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Memories get the day going

These are early memories for two reasons. First they are memories of my early childhood; second I decided to write this at about 6 o’clock in the morning.

I recall learning to begin to spell. I think it was in first grade. We were just learning to spell short words like the, she, boy. etc. I remember on the way home, I thought I had figured out how to spell a much longer word all by myself. When I got home I excitedly told my mother. I said that if you took the word “Let” and added the word “Us” you have spelled “letus” the vegetable. She explained to me that wasn’t how it worked, and as I recall she was very charitable in her explanation, so much for experimental spelling.

I’d not be surprised if I was the only person in Gowanda who actually remembers James Cruden. The Gowanda VFW bears his name, as he was the first Gowanda resident killed in World War ll. As I recall he was shot in North Africa early in the war. Although he was probably four or five years older than me, he was a friend of mine. He lived in Gowanda on the north end of Buffalo Street.

When I was in, I think, fourth grade I was walking to school at noontime and had a small bag of candy. A schoolmate of mine, who wasn’t a friend, thought he could help himself to my candy whether I cared or not. We had a bit of a scuffle, which ended when he got a nosebleed. I guess I got lucky because I was more of a runner than a fighter. A bit later, as I continued to school, my adversary’s older brother caught up with me. He was seeking revenge on me for his kid brother’s nosebleed. Jimmy Cruden was there and explained to this brother why his planned revenge wasn’t a good idea. Now some 80 or so years later I say, “Thanks Jimmy.”

When I had my 8th birthday we lived in Collins Center. I remember I asked for and got a small boys ax for my birthday. I immediately went to a small woods by a creek behind our house and with all the imagined skill of Paul Bunyon, the legendary lumberman of the north woods, I chopped down a small sapling. I guess it must have given me a sense of manly accomplishment. Somehow it just made me feel good to wield that ax.

In the surrounding fields there was a small pond where us kids often went swimming. I had not yet learned to swim, and one day I jumped in carelessly to find myself in water over my head. I was floundering around in the water when Jimmy Mason, an older boy, saw me in trouble. He jumped in and hauled me to safety. I’m sure many of you remember Jim Mason. As an adult he and his wife ran the Collins Center Hotel for quite a while. It seems that I was blessed more than once to be around an older guy named Jimmy.

My younger years were the days of the Great Depression of 1929. A person had to go where he could find work. I went to kindergarten in Minneapolis, first grade (Miss Clapp) in Gowanda, second grade in a one room schoolhouse on Zoar Road, where one teacher, Gladys Rogers, taught six grades to the local country bumpkins. At the end of that year she became the wife of Richard Degenfelder. Third grade in the Collins Center School, then back to Gowanda from fourth grade on. Fourth grade teacher Miss Fredrick, fifth Mrs. Hartman, sixth grade I think it was “Mrs.” McDonald.

I recall so many teachers throughout junior high and high school. With the exception of possibly only one, all of them were excellent in my book. There was no federal Secretary of Education in those days. May God bless America.

Richard Westlund is a Collins resident. Send comments to editorial@observertoday.com

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