaint prints and retro styles, accessorizing with tables of maple with lots of turned wood.

Ed found a new passion in the basement of the house, building furniture -- mostly cases for the Heathkit stereo systems he assembled -- but also some storage units still in use today. From the Johnsons -- Ed's middle name was Johnson -- he must have inherited the furniture gene, because his work was careful, well-finished, and detailed.

Dodie found lamps and decor to light up the new living-dining room, with her hand-made cafe curtains in the big, multipaned front window. She had a window box hung and kept it blooming with petunias and ivy each summer.

The family acquired the first of what would be a string of station wagons -- always Fords, still -- which just fit in the garage. Ed began work on a patio behind the garage door and installed clotheslines for drying. There was a burn barrel in the back corner of the yard, near the apple trees on the other side of the fence.

A sense of humor, sometimes dark but always evident, made for some great moments, laughs, and a few photos like this one of Marilyn in mustache and captain's hat. Later, she would go for the cowboy look with a fringed skirt and vest, boots, hat, and six-gun in holster.

Ted favored flannel shirts, baggy jeans, and an authentic Davy Crockett coonskin hat. Dorothy, always slim and fit, dressed in shorts and pedal pushers in warm weather and skirts in cooler seasons. Ed was just plain dapper, always stepping out to work in tidy suits -- glen plaid, seersucker, or tan serge -- with cotton shirts ironed by Dode until Sally was old enough, natty ties, and good-looking shoes.

Ed and Dodie had to share the family Ford, but with the convenience of a small town, most of the weekday shopping could be done on foot.

Sally rode her Roadmaster blue bike with a front basket, Ted had a small bike with training wheels, and Marilyn inherited the family tricycle. Riding bikes on the sidewalk was a normal part of every temperate day. On Memorial Day, bikes, trikes, wagons, and cars were decorated for the annual parade that started on Louisiana, headed down Front Street, and wound up at the cemetery.

NOTE: As I write this, more memories come to mind. I could go on and on. However, I think there are probably lots of stories and snippets from those P-burg years in your memory. If you think of something, send it to me as email or a comment and I'll post it.

More to come.