Over My Shoulder

Chapter 4—Childhood Days in Battle Creek

The Australian mail came each month, bringing the promised letters from Papa. In them he described Australia’s lovely parks and gardens, adorned with tropical and semitropical trees and shrubbery and gorgeous with bright-colored flowers and elegantly plumaged birds. The houses and towns were not very different from those in American cities. He had not seen as many aborigines as he had expected. These people, who had come to Australia long before the Europeans, now made up a much smaller portion of the population than did the native Indians of the United States. OMS 31.1

Papa told us about individuals and families of Sabbathkeepers who had never seen a Seventh-day Adventist minister or Bible instructor but who had learned of present truth from papers sent them from the United States. Often he found the people lonely and discouraged. They were glad to learn that soon ministers and teachers would arrive to instruct them further in Bible truth. Father encouraged them to look forward to the time when they would have their own church building in which to hold services. Eventually, he hoped, there would be a sanitarium and a college, where their sick could be cared for and their young people educated as gospel workers. OMS 31.2

Evangelists and Bible teachers were needed to bring the good news of Jesus’ soon coming to the people of Australia and New Zealand, and to teach the people living on the thousands of islands scattered over the vast Pacific Ocean about the true and living God who loves them. There were workers’ homes to be built and churches to be erected. Tents in which to hold evangelistic meetings were needed. Many books and papers had to be published. So many things needed doing, but “we have so little money with which to accomplish all this,” he wrote. OMS 31.3

One day we received a letter from Grandma telling us that Papa was traveling third class on the steamers in order to save money to help students attend the Bible school. When we read that letter, Mary and Mabel and I held a serious conference. We knew that Father received a very small wage, as did all Adventist ministers in those early days when there was little money in the conference treasury. We decided that we would spend as little as possible and that we would make every penny count so he would not need to send us so much. In this way he would have more with which to help the work in Australia. OMS 31.4

The next question was what we children could do to help. Charlie Colcord, who lived across the street from us, carried the supply of milk for his family in a tin pail from a farmhouse about a mile away. We were buying our milk from a man who delivered it by pony cart from door to door. When we heard his whistle I would hurry out with a pan and he would dip our two quarts out of a ten-gallon can. He charged five cents a quart for the milk. The farmer folk sold it at their door for four cents. I decided to carry our milk as Charlie did and thus save about fifty cents a month. OMS 33.1

“What can I do?” Mabel asked. OMS 33.2

“You can wash the breakfast dishes,” said Mary, “so Ella will have time to go for the milk before school.” Mabel didn’t like washing dishes, but the thought of helping Papa made the task more pleasant. OMS 33.3

As the days went by we found many ways in which to save nickels and dimes. We decided that when we went to Lake Goguac for a swim we would walk one way, thus saving three five-cent streetcar fares. Mary said that walking would make us strong, and besides, she thought the water felt extra good after the three-mile walk on a warm summer day. We always rode home. OMS 33.4

Sometimes we could spare extra strawberries or vegetables from our garden. Asparagus was the most popular, and a patch growing alongside the fence furnished many a bunch. I sold asparagus for five cents a bunch, taking orders on my way home after school and making deliveries on my way to school in the morning. We kept a record of our sales and faithfully paid our tithe at the end of each month. No money was spent for toys or candy. We had a wagon, but aside from that we made our own toys. OMS 33.5

In the summertime an ice-cream wagon visited our street every day. Once a year, on the Fourth of July, we indulged, sitting out in the shade of the apple tree and making our yearly treat last as long as possible. On Christmas morning we were permitted to invite our playmates to share a candy-pull in our kitchen. OMS 33.6

Next door to us lived a dear old lady known as Grandma Hunt. She had a pony and buggy, and sometimes when she went on errands she would take Mabel and me for a ride. One day she took us to the lake for a picnic lunch and swim. About three o’clock in the afternoon she called to us, “Come, girls; it’s time to get out of the water and get ready to go home.” OMS 34.1

But we thought otherwise. No more was said, and we accepted silence as consent. It was about five o’clock when we started our homeward jaunt. On the way Grandma Hunt startled us with the calm but emphatic statement, “Ella and Mabel, this is the last time I shall take you swimming, because you did not obey me when I told you it was time to get out of the water.” OMS 34.2

She kept her word. Sometimes she would take us other places, but never again to the lake. Many a day as we watched her drive out of her yard we would ask each other, “Do you suppose she is going to Lake Goguac?” We were always left to wonder. Punishments in those days, as I remember, were prompt, appropriate, and effective, and always of a nature to cause us to regret our misdeeds. OMS 34.3

The summer after Father and Grandmother went to Australia. Aunt Mary took us girls with her on a visit to her home in Minnesota. We spent most of the summer playing and working with her younger brothers and sisters on the family’s 160-acre farm. We raked hay and shocked wheat, picked berries, and chased grasshoppers. What I enjoyed most was jumping from the barn loft onto a pile of hay. We came home sun-tanned and happy and ready to settle down to another year of school. OMS 34.4

That winter I attended the eight-grade church school conducted in the college building. Mabel was enrolled in the Sanitarium kindergarten and Mary attended classes in nursing. OMS 34.5

After school hours and during summer vacation days our street, being free from traffic, became a favorite playground for the neighborhood boys and girls, and sometimes we were permitted to join the sport. One day early in July I saw Charlie Colcord and some other boys playing with firecrackers on the sidewalk in front of our house. Each boy would place a giant firecracker inside a tin can, light it, then scurry a safe distance away and watch to see how far the can would be tossed. I begged Charlie to give me just one firecracker, so I might join the game, but I was promptly told that “this game is too dangerous for little girls,” which did not please me at all. OMS 34.6

I must have told somebody that I wanted some giant firecrackers, because my music teacher, who lived in the room upstairs, gave me five cents to invest in them. With that much money I could buy six giant crackers and join the fun. I laid the nickel careful away in the top drawer of my dresser. OMS 35.1

About this time the Southern Missionary Society was in need of funds with which to carry on gospel evangelism in the Southern States. They had sent little collection boxes to the Adventist churches in and around Battle Creek. In the lid of each box was a slot for dropping in nickels, dimes, and quarters. On one side of the box were printed the words “Self-denial Box,” and on the other side “Freely ye have received, freely give.” OMS 35.2

We set our box on a ledge by the kitchen door, where we had to pass it every time we went in or out of the house. As I passed by, it seemed to say, “Ella, you have a nickel upstairs. Are you going to spend it selfishly or are you going to give it to the Lord to help teach some soul the way of salvation?” OMS 35.3

Every time I passed that little box it seemed to repeat the question—“What are you going to do with that nickel?” A battle was on. It was one of the fiercest battles with self that I ever fought, and it raged nearly three days. “What about that nickel, Ella?” OMS 35.4

“I’ll give it to Jesus. Oh, but I do want to play the firecracker game!” OMS 35.5

At last I could endure it no longer. I ran upstairs, picked up the nickel, and dropped it into the box. I was so happy then that I wondered how I ever could have thought of exploding money in firecrackers just to have a little fun when the work of Jesus needed it so much. I never regretted my decision. OMS 35.6

A little later that morning Aunt Mary sent me to the grocery store around the corner to order a fifty-pound sack of flour. The delivery boy was busy on his rounds, but Mary needed the flour at once to finish the baking, so I hauled it home in our wagon. As I was about to leave, the grocery lady said, “Wait a minute, Ella.” OMS 35.7

She disappeared into the store and a minute later came out with a Roman candle in her hand, saying as she gave it to me, “This is your reward for acting as my delivery boy.” OMS 36.1

The news of the Roman candle quickly spread throughout the neighborhood. That evening at sunset, a group of children gathered in our yard to see it fired off. Charlie was there, of course. OMS 36.2

“Oh, Ella, let me hold it. I can send it much higher than you can.” OMS 36.3

Giving him a disdainful look I announced, “This game is too dangerous for little boys.” Then sister and I each had a few seconds of delight holding the candle, while all the other children stood around watching the bright multicolored balls and stars and spark clusters light the sky with glory. OMS 36.4

In the basement of the college building was a large gymnasium where we students practiced marches and gymnastics under the direction of Dr. William George, who somehow found time between his duties at the Sanitarium to come to the college and direct the students in calisthenics and exercises with dumbbells, clubs, and wands. He drilled us also in correct positions for sitting, standing and walking. OMS 36.5

The great school treats of the year were the magic-lantern shows. Once a month we were permitted to climb the long flights of stairs—“in perfect order and decorum”—to a large room under the belfry, where we were shown marvelous things by means of a spluttering, popping lantern. The more it spluttered and popped, the more fun it was for us! OMS 36.6

Sometimes the lantern went completely out, to the delight of certain boys, who enjoyed throwing spitballs and playing tricks more than viewing the wonders of travel or the mysteries of science. Rumor has it that in later years some of those naughty boys became very successful teachers and disciplinarians. OMS 36.7

The nearest approach to the teaching of industries in the Battle Creek church school at that time was the introduction of sloyd, a sort of artistic carpentry by which we were taught to make fancy objects such as handkerchief boxes, bookends, picture frames, place mats, penholders, and all sorts of pretty things for Christmas gifts. In order to encourage the community in a late-dinner, no-supper regimen, our midday recess was scheduled at one o’clock instead of at the usual noon hour. The two-meal-a-day program ceased to be considered a life-and-death matter after our reformers led the members away from the custom of loading dinner tables with a large variety of incompatible and indigestible foods such as rich cakes, pastries, and desserts. Jams and preserves, which often stood on the back of the kitchen stove for hours “cooking down,” were declared by well-informed physicians to require six or seven hours for digestion. Our health instructors often repeated to us the injunction that the tired, overworked stomach was as much in need of rest as its owner. OMS 36.8

We had been instructed not to discard flesh foods entirely until suitable substitutes could be found. In harmony with that instruction, we occasionally stewed a savory joint in the soup pot and once in a while indulged in potato-and-meat hash for breakfast. But one day Mary brought home from her cooking class a report from a young man who worked in a butcher shop. The report was of such a nature that it led her to decide never again to serve flesh food on our table. OMS 37.1

Four-year-old Mabel was particularly fond of hash. She pleaded, “Aunt Mary, why can’t we have any more hash?” OMS 37.2

Seeking for an answer that would appeal to the child’s tender heart, Mary replied, “Suppose you had a pet lamb, Mabel, and some men killed it and cooked it, just so they could have hash to eat. Would you like that?” OMS 37.3

For a moment Mabel looked puzzled. Then she came up with a brilliant suggestion. OMS 37.4

“You know those cats that fight and squeal under the bay window? Nobody’d care if we made hash out of them.” OMS 37.5

Aunt Mary smiled. We decided to continue relying on milk, eggs, and well-cooked legumes for our necessary proteins, even though we had to spend weary hours “picking over” dry beans and peas to free them from tiny gravel stones and litter before they could be transformed into nourishing and appetizing dishes. OMS 37.6

During the winter months there were few, if any, fresh fruits or salad vegetables on the market. Frozen foods were a commodity of the future, and canned vegetables were only beginning to make their appearance in stores. From November till June, potatoes and onions, cabbage and beans, rice and cereals, were our staple articles of food. Bananas were an expensive luxury. And oranges? Well, we could be quite sure of finding one in our Christmas stocking. OMS 37.7

Still, there were always pumpkins and apples and home-canned fruits in the cellar. These, with Mary’s delicious home-baked, whole-wheat bread and fresh dairy milk (which was always boiled before being used), enabled our family to survive and keep well, although the meals were at times somewhat monotonous. OMS 38.1

Then, joy of joys, peanut butter made its appearance! Here is how it happened: One of the kitchen helpers at the Sanitarium overbaked a batch of peanuts and was told that he must pay for them. OMS 38.2

“All right,” he said, “if I pay for the peanuts they belong to me.” OMS 38.3

Taking them home, he shelled, winnowed, and ground them up, and added a little salt. The next morning he took some of the sticky but flavorful paste to Dr. Kellogg, who willingly sampled it. OMS 38.4

“That tastes good,” remarked the doctor. “What will you take for the rights on this new food product?” OMS 38.5

“Twenty-five dollars!” cheerfully replied the young man, naming what seemed to him an astronomical sum. OMS 38.6

“Sold!” exclaimed Dr. Kellogg. Thus a new protein food was soon on the market. The Health Food Company failed to patent this product, and soon peanut growers, as well as manufacturers of hand-operated peanut butter mills, were doing a thriving business. Nut butter of various sorts supplied the foundation ingredient for many meat substitutes and the “protein problem” for vegetarians evaporated or was reduced to a minimum. OMS 38.7

After a time Mary found a way to supplement the family income. As she became acquainted with patients at the Sanitarium, she arranged to give day care to their small children. In order to do this, she dropped her studies for a time, and our house took on the aspect of a small nursery. But, desiring to resume her nursing and homemaking classes, she closed the day-care center after a few months and took in several older youth who were in need of mothering while attending school. The young people, of course, added activity and interest to our home. OMS 38.8

Dr. Kellogg had built a commodious house in the oak grove near our Kendall Street home and transferred his large family of orphan children to it, along with the kindergarten and classes for mothers. This was a convenient arrangement for Mary. At school time in the morning our house was closed, and all of us children trudged off with lunch pails. Mary took Mabel with her and left her at the kindergarten where she mingled with the other children. OMS 38.9

Our good neighbor, Grandma Hunt, moved away and a new family, the Landises, occupied the house next door. The children were Esther, Wilma, Charlie, Mayte, and Lloyd; and soon after they moved in, Freddie was born. What rousing games we had together! With the coming of the Landis tribe, life took on a new luster for Mabel and me. We applied ourselves most diligently to the fun at hand. OMS 39.1

Eagerly we looked forward to the first heavy snow, when we could build snowmen, snow houses, and snow forts, and engage in snow battles. For the snow houses we would roll four huge balls and place them close together, fill in the chinks with more snow, packing the walls firmly, then hollow out a room inside. After that we would build our “snow family” and stand them around the house. OMS 39.2

When winter was passed, May Day brought its fun and frolic. As soon as school was out on the afternoon of April 30, we would be searching field and meadow for the first wildflowers or robbing our window gardens and slowly awakening pansy beds. Then, each carrying a bright-colored paper basket, we would sally forth under the cover of dusk, hang our basket on a doorknob, knock, and run. Catching the donor was part of the game, but failing this, you were at least supposed to guess who had hung the basket on your door. OMS 39.3

Golden days that now seem so long ago! OMS 39.4