My Teenage Job On My Fourteenth Year

I walked out to the garden this morning because I thought I saw some pink tomatoes. I also thought it was impossible. You almost always have to wait until after the Fourth Of July to be blessed with those long awaited juicy sunshine kissed fruit. When I got to the garden I saw four pink tomatoes. We will have ripe tomatoes in just three or four days. Bacon and tomato sandwiches will be our meals for supper for quite a few days.
While I was looking at the plants in the garden I saw tassels on the sweet corn. For some reason, once again I was hurled on my time machine to my fourteenth year. I was loaded up into a farm truck along with many other teenage girls to “detassel” corn. Detasseling is a very hard job. You have to pull the tassel out every other row if I remember right, so it will pollinate. Most always the corn stalk was taller than I was. If you were careful you could bend it a little so you could reach the tassel. You certainly did not want to break the stalk because your work was checked. Farmers of hybrid sweet corn had to have the detasseling done to get the best crops.
The girls had a song that they sang early in the morning on the way to the fields, when every one was feeling chipper. It was called “We are the detasseling girls, we wear our hair in curls…..” Then I forget the rest of the words.
The tasseling job was hot, sweaty, and very hard work. As you walked the rows of corn stalks the leaves were sharp and often cut my mouth and skin. Young ladies had to put their modesty in their hip pocket and use the corn stalks for protection when they needed to go to the bathroom. The foreman of these crews were men, so it was a little embarrassing.
There was a mold that grew on corn that was black and gray and soft and mushy; it was called smut. If you didn’t see that mold before you picked the tassel you got a hand full of the mush. Then there were rogues. Those had to be chopped out. They were very tall and I think they were not good to be left in the field.
I remember days when I didn’t think that buying my own school clothes was worth all that work. The thing that kept me going was the ability to pick out my own wardrobe. Later when I was shopping it was worth it!
The one thing I remember is my sweet mother. Every day she put fresh sheets and pillow cases on my bed. They smelled so sweet and felt wonderful after a shower.
My children detasseled corn when they were old enough and when my nephew stayed with us, he was put on a truck too! As a matter of fact, my daughter got impetigo from the cuts of the corn leaves. This job sounds like a hand me down legacy to me. Nothing like good fresh air and hard work.
Just a note I thought was interesting. I looked to see if they still detassel corn. They certainly do. But oh my, so much differently. They are taken by bus to the fields, they wear rain coats, gloves, and safety glasses. They still suffer from cuts on their faces from the corn leaves. It is boys that generally do the detasseling and they do every four rows, which may have been what we did too. The tractors have arms that extend for the fourteen year olds to grab the tassels. The article did say that many of the boys drop out of the job because it was too hard and hot to do. Two hundred fifty kids can detassel twelve hundred acres of corn in today’s fields. We barely got six hundred acres done. I remember my check was one hundred three dollars for that month. What a difference fifty years make!!

The Variety Show

Yesterday I talked some about the variety show of my sophmore year. Today I would like to talk about the variety show I think was in my Junior year.
This production I was a French floozie and sang Hi Lili Hi Lo in Paris. I made my own dress. My dress was white with gold swirls and was decorated with red fringe. It was in the 1920’s era.
You can see by the signage that there were other things that we had fun with. I see Hoe Down in Dogpatch, Good News, Combo in Dixie, Men Lost on Nite Beat, and Fashion in Purple. Russ Tramp Act was one I don’t remember.
This picture was an all class production. If you remember or see anyone that you remember put some answers on the comment section of this post. One thing I do remember was that Mr. McCarthy was very pleased with all of us and so was the community. This was an 8x10 picture taken by Berke's studio, the business that bought our house, years after the tar truck tipped over on it. Any way it is very difficult to see faces on this picture. You may be able to make this bigger and detect some pictures that you recognize.

Orange Colored Sky

When I was little I hated to practice piano. Some of you have read the post where I told the story of me destroying my mother’s curtains when I was forced to practice.
As I grew older, I did enjoy it much more. The only thing I wanted to play in the band like Joan, but I did survive.
When I was only six I started having recitals with my little songs. I was reading the clippings about them, and I still have the programs with the names of the songs. On one such occasion Joan and I presented Mrs. Kintigh with a corsage for having the recital in her home with refreshments for the parents and grandparents. The social reporter had all the names included and spelled correctly.
Mrs. Kintigh was married to Mr. Kintigh whose first name I think was Ray or Raymond. I believe he ran the Skelly station. I think he was the one that wanted to run and hide when we came in with nickels, dimes, and quarters to buy gasoline and we wanted of course, full service! He wore a uniform that was white with navy blue stripes, a bow tie, and a hat. That was the fifties, remember.
I continued to play the piano and graduated to electric organ and the pipe organ in the Methodist church. My teacher was fantastic. I cannot remember her name but she lived on Sioux Valley Drive. She also taught my mother piano and organ lessons to boost her freedom of the keyboard on the organ.
The picture that you see at the top of the page is me in a gown for the variety show that Mr. McCarthy was directing. I was playing piano that evening. I remember that evening well, just one solo. I just recently found the music that Rosemary had sung that night. It was called “Orange Colored Sky.” It was beautiful and Rosemary did a professional job of singing it and had fantastic stage presence.
Isn’t it interesting what we remember from forty years ago?

First Crush

Do you remember your first crush? Not your first love, but your first crush. A little heart flutter was all it amounted to, but it was fun. Fun for boys and girls. I can remember my cousin’s first crush. She was a pre-teen. Here’s the story.
We lived in the country. My parent’s were strict Christians and always followed the rules. There was a lady that went to our church that had several children and was relatively happy I thought, except that her husband never went to church with her, just her children.
One day we found out that her husband left her. Now I don’t know whose idea that was, hers or his. Regardless this lady had children to raise on her own.
One day she called my parents and told them that she was having trouble with her oldest son and wondered if my mom and dad would keep him over the summer to see if he would “shape up”. My mom and dad discussed it and decided that they would give it a try.
Dad had him help him do chores and taught him a lot about farming and following the rules about work ethic. He was often found under a shade tree.
My mother taught him a lot about following the rules also, but was a bit sharper with him with the more personal side of his life, hygiene, manners at the table and with older adults, etc.
Well, my eleven year old cousin and her dad came to visit. I think that she came for the summer. Oh my goodness, her eyes just sparkled when she took one look at this good looking blonde curly haired young man. I think he was about fourteen or fifteen. He often wore overalls with no shirt. Wow, you could just see in her eyes that something was wrong. He had been living with us for some time so I wasn’t the least bit interested and I thought she was goofy.
She kept telling me things like “Did you see that he looked at me!” and so on.
I had not seen or heard from my cousin since my sister died several years ago until just recently. One of the first things she mentioned was, did I remember this young man. You never forget your first crush even if it was like this young man and thought that my cousin was just a nuisance. He would be about seventy now, I wonder if he remembers my cousin, it would be interesting to know, wouldn't it?

Teenage Grandchildren

I just realized this morning that in a few days I will have three teenage grandchildren. Now in my minds eye that is impossible. My brother is only four years younger than me and his grandchildren are like seven and four or close to it. Come on. I have one grandchild that is close to twenty one, no he is twenty one. Generally with the teen years upon my fine little short people they straightened their shoulders grew at least five inches along with their mouth. When they were eight or nine they were respectful because they knew that you were bigger than them and that you made the rules that they had to follow in order to live in your house.
All of a sudden when the “teen” is attached to the number of years that they have been walking the halls of this world everything changes especially their attitude.
Now I will admit my attitude changed also. I started yelling more. I banged my fists on the kitchen table more, and I might have used bad language more. All of this that happened was not my fault. None of this was my fault. Frustration moved into the spare bedroom when I was unaware and was tempting my darling children into becoming teenagers. The “ager” is what made me become the woman I turned into an aging frustrated old woman.
Now for the good part, I got through that part of my life by hook and by crook, so now I will watch my children go through their children go through the “ager” years. And I will smile!

Busy, Interesting, Fun Week-End

The title says it all. Some of you may have noticed I didn’t post for awhile. Well we had visitors from Texas this week-end. Fran’s Uncle and Aunt came to visit. His Uncle is his mother’s brother. His mother is almost ninety four and her brother is seventy six. A very large difference in age. Marie is the oldest and he is the youngest.
Most of you know I love to talk. Well after they left Fran said, “Sorry, Honey, you lost that contest.” That is true, I lost that contest absolutely. She is the most talkative and the funniest woman I have ever met. I had the giggles most of the day.
I had several things for lunch as you do for people you have never met before. Fran’s Aunt took the bowl of fruit salad and started going through it and naming the fruits that were in it. I said, “So what are you anyway, picky?” She laughed and the whole table of people laughed and she told Fran, “She is a keeper!” Then she told me, “Yes I am picky!!!”
After lunch she spied the karaoke machine in the living room and there was nothing to it but that we all sang karaoke. Even Fran’s mom sang with a microphone and sung us a French song that she learned at a very early age. It is called Soldier Come home. It was beautiful. I was very lucky to have that recorded. I got several songs recorded yesterday. It was such fun.
I showed them the blog that I have been doing about Marie’s life. They loved it and added some stories for me.
We will probably be visiting them in September when we go to Texas. I am sure it will be a whirlwind of activity then too. Talk to you tomorrow!

Baked Broiled And Blown

Well I haven’t done any posting lately. Look at the title of this post and that is exactly what happened to me. We were baked, why because we had no power. Broiled because it was so hot (ninety eight degrees with one hundred per cent humidity and blown because we had a tornado which did a lot of damage. Not to our house, thank goodness but all around us. The tornado was a F4 but it jumped up and down along the highway that runs right by our house.
We had no power or water for two days. That’s a long time when it is so hot. Once again we were so blessed. We have a camper that was full of water and had an air conditioner that saved my life. We bought a generator that kept the camper running as well as our refrigerator and two freezers.
We brought our little bbq into the screened in porch and grilled our food. I even used the microwave in the camper to heat some water for my in-laws. They were way ahead of me. They had old pots on their grill heating up. They had water they were using sparingly. They say water runs down hill. They live down hill from us.
We had nickel to quarter size hail with the storm. The trailer we live in has a metal roof. It was so noisy I was hysterical. I have never been so scared in my life. The storm had been raging all night long. The lightning was non stop.
So that’s why no computer, phone service was limited to one phone in the bedroom that doesn’t need electricity.
I wonder how I made it when I was a youngster with no air conditioning. The answer to that is, just fine.

A New Posting Game

I was looking through my scrapbooks this morning thinking how many of you actually remember who these people are or were. So I decided to have a guessing game. Of course, this will eliminate a lot f readers that are not from Cherokee, Iowa. But I decided we might do this once a month or so. Hope you enjoy doing something different!

The Sun Always Makes Me Sneeze

When Joan and I worked across the street from each other we would go have coffee in a little café across the street from Salisbury’s Studio where I worked in later years, it may have been called Casey’s.
Sometimes she would come to the studio and pick me up and sometimes I would just walk over to the café and she would be there. On the times when she would come to the studio she liked to hang around a little bit. Photo studios are very dark of course, for developing pictures. Every single time Joan and I would go outside she would sneeze.
I always laughed at her and she said she had an allergy to sunshine. There is a condition that actually does make people sneeze when they are in the sun. Now she lives in one of the sunniest states in the United States. I should ask her if she still sneezes in the sun.
It’s funny how your memory works but I was looking through my scrapbook and found a picture of Jo and she was frowning and underneath her picture I labeled it as “the frowner.” As I think of it, it was probably because of the sunshine.
The other day Joan asked me if I had a picture of Miss Pannhorst that taught fifth grade. I told her no, that I didn’t remember having one of her. Well, I did, so along with the “frowner” here is a picture of Miss Pannhorst.

Cod Liver Oil And Milk

When I was in elementary school, we were given cod liver oil pills and a box or a glass jar of milk, I think in the afternoon. It was kind of fun to have a break. I liked to take the pill and pop it with my teeth and chew on the “skin” of it and wash it down with milk.
Cod liver oil helps the human body especially the young folks grow up to be strong and healthy. I think that is interesting because just at this time we are hearing so much about fish oils are the healthy oils for us. When you look up cod liver oil it contains the omega-3 fatty acids, preformed Vitamin A and Vitamin D and numerous other things. It helps build strong bones in children, and also is good for a child’s brain and nervous system. That was sixty years ago. Do you think that they really knew what cod liver oil could do? I don’t remember hearing about “don’t eat this, don’t eat that.” I remember my mother using lard for frying and for pie crust. Lard is extremely hard on our arteries of course. We know that now, not then.
Just another grade school memory.

A Sunny Day In April

It seems to me, and of course, I might be wrong, roving reporters used to rove!! They kept townspeople in the newspaper all the time. I have a scrapbook full of little clips that I will attempt to show you. The problem with that is that you have to either scan them or take a picture of them to produce them on the computer. You also have to take into account that these newspaper clippings are forever old and have faded the memories along with the printing ink. What I am attempting to do is apologize for pictures that are not sharp and clear.
Here is a picture of me, Virginia Sutton, Muriel Conley, and Beverly Timmerman from left to right. We were all sitting on the merry-go-round soaking up the sunshine on a beautiful day. The picture of Lincoln School is an archived picture. As I remember it though, the stone it was made of was Pipestone rock that was pink. To me it was a beautiful school. I believe we were in fourth grade.

The Train Ride

When I was little and in my young twenties, the train was a very popular mode of travel. You didn’t have to watch for other drivers, didn’t cost much, and it was very comfortable. If you were going a long ways you had a choice of getting a berth so you could sleep or you could sleep in your seat. They had dining cars where you could eat sometimes, fancy meals or you could carry a sack meal with you.
My mother and father traveled by train frequently to visit my grandparents and my mother would take the train and meet me at the depot in Cleghorn and we would travel together to Sioux City to meet my sister. Then we would go out for lunch or shop. It was great fun.
Little folks were always told that they needed to act grown up and be ready for school because they would get a train ride when they started Kindergarten. That was not necessarily propaganda. All the kindergarten classes would get on board the train with their little sack lunches and ride to a little town outside of Cherokee. Help me out here, folks, maybe Marcus or Meriden? Anyway it was a short trip, but it was such fun.
My stepfather worked for the railroad for many years and so did his son. One night his son had a dining car brought to Sioux City to treat my mother and her family to a royal feast. Once again the white linen table cloths and napkins, fancy china etc. My mother loved it, it was very nice.
I wish you could see each little face in this picture, but this is a picture of the depot as it was when I was in kindergarten.

The Lewis Hotel

You know we take every things for granted now days. I have heard that quote over and over, but you know who ever started that very memorable sentence was so smart. The thing I am talking about today is “going out to eat.” We do it all the time, more than we should, probably according to our waistlines and heart conditions, but regardless of that, it is not a big deal to go out and eat.
I have told you many stories about growing up on the farm, and eating fresh produce and raising our own meat. I told you about moving to town and how my brother and I loved it. I have told you about going to church every Sunday.
Today I am going to tell you about the first time I every went out to eat. It makes me so mad I cannot remember why we did. We just did, or there was an occasion I can’t remember, but what I do remember was that it was traumatic to me and even more so, my mom laughed at my shyness.
We went to the Lewis Hotel for lunch after church this particular Sunday. It was the most beautiful place I had ever seen. All the tables had white linen tablecloths and napkins on them. The tables were set with crystal goblets and small candles in the middle of the table. The ceilings were so high that you could hardly see the hand crafted squares of crown molding. It was so beautiful.
I was just horrified because the hostess seated us in the middle of the dining room. There were tables by the windows I just couldn’t understand why my mom and dad decided to sit where everybody could watch us. I told my mom everybody was watching us and she laughed and said maybe they were thinking the same thing because I had been watching them watching us. Regardless, what a memorable day, the food tasted like sawdust because I was so nervous, but once again another memory from my childhood.

The Best Burgers In The World

I have written a lot about my childhood, some things about my ancestors and some about being a young mother. I been very fortunate to have had a good life. I have developed a sense of humor over the years and have accepted what cards I have been dealt. However, there was one hand that was super fantastic and that was the Royal Flush of Sweezies.
Lunch tickets were thirty-five cents at the school. Sweezies charged thirty-five cents for a hamburger and a box of chocolate milk. I cannot possibly describe the hamburgers, however I will try to describe the building, the ambience the seating and the looks of the hamburgers.
Going to Sweezies was alright with my mother just once in awhile because she didn’t think it was a nutritious meal (she was absolutely right) and she didn’t think it was enough food to get me through the day (she was right again).
The building was white with a window that faced the school. You could see the man probably Mr. Sweezy frying hamburgers in tallow. Yes, he used beef fat to fry the hamburgers in. He wore a paper hat, an apron that was completely stained with grease. Did he have a little mustache? I can’t remember for sure, but he didn’t talk much, he was too busy getting the hamburgers out for the customers. The hamburger meat was rolled in little meat balls. He took his heavy spatula and flattened the meat balls into hamburgers and in little less than two minutes a miracle was born. A Sweezie’s Hamburger!He had the hamburger buns to the side of the grill. They were slopped with grease to make them to die for. There were about twelve to fourteen stools and no tables or booths that I remember. That was fine because the hamburgers were so delicious that you downed them in two bites, slurped the chocolate milk as fast as you could and ran back to school. As I am sitting here actually seeing the inside of that little hamburger joint I am shaking my head wishing that I could go back just one more time for a burger and chocolate milk.

Old Time Words And Expressions

There are a multitude of old words and expressions that I grew up with that you seldom hear anymore. I used “sauce” on one of my posts not too long ago, and a reader said that word brought back a lot of memories because that is what canned fruit was called when she was a child.
I was told not to “muss” my dress or skirt when I was little by my mother and grandmother. In the days of feed sack and flour sack material it wrinkled very easily. Because of that, little girls were taught to smooth out their skirts with both hands before sitting down.
The other day I went to get out of my chair and I groaned and moaned and told Fran I was all “stove up.” I grew up with that expression. All that means is that you have a little pain that you can live with, but it is uncomfortable when you get up from bed or a chair after a period of time.
My mother frequently asked me (she never told me) to go to the garden and pick a “mess” of green beans for supper. Well a “mess” means a different amount for each family. A “mess” depends on how many people in the family and how well they like green beans. Once in a while she would have me go back to the garden and pick more. She also would go after me to see how many plants I had pulled up by accident while picking the beans. A mess also included peas. That was more difficult to determine because peas in the pod looked like a lot. A porcelain dishpan full of peas resulted in less than two cups of peas.
When I was young I got many “discussions” about slang language. My mother would not allow any slang that could in fact substitute for Biblical connotations i.e., “gosh” “darn” etc. However, my mother frequently used, “My soul and body, bloody murder, Heavens, Good Heavens, Looking to the ceiling and saying, “Give me Strength”
My Grandma used to say “Sugar” I am sure that substituted for something naughty.
Mom used, “Traipsing” when I was a teenager. She would ask, “Where have you been traipsing around?”
Mother would also say “ Get yourself “corralled” and help me”
Dad always said, “Get into the jitney and we will get going.” Which referred to a 1920’s kind of trolley car that was not insured or franchised. I can remember a song about a jitney.
Dad always called my oldest boy a “knuckle head.” You don’t hear that much any more. Maybe that’s because other kids aren’t knuckle heads. Oh he called him a knot head too.
One of my sister’s favorite expressions was, “Whoopee Ding.”
My Grandmother used, “Glory Be and Land O’Goshen.”
My mother used to say, It’s good for what ails you about medicine and cod liver oil pills. (That’s another story.)
Another expression Mother used a lot with me is “Don’t be so owly, or “Aren’t we owly today?” Hmm I wonder if I had a growly disposition when I was younger. Maybe that’s why I drove my mother up the wall when I called everybody a “goon.”

A Stolen Moment Of Chocolate Bliss

The other day my friend and I were going to a little town to have our nails done. She was driving and I was gawking. That is an advantage of not being able to drive. I saw a thirty something mom sitting in front of a house eating a candy bar. Watching her take that bite, almost hurled me into a time warp of the early seventies when my time was not my own.
Any young mom knows that when you have young children they need and deserve your time and attention. Any young mom also knows that when you eat something both your children and your dog if you have one, wants what you have.
Any young mom knows that when a nickel for a candy bar is hard to come by there are some moments caused by the devil that sits on the shoulder opposite of the angel that makes you hide a candy bar in your pocket when your children are not around.
Such a moment happened to me many, many years ago. I went to the neighborhood grocery store and bought a Hershey bar for a nickel and then went to my sister-in-law’s house, and honked the horn. She came running out to the car thinking something was wrong. I yelled at her to lock the door and gave her half of the candy and we both slid down in the seat because her children were trying to see inside the car. We laughed ‘til we almost choked.
We just talked about that the other day and laughed and laughed. To this day we have never felt guilty. I could not find any where a picture of a nickel Hershey bar, but I found this picture of female workers making the wrappers for them. It shows on this post that they were all wearing high heels. Oh the five pound candy bar costs forty nine dollars at the store now.

Miss Penny

Miss Penny taught arithmetic. I don’t remember what kind of arithmetic, but I think it was general math in the eighth grade.
I am not going to write a long post about her, but I was used to the kind and soft spoken Miss Fransico in seventh grade to the harsh and loud almost yelling Miss Penny.
My mother, however forewarned me about her because Miss Penny had been her teacher, and my sister’s. My sister was eleven years older than me and my mother was
Thirty two years older than me so there you have it. Miss Penny knew how to add and subtract and you had better catch on and quickly or you were not the lucky soul to have her give you one of her smiles that were handed out like hundred dollar bills.
Miss Penny had had breast cancer and had no prosthesis so she was constantly reaching for her bra or slip strap. My mother told me the reason for this and even at that young age I thought that someone should invent something to help ladies that had that kind of cancer.
Well that’s about it for Miss Penny, I was able to do Algebra by the time I got to ninth grade so she still knew her stuff.

One Challenge Deserves Another!

I just read a comment by my only sibling. He loves to use fifty cent words like folically challenged instead of bald. I like to use words that are easy to understand. I am the one with hair and he is bald as a cue ball. I just love him to death, but he does need to be put down a peg! I am sure, however, he will say he is the one with his own teeth. I wonder what kind of challenge that is? This is the composite he sent me. My new "do" and Keith's "do" from years gone bye. Love you, Keith

First Winter Then Spring; A Leak!

Anyone that knows Fran knows that unless he has a microphone or a crown &coke in his hand, he is quiet as a mouse. He seldom initiates conversation, unless he is asking someone to sing or what he wants for dinner. He is also a “zoner.” That means that when television is on, no matter what the channel or the show, Fran is in his own world in sync with the television.
When friends arrive with a deck of cards he lights up like a neon moon, gets his quarters and is ready to go.
Fran very seldom gets irritated, let alone angry until we had this situation that arrived at our house the other day.
As you know if you have been reading my posts, my daughter and her children arrived a few days ago. They were to stay for two and a half days, we had no water so they had to go home.
We use our camper for two bedrooms and an extra bathroom. So shortly before they were to arrive, Fran filled the fresh water tank with water and much to his chagrin the water was every where but in the tank. It was pouring out the door the rugs were soaked and on and on.
I quietly made an exit and watched from the porch because the loud bad words were curling my hair.
Finally he came to the porch and announced that he was going to take the camper and shove it into the lake where it belonged. I couldn’t resist and asked him if it wouldn’t be more cost effective if we used it for fire wood. He did not see the humor in my effort for levity.
Fran also told me that there was no way he was going to rip the walls and the floor out to see where the leak was. I said, “Well sell it then.” The conversation went back and forth with me and only me seeing the humor as well as the “fix” to it.
After Melanie and the kids went home Fran had me call a friend of ours and come to find out he was out of work and was thrilled to come and replumb the camper. Whoppee! Here is just one pile of copper tubing that burst from lack of antifreeze this winter.

Mother Goose Catastrophe

It was not until today that I realized that Mother Goose was a real person. I always thought she was a fairy tail type person that children loved to read about or hear stories about.
In actuality I think she lived in the 1600’s or so and was a widow with six children. She married Mr. Goose who had ten children, then he died and she moved in with her daughter. Oh I just bet her daughter was thrilled.
Mrs. Goose loved children and enjoyed telling them stories and little rhymes. The story goes that one of her son-in-laws thought that there might be a market for these little jingles and stories. There you have the beginning of Mother Goose Nursery Rhymes; at least my version. I tell you all of this to preface a story that happened to me many many years ago, I believe in Miss Hanson’s second grade class. She chose Joan Montgomery and me to act out a Mother Goose story. Which one I do not remember, however, I especially remember that Joan played the part of Mother Goose. I so do wish I could remember what part I played because Mother Goose was furious with me.
We did our little skit in front of the class so everyone could see. Lucky me. Well, Joan came at me with her arms waving like an angry goose would. As she walked towards me I backed up and ker plunk I fell in Miss Hanson’s waste
Paper basket. My bottom down, my arms and legs up and my pride completely demolished.
Joan and I were talking about that the other day and how long it took to get a chubby little girl out of that wastepaper basket.