My Dear sister Frances and her hubby Ralph Hengst have been gone for a few years. But she wrote some stories true ones about her life and her Grandson Rick Callahan who is a writer for the Associated Press in Indy shares them from time to time...So I guess Rick gets his desire to write honestly from his grandmother. So this arrived today from my niece Roxanne Winnings so thought I would today turn my blog site over to a guest writer, my sister Frances Lahrman to share with you all...Stories are over 80 years old, closer to 90, but still alive here today. Note at right tells of the basketball talent of Ralph Hengst..I had no idea but am not surprised he was a winner. And the team may have lost a "valuable man" when he graduated but I think we all know a young female who gained one.......
By Frances Lahrman "Just Pretending" Just a glimpse of how my two older sisters and I used to spend our time, and what times they were. When we three get together we sit and talk and laugh about the way we used to pretend like we were Edra, Kreda Ay Mericaus, and Medra. Where we got the names I don’t know. We would dress up fancy in some of mother’s old style dresses and gee, but we did strut. One time I went home to visit with grandmother and grandfather. Where grandfather worked there was a handsome boy, Jim Fowler, who thought he was just it. And when I saw him I did too, although I was only about seven years old. When I came home I told my sisters of my new beau, Jim Fowler. After that, when we played house we were always expecting Jim Fowler to call on us. Then came the dispute _ which one was to have him? It usually settled that he should never go steady. What fun we had just pretending we were someone else. ====="My Patent" Between the ages of six to nine, one is prone to mischief. For one likes to explore, or find out what isn’t clear to him. So that’s the reason this story can be told. There was a large pond on the Parker farm, where we used to live, that always took my eye. Being little, mother never allowed me to go to the pond alone. Each evening during the winter months, mother would drive the ducks up from the pond. I would often go with her. One afternoon as I was playing in the back yard, I spied the old red hen and her seven baby chickens. I was just thinking how tiresome those poor little chickens must be following their mother around from morning till night, while those little ducks are out swimming all day long. I went into the house to get a box, and sneaked out quietly, for I never dared let mother catch me at this. Packing all seven chickens in it, I was determined to find out why chickens can’t swim while ducks can. When I reached the pond each little duck was swimming with the greatest of ease. Well, that is very simple I thought. So I took one of the chickens and put it into the water, but for all the kicking and flopping that went on, it then disappeared. I thought if you want to play hide-go-seek, just go ahead. I took another chicken and it went through the same gestures, and another, and another, until there were only two left. I looked all around the pond, but not a chicken was in sight, when all of a sudden two came to the top, and do you know they were floating on their side. I was certainly surprised to find out that they had taught themselves to sink or float. Later all five of them were floating. As I was just ready to put the last two in the water, so they could float, one chicken washed to the bank. I picked it up, but my goodness it was dead. I then realized what I had done. I found out that ducks can swim but chickens can’t. Most people try experiments, and if they are successful they receive patents, but as you know my experiment didn’t work, therefore; I received something similar to a patent but in a different form. I got to share a footnote here about the first story that mentions "Jim Fowler" My grandfather worked for the Fowlers on South Street which is now the Tippecanoe County Muesum and called the Fowler House. He was a custodian of some sort taking care of the horses and buggies' and the wine cellar I have heard, maybe linking to my desire to taste and partake in fine wines. Well, I doubt Frances ever dated the boy from the wealthy Fowler family, but she did date and marry the boy who lived up the road at the corner of 200 South and 900 East. Ralph was a gem and she could have done no better....Picture at the right takes some explaining. I know it is goofy but it was taken for a purpose. The story is my brothers were in the service in the 1940's and my mom and sisters took this and sent it to him for a laugh. He was embarrased, and did not share it with his buddies but kept it quiet...good move Another note the "parker place" she refers to is still standing, an abandoned farm house and barn along I65 just south of the new Clarian/Arnett Hospital.
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