cont'd from "Tales From the Crypt"  by Wilma Robinson

We lived on, what was called at the time, Hinch Road Since then it has been called 9th
avenue and then 225th St.. Lord only knows what it's called now! There was an open
ditch along the East side of the paved road and a wooden sidewalk along the West side. I
remember my brother and his friends soldering a nail to one side of a large penny (there
were large ones and small ones at that time) and hammering it into the wooden sidewalk,
laughing hilariously as passers-by tried in vain to pick it up! Nowadays who would even
stoop for a nickel?
Hinch Road ran between the Dewdney Trunk and North Street. From North Street on
South and down the hill towards the brickyard it became (to us ) "China Hill". Why we
called it that, I have no idea! I didn't know of any Chinese living there but maybe they
worked in the brickyard or the lumber mill. Anyway,, it was a wonderful sleigh-riding
hill in the winter! We would fly down the hill on our "steel-runner"sleighs, ending up at
the bottom in front of the brickyard. With chattering teeth we headed for the warm kilns
inside the building. If they were loading the kilns, so much the better, it was warmer that
way. Then, toasty warm, we would head back up the snowy hill to the top and do it all
again.
In those days I guess our parents couldn't afford warm boots for us all, so, as a result
most of us suffered from chilblains. Which is not surprising considering a lot of us wore
rubber boots up to our knees. The thin rubber seemed to attract the cold and before we
had made our way to the top of the hills our feet were icy cold. Coming home and
sticking our freezing feet into a hot oven didn't help, either! I can remember running
outside in bare feet to dance around in the snow, trying to get the pain out of my burning
hot chilblainy feet! Didn't work, of course , and as there were no remedies for it at that
time, we just had to endure it. as best we could. Nowadays you never even hear of such
things as chilblains and I say "good riddance to them"!-
I can remember years when we had a lot of snow. Like one year when school was in
session, which makes it probably early Spring, I would think., because it wasn't very
cold, when we had a snowfall of about three feet overnight! We weren't very old at that
time and three feet seemed very deep. As we lived right next to the school at Haney
Central we were, of course expected to go regardless of the weather. It was great fun
pushing our way through chest-deep snow, getting sopping wet because it had started to
rain. We kids who made it to school had a great time but one of our women teachers (I
forget which one but I think it was Miss Veinotte) had worn a pair of slacks to school to
help her make her way through the snow. The principal, Ed Longton, took exception to
this and sent her home with his pompous disapproval! We were all very upset with him
but, later we too were sent home , which we really wanted, anyway! So we spent the rest
of the day getting soaked enjoying the heavy fall of snow!

There were times, too, when we had very little snow at Christmas. I
remember one Christmas when it was sunny and quite warm! That was the
winter when most of us younger kids got scooter-skates for Christmas. These
were little metal platforms with one wheel at the front and two in the back,
and about twice the length of a foot. There was a bit of a cap in front to keep
our foot from sliding off and we used them like a scooter without a handle to
hold on with, Like a small snowboard. Anywhere there was a hill with a
smooth surface we would pedal these things , kicking along with one foot till
we got going, then with both feet onboard we would whiz down the hill to
the bottom! Or if it was just a level sidewalk we would just kick and coast
our way along. Trouble was, most of our sidewalks were wooden slats and to
whiz along them resulted in chattering teeth!
Anyway, to get back to the weather, everybody was wearing short sleeves
and running shoes, That was how we knew it was warm because our running
shoes were worn ONLY in the summer months and put away in drydock for
the winter. The first sign of summer and out they came again!

cont'd from "Tales From the Crypt"  by Wilma Robinson

Like I said before, we had no indoor swimming pools so we relied on the
river which then was known as the Lilloet before they changed it to Alouette
in order to distinguish it from the other Lilloet up-country .There were
several different spots in the river which became special swimming-holes.
One was the bridge on Best Road (now 224th), This was a more family type
spot. It was used more by us kids as a place to lie on the bridge and watch the
spawning salmon which absolutely filled the small river from shore to shore!
After they had spawned, the banks of the river were almost completely
covered with their decomposing bodies and the neighbourhood dogs would
roll ecstatically in the mess to the horror of their owners!
The next spot was up the river a little way to a pool we called "the shelf. I
believe it was at the end of Land Road which would be now 228th, I think.
These roads which ran North from Dewdney Trunk were still gravelled and
we would pack a lunch and head down there carrying our woollen
bathingsuits wrapped in our towels. We would change our clothes in the
woods before we got quite to the river where we would light a bonfire to
keep us warm after our swim. I remember the water was so cold that we
would stand, shivering, as close to the fire as we could which resulted in
what we called "checkerboards" all down the front of our legs. I don't know
what we would have done if there had been a "no fires" bylaw then!!
Incidentally, this spot was called "the shelf because the south bank of the
river was a small cliff about 10 or 12 feet high that the older or braver kids
used to dive from. The opposite bank was just a gravelled slope almost level
with the river but out in the sun. This was where we had our fire built. .And it
was where we spent most of our time while the boys showed off in the river.
Another spot where we used to swim when we got older was down 14th
Avenue (now 232nd ) up river from the Maple Ridge Park in what is still
called Davidson's Pool. This was a deep pool in the river, bordered on both
sides by great expanses of solid rock. These rocks became a favourite spot to
warm up after a dip as they held the warmth of the sun much longer than the
sandy bank just below the pool. One had to be a teenager (or a very good
swimmer) before being allowed to swim there.
When we were still pre-teens we would have to swim in the shallower places
lower down which bordered on Maple Ridge park. But in order to get to
either site we had to walk from our homes in the centre of Haney. I
remember one particularly hot summer day when we were walking home on
the paved roads when our bare feet got covered with melted tar from the

wilma in the middle with Lily to the right

road's surface. The road had melted in the heat!
Lily was a very talented child and grew into an even more talented woman.
She took music lessons and elocution and slowly grew out of my league.
When she was into elocution she was much in demand for the school
concerts and other such activities as went on then in communities such as
ours. I somehow became her " cue-master" for these presentations and I
would sit in the front row and prompt her if she forgot what came next in her
poem or other recitation she was presenting. She very seldom had need of
me but I memorized all the poems and can remember some of them even
now. Poems like "Little Batiste" and one that went "Yer a heartless
deceiver... .now don't speak a word!" I can't remember the name of that one
but she presented it with an authentic Irish accent, and playing both parts (the
girl and the boy) as she went. I was very proud of being a part of the whole
thing!
She grew up to be a talented music teacher and an equally talented actress. I
lost touch with her for a while after we both got married. I lived for a couple
of years in Portage la Prairie, Manitoba while my husband was in the airforce
and she moved into Vancouver to begin her married life. Children and our
very different life styles drifted us apart. It was really only after our mutual
divorces that we got back together and kept in touch by phone (even if it was
only a couple of times a year). But she is still my first and dearest female
friend for over 75 years!

cont'd from "Tales From the Crypt"  by Wilma Robinson

Wilfred was my prime companion during my pre-school years. Since I was
about six months older than he, I went to school a year before he did. After
entering Grade one, which I did when I was still five, I was able to meet
other kids my age who lived in Haney but were hitherto out of my "travelling
range". The next year Wilfred found the same thing so we were not limited
to playing only with each other any more.
It was about that time that Lily entered my life. She was almost the same age
as I was,( a few months older)and had moved with her family from their
house on Haney St. just across Ontario St. (224th) from what is now called
"Haney House" but was then Hawley's house where her friend Mary Hawley
lived.
The house they moved into was very familiar to me because it was built in
1912 for my Grandma and Grandpa Best (my mother's parents). It was a
lovely big house with a large verandah running across the front and down one
side. It had a huge front hallway with a large staircase which curved up to the
next floor and led to an open walkway which ran in a circle around the open
stairwell and gave access to the four bedrooms and to a covered balcony
which faced the lawn in the front of the house. A large bathroom was at the
other end of the walkway. Beside it was a small "servants' staircase" leading
down to the kitchen. There was a full basement downstairs and a large attic
upstairs.
Strangely enough, I seem to remember that house more when Mussallems
lived in it than I do when my Grandparents lived there. But I do remember
sliding down the front staircase when it was covered in linoleum instead of
carpet so I know THAT wasn't when Mussallems were there. They would
have had it in carpet!
I'm not sure whether the chandelier was hanging over the front hall before
they moved in or not, but I do remember Lily and I hanging over the staircase
to grab one of the long crystals of the tiered chandelier and making the whole
thing tinkle.
And I also remember my grandfather's roll-top desk. If you don't remember
what roll-top desks were like, they had a slatted cover that curved from the
high back of the desk and down to the desktop in a sort of S-curve . When
page 10
we played hide-and-seek in the house I remember rolling the top up,
climbing in and pulling the slatted top back down over me. It was a great
hiding place but I'm not sure what would have happened to me if they hadn't
found me. The cover would latch when it reached the desktop.
I remember one evening when my mother was visiting Mrs. Mussallem and I
was tagging along to play upstairs with Lily. We heard them coming up the
staircase and we rushed to the bed ,pulled up the covers over us both and
pretended we were sound asleep. It must have been pretty convincing
because Lily's mother leaned over the bed and cooed " Look at them there
asleep! Dark hair and blonde hair side by side! Sound asleep! God love their
little faces!" So I got to stay overnight with Lily!
We were pretty inseparable when we were in the primary grades but soon we
both met other girls and added new friends to our lives. I think the first one
to enter both our lives was Elsie, the new girl who moved in across the road
from my house. She was a redhead, a little older than we were, and knew a
little more about the world than we did. She seemed to take sides with one or
the other of us and caused some pretty angry feelings between us which she
appeared to enjoy to the fullest! We would call her names like "redheaded
snippet!" and "carrot top", but nothing could faze her. Gradually we sort of
drifted apart, each of us rinding new friends but still retaining our friendship
for each other. Lily and I had a special spot on the road —a scar in the
pavement which crossed the road almost exactly halfway between our
houses. It was where the new waterline crossed to service a small house that
had been built after the road had been paved. At night when we had been
visiting one or the other's house and we were a bit nervous going home in the
dark we would walk with each other to this line and then turn and run
quickly back to our separate homes. This became known as "the parting line"
and we remember it fondly today, some 60 or 70 years later!

cont'd from "Tales From the Crypt"  by Wilma Robinson

Because we had no television, hardly any radio, no gymnasiums, no indoor
swimming pools, no movie theatres, and no ice rinks, we had to make our
own entertainment. No one resorted to drugs, holdups, street gangs, or
graffiti—what did we do? We played outdoor games with the other kids in
the neighbourhood. Games like "hit the can", "wink", "Anti-aye-over",
"Hide-and-Seek", etc. There was also a game called "Peggy". It was played
with two sticks, one about two feet long and the other about four inches.
There was a hole about the size of a large cup in the ground and into it the
small stick was placed - one end touching the bottom of the hole and the
other end resting on a similar small stick (I forgot, there were two of them!)
Then we would whack the protruding end of the first stick, sending it flying
up in front of us and quickly give it another whack to send it flying about ten
or twelve feet ahead of us. The further it went, the better. The other player
would be waiting just out of range to count how far it flew
On one occasion ( I was playing with Wilfred at the time) I was much too
close to the hitter and received the flying peggy-stick right in the mouth! You
can imagine the wailing that went on ! I high-tailed it across the road to
home 5bleeding all the way, into the waiting arms of my mother (she must
have heard the uproar) and heard her say "I can see your teeth through your
lip!" That didn't exactly stop the wailing and I retired to the living room
couch, hiccuping all the way. Later when I was supposedly asleep, I heard my
mother and Mary whispering about what had happened and I opened my eyes
to find Mary leaning over me looking very concerned. Then I heard my
Mother bawling her out for waking me up! I neglected to let either of them
know I was awake already and have suffered again the pangs of guilt for lo,
these many years! Poor Mary! She's probably forgotten it long ago but I still
remember and still feel guilty

cont'd from "Tales From the Crypt"  by Wilma Robinson

When we were old enough, we went to Grade One which was then housed
in a separate building on the grounds of Haney Central School. I believe it
was at one time the main school although it had only three rooms. When
we started school there it held grades one to three. This was in the late
twenties. The main school had grades four to eight, after that one went to
MacLean High School, up the block, which normally had grades nine to
twelve with the addition of Junior Matriculation. By the time we were
ready to go to high school the schools were so crowded that we were sent
to Maple Ridge School on Laity and River Rd. This was for Grade Nine
and Ten, I believe.
When my older sisters went to school(in the early 30's, I guess) they had classes like
manual training, physical education, home ec. and things like that but by the time I and
my classmates reached grade nine or ten all those interesting classes had been phased out
because there was no room for them anymore. The manual training room became our
grade nine classroom. It was a small building close to Haney central, off by itself just
north west of the main school
I remember one time especially,., .one of our classmates was a small energetic boy called
Sammy MacNess, He used to caddy for some of the golfers at Maple Ridge golf course, I
think, Anyway this particular day (it was a nice sunny one) he was fidgeting around and
we could tell he was just dying to get outside and on to the golf course. The teacher was
writing on the blackboard when to our delight Sammy couldn't stand it any longer and he
was up out of his seat and through the open window like a flash! He must have run like
the wind because as soon as the teacher turned around to see what all the laughter was
about, he was out of sight. So with a big sigh she just let him go and went back to the
blackboard.
Our Grade Ten was spent in Maple Ridge School at the corner of Laity and River Road,
This section of the Municipality was, for some reason called The Ridge. Well, to us,
anyway. This school at that time consisted of a small building feeing River Road which
housed the primary grades, I believe, and a much larger two storie building which held
our Grade Ten rooms and had the washrooms and the furnace rooms below. Over the
front entrance was the motto " Quanti est sapere" which we translated as meaning "How
great it is to know". The teacher on the other hand had it saying "How great is wisdom".
It comes to the same thing in the end, I suppose.
Anyway, this one particular day some of the boys had rigged up a little "joke for the
girls". They had a wire connected to a battery of some kind and another to one of the taps
in their washroom, A third wire they held in their hand and when a girl came by to go to
her washroom next door they would say in a comradery way "Hold this for a minute will
you?" The girl, pleased to be noticed at all by the boys, would take hold of the wire, the
other boy would touch it to the battery and the girl would leap six feet in the air with a
shriek heard in the next county and the boys would explode into great guffaws! When
they tried it on me I was just as gullible but I was wearing rubbers over my shoes and it
didn't work. They were quite disappointed but I had the last laugh.

 

cont'd from "Tales From the Crypt"  by Wilma Robinson  

  There was no Lougheed Highway built yet in those days and in its future
place was a small driveway separating our property from the King's
property next door. The king's were a family of five, two parents and three
children. The children consisted of Maurice (MoeXMarjorie, and Wilfred.
Wilfred was the youngest, six months younger than I, and my best and only
friend when I was a pre-schooler. I knew him, as everyone else did, as
"Baby King" which I thought was his real name. It seemed reasonable to
me! But one day I was sternly told by his father that I must, in future,
address him as "Wilfred" which was his given name. I thought this to be
very awkward, "Baby" was much easier. But I was a little frightened by
Mr. King and did as I was told.
The Kings were originally from England and as a result they received in the
mail from friends or family, newspapers and magazines from Britain. We
were particularly fond of the British comic strips, one of them being a strip
called, I believe, "Pipsqueak and Wilfred". At any rate, guess who became
"Pipsqueak and Wilfred" at the hands of our older brothers and sisters!
Radio was just coming into vogue then and, not having a radio at either of
our homes at that time, Wilfred and I would high-tail it over to Mrs.
Armstrong's place which was just across the road, and she would hurry us
in to the living room in time to hear "Cecil and Sally" on her radio.
Another programme we enjoyed was "Amos and Andy". We even fixed up
Wilfred's wagon with wooden laths for sides and called it our "fresh air
taxicab" (like the one they talked about on the air).
We both had little metal cars, copies of a Ford Model "A", I think. Anyway
they were very heavy little things and given to us by Mussallems Garage,
who at that time sold Ford cars. We were down on our knees on King's
wooden sidewalk, pushing these little cars around, making appropriate
"arroooga!" noises when Wilfred's car flipped over and he lost his balance
and landed hard with his shoulder on the wooden walk. For a small boy, he
was capable of earth-shattering wails which now burst upon my eardrums
and attracted the attention of his father nearby. His first thought, naturally,
was that I had done it and he roared over shouting "You get home, you
little brat!" Now I'm wailing and heading for home with the report that
"Mr. King called me a little brat!!" I traded on the insult for awhile but
then discovered that Wilf had actually broken his collarbone and sympathy
overcame justice and the world returned to normal.
When we were about six or seven preparations were being made for the
new "highway* that was to be built through Haney .It's route would take it
right between our two properties, King's on the North and ours on the
South. At that time I was a devout tree-climber and there was a favourite
pussy willow tree growing near our driveway which now was part of the
right-of-way for the new highway. Wilfred and I were horrified to find out
that this tree was slated for removal by the highway workers! I think
perhaps we may have become the first "tree huggers" because we firmly
ensconced ourselves high in the branches of the willow and refused to let
them cut it down. The amused workers left us up in the tree and went about
their business elsewhere. We stayed in the tree for what seemed like hours
until my mother came out and said dinner was ready. I protested that we
had to keep the men from cutting down our tree but she said to let Wilfred
stay there till I returned and then he could go. I reluctantly obeyed but as I
ate I kept an eye on him from the dining room window. Suddenly I saw him
working his way down the tree in answer to his mother's anxious call for
dinner!
Horrified, I tried to leave the table but my mother informed me that I must
finish my meal before I was allowed to go. Angry tears flavoured the rest of
my meal and by the time I had finished, the road crew had done the
dastardly deed and our willow was sacrificed for the good of modern
transportation!
That wasn't the only time I wept for a tree. My father and my brother Jim
were about to cut down one of the big firs that grew in the woods to the
east of our house. The woods belonged to my grandparents and we
youngsters played there, fighting imaginary Indians with the deadly
bracken spears, using the big old stumps for our forts. I could see the trees
from my bedroom window and I felt I knew every one of them personally.
I overheard my father talking about what they were about to do and I burst
into tears and angrily protested the whole idea. But my father was firm
about it and I had to stay at home as they headed out with their saws and
axes. The wood was needed for firewood and, of course that took
precedence over anything else. I sat on the bottom step of the front stairs
and sulked. I might have sat there like that for the rest of the day but when
my father came back from the woods he came around to the front steps and
looking sternly at me, he said, "Shame on you, Wilma, don't you know that
Menzies' don't sulk!" Well, I had never heard that before but it gave me a
legitimate way out, and besides, I was tired of doing nothing but sulk so I
agreed to drop the matter.
Wilfred and I had a favourite stump down in these woods. It was old and
covered with bright green moss and was taller than we were. It was shaped
like a throne with the back of it about three feet higher than the front which
was shaped into a seat. We called it the Queen's Chair and many a royal
decree was issued from it's mossy enclave! One day we trotted down to
indulge ourselves with these high-blown fantasies only to find it shattered
into mossy pieces of rotting wood! Someone had entered our private
kingdom and laid waste the royal throne! We searched our brains for
someone capable of this dastardly deed The only one we felt may have
done it was Georgie Davis and his "gang of thugs". The next day at school
we accosted him but of course, he denied all knowledge of the incident.
We didn't believe him at all and after a few chosen words about him and
his "gang" we left in high dudgeon! Our royal reign was over.

cont'd from "Tales From the Crypt"  by Wilma Robinson

Another early memory was when I must have been possibly two years old. I
had not yet learned to dress myself and was standing on top of a built-in
bench next to the stove so that my mother could dress me. She was about to
put my "vest" on me (that was a small undershirt, opened down the back
and closed with a vertical row of eight or ten small pearl buttons down the
middle.)when suddenly the phone rang. The phone was near the front door,
at the other end of a long hallway. It was one of those early phones with the
long black speaker and the ear-piece which hung up on the side of the
phone-box. I don't believe we had had the phone very long so it was
something of an occasion to be able to talk to ones neighbours so easily.
Anyway, my mother left me to my own devices and hurried off to answer
the phone. I could hear her talking away off down the hall and, becoming
bored, I decided to try to put my vest on by myself. Not knowing it went on
"back to front", I laboriously put it on with the opening down the front
instead of the other way around. I had recently learned how to "do buttons"
and was proudly up to the middle button when my mother returned. To my
chagrin, she burst into laughter when she saw me and, still giggling, she
quickly undid all my hard-earned buttoning, whipped off my vest and put
it on the proper way. So much for independence!
I had a great deal of respect for my mother's authority while I was growing
up. I remember her threatening us children with "the kindling-stick" but I
don't really remember actually getting hit with one. The kindling-stick was
used for quieting us down so that we would go to sleep at night. All four of
us girls slept in the same room, two to a bed. All the bedrooms were
upstairs and my mother would whack the stick against the stairs leading up
and shout "Girls! Stop that giggling and go to sleep or I'll come up there
with the kindling stick!" For some reason that seemed to do the trick and
the giggling stopped, or at least was muffled until the next time.
She had another little trick to keep us under control without resorting to
violence. When one of us was acting up she would put on a very angry face
and tell the offending son (or daughter) to "Get along outside and get me a
willow switch so I can teach you to behave properly!". The miscreant
would exit, sobbing all the way, to the backyard where she(or he) would
search the bushes for a switch of suitable size for acceptable punishment.
Then back inside, still sobbing, to hand her the switch, resigned to getting
whacked with it, only to have her say "That one's far too thick, you'll have
to go back out and get me a thinner one," This would go on until she
decided the punishment had fit the crime and after a lecture on where sin
would lead one to, she would drop the matter. I remember only one
deviation to this scenario and that was when my brother, Jim, the eldest of
us five, was in trouble for teasing one of us girls. He completed the first
part of the "willow switch" but when he was told to go back out for a
replacement switch he, instead, scrambled beneath the kitchen table and
laughed at her. After some wild swinging at him below the table and
missing every time, they both dissolved into laughter and he never did get
his "comeuppance". Even at my tender age, I realized that if one of us girls
ever did that the outcome would have been considerably different Boys
can get away with murder!
But I really loved my big brother! I thought he was "the cat's pyjamas".
There was nine years between us and when I was five year's old, fourteen
seemed like a real grown-up! He would play with me in a much more
exciting way than my sisters did. He could lift me up on his shoulders and
he could swing me around by my arms 'til I was dizzy. He did something
he called a Dutch-flip. I would bend over, put my hands back through my
legs towards him, he would grab my hands and with one quick flip pull me
back upright again, I wasn't very old when he did this but I can remember
running after him and crying for him to"Gimme a Du'fip! Gimme a
Du'fip!" In later years I tried the "flip" on my small sons and even on one
of my grandsons I'm not sure whether it went over quite as big for them,
though.

TALES FROM THE CRYPT
                          By Wilma Robinson (Jan 1923 to Dec 2012)


Tuesday, March 28,2000

I have decided (with some reservation) to do as some people have
suggested and put down on paper, or in this case on the computer,
everything I can remember about the state of my surroundings and the
things that have happened in and around my life. So here goes....
The very first things I am going to remember are going to be personal and
will be of little or no interest to anyone else but nevertheless it is necessary
to get me oriented.
Some of the things I 'remember' may be things I have been told about but
have subsequently entered my consciousness as my own memories. Bear
with me.
My earliest recollection of my childhood begins in my parent's bedroom
(where I was born on a cold January day in 1923) and concerns my oldest
sister, Mary.
She was standing at the foot of my crib which was placed between my
parent's bed and the window. She had been shaking the crib repeatedly
trying to get me to go to sleep...! was apparently not sleepy but was lying
with my eyes closed, pretending to be finally asleep. She slowly backed
herself towards the door, being as quiet as possible so as not to wake me, in
the hopes of escaping back to her own world downstairs. I lay there
watching her through my eyelashes until her hand reached for the doorknob
and just as she began to turn it I began to wail! Her face dropped and she
resignedly returned to my crib and began shaking it all over again. I don't
know how old I was but I am sure that must have been the first time I felt
the pangs of guilt. Even to-day I still feel that way whenever it pops into
my memory. As I said, that bedroom was my birthplace, and my mother
told me the following story
: The doctor who attended my birthing was Dr. Garnet Morse and my
mother used to laughingly say that he was drunk at the time and no doubt
he was as he had that reputation in the town. After I was born I was carried
downstairs wrapped in a blanket and placed on the open oven door to be
kept warm while they "assessed" me. One of the things they gave particular
notice to was the length of my toes which were likened to the toes of a
monkey! Unfortunately that description remains true to-day. The stove, at
that time was a wood burning stove with two closed warming ovens
above the heating surface of the stove and a long narrow one below the
oven,,This longer one was used to dry out any kindling sticks we had for
starting the next day's fire. I remember one day much later when one of our
small kittens crawled in there to keep warm on the few sticks that were
there to dry out. Someone inadvertently closed the small door and it wasn't
discovered until someone traced the muffled wailing to the little warming
oven and released the now very warm kitten! Thankfully, the kitten
survived and we children learned to check the little oven before closing the
door.