Wednesday, November 14, 2012

The 1944 Presidential Election Mishap


As I began third grade in the fall of 1944, Franklin Delano Roosevelt was campaigning for a fourth term as president of the United States. Two events about that election remain with me: the yellow dog and the black, plastic dishpan.
During recess one day, a classmate shouted, “My daddy said you Democrats would vote for a yellow dog if he ran for president!”


After supper, I told my father, who was reading the newspaper, what Cecilia had said. Sure of his superior knowledge, I asked, “Daddy, would you vote for a yellow dog?”
He rose from his easy chair, placed his calloused hands on my shoulders, leaned down, and whispered, “You bet your bottom dollar I would, Dodo.”
“But, Daddy, why?”
“Because even a yellow dog would be better than a Republican!”
“Oh.”
That was my introduction to politics.
A few days later, on Tuesday, November 7, 1944, my mom got up extra early, hitched a ride with a neighbor to Courtney school, and served as an election judge. Before leaving, she made corn beef sandwiches, a salad, and cookies for Dad, my little brother, and me to eat for supper because the polls closed late and then she’d have to count the ballots.
One of my daily household chores was to wash the supper dishes while the rest of the family relaxed in the living room. We had no running water, so I’d take a bucket outside, pump it full at the well, lug the water inside, and heat it on the gas stove in a large kettle.

When the water boiled, Mom poured it over the dishes I’d placed in the thick, black, plastic dishpan on the counter along with Ivory dishwashing flakes.
After washing each dish, I’d place it in the porcelain sink. When it held a pile of clean dishes, I’d pour hot rinse water over them. We’d use the water, which drained into a bucket beneath the sink, to slop the pigs.
On that 1944 election night, I had a brilliant idea: Why heat the water in the kettle and then pour it into the plastic dishpan? Why not simply place the pan on the burner, pour the cold water in it, heat the water, and then wash the dishes! Great idea! Why hadn’t my mom thought of it before?          
So that’s just what I did.
As the water heated, I became absorbed in a storybook in the living room. Suddenly, Daddy shouted, “What’s burning?”
Black smoke billowed from the kitchen.


The smoke was as black as that in this photograph.

Daddy, my little brother, and I rushed through the dining room and into the kitchen. Water dripped down the front of the gas stove, puddling the floor. The plastic dishpan had collapsed on one side.
At that moment, the flame beneath the burner sputtered, but the propane gas continued to feed it. The odor of rotten eggs filled the room.
Dad reached forward to turn off the burner. Then he lifted the misshapen black mess from the stove, opened the back door, and threw the glob out onto the stoop.
“Dodo, why did you do that?” he asked.
“It was simpler, Daddy. One step less.”
“Good thinking, but do you see what happened?”
“It melted.”
“Yes.”
“But why?”
“That’s what plastic does. It melts.”
“Oh.”
“It’s good to think, Dodo,” Daddy said, “but sometimes you stop your thoughts too soon. Think longer thoughts. Okay?” he hugged me and that was that. We proceeded to open all the windows and drive the smoke out into the chilly November night by waving dishtowels through every room.
Afterward, I sopped up the water from the wooden floor and tried to think longer and longer thoughts. It tired my brain.

Postscript: To enjoy a story about dishwashing in the convent back in 1959, click here.

Yellow Labrador and kitchen stove photographs are from Wikipedia.
The smoke photograph if from freedigitalphotos.com.

64 comments:

  1. Ohhhh- I can imagine what a feeling that must have been for you! Just when you thought you had it figured out...

    I must say I adore the way your dad reacted to it, and his advice to, "think longer thoughts". He sounds like he was a very wise man~

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    1. Dear Shelly, Dad was wise. I think the Depression perhaps made people think long, long thoughts. Peace.

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  2. I agree with Shelly, Dee. That was a very gentle and helpful way to react to your genuine mistake, rather than yelling at you. I see also that American politics were as polarised back then as they are now.

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    1. Dear Perpetua, there truly wasn't much yelling in our house. Both Mom and Dad disciplined us by explaining things. Mom did use a switch at times, when my little brother and/or myself had been particularly naughty!

      And yes, American politics was truly polarized back then. Maybe people thought Roosevelt was the "devil incarnate" and that no one should be president for four terms. In fact after his death, Congress passed a law that a president can serve only two consecutive terms. Peace.

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  3. If I could think longer thoughts maybe I'd break fewer bones!

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    1. Dear Fishducky, and if I'd ever mastered longer thoughts, I probably wouldn't have posted that "Hallelujah' posting last Wednesday! Peace.

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  4. The more things change, the more they stay the same....

    I'm with the others who loved your father's response, though. My dad would have sent me flying through the yard. I'm curious what your mother did (if you recall) when she found out.

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    1. Dear Kari, I truly can't remember what Mom did or said. I was in bed by the time she got home--no voting machines then. And by the next day, she was excited because Roosevelt had won again. Peace.

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  5. I laugh because that is exactly what I would have thought! Shelly said it all.

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    1. Dear Susan, isn't life wonderful--that we can laugh about things so many years later when at the time they seemed so horrendous? Peace.

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  6. What a great teacher your dad was. A spanking would have maybe stopped you from doing that exact thing again but he gave you a tool to use for all occasions.
    I wondered where "yellow dog Democrat" came from and the rational behind it. Thanks.

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    1. Dear Arkansas Patti, what a delight to find a comment from you here! I'm going to see if I can find something about "yellow dog Democrat." If I do, I'll leave another response here for you. Peace.

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    2. From Wikipedia:

      Yellow Dog Democrats was a political term applied to voters in the Southern United States who voted solely for Democratic candidates, with the term commencing in the late 19th century. Due to Republican president Abraham Lincoln's leading the Union against the Confederacy, these voters would allegedly "vote for a yellow dog before they would vote for any Republican".[1][2] The term is now more generally applied to refer to any Democrat who will vote a straight Party ticket under any circumstances.

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    3. Dear Fishducky, thanks for looking this up! I truly never knew. Peace.

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  7. I like your dad's reply to the yellow dog question. The first time my dad was old enough to vote was the last time that Roosevelt was elected (my dad voted for FDR). As for the dishes, you were just solving a problem. I'm sure I would have done the same thing, if I'd had the chance. As the youngest child, I wasn't allowed to touch much of anything because I wouldn't do it "right."

    Love,
    Janie

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    1. Dear Janie, you were the youngest and I was the oldest of two. How many children were in your family? Mom and Dad never seemed to think about whether I'd so something "right." They just assigned chores and expected that we'd do them! And then our days were free after we got them done. Peace.

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    2. I was the youngest of six. My older sisters still hate me because they had to take care of me and because I didn't have to do the jobs around the house that they did. Mother had her mind made up that I couldn't do anything "right." It took a while for me to get over that. I wasn't even allowed to put a strand of tinsel on the Christmas tree, and now, here I am, living with the dogs and everything we do is RIGHT, except our politics. Then we go LEFT!

      Love,
      Janie

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    3. Dear Janie, I loved the ending of your comment! Like you, everything I do is right when just the cats and I are together, but when I vote I go left! Peace.

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  8. I love it: Think longer thoughts. I think I actually need to think shorter, and fewer thoughts! xo

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    1. Dear Melissa, like you, I sometimes find myself thinking such long thoughts that I get lost in the quagmire of them. Or, to use another analogy, I, being Irish, make an Irish stew of them! Peace.

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  9. I'd vote for any colored dog before certain people. Which reminds me I have to tell Samson he can stop worrying about having to ride on the roof of the Jeep!

    The way your dad treated this mishap is truly wonderful. And I love the idea of thinking longer thoughts.

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    1. Dear Inger, I'm with you on this. Sometimes those longer thoughts keep me from leaping into situations that would be worrisome. But sometimes they just give me a headache! Peace.

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  10. Your father realized you had a good idea that had just one little problem: you didn't realize the difference between plastic and metal. He knew you had already learned the lesson. Very good story! :-)

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    1. Dear DJan, my dad thought I was the "cat's meow"! The best thing since sliced bread. Mom tried to get pregnant for eight years before they had me and so I must have been so important to them. It was only after they went to Parsons that I doubted that. And yet looking back now--while writing this blog--I see just how much love they lavished on me. Peace.

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  11. Those were the days, no running water in the house (me to)and heating the water to wash the dishes.. I can imagine the smell and mess. Most of all, your father was wonderful how he handled it. As a child I was often told to STOP THINKING... Love Crystal

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    1. Dear Crystal, I'm sorry to learn that you were told to "stop thinking." That can be so confusing. I know someone now who's told me more than once that I think to much. That I just need to stop thinking. But I don't know how to do that. For me, thinking is like breathing--entirely natural. Peace.

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  12. I was always that kid... trying to figure out a better, more efficient way of doing things.

    Now they just make for amusing stories around the dinner table at holiday gatherings to tell my new husband.

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    1. Dear Juli, thank you for stopping by to visit my blog stories. I'll visit your blog today. Isn't it wonderful to have a carpetbag of stories to share with others. I bet your new husband is amused and delighted also by your stories. Peace.

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  13. "Think longer thoughts."

    Advice to treasure!

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    1. Dear Emily, I'm so glad to see your comment because it tells me that you are recovering or have recovered from your illness. I hope the coughing and all the other symptoms have fled. Peace.

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  14. I am slowly catching up after all that time. Thanks for coming to my blog while I was away. I re-read all the comments you left and also all your posts that I had not read. You have such a good memory of your childhood – it is interesting to me as I did not know any Catholic children while growing up in France – I mean going to religious school or church. I really liked your first communion picture, you looked very pretty. What a nice story but I am sure an embarrassing moment for you. Once as we were walking by a large church in Paris my mother and I watched the first communion children coming out – I did not know anyone who took first communion. At the time the girls wore long elaborate dresses, white, in organza and lace and with long veils on their heads – they looked like brides. I so wished to wear a dress like that then.

    It is interesting that you remember the election in 1944. I don’t remember the elections in France but I remember my mom taking me to the Champs-Elysees in August 1944 (I was 4 years old then) and telling me we would see General de Gaulle because Paris had been liberated. I was not sure what that meant. I do remember that there was a huge crowd there and I was a bit scared – there were so many military men. I’ll have to do a post on it some time.

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    1. Dear Vagabonde, I would so enjoy reading a story about your being there in Paris to watch General de Gaulle walk back in after the city's liberation. I'd learn so much and I'd learn it from someone who had the experience. There must have been a crush of people watching and so a four-year-old was surrounded by a tall crowd. That had to be scary. Peace.

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  15. Family memories make for great stories. Thanks for sharing yours, Dee.

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    1. Dear Pam, I'm so blessed to have some wonderful stories to tell. And thank you, Pam, for sharing your breathtaking photographs of nature with us on your blog. Peace.

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  16. Brilliant post Dee. Thank you. I am pretty certain I need to go away and think longer thoughts myself right now.

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    1. Dear EC, watch out for those longer thoughts. Sometimes we get entangled in them and don't know the way out! For me, they can become a labyrinth if I'm not careful. I have a tendency to convolute things and Mom and Dad used to have to help me with that when I was into my long thought thinking. Peace.

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  17. Dee you had me giggling this time.. I've done so many things like that during my life span it's always nice to know others have also. Even though you were a child and I do these things as an adult. There may be hope for me yet.. Having a decent eye day so I thought I'd stop by and say hi.
    Have a great day my friend.

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    1. Dear Melynda, hello, I'm glad you are having a better eye day. And yes, I can just see you doing something like this to the nth degree!!!! And laughing all the while you're doing it. Peace.

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  18. Dear Dee, I had to chuckle a bit with this. 1944. Yellow Dogs. FDR. Plastic dish pans. All in one night!

    It is interesting, isn't it, how political discourse doesn't change over the years, we just see and hear more because of media? The Lincoln Library in Springfield, Illinois is wonderful to visit. In it, there is a long passageway with political cartoons and posters of the day. Believe me when I tell you that they were as horrible as they are today.

    I concur with the comments above about you father's reaction. You learned more from that than any other way he could have responded. Think longer. A good bit of wisdom at any age. I once hard boiled two eggs until they exploded. hehe

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    1. Dear Penny, oh, I laughed at your last line! I've done the same thing, spattered the wall with hard-boiled egg! Long, long thoughts can lead to that. Peace.

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  19. You're a brilliant story teller Dee. A yellow dog, a plastic dishpan and a father who kept his cool with a fire in the house, is a great way to tell us about FDR's great election victory.

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  20. Dear Rosie, thanks for the compliment about my telling stories. I'm three-fourths Irish and my family has always liked to tell stories. My brother is a great storyteller and always makes me laugh with his remembrances. I so enjoy sharing my on-line memoir with others. It's been a blessing for me. And I'm so pleased that you've left a comment here. Peace.

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  21. Dee,
    Ruby was just washing the dishes and complaining so much I finally said, "Let me read you a story." She quieted down and I'm thrilled to say that your blog was the perfect remedy.
    "Dee had to what?" Ruby asked. "All that just to wash the dishes?"
    She finished working and laughed as the story continued. I bet it'll be a while before she complains about simply loading a dishwasher. ;)
    -E

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    1. Dear Elisa, It's nice to know these stories do some good! Peace.

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  22. I love that!! Think longer thoughts! LOL!
    You were lucky your dad didn't react differently. Not all dad's would be as nice as yours. ;)

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    1. Dear Rita, Yes, my dad certainly did treat me nicely. Only once did he ever raise his voice to me--when I sassed my mother at about age fourteen. He had me rise from the chair where we were eating supper and then he slapped me. "You never speak to your mother that way," he shouted. I was stunned and never sassed my mom again. Peace.

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  23. I love your stories, Dee! And I truly enjoyed the sense of your Dad in this story -- his political views and the patience and insight he showed when your great idea turned out to be not so great after all. What an election day memory!

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    1. Dear Kathy, it is a wonderful election day memory and it comes back to me every November. I was truly blessed in my mom and dad. Peace.

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  24. Hi Dee. I am enjoying reading your blog. Your story reminded me of when I was a student teacher. The class teacher had left me with a cooking lesson and a portable stove - also a glass dish in which to pour boiling water in front of the class. While explaining to the class why I had replaced the glass dish with plastic, so there would be no shattering, I inadvertently placed the plastic down, as I faced the children, not knowing it was placed on the heating element. Billowing black smoke everywhere, a foul smell, excited children, and a not happy supervising teacher!

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    1. Dear Pam, I so enjoyed your story! And I can see those excited children and the oohing and ahhing and the mortified student teacher! Thank you for sharing this with me and with everyone who reads the comments. What a treasured story this is. Peace.

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  25. Cute story, Dee... You just thought you were being a very smart little girl.. Afterall--it would have been easier---and you did cut out a step... Sounded good to me too!!!!

    Bet you never tried to heat plastic again!!!!! ha ha ....

    Love your stories...
    Hugs,
    Betsy

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    1. Dear Betsy, you'd win that beat. I'm so careful when I have plastic anywhere near the cook top/range. I'm glad you're liking these stories. I enjoy writing them, just as I enjoy reading about your travels and seeing your vibrant photographs. Peace.

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  26. That could have been such a disaster, Dee, but your father really took such a wise approach to teaching you, rather than punishing. I think that is so rare. I think the explanation that you didn't think "long enough" was a brilliant way to say it! I am going to remember that when speaking to young ones. And it is in some ways appropriate for all of us if we tend to make impulsive decisions, creative or not! :-) I also just love your memory of the 1944 presidential election! You have such vivid recall. oxo

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  27. Dear Debra, Dad truly took a soft approach with me--always. It was Mom who did the disciplining in the house and every so often she'd use the switch. But that truly was seldom. Mostly, they just pointed out why a certain way of acting didn't fit or wasn't acceptable. My 1944 presidential election memory is still as vivid as the day it happened. I can feel dad's strong hands gripping my shoulders as he said those words! Peace.

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  28. "Think longer thoughts." What a lovely thing to say!

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    1. Dear Linda, yes, a lovely thing and it's stayed with me all this time. Peace.

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  29. You are such a natural story teller Dee. I love this one. I don't think my dad would have been so forgiving if I'd melted the bowl.

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    1. Thank you for liking the stories I tell. You know I'm Irish and both my brother and I love to tell stories. So if I seem like a "natural," it's that Irish heritage. My dad really did spoil me! Peace.

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  30. I love your dad. Mine would have shouted at me and called me a stupid girl without bothering to explain where I’d gone wrong.

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    1. Dear Friko, I was truly blessed because my parents looked always for the good in me . . . and they seemed to find it. We celebrate Thanksgiving here in the States on Thursday and one of the many people whom I've grateful to have met through blogging is you. Peace.

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  31. Ah yes my dad and your dad had kind thoughts. But my mom was hard on me!! I was not yet born when you were washing dishes but I did marvel that you have gas. In the late 40's and even the 50's we had to use coal. I remember those big stoves well. And there was no heat except in the kitchen in the cold times.
    Politics was not for me. My early days were filled by racists kids calling me names I shall not print but the war and my birth place afterwards played a roll.
    I was in high school when I began to get a bit of an idea but Dad had dies so I was busy with many other things. It was in the mid 60's that I finally became more alert and cared.

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    1. DEar Heidrun, thank you for sharing these parts of your life. I've never realized that we were blessed to have oil burning stoves. You had it hard. We had a stove in the front room to heat the living and dining rooms also. Probably the reason you are so aware of others and their needs is because of your childhood. Somehow good can come out of everything. Peace.

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  32. "It’s good to think, Dodo,” Daddy said, “but sometimes you stop your thoughts too soon. Think longer thoughts. Okay?” he hugged me and that was that. "
    Favorite part of this post...and exactly what I need to tell Peanut!

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    1. Dear Stephanie, I'm wondering what Peanut will say back to you???? Peace.

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