The two most beautiful flappers I knew
were my sisters, Edie and Mary. They were both somewhat embarrassed about the length of their dresses because they only came
to their knees. Both would blush coquettishly and tilt their heads slightly forward and to the left if they knew somebody
was looking at them---especially if it was a young man.
You’d have to see one of those dresses
in order to fully appreciate them. Most of the dresses were sleeveless, and virtually without exception, they had two inches
of beaded fringe hanging from the hem. Usually, there was a fringe of these beads around the bodice, too.
You should have seen my sisters when they
danced the “Charleston.” The beads would jiggle and bounce up and down or sway back and forth,
depending on their movements. In fact, they seemed to be gently moving all the time, even when the girls were standing still.
The dresses were brightly colored, and the girls didn’t have much need of makeup when they wore them. Their flushed
faces and happy giggling were all they needed. And necklaces! Great long strands of beads reaching to the waist or longer.
The girls spent a lot of time twirling them.
My sisters sure did enjoy their teen years.
It seemed like every Sunday, a couple of young fellows would “just happen to stop by.” Most of the time, they
just visited with them or wound up playing ball with my older brothers. Usually, they didn’t work up enough courage
to ask the girls to even go for a ride.
It didn’t take long before I would
know one of their beaux was my favorite, and hope for their return. One that came by to see my sister Edie was as rich as
a Rockefeller, or at least I thought he was. I also decided he wasn’t very smart. He wrote her a letter asking if he
could take her to a show on Sunday night. She showed at least part of the letter to Mom and Dad. They exploded with laughter
when they saw how he had spelled show. He had spelled it shoe. Between guffaws, Dad said, “Maybe he wants to take you to see the little old lady who lives in a shoe.”
The reason I was so convinced he was rich
was that he seemed to drive a different car each time he came--- a new one at that. Expensive, too. It made dad’s Model
“T” look bad by comparison. One time he would drive an Auburn
and the next, a Cord. After that it might be a Duesenberg. Once he asked me to
go for a ride with him and Edie. Riding in that car was like a dream.
Eventually, though, the secret was out.
We only lived thirty-some miles from Auburn where they manufactured the beautiful and outstanding
Auburn, Cord, and Duesenberg automobiles. He worked at the
plant. These cars he drove were “demonstrators”, and so he didn’t own any of them. What a letdown.
One of Mary’s suitors once brought
a whole box of candy bars. Babe Ruth bars, I think. Or maybe it was Milky Ways.
Whichever, he didn’t bring just one bar, but a whole box.
My favorite of her suitors, though, and
hers too, was Truman Oesch. He had shiny, white teeth and a friendly smile, always. He was a salesman and a good one. To be
successful, a salesman needs to have a friendly personality and a sense of humor. He had both. One of the reasons he had such
white teeth, I suspected, was that he chewed gum all the time. I mean all the time.
Commonly, the houses in those days had
a special room called a parlor. You hardly ever hear the word any more unless it has to do with spiders and flies. One of
the functions of a parlor was to receive young men coming “a courting.” Many were the times I used to shyly peek
around the door leading into the parlor to ask a caller, “Got enny gum?” This unwelcome intrusion into her privacy
inspired my sister Mary to compose the following poem:
My Brother
My brother Ted is five years old,
And a dear little fellow is he.
His eyes are blue, his hair is gold,
And his cheeks are like apples to see.
It seems he’s always full of glee.
And when I’m in a pensive mood,
It soon leaves when he’s with me,
And I cease to long for solitude.
Yes, my brother is a little dear
Until my beau night comes.
Then, Oh! How embarrassing to hear,
“Hello there. Got enny gum? “
Then ’round the corner he will peek.
And with a laugh and jeer,
He reaches up with his little hands,
And pulls my poor beau’s ear.
I tell you, it’s humiliating.
He sure has lots of cheek.
When my beau’s gone, he gets a raking.
Still ’round the corner he will peek.
But, boys will be boys.
We cannot change the fact.
And it does not mar my joy
If my beaux do not come back.
That’s what big sisters are all about.
In spite of my irreverent attitude toward her privacy, she still loved me. And, I love her, too.
