FanStory.com - War and a Peaceful Holidayby BethShelby

Winter wasn’t my favorite time of year, because on cold days, I was often cooped up in the one room which was kept heated. Sunday wasn’t my favorite day of the week. Daddy was always tired from having worked until midnight, doing store inventory. He wanted to sleep late on Sunday morning. That caused Mama to have to make his breakfast later.

Mom had to rush to get us off to church. Daddy, who didn’t like the preacher at the big town church, found reasons not to go, although his family members were all Bible believing Christians. The Simmons were staunch Baptists and Grandpa Weir's family had always been Presbyterians. Daddy wasn’t brought up attending church regularly.

I hated sitting in the big church, having to be still. I couldn’t see because of big people in front of me, and I didn’t understand why Baptist preachers always seemed to be shouting at us. The songs were nice but most of them didn’t make sense, blessing a tie that blinds and clinging to a rock with blood flowing from it.

Sometimes on Sunday afternoons, we would visit Aunt Chris and Uncle Harry who lived further into the country. Aunt Christine was Mama’s favorite sister. She was her favorite because she was the only sister who shared the same mother. Daddy and Uncle Harry got along well. The two of them were talking about giving up farming and moving to Detroit where Uncle Eugene’s family lived. Christine and Eugene were the only two children Mother's mom had before her first husband was killed. Mama didn’t want them to move away.

One Sunday, after being with Aunt Chris and Uncle Harry, we got back home close to nighttime. Daddy got busy lighting the heater to get our house warmed back up and Mama turned on the radio. The evening news grabbed her attention. The news stations were reporting that the US Air and Naval base at Pearl Harbor had been bombed that morning by a large fleet of Japanese planes. Most of the ships in the harbor were destroyed and over 2,500 people were dead and many more injured. Mom was acting like it was the end of the world. It was December 7, 1941.

Mom’s reaction shot waves of fear through me, as well. It was the next day when President Franklin Roosevelt addressed congress with his “Day Which Will Live in Infamy” speech. Congress voted unanimously for the US to officially enter WWII. Up to that point, I had not been aware something happening in another part of the world could possibly have an effect on our family.

After that, we started hearing about things being rationed like sugar, gasoline, tires and many other things. Daddy had to use ration stamps to buy what we needed. Daddy was thirty-two and was already registered for the Draft. His number was called, and he had to go in to see if he would have to serve.

He didn’t end up having to serve for three reasons. One reason was because he was flatfooted. The second was, as manager of a grocery store, he was needed by the civilian population, and the third reason was, as a family man with a wife and child, he said he was responsible for caring for his parents who were old.

Personally, I thought his parents were plenty able to take care of themselves, but they didn’t drive and he did stop by their place and check on them every day and bring them stuff they needed from town. Mama was relieved that he wasn’t going to war.

Other things changed for our family, as well. Mama was always listening to the radio and acting all upset. We kept hearing reports of how many Americans had died in Europe each day. I learned all about Hitler and how he was killing Jews and putting people in concentration camps. In my mind I got Hitler and Satan, who Mom had told me about, mixed up and I started having nightmares, dreaming I was a prisoner who was about to be tortured.

Newton started having air raid warning drills. They had a siren system which would often go off after dark. We were required to turn off all of the lights. We were near enough to town for the eerie sound to come in loud and clear. It really scared me and I would hide under the table. I don’t think adults had any concept of how children might be affected by things they didn’t understand. I wondered if I wasn’t almost as frightened as children in Europe who had bombs falling around them.

Other kids, who were my age at the time, have told me since, that they went on with life without paying much attention to something so far away. I don’t know if it was because I had no one my own age around to keep me distracted, or if my mom's fears were causing my own. I had no reason to be so afraid, but I don’t remember anyone reassuring me that I was safe.

During World War II, Detroit adapted its factories to produce airplanes, tanks, vehicles, boats, weapons, ammunition, electronics, clothing, food – everything necessary to assist the military efforts at home and overseas. Uncle Harry and Aunt Chris knew this place would have many jobs available. They rented out their house and moved right away without giving a move more thought. This meant my grandmother, who had been dividing her time mostly between Christine and Mother’s houses, would be spending most of her time with us.

Since Christmas was only weeks away, preparations continued. Fruitcakes were Mom’s favorite thing to make. She made a lot of them and gave some smaller ones out for gifts. She had started in November saving orange peel to be candied and used with other candied fruits. She had gotten many pounds of pecans. I helped with cracking them and filling quart jars with the nut meats. Mom used a dish pan to mix all the ingredients.

She would bake the cakes weeks in advance and wrap them in cheesecloth and do something she called curing. She would put apple slices around them and every few days, she sprinkled fruit juice on them. The longer this went on, the better the cakes seemed to taste. Some people put alcohol on their cakes, but I’m not sure mom’s fruit juices weren’t fermented.

A lot of people aren’t fans of fruitcake, but I didn’t know of anyone who would turn down a slice of Mom’s fruitcake. They were full of pecans and they were delicious. I’ve never tasted a bought fruitcake that even came close. We were always still eating fruitcake well into the Spring. They were moist and delicious.

Daddy took me out to some woodland we owned and let me help him pick out the perfect cedar tree, and I got to help decorate it. We had evergreen trees with berries growing around the back yard. Mom always cut branches and spray-painted them red, gold and silver. She had them everywhere for decorations. It spite of the war, Mom went around singing Christmas Carols and trying to teach me how to carry a tune.

Mom told me God is real, and Santa is mythical. She refused to explain mythical and said I could look it up when I learned to read. I chose to believe it meant the same as magic. I didn’t ask for very much from Santa, but I remember lying on the floor listening to someone read kids’ letters to Santa on the radio. I always left a slice of fruitcake and milk for Santa on Christmas Eve night.

Christmas morning would never fail to make my eyes grow big with wonder. Mom knew how to make it look like I was getting a lot. In addition to a few actual presents there would be apples, oranges, nuts, candy and fireworks scattered in abundance around the tree. That year, I remember getting a kid's doctor kit, a nurse costume, a small rocking chair and a doll buggy.

The Christmas feast would be at Grandma Weir's house. Along with turkey, dressing and vegetable dishes, ambrosia fruit salad and coconut cake were always on the menu. Christmas was the one day, no one mentioned a thing about the war.