Senior Daze

by Katie Bourg

About Katie: Having arrived in time for the Great (?) Depression, WWII, and all other 20th century problems, I am endowed with long and varied memories. Writing classes have long been my home away from home. Other people's stories are fascinating, and sharing is growth at its best. Hope you seniors will join me with your stories. Try it. You'll like it.

Talk of the anniversary of Seattle's World's Fair has me spending time on old memories. We lived in Seattle, then, and were very excited at the prospect of such a huge undertaking. The papers were filled with stories of wonders to be seen. Our school age children came home with daily reports. Old buildings were removed and replaced by new architecture. A restaurant was going to be right at the top of that new Space Needle.

Dissenters complained it wasn't the only thing that was going to be sky high. Enthusiasm dampened some at the thought of climbing taxes. That wasn't enough to change the spirit of the time. Everyone seemed to develop new interests, along with their own life style.

The first sewing machines that did more than stitch in a straight line had recently arrived on the scene, and I'd bullied my husband into buying one. I was working with a group of teenage square dancers. The girls went through my scrap box and started making patchwork skirts. I found myself teaching. Before it was over they were teaching each other. Very soon one sewing machine was not enough. Herb Zeilsdorf , manager of the Singer store agreed to loan me another. Soon mothers were showing up to ask for instructions, and several bought new machines. My neighbor remarked that the funniest sight she'd ever seen was a half dozen girls coming down the driveway on a Saturday morning with sewing machines on their arm. I was too busy to notice.

Square dancing became a major part of our lives and we were soon carting kids all over the area to dances. They didn't stop at the patchwork, either. It seemed they constantly had new projects, necessary for the next dance.

A local TV station started inviting them to be on a Saturday evening program. This led to a little rebellion. Square dancers wore underpants that matched their skirts. They were called 'sissie pants' and insured modesty when twirling and swinging. A few girls liked to be more daring, and defied the rules. I made a long ugly pair of wide black and white striped pants for myself. I lifted my skirt and disclosed them with the warning that anyone who showed up without the proper pants would have to wear mine. The resistance ended.

The TV station was near the building site of the fair. The excitement increased as we watched it grow. They started planning to dance at the fair. It turned into a wild and wonderful summer for all of us. I didn't get to see much of the fair, as I was usually herding kids around, but I got a lot of good memories out of it. Sometimes I just got tired.

My daughter married a square dancer from another group. They raised a nice family and reached retirement age not too long ago. And somewhere along the road of life they drifted back into a square. She will be teaching a sewing class this summer at the national convention in Spokane.

I spent a pleasant lunch with this daughter and another of 'my girls' the other day. Both are still dancing. I sat and listened as they discussed the same old problems and plans for future activities. I found myself smiling as old visions passed through my head. I had sometimes wondered why I was doing all this busy work. Now I think it was well worth while.

It was a good summer. Full of young hopes and dreams. Before Vietnam, assassinations, Watergate, ugly political dialogue. As for those taxes, they have long since been forgotten.

But not the fun.