Civil War Centennial

‘Memory Lane’ Contest, Day 5

leeduigon(patty)June 28, 2024

Please don’t tell me we’ve already run out of entries in this contest. Let’s get some action! Here, I’ll write up one more memory and hopefully inspire others.

Child playing with toy boat in puddle. Kid play outdoor by ...

After a heavy rain, the horseshoe pits in the playground next door, thanks to soil that was mostly clay, turned into pools of water that only drained very slowly.

That was our signal to break out the toy boats and stage epic naval battles. When we got a jigsaw we were able to promote a Monitor vs. Merrimack rematch. With the help of the saw, we made our own replicas. It was 1961, the Civil War Centennial. What a splash that made!

So let’s have some of your memories, folks. So far only a few of you have taken part. Come on, this is for everybody! And there’ll be a prize, so don’t be shy–you might win.

Memory Lane (More Old Fogey Stuff): Rubber Band-Powered Boats

leeduigon(patty)October 15, 2017

1961, the Civil War Centennial: and I wanted to go out to some of those lovely huge mud puddles on the playground and re-fight the Monitor vs. the Merrimac.

First I had to make the ships; and the operating principal was the same as displayed in this video, only instead of styrofoam I used left-over wood paneling, and instead of a sharp knife, a jigsaw. Add the rubber band-powered paddles, tack on a rotating turret for the Monitor, and you’re in business. In fact, these little ships were so successful, that I made a whole fleet of them.

I had to provide sound effects with cap guns, and line the shores of the puddle with little plastic soldiers, blue and grey, and the result was hours of fun. My father bought the jigsaw in the first place so we could make our own jigsaw puzzles, but the rubber band boats were even better.

And all it cost was the few hours it took to make the ships.

Memory Lane: The Workbench

leeduigon(patty)February 12, 2017

Image result for images of tool room

When I was a boy, I never met a man who didn’t have a workbench either in his basement or his garage.

I can see it now, my father’s work area. The big bench strewn with tools, and more tools stored in old dressers on the flanks. Jars full of screws and nuts and nails of all different sizes. Uncle Bernie’s work area was nice and neat, like the one in the picture above, but my father’s was more mystical: more intriguing.

In those days, men were expected to know how to fix things, and even how to build some of the things they needed, rather than buy them. Was this because they were all biggits? But what a world of wonder for us kids! I wouldn’t have dared switch on the power saw. But the vise! Hammers! Screwdrivers! And all those cool doo-dads he used to bring home from the Ford plant. I wound up making a lot of my own toys–a whole Civil War flotilla, back in 1961, ideal for naval engagements on various mud puddles in the neighborhood.

I don’t know if every household still has such a magical alcove as a workbench area, these days. I was never very good with tools, but they were so much a part of everyday life, you just couldn’t help learning how to use them. All you had to do was watch your father, and you’d pick it up.

Need I add that my sister had free access to all this fun, just like her brothers?

All I can say now is, I should’ve spent even more time watching my father and my uncles, my grandparents, my mother and my aunts. I would have learned a lot more!