The following excerpts are taken from "Our Stepping Stones" written by Catherine Alberta Dimond Johnson [Fact and Conjecture]

. . . . "One day in June I got up not feeling too good, but by noon I was feeling pretty good. About the middle of the afternoon, my pains started. Just flutters at first, and by 9:00 p.m. it was full force. Annie sent word to Ma and Emmy, and by 10:45 p.m. I had given birth to a little girl on June 27th, 1905. It was finally over. The next few days were even harder for me. I didn't feel good and was not allowed to hardly budge. My baby was a good baby, but didn't want to eat very well. After two weeks, Joe and Emmy came late at night and got her and took her home. They left early the next morning with the story that they had to go to Clare to pick up their baby. When they came home, they of course had their little girl, Mildred Josephine Hoag. Everyone in town came by to see her. She had a hard time getting started, and Emma spent many nights up with her. Finally, she started to eat good and settled down into a routine."

My first memories were at a very young age. I'd climb up on Mama's lap and she would sing to me or tell me stories and poems. Mostly the same ones Grandma would tell me. Grandma was from Maine and she talked a little different than Mama.


I would play house and set my little table for a pretend friend and myself, and I would have to eat her treat and mine too. I would have Mama play dolls with me and when she would get tired and want to quit, I couldn't understand why. It was so much fun, I thought everybody liked it as well as I did. I could play paper dolls forever.


I loved my papa and mama so. Papa could be so strict at times I was a little afraid, but then he would hug me and say I was a good girl. Mama was always so quiet and gentle and very seldom ever got angry with me.


Sometimes I would pack a little suitcase and go to Grandma's and stay for awhile, but when it would start to get dark, I'd want to go back home.


On Sunday mornings we have a big breakfast and then Mama and I would get all dressed up and Papa would put on his best suit and we would walk to church. We went to the Congregational Church right uptown. Sometimes I would sing a solo and if I did, I always got my name in the paper. They darn near announced every time someone spit or went to the out-house.


I guess I had about everything a little girl could have. Of course I was an only child and my Mama and Papa were a lot older than the rest of my friend's folks. I didn't think too much of that at the time, I guess.

Mama was always real close to her family. She had three sisters and a brother. They were:

• Aunt Kate, she lived in Clare, about 15 miles south of our town. She had eight kids.
• Aunt Tress, worked around as a housekeeper or cook or at whatever she could get, and had two kids.
• Aunt Bert, lived in Detroit with Uncle Fred and didn't have any kids.
• Uncle Fred, Mama's brother, was married to Aunt Elsie. They had two kids and moved around a lot.
• And of course there was Grandma McKeever. She just lived a couple blocks away.

Mama and her sisters were always so glad to see each other and would always gather in the bedroom and try on each others hats or each others new clothes and catch up on all the news.

We didn't travel too much when I was real young. We had to go by horse and buggy so we didn't go too far. When we did go a long way, we would have to take a train.

Sometimes we would go by horse and buggy out to Uncle Bill and Aunt Marty's (Martha) farm. Uncle Bill was Papa's brother. I loved that. My cousin George was so handsome and was always real good to me, even though he teased a lot, I didn't care, he always made me feel good.

I remember also going to Grandpa Hoag's farm down by Mount Pleasant. One time in particular, we received a telegram from someone in Papa's family and it was all pretty hush-hush. Mama and Papa hurried to get things ready to go, and all the time they kind of whispered to each other, but I didn't know what was happening. I really don't think Papa knew what had happened until we got to the farm. I learned much later that my Papa's brother had committed suicide by hanging himself in his barn. People just didn't talk about things like that. So we were there until after the funeral, and I got to meet my cousins on Papa's side of the family. I didn't see them often enough to really get to know them. At least not as well as Mama's people who were with us a lot.

I went over to my Grandma McKeever's house a lot. I remember going over there when Marguerite was there, and Grandma would try to teach her and I how to do fancy work. I hated it! Marguerite just loved it, but it bored me to death! I couldn't understand why they both wouldn't rather play paper dolls. Marguerite was living at grandma's at the time. Uncle Fred wasn't farming anymore, and was living at Grandma's, so Marguerite and I were going to school together. She was a year ahead of me in school, but we were in the same room. One time, we were playing dress up, and Mag said, "Mildred let's wear our Ma's corsets to school tomorrow, we'll look so grown-up!" Of course, I was all for it. The next day, I put Mama's in a sack and went to Grandma's to meet Mag, and we helped each other put them on and lace them up, and off we went to school. Well, half way through the morning session, our laces came untied, because the corsets were too big for us, and they were hanging below our dresses! My, how embarrassing! We went to the cloak room at recess time and took them off and wrapped them up in our coats.

When I was ten years old, Grandma got sick and couldn't stay alone anymore. Papa went over to her house with a wheelbarrow, and put her personal belongings in it, and brought her to live with us. I remember one time, while she was with us, she asked me to make her some "cawn". I had no idea what she was asking for! She got real frustrated with me because I didn't know that she meant popcorn. She said, "In Maine they call cawn, cawn, and here they call it cawn".    I just giggled and giggled.   It all sounded the same to me and she thought she was saying it different. Grandma died shortly after she came to stay with us, and oh, how I missed her. Mama cried so hard, and every one of my aunts came home. I guess, that was the first funeral I remember, and all of us going out to the cemetery. The cemetery was out north of town. Little did I realize, it was just the beginning of many trips out there. We already had Aunt Rose, Aunt Allie, Uncle Ten, and Grandpa McKeever buried there. How many more would there be?

Papa was elected Sheriff of Clare County, and we moved to the jail and lived in the quarters up over the jail. We were about a block from the middle of town, on the west side, and almost directly across from the school. I was growing into a young lady and Papa started getting real strict. He would hardly let me out of his sight. One time he got mad at me for something, I can't even remember what it was, and he took me downstairs and locked me in a jail

We had Mrs. Rhoades work as cook at the jail. I always called her Grandma Rhoadsie. She was a little tiny lady with white hair. She and Mama were real good friends.

Morriseys lived right behind our house. In fact, you could go from our drive, right through their drive, and be on the street behind us. I always called Mr. and Mrs. Morrissey, "Uncle Frank and Aunt Martha." They had three boys, Evert, Burk and Charlie. I don't think I ever went towards town that I didn't go right through their house.

We were one of the first in Harrison to buy an automobile. The first time Papa tried to drive it, I got in with him and the Morrissey boys, and Papa said, "Papa's going to drive now, Dollie". He put it in reverse and backed right into the hitching post!

I got into a fight with a girl at school, Leona Hallett, when I was about twelve or thirteen. Just to be mean, she told me I had been adopted. Well, of course I didn't believe it, but she said, that Aunt Bert was my mother! I was terribly upset, and ran home crying to Mama. Oh my, how upset she was! But, she sat me down and told me all about it. A least what I could understand about it at that age.

Leona and I had gone to the funeral of her uncle Frank Hallette, not long before all this had happened. He had died of a heart attack. I had known him through Leona and her mother, Ollie, but of course, I didn't have any idea at the time, that he was my father. I'm not too sure that he knew it, because Aunt Bert said she would never tell him. I know Ollie must have known it, she was always so good to me and treated me rather special.

After the initial shock wore off, I didn't care [anymore]. Mama was my Mother, and Papa was my father. They were the ones who loved me, and cared for me, the way real parents should. They were always there for me. So, whether I knew the truth or not, it didn't matter, and never did. Nobody can change those deep, deep, love ties.

I guess Mama had just about everyone in the family live with her at one time or another, I remember Winnie had stayed with us for a while. She was ten years older than I was, and I loved her like she was my big sister. By this time, she was married to Gus Velten, and they lived in Grand Rapids, Michigan. Gus was real nice and always made me laugh. Winnie was another one who never had much as a child, so when she grew up, she really wanted to better herself socially. She couldn't go on to school, but she read a lot, and was real choosey about her clothes. Gus provided for her well, and they were really happy together.

Our cousin Flossy, was kind of Winnie's "idol." I think Winnie was a little jealous of Flo's education, but they were real close cousins. Flo was a year older than Winnie. She went to Detroit and stayed with Aunt Bert while she went to school, to become a teacher. Flo always said, Aunt Bert wasn't the most pleasant person to live with, but the one thing she did teach her, was how to keep house. Aunt Kate wasn't the best housekeeper either, but she had seven kids and helped Uncle George in the store. She did all the baking for the baked goods in the store, so, she spent most of her time in the kitchen. Before they had the store, they lived in a big pretty house across town. When they got the store, they moved in the upstairs apartment over the store.

Winnie and Flossy were so grown up to me. I loved being around both of them. I could tell Winnie anything, and she never would make me think I was just a dumb little kid, and that closeness lasted all our lives.

I was beginning to get a lot of boy friends about this time, but Papa didn't like any of them. If I went to a school party, he would be there to walk me home. Anything that went on at the Opera House, he was there also. I loved going to the basketball games. I even played on the girls' team. I had a real crush on a boy named Dean Gleason. They lived down on the lake, and I used to go down to see his sister, Edith. I didn't care that much about Edith, but I could see Dean that way.

When I was about to graduate from High School, Papa decided that, after I was out of school, he would send me to a convent in Rosebush, Michigan. Rosebush was between Clare and Mt. Pleasant. That's where our neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Fanning, were going to send their daughter, Winnefred. That would have been a fate worse than death for me! She wasn't nice to me all my life why would I expect her to be nice if we went to the convent? I finally opted for going to Winnie’s in Grand Rapids, and going to college at J.C. Well, that didn't last long! I loved being with Winnie and Gus, but hated school! I also got terribly homesick. So I gave up and went home. By that time it was too late to start school anywhere else.

Late in the summer of "22," we were out to Aunt Mart and Uncle Bill's farm, and I met Aunt Mart's nephew, Bill Dimond. He was Aunt Mart's sister, Polly Dimond's, son from Flint. I can't say I fell in love with him, but we were attracted. After that, I would go to Flint a lot to see my cousin Marguerite. She and her husband, Bill Briggance, were living there at the time, and of course, Bill Dimond was there too. By early the next year, he asked me to marry him. He was seven years older than I, and I thought he was a real man of the world. It also meant that I would be on my own, and Papa would quit following me around. He would have to admit that I was grown up.

So we were married on April 4, 1924. Papa was relieved that I was no longer his responsibility. He didn't like Bill all that well, but he wasn't young anymore, and a teenage daughter was a frightening thing to him. So now I was married to a man, he thought, who was at least old enough to take care of me, and Bill was a smoother talker.

We were married in Harrison at the Congregational Church and had our reception at home. Aunt Bert, and all my other aunts, cousins, and close friends were there. It was a beautiful, warm, Spring day! Our first year was hard. Bill was so used to everything going his way, and so was I, that we sometimes bumped heads, bad. He wasn't real good about holding a job, and as long as we lived with his mother, and had a roof over our heads, and food on the table, he didn't care. I think one big problem was that Mother Dimond didn't like sharing her son with me. He was her baby, and she still insisted on being first in his life.

Well, by now I knew I was pregnant. When I missed my first period, I didn't know what was the matter with me. Mama never discussed lady problems with me much. Well, by the time I missed the second one, and I said something to Bill about it, he thought it was great! His mother, when we told her, was almost mad, and acted like I did it all by myself! She even told me I shouldn't tie Bill down with a family so soon.

I had a real hard delivery. Of course, I went up home, so I could be with Mama. Old Dr. Jones and Grandma Rhoads were with me for the delivery and . . . finally had a darling little girl. We named her Alice Jane, born June 7, 1925. I was in bed, of course, two weeks. On the seventh day, Grandma Rhoads made me lay real still, all day, because she said, "this is the day all your parts go back in place".

Alice was ten months old when I got pregnant again. I was upset!   Alice was my baby, and I wasn't ready for another baby so soon! It didn't seem to matter to Bill. He just figured we would be alright, I guess? Mother Dimond's health was failing fast. She had "pernicious anemia" real bad. She was so tired all the time. She told me if I had a little girl, that she would be real pleased if I would name her Polly Ann. Just before she died, we were all over at her home. I didn't feel well, and went upstairs to lay down. I started my labor that night, and Bill took me to Hurley Hospital. Mother Dimond, in the meantime, had heard of someone by the name of Onalee. She thought it was a beautiful name, so when our second little girl was born, that's what we named her. Onalee Ann was born January 4, 1927. Her Grandma Dimond passed away two days after she was born.

I had my hands full. We already had moved a number of times. It was as though we had no roots. Bill had the 'wanderlust' terrible. Inbetween all of this, I kept running home to Harrison and my Mother. We were two spoiled people, neither willing to give an inch. Bill did as he pleased, most of the time. I would fight it just so long, and then pack the girls up and go home where I could get some attention and could at least eat. I had always been the 'darling of Harrison and all my folks,' or so I thought. I missed it.

Things started going from bad to worse, and when Onalee was nine months old, I got pregnant again! I was so discouraged. Was I going to be pregnant and barefoot all my life? We had nothing, and I couldn't see much of a future. We moved a couple more times. We couldn't keep up with the rent anyplace.

We had a couple that lived by us named Fern and Jerry Herring. I got to be real good friends with Fern. I didn't know too many people in Flint. Marguerite and Bill lived there [with] their little girl, Jean (Beverly Jean). She was between Onalee and Alice in age. Also Aunt Elsie and Uncle Fred, and my cousin, Archie [lived there]. My Bill was drinking quit a bit and hardly ever at home. It was time for my baby to be born. One afternoon, [when] I was trying to rock Onalee to sleep [while] Alice Jane was sitting next to me in the rocking chair, my water broke. I couldn't find Bill, and just about that time Archie McKeever came in. I was glad to see my cousin, but he was drunk.  He told me not to worry, he'd get me to the hospital, and promptly went into the bathroom and got sick and fell down.  I took Alice and Onalee over to Fern and Jerry's, and finally got Arch to straighten up and take me to the hospital.  He found Bill and he got to the hospital just as our third little girl was born.  Catherine Alberta (named after Aunt Kate and Aunt Bert), [was] born July 11, 1928.  Bill was disappointed that she wasn't a boy, but not for long.  One thing about Bill, he did love his kids.  He didn't know how to support a family, but he did love kids.  I think his mother was to blame for his irresponsibility. He would find jobs, but the least little thing that would happen he'd get mad and quit.

We left Flint and moved back up home. We rented Mrs. Cumming's house. It was right behind Mama and Papa's house. Next door to Morrissey's. I had so much to do with three little girls! Life was not fun for me anymore, even in my precious Harrison. When you have three babies in three years, and all still in diapers, it keeps you busy and tired all the time. I never before had to give up for anyone, or anything in my life, and now everything was falling on me. I didn't have pretty clothes anymore like I used to. I could remember going to Clare (when I was still at home), and seeing a new coat or dress. I would charge it to Mama and then come home and tell her. She never made me take anything back. I was beginning to get very bitter. I wanted those times back.

Mama, by this time, had an electric refrigerator and everything else that modernized their home or just made life easier. Of course, Papa was drinking more and more. I didn't realize, until many years later, that he was an alcoholic. Sometimes, he'd stay right in the house and drink steadily for a whole week! Then Mama would start trying to wean him off. People didn't know anything about alcoholics then. Men weren't men if they couldn't hold their liquor.

That winter, Bill left and went back to Flint to find a job. He didn't have much luck in Flint, so he went to Detroit with Millie and Earl. I think he worked a little, but I didn't see much of the money. He was 'footloose and fancy-free,' and knew that my mother and father wouldn't let me starve. But it was 1929, and the market had crashed, and my mother lost all her savings. She was a firm believer in the banking system, and so all her money, of course, was in the bank.

Papa helped me keep my stoves going. He would come over every morning and build fires, and then come at night to bank them so they would last through the night.

Alberta had been walking real well, and all of a sudden she stopped and wouldn't even try to stand on her left foot. Then one afternoon, it started to swell and turn black and blue and yellow and green! It was about twice the size it should be. I panicked! I'll never forget that night! It was so dark out when we left to take her to a doctor in Mt. Pleasant. Mama took Alice and Onalee home with her, and Papa and I started out. The car was cold and dark. I had the baby wrapped up good, and I knew she was warm, but I also knew how much that little foot must hurt her. The car lights had kind of a yellow glow to them and it seemed like we were the only three people in the world. Nobody traveled at night, so the only time we would see any lights was when we passed a farm and when we went through Clare. It seemed like an eternity getting to Mt. Pleasant.

The Doctor knew we were coming because Papa had our telephone operator in Harrison ring up Mt. Pleasant and send a message to him that we were leaving right then to bring Alberta to him. The Doctor told us that she had an abscess on her ankle, and it would have to be lanced by sticking a needle way in it. He also told us that if he hadn't caught it at this time, the root had grown almost to the knee and it could have made the leg shorter than the other leg. As it was, it might just make the leg thinner than the other because the muscle may not develop as much as the right muscle. She favored that foot for a long time. I would set her on the rolled top couch in the corner of the dining room, and she wouldn't budge.

Times were bad. There were no jobs and no money. I had not made any attempt to go back to Flint. Bill was back there, and was working some, and staying in a rooming house out on North Saginaw Street. Papa came over and told me that I had better get myself together and go back to my husband where I belonged, or make arrangements to leave him for good. He wasn't going to come over anymore and do what my husband was supposed to be doing for me.

Just about that time, the children's Grandpa Dimond came to the house. I was real surprised to see him, and the girls were delighted. I told him that I was going back to Flint the first of the week. I think he was glad to hear it. I had bought a new hat just before everything fell apart, and Mama gave me train fare, so I packed up and left for Flint. When I got there, I took a taxi out to where Bill was living. When I got out of the cab, I put my hat on, and carried the baby and the older girls walked up the plank walk to the house. The cab driver put our bags on the boards in front of the house; they were a makeshift walk over nothing but mud that led up to the porch of the rooming house. I was scared to death! My shoes were all mud. The street was gravel, and the yard nothing but clay and weeds. I was tired, and so were the girls, but they were being real good.

I knocked and knocked, and finally the landlady answered. I knew someone was home because I saw the curtains move, and knew someone was peeking at us. The woman that answered the door looked like a 'real floozy.' She looked at me, real strange, and asked me what I wanted. I said, "is this where Bill Dimond lives?" She said, "yes," still staring at me. "Well, I'm his wife. I would like to wait in his room until he comes home. I've traveled all day with our children and we're tired." "Follow me," she said. She took us up some dark, dirty, stairway and to his room. The room was pleasant enough. One thing about Bill, he was always neat and clean. His bed was made and his clothes hung neatly on the back of his door. I put Berta down on the bed and turned to the dresser to remove my hat. As soon as I looked in the mirror, I knew why that 'old biddy' had been looking at me so strange. "Good grief," I said right out loud, "I've got my damn hat on backwards!" I jerked it off and slammed it down on the dresser. That was sure a wasted effort, I thought.

Alice and Onalee crawled up on the bed with Berta, and all three of them went to sleep. I stretched out across the foot of the bed. About 8:30 p.m. Bill got home. He was more than a little surprised that we were there, but his landlady had met him at the door and told him I was upstairs waiting for him. He was also informed that he could not stay there with us.

We started our roller coaster again. The next morning, after Bill went to work, I walked to the streetcar line, and went over to Aunt Elsie's and Uncle Fred's. Marguerite was there, and we were 'tickled to death' to see each other. Jeannie was staying with Aunt Elsie while Mag worked at the telephone company. I didn't have any place else to go, so I stayed with them for a couple of nights, until I found a house. Housing wasn't too hard to find, just darn hard for us to pay for.

Bill started working pretty good about then at the Buick, and so we went out and bought some furniture, and he let me also buy a sewing machine. That damn sewing machine was almost my undoing! It was a beauty! Of course, I had to have the best! If you bought an electric machine from the Singer Sewing Machine Company at that time, they gave you free lessons. I thought I could make clothes for the girls if I learned how. Well, I got a dress pattern for myself, and picked out some real pretty silk material. The instructor almost had a heart attack! She jawed and jawed at me. "What a terrible choice to learn on," she said. "Why didn't you get cotton material and an apron pattern?" Who wanted an old cotton apron? If I was going to make something, it might as well be something I wanted.

After I got into sewing, I knew why she had such a fit. First, I could hardly pin it to the pattern. It slipped every which way! When I cut into it, it did nothing but ravel! The teacher was beside herself! I couldn't pin it, I couldn't cut it, and I couldn't even baste it! I finally threw it in a box, wrapped the mess up, wrote a note with it, and sent it up to Harrison to Mama. I told her that if she couldn't salvage it, to give it to Aunt Tress and see if she could save it. Bill was mad at first, but it wasn't long before it was told to everyone we saw about what a mess I had made! I didn't care too much, until he told Millie. She acted just like I thought she would; snooty. She looked at Bill, as if to say, I told you how useless Mildred was.

Bill was working for General Motors and seemed to be doing a little better. He never took me out, and I was becoming 'stir crazy.' Twenty-five years old, three children, all work, and darn little fun! He would run off with his buddies and expect me to just be content to stay at home. The winter of "30" he worked most of the time on some fog lights he had invented, which ended up being a painful time for us.

When he hired in at General Motors, he evidently signed papers to the effect that anything he invented while working for them pertaining to the automobile industry belonged to them. He hadn't read the fine print! He got mad and said they didn't own his invention, and brought them home with him. The next day, they came to the house to get the fog lights with a court order. Bill turned them over and he not only lost out on his design, but his job was also terminated. He then went to work for Checker Cab Company.

I was just about ready to file for divorce and found out that winter that I was pregnant again. I was a wreck! Marguerite and I had enrolled in a tap dancing class and we were having a ball! The first fun I'd had in a long time! We were living on Baker Street at the time. Our apartment was real nice, and Dad Dimond would come over and sit with the girls so I could get out.

Uncle Fred and Aunt Bert came to visit often, and always came bearing gifts for the girls. On one of their trips, they brought a real nice cardboard play house that the girls could even stand up in. What fun they had with that! I don't remember who bought the garden swing the kids had, but it was special to them.

Bill and I had made friends with a friend of his from the Buick. His name was Ernest Nile Hopkins, but everyone called him Hoppy. His wife, Katherine, was overly reserved, I thought, but we would go over to their house and visit once in a while. They had three children also. Mary Edith, was a little older than Alice, Melba Mae, and Bud (Ernest Jr.). Everyone liked Hoppy! He was a fun-loving fellow, and he got acquainted with Bill and Mag, and even came over to Uncle Fred and Aunt Elsie's to play cards with all of us. It seemed so good to have a little fun with lots of laughs! My cousin, Arch, was usually there with his girl friend, Gladys Burseau. Arch and Gladys were talking about getting married, but times were still real bad, and without any money, you couldn't just jump into more responsibility. I had never had to worry about money and it was hard to change. It made me mad to think Bill couldn't keep me like Mama and Papa had.

On September 3, 1931 my son was born. Bill was pleased, but no more so than he was when the girls were born. We named him Joseph Willard, after Papa and Bill, and called him Billy.

When Billy was three weeks old, we got word that Papa had fallen and bumped his head real bad. It caused a concussion and he passed away. We packed up and all went up home not knowing how I'd find Mama. But, as usual, she was fine, and had everything arranged for the funeral. All of Mama's family came home. The children were real good, and stayed quiet and out of the way. I had to make a bed in a dresser drawer for Billy. We took it out of the dresser and put it on two chairs. It worked just fine. I had one of the Hughes girls come and stay with the kids while we went to the church and took another trip to the cemetery.

Bill went back to Flint and I stayed with Mama for awhile. I thought I could help get things settled down. She had her home paid for, but not much to live on. Her savings went when the banks failed. She had not run for office for County Clerk since 1924. She had been County Clerk for 16 years. Bill came back up home, and Mama decided that since no one was living in Grandma's house, Lee wouldn't care if we would move over there, and then Mama could rent her house. That way, we would at least have some money coming in. Grandma had left the house to Lee when she died, because he had always lived with her.

Bill went to work then in Harrison for the County Road Commission, and I got a little work at Ollie Hallett's restaurant. Bill and I were fighting violently. He wanted to go back to Flint, and I wasn't ready for that yet. We were just about to the end of our marriage again. Things were bad. Real bad. I was terrified I'd get pregnant again. Bill was getting restless again and wanted to take off for Detroit. He was sure he could find work. We argued, so I gave in, but asked him how he thought we were going to get there? We had no money, and I couldn't ask Mama for it. With Papa gone, she had a hard time managing for herself. She had rented her house, furnished, except for her big wood stove that we had moved over to Grandma McKeever's house with us. The rent she got from her house was her only income. She was now 65 years old, but in good health, thank God.

Bill said he could get Bill Sly to drive us down. Bill was going anyway, so he had asked if we could go along. I think Bill found out Bill Sly was going down and he wanted to go to. Well, Mama went along and went to Aunt Berts, and Bill, the kids, and I, went to Millies. I don't know where he got the nerve to move us all in on her. Millie and Earl were on welfare themselves. No one was working in their family either. Charles was nineteen and had married a girl named Loretta and he was living off his mother also. Millie told the girls, later in years, that when she looked out the window and saw us coming she said, "Oh my God, here comes Bill, Mildred, and the four kids! What are we going to feed them?" We hadn't been there an hour, and we heard fire engines coming down the street. They stopped right in front of Millie and Earl's four family flat, and started running up the steps! They came right up to the second-floor apartment, where we were, and came busting through the door, down the hall, into the bathroom and up through the trap door in the ceiling and into the attic! The man across the street saw fire coming out the roof of Millie's apartment, and turned in the fire alarm at the corner. The fire was put out and no one was hurt, and we didn't have to evacuate. But, it sure was exciting for awhile! It was caused by faulty wiring.

I stayed a couple days and then left. I went to Aunt Bert's, and from there I took Alberta and Billy back to Flint with me to Aunt Elsie's. I left Alice and Onalee with Bill at Millie's. I couldn't get away fast enough! How had I stood it this long? I'll never know.

After I had been in Flint a few weeks, Hoppy stopped at Aunt' Elsie's and I found out that Catherine had left him. She had taken his children and moved back to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania where her home was. They had been having their problems for a long time. Hoppy told me that he had married Bridgett (his name for her) out of pity. I could talk to Hoppy, and he listened. He even wrote to Bill and told him he would try to help him find a job in Flint if he would come back here. He told him how precious your family is and how you don't realize it until after you no longer have them around. Bill, of course, didn't come to Flint, and not long after that, I started divorce proceedings again. Everyone could ask how I had the nerve, in the middle of a depression, to do this? The only answer I had was that he wasn't supporting us anyway, and without him there was one less mouth to feed.

I stayed on at Aunt Elsie's. She was badly crippled up with rheumatoid arthritis, and she couldn't keep house for herself anymore. Mag had been doing it for her, but she worked at the Durand Hotel, so it was hard for her to keep doing it. I made a deal with them that, if they would let me stay, I would do the house work and turn my welfare order over to them to help with the food. It wasn't the best situation, but it was better than being with Bill. It was fun to be with that group of people. No one had anything. It was 'Depression,' but they never had anything to begin with, so it wasn't anything new to them, and I learned that no matter how bad things were, you made a joke of it and it helped you cope with your problems.

Hoppy was showing up all the time! At first, everyone thought it was because he was lonesome, but he and I knew why. I had fallen in love with him. I never had known real love before, and it was wonderful, exciting, and scary all at the same time! Even though I was in the middle of a divorce, I was beginning to enjoy life! I realized I didn't, and never had, loved Bill. The reason I wanted to come back to Flint, was because Hoppy was there. Oh, you don't want to admit these things, even to yourself, but they are there, way down deep.

. . . . The following week, we all met in court. Of course, Millie and Earl were with Bill. The girls came running over to me. Mama had come to Flint to be with me, and give me moral support. I found out later that Millie had told the girls that if the Judge asked them who they wanted to stay with, they were to say their daddy. Well, as the proceedings progressed, the only complaint Bill had was that I was a slovenly housekeeper, and a few other complaints that didn't amount to much. I was more mad over the ''housekeeping crack,' than anything else he said, and I don't remember much else that was said in court. When the Judge spoke to the girls he said, "where would you girls like to live?" They told him that they didn't know, they loved us both. Well, he awarded custody to me, of all four children, and Bill had visiting rights and was to pay support. That ended a nine year marriage. What a devastating experience.   NOW WHAT WOULD I DO? . . . .

. . . Summer was over and the girls were to start school, so Mama took Alberta and Onalee up to Harrison with her, and I kept Alice and Joe (we no longer called him Billy) to Flint with me at Aunt Elsie's. Mama enrolled the two girls in school. Onalee was in second grade, and Alberta was put in first grade. They were alone up home, in Grandma McKeever's house until Christmas, and then I took Alice and Joe and went up home for Christmas.

I don't remember who brought a Christmas tree over to them, but when I got there, Mama had it up and she and the girls had it decorated with popcorn chains and colored paper chains. I brought all our tree decorations with me that I had [kept] since I was a little girl. It was beautiful, and oh how happy the kids were - to all be together again!

I hadn't received word from Bill that he would be coming up to see the kids for Christmas, but there he was. I wasn't over-joyed about that, but it worked out just fine. As it was, it was probably one of the best Christmases we ever had. He came bearing beautiful gifts for the kids. The girls each got a beautiful doll, and Joe got a kiddy-car airplane. Bill hadn't paid a cent of support all winter, but sure made an impression with the kids with his gifts! He also had packages from Millie and Earl, Jim and Violet, and Dad Dimond. They got presents from all my aunts and uncles also. I guess everyone took pity on my kids that year. All my friends and neighbors in Harrison brought over little donations of food, so we also had a lovely Christmas dinner.

After the holidays, Hoppy came up and got us and took all of us back to Flint. He had found a house on Cadillac Street for us and we all moved in. I went to enroll the girls in Durand school, and they put Alberta in kindergarten where she belonged. She was only five.

We were struggling to keep our heads above water. Hoppy helped as much as possible, but he had his own three children to support. Mama was getting rent off her house in Harrison, but it didn't go far with six mouths to feed. One thing about my mother, she could make a meal out of practically nothing. The Lord never let us down. Oh, our stomachs were not ever full, but they never were completely empty either. Something always turned up for us.

The spring of 1934, Hoppy and I were married. I can really say it was the happiest day of my life! We went to Ohio to meet his folks. What a lovely, refined group of people! His sister, Melba, and I got along right away. She had been divorced, and was, I guess, a little more understanding, or else I felt I could relate to her better. Hoppy also had a younger brother, Blake, married to Gale, and another sister Elva, married to Gerald. Gerald and Blake were both school teachers. Hoppy's mother and dad were two of the most gentle people I'd met in a long time, and oh, how they loved each other! It sparkled in their eyes every time they looked at each other. I prayed that our marriage would be like theirs.

Hoppy and I decided to go to Harrison, right after we got back from Ohio, and pick up Mama's furniture. We didn't even have a kitchen table to eat on. Hoppy got to be real friendly with the man next door and he was going with us to help move. By the next evening we were ready to leave for Harrison.

We couldn't get everything on the truck, so we left Mama's good china and some smaller items at Grandma McKeever's house to bring later or whenever we were going to be home again.

Until the time we brought the furniture to Flint, we had practically nothing in the house in Flint. We used the ironing board for a kitchen table, and [had] a few chairs that Hoppy had brought over. Once Mama's furniture was there, we felt like millionaires. There were beds for all! A beautiful dining room outfit with a buffet and china cabinet. Five leather-seated chairs, and a host chair. Her living room furniture was a real nice brown mohair over-stuffed outfit. There wasn't a house around that had nicer furniture than we did!

Life was beginning to really settle down for me. We had good friends, and Hoppy and Bill (Mag's husband), were really close, and, of course, Mag and I were just like sisters. We even fought like sisters, but always made up - it never lasted long.

Bill and Mag were having a hard time too, everyone was. We were all still in the throes of the 'Depression'. We had to create our own good times by having house gatherings. Once in a great while, we would go to a show, but they cost a quarter for adults, and ten cents for children, so you can see we couldn't afford that very often. Mama loved shows. I remember 'Little Women' was showing at the theater, out South Saginaw Street, and she took Alice and Onalee with her to see it. Alberta couldn't go, because she had been vaccinated for small pox, and just as her shot had scabbed over, Joe threw a toy elephant and hit her vaccination! She was running a little temperature. She was very hot and listless that night, so she stayed home with me.

Our entertainment mostly consisted of listening to the radio, playing cards, or games, and reading. Mama, Onalee, and Alberta went up to Harrison later in the summer. By this time, Aunt Tress and Uncle Lucas (her second husband, and a retired pastor), had moved into Grandma McKeever's house. Aunt Bert and Uncle Fred had come to Flint to see us on their way up to Harrison. So Mama hitched a ride with them. Uncle Lucas said he would bring them back and also bring the rest of Mama's belongings too. I think Aunt Tres didn't want to store them any longer in that small house. It belonged to her son, Lee, and they now planned to spend the rest of their life there.

Right after school let out, we moved to Nebraska Street. Hoppy had gone to work at the pumping station out Detroit Street. We were so happy! He had found a good paying, steady job, and when you worked for the city, you could almost be sure it would last for a long time. He also sold clothes for Nash Clothing Company.

The first Christmas was gorgeous, as usual. That was the year the Dione quintuplets were born in Canada, and Bill sent the girls the whole set of dolls! Maria, Yvonne, Cecil, Annette, and Emilee. They had beautiful dresses and bibs; each with their names on the bibs. Hoppy had worked in the basement all fall and part of the winter (when he had time), making the children a table and four stools. He marked each stool with their own mark. Alice was a tulip, Onalee was a daisy, Alberta was a cat, and Joe was a pig. Again, they were showered with gifts! Everyone was so good to my kids.

After Christmas I got sick. Mama got sick, and Joey was real sick with bronchial pneumonia. Hoppy cooked, took care of all of us, and worked too. It was at this time, Bill decided to show up. We hadn't heard a word from him, or received any money either; only the presents that had arrived. All of a sudden, one night, he was knocking on our door! Hoppy let him in to see the kids, and told him how sick Joe had been. It didn't matter to me anymore whether he was around or not. Our fighting was over. He had his life and I sure had mine, and we got along fine, as long as we didn't have to be around each other. The kids loved him so, he made them laugh, played with them, showered them with goodies and took them to see their Grandpa Dimond, whom they also loved dearly. We did not use our kids as a battle ground. He was their father and they were taught to honor their parents.

In the spring, Mag, Bill, and Jean moved in with us. We were all trying to save money so we could get decent houses. I also was pregnant again and expected my baby in July. Hoppy was elated! That's all he talked about. This would give him something that was his and help him with the lonesomeness he felt for his other three children. Nothing could take their place.

We got along pretty good under the circumstances. They really didn't live with us long, and they found a real nice house out on Menton. Alice and Jean had their fights because they both wanted to be boss and neither one, at that age, would give an inch. By this time, we were a little better off and we would let the kids go to the show every Sunday afternoon. It cost ten cents, but Joe could get in free. How they all loved it! And it gave us grown-ups a break every Sunday from the kids. Sometimes they would go to the first show and stay and see it half way through again. They liked the Capitol Theater downtown the best. The ceiling looked just like a night sky with doves flying around in it. Oh my! How elegant it was to them with the blue velvet curtains and the box seats down the sides of the walls! Every so often, during the intermissions, they had an organ that would rise up out of the orchestra pit and someone would play it. The children would always be dressed up in their Sunday best.

Mama sold her house in Harrison. She had decided that she couldn't pay the taxes, and keep up repairs out of what little rent she was getting, and keep herself too. Hoppy, Mama and I decided to pool what money we had and buy a house, and Mama could have a lifetime residency with us. So, we started looking for our house. Like everything else, what we liked, we couldn't afford, and what we could afford, we didn't like. Finally, we found what we thought would serve our large brood well, but all things came to a stand still. It was July and terribly hot, and I was very, very, pregnant. One night, it was so hot that Hoppy put a mattress on top of the car, and we went out to the pumping station and made our bed out on the lawn by the Flint River. It was better than in the house, but still, not hardly a breath of air. The kids thought it was great fun!

July 25th, 1936 I went into labor. Hoppy was working on a rodeo for the American Legion and had gone over to the Atwood Stadium. I went to the hospital. Mama wasn't with us, she had to go up to Harrison to settle the legal part of selling her house. So Mrs. Palmer, a lady who stayed with the children once in a while, came to be with the kids.

Hoppy got to the hospital just in time for our little girl to be born. We named her Elva Ernestine. The kids were all so excited over her, and Hoppy was like a little boy with a new toy! You would have thought she was the only baby ever born! Maybe she filled the void in his life that his own kids could not fill at this time. He would sing silly, made-up songs, and would talk about all the big plans he had for everyone. She seemed to bring a whole new world to all of us. She was all of our new beginnings . . .

The first of August, we closed the deal on the house we had found and the move was on. We would be moved in, in plenty of time, for the kids to start school. It seemed as though things were really picking up. Work for Hoppy was good, our house was great, and it even had a three-room apartment upstairs that could be rented out so we could have a little income off of it.

This was the year of the Presidential elections. Elf Landon was running against Franklin D. Roosevelt. Roosevelt was coming to Flint to campaign and was going to be at the Atwood Stadium. Mama wanted us all to go and see him. Like she said, "It isn't everybody that gets the privilege to see the President of the United States of America!" So we went down and it really was a thrill to see him riding in that big black car and waving at everyone! I guess you don't think how important he is until you see all the secret service men around him, but for what? Who in the world would dare to do harm to the President?

We had a beautiful Fall that year, and Hoppy's cousin, Eva Helen, came to see us. She didn't stay, only about an hour, but I had never met her before, and what a lovely girl she was! Very pretty, and so very stylish. But then, all of Hoppy's people seemed to be wonderful people, and were so easy to love.

In September, Gerald and Elva came and stayed a couple days and brought their daughter, Carol, and their son, Jackie. I was real glad that we hadn't rented out our apartment yet so they had a place to stay. Our downstairs was full.

Not long after Elva and Gerald left, Hoppy came home and said he had found a couple that wanted to rent our apartment. Their names were Harvey and Mable Coffee. Harvey was a barber, and Mable was a beauty operator. He was six foot six tall, and she was a tall, pretty girl. I knew it was just going to work out beautifully. What a change our life was taking now! We had finally made it!

The American Legion was to have a big formal dance and Hoppy said we could go. I was on cloud nine! It was the first time in years I was to go buy a dress for a special dance! We had been pinching our pennies for so long that when I went to get a dress, I still thought in thrifty terms. I got a long, rust-colored gown that could be cut off later and used for a good Sunday dress. The kids were as excited as we were when we got ready for the dance! Me, in my long dress, and Hoppy in his Legion uniform. It really was good for all of us.

We hadn't seen much of Mag and Bill since they move out on Menton. I guess after living together for awhile, we just got tired of one another. One Saturday night, they all came over, and we eased the tension, and just let down and had a good time. Mama had bought a new game called Monopoly, and we were all trying to learn to play it. Bill and Hop had a few drinks, and of course, they could both make scrooge laugh when they got started telling stories. We all started going out on Saturday nights again. When we did, we would bring Aunt Elsie, Uncle Fred, and Jeanie over to our house so they could all be together and play cards; and of course, watch the kids too. At other times, we would take Mama and the kids over to Aunt Elsie's. Aunt Elsie and Uncle Fred lived in an apartment upstairs in Mag and Bill's house, and Aunt Carrie Ingersol (Aunt Elsie's sister) lived on the next street. Sometimes, the older people would all end up over to Aunt Carrie's with all the kids. They didn't seem to mind as long as they could play cards.

Aunt Carrie had an adopted son named Bobby. He was our kids' age. So, with our kids and Jeanie and Bobby, the Grandmas had a lot of kids to tend to.

By the end of October, Hoppy and Harvey Coffee had started planning a fishing trip. They had decided to go up to Houghton Lake around Veterans Day. I had decided I would tag along and they could drop me off in Harrison and pick me up on the way back. Alice Bruce was going to be up home that weekend, so I was really looking forward to the trip. Mama said to go ahead and go, she would be there with the kids. Hoppy was also looking forward to this trip. I don't know when he'd had a break from work and [all] the pressure of kids and family; in years I guess.

We left on a Saturday morning and headed north. The weather couldn't have been nicer. We stayed at Aunt Tres and Uncle Lucas' house on Saturday night, and Hop and Harvey left early Sunday morning for Houghton Lake. They were going to fish Sunday afternoon and stay Sunday night, fish Monday morning, and come back to Harrison in the afternoon. We all planned to stay over Monday night; get up early Tuesday to be back in time for Hoppy to be in the parade that was planned for Veteran's day. Hoppy was to carry the American flag with the American Legion Group.

As they say, 'The Best Laid Plans' . . . . he didn't come back. After waiting, and worrying myself sick, I got Alice to drive me up to the lake. We found the boat rental where they had left the car, and it was still there. The Sheriff had been called and the owner of the boat rental told me that they hadn't come in off the lake. The Sheriff and his men were out looking to see if they could find any sign of them.    THAT WAS THE END.

They started dragging the lake. They found Hoppy two days later, but didn't find Harvey until the next spring. The story goes that a storm came up on the lake which is the biggest inland lake in Michigan. They had tried to start the outboard motor on the boat and it tipped them over. Hoppy was a real good swimmer, but he was bogged down with his heavy hunting coat and boots. When they found him he had the top button torn off, and the second one was hanging by threads.

Alice Bruce, bless her heart, helped me through the funeral, and my next trip to Maplewood Cemetery. The American Legion held a service at the cemetery with a gun salute, and 'taps' were played. When they took the flag off the coffin, they folded it and gave it to me. As we were ready to leave the cemetery, I looked across the crowd and saw George Zarmstorf standing there. I thought to myself, "What a good friend he was to Hoppy, coming all the way up to Harrison alone to pay his respects."

I don't remember much of anything that happened after that. In fact, there are about two years, at that time, that are just a blur. Suddenly, I was plunged back into a hard, sad, poor life.

I was really in the depths of disparity. Again, if it had not been for my mother, I would not have made it. As usual, she took over, and I let her. She helped run things for me and kept us all on an even keel. She took care of the kids, cooked the meals, and really spoiled me. Whenever I didn't want to do something, I'd let Mama do it. She never complained. I completely depended on her. With Mama there, I could also come and go freely. How she managed to keep us going, I don't know, but she did. The house was paid for by mortgage insurance after Hoppy died. I invested some of his insurance money in oil stock, but it wasn't paying off. The rest of the insurance money was eaten away in bills. I tried to work a little by peddling sample products from door to door for Proctor and Gamble. It didn't work. I hated getting up and out everyday, and my housekeeping was suffering. I liked being home and taking care of my house. The kids helped out, but they were just kids. I had never liked working, and I hated it now more than ever. Alice Jane was in sixth grade at Homedale School, Onalee was in fourth grade, Alberta the third grade, and Joe started Kindergarten that year at Kearsley School. Ernestine was just four months old; just how was I supposed to survive? How I wish I was just a little girl again with Mama and Papa and my secure life in Harrison where I had everything my heart desired. One never appreciates something until it's gone, and that life was surely gone as if it all had been a beautiful dream. Even my mother couldn't give it back to me now . . . .

[. . . as being told by Alberta] . . .
About this time, Mama started dating a man named George Zarmstorf. He also dated Mable Coffee. Mable lived in our apartment upstairs. Her husband, Harvey, was the man that drowned with Hoppy. George was all right, but kind of caused problems. Mom didn't take Alice with her so much anymore, and he bossed us kids like he belonged there. Our manners weren't good enough, and he called us half-breeds and Mom was gone with him a lot, or he was constantly at our house.

Mom was struggling with bills. Her house was paid for but there was food to buy, taxes to pay, and clothes to buy. She got a little money called "Aid for Dependent Children" for Ernestine because her father had died, but nothing for the rest of us because our father was to pay support. The problem was there was very little work; it was [the] depression.

One day all the kids from our neighborhood were out in our back yard building a camp. We put an old double boiler in it upside down, cut an opening in the front of it and put a drain pipe out of the top for a chimney. The sides of the camp were four old garage doors that Charles Mark had gotten, and the roof was cardboard. When we all had to go in the house for the night, Eddie Dahlstrom was suppose to be sure the fire was out. Mom and George had just come home and were sitting in the dining room. They saw a bright light out in the back yard and went to see what it was. Our beautiful camp was on fire. George called the fire department. They put the fire out and everyone settled down. I don't remember any of our parents being too mad at us. We sure were proud to think that the fire department had come with a fire engine and two ladder trucks.

Mom and George were together all the time. We were afraid that Mom would marry him and we didn't like him. Alice wanted to go to Detroit with Daddy so Mom decided we all should go and let him take care of us for awhile. So pack us up she did. Grandma wasn't too happy about it, but Mom had made up her mind and Grandma never would cross her. We left as soon as school was out for the summer.

Well here we are in Detroit. Daddy got an apartment in a four family flat. It was on Field Street in the same flat next to Aunt Millie. We were in the same block as the Field Hotel only one block off Jefferson and two blocks from the Belle Isle Bridge at East Grand Blvd. We played in the alleys, on Belle Isle, went swimming at the D.U.S. Club and to the Nickleodion Theater, but I'm so lonesome for my mother and Grandmother I sometimes feel real sick to my stomach.

We got a letter from Mom and she let us know that she was going to marry George the twenty-second of July. We weren't surprised. I think it was all planned before we left Flint. George wouldn't have to have the four of us, but he would have to raise Ernestine and could move into a ready made, paid for, home.

Mom and George moved upstairs into the three room apartment and rented out the downstairs. Grandma had gone up to Harrison with Aunt Tress and Uncle Lucas. The coast was clear for George.

Mom came to Detroit with Ernestine to see us. We were so excited waiting for them. We had told everyone how cute our little sister was and as soon as they got there we dragged her all over, showing her off. Daddy took us all downtown one night to a movie. We went on the street car and didn't get home until real late. Mom and Daddy got along well now that they didn't have to live together. Right after Hoppy died, I had said to Grandma, "Now Mamma and Daddy can go back together again," and she told me, "I don't think you really want that. When they have to live together they fight all the time. This way they get along good." She was right, I guess, but, oh, how I wished it could be!

After Mom went home, I began to get more homesick than ever. It was good when Daddy was home, and Grandpa was with us, but I hated having to clean house and do things Mom always did at home. And we had to mind Alice. Daddy was a good cook, and he could even iron and sew, but he wasn't Mom.

One Monday morning, my cousin, Chuck, was going back to Flint to work. He had been at Aunt Millie's for the weekend. I had packed my clothes, wrote a note, and left it on the kitchen table for Daddy. I went out and got in Chuck's car and waited for him. When he came out, he was somewhat surprised to see me, but took me along as soon as I told him that Daddy knew I was going. So, home I went. Mom was surprised, but really glad I had come home. She needed a baby sitter and help. She was pregnant for her sixth baby, but I didn't know that yet.

Life was sure different for me. I was home, my friends were glad to see me back. Ernestine and I seemed a little isolated without Alice, Onalee, Joe, and Grandma. Being a kid, I began to resent George because Mom was always telling me that I could do something, and then tell me I couldn't because of him. If I wanted to go with the kids and George decided to come home and go out, even if she had promised me I could go with my friends, she would - out of a clear blue sky - tell me I had to stay home and baby sit. At night I would have to lay down with Ernestine until she went to sleep, and if it took her too long to fall asleep, she would tell me it was getting late so I had to stay in bed. Grandma came home and things kinda changed. She always buffered things for us, but she didn't always stay long enough.

At Halloween time, the power company had shut off our electricity and gas. Mom couldn't heat the downstairs so the renters had moved out, and we were running a grocery bill at Quale's grocery store. George had taken money to buy a gas station business over on Detroit Street and it wasn't doing well. We had a little round kerosene burner we used to heat the apartment, and cook on, and used oil lamps. Bonnie Sobey and I were going trick-or-treating. When she came to get me, I had to light a lamp in the house so I told her it would be more spooky if we didn't turn the other lights on. I didn't want her to know we had them turned off. Bonnie's parents, Thelma and Claire, were real good friends of Mom's, but were kinda gossips.

I was looking for something in the cedar chest one day and came across a box with a baby sweater in it. I closed it up and put it away. The next day I said to Mom, "I found a baby sweater in the cedar chest, are you going to have a baby?" She said, "there's no baby sweater in there, what are you talking about?" I went and got the box and showed it to her. She really laughed, "that's not a baby sweater, it's dish cloths. I got them at a wedding shower.' She took them apart, and it was dish cloths, three of them, two for each side of the front, and one folded around them for the sleeves, and three little bows down the front. "Yes, I am going to have a baby in the spring. I wasn't going to tell you until after Christmas so you wouldn't have to wait so long. Mama will be home for Thanksgiving so we'll tell her then and the other kids too." I was upset. I didn't want her to have another baby. Ernestine was our baby and no one could take her place. She was so cute and so much fun, except when she got the scissors and cute my nightgown up all along the edge of the hem and gave Mom's clover plant a hair cut.

April came and Mom was almost ready to have her baby. Grandma was in Harrison and Mom told me that I was to come straight home from school every night because she could have the baby anytime, and I would have to be there for Ernestine if Grandma wasn't back by then. But she came home, and on April 11, 1940, I got home from school and Mom had gone to the hospital and had our new sister, Georgia Maureen. She, of course was George's first and only child. She was spoiled rotten from the word go. One night she cried half the night, and George even had to walk the floor with her.

Mom was getting ready to move to Bay City. George had a job working for Tom Williams at a Sinclair gas station on Center Avenue. My heart was breaking. I had to leave all my friends again. We had lived on Roosevelt Street the longest I had live anywhere. I had gone to Kearsley School in third and fourth grades and Homedale school in fifth and sixth. Now on to another.

We moved into an upstairs, two-bedroom apartment on N.E. Union. I began Handy Jr. High School in the seventh grade. It was a real nice school and its best feature, as far as I was concerned, was its swimming pool. Come summer, Alice was coming to Bay City to stay for awhile so Mom sent me up to Harrison to stay with Grandma. In August, we moved to Vanburen Street between Fourth and Fifth Streets. It was an old big, two-story house. George could walk to work over on Center Avenue, and I was enrolled in Immanuel Christian Day School in the eighth grade.

Things were beginning to change again. Everyone was talking about the war in Europe and how we were going to probably get into it also. The Japs bombed Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941, and President Roosevelt declared war on Japan and in Europe. I was 13 years old. Many young boys were drafted and a lot of them quit school and enlisted. Rationing started. We had food stamps, gas stamps, liquor stamps. Couldn't get tires, stockings, sugar, cigarettes. Women started working in factories to replace the men that went to war. Mom went to work at the Chevrolet. George went to work at Dow Metal. Mom lasted two weeks and quit. George had to go to Detroit for a physical but was deferred, too old, too many dependents . . . Alice went to work at Neisners 5 and 10, Onalee got a job at Cunningham's Drug Store, and I baby sat. The story of my life.

The war ended in Europe in the spring of 1945 and in Japan in August. Mom dropped another bomb. We were going to move again. The war being over, Dow Metal was closing in Bay City, George was going to take a job in Muskegon with Uncle Charlie Morrissy. I wanted to stay in Bay City to finish my last year in High School, but she wouldn't let me. Onalee had left for Washington D.C. right after she graduated, to work as a goverment girl at the Pentagon. Mom promised me new clothes and that I could start driving the car and all kinds of things so I would want to go with her. In August, Mom and I went to Winnie's, in Grand Rapids, for two weeks so she could go to Muskegon to look for a place to live. George was already there working and she wanted to get us all over there in time to start school. Alice stayed in Bay City because Leonard was on his way home [from the service]. I could have stayed with her or Scotty, my best friend, but then Mom wouldn't have a baby sitter. My Bay City days were over. Another move was on . . . .

. . . . more of Cathy's memories can be found in her book "Our Stepping Stones," the story of Mildred and her children as remembered and conjectured by Catherine Alberta (Dimond) Johnson. I have also taken editorial liberties with these excerpts. This rendering of the history of Mildred is only from that of the memories and assumptions of her third child, Catherine Alberta, and attempts to give us somewhat of an insight as to what might be the history of Mildred Josephine Hoag.