Excerpt:
Raids and Rations
Rations were lifesavers during the war years. My parents had small tokens, the size of a penny, which were used to buy food staples such as flour, sugar, and shortening and molasses. I don’t know what we would have done without them. Many a family survived as we did, on homemade biscuits and molasses, pancakes and creamed toast, and red flannel hash, and, after we moved to North Appleton farm— produced cows, pigs, chickens and eggs, canned garden vegetables, dandelion greens and an occasional fish cooked in a little pork fat and rind. Pop corn was a special treat—shaken in a “spider” (black iron skillet) by my father on a hot wood stove. City folks were not so lucky. It was good that we didn’t live in the city for more than two years—the years I started school—‘43 and ‘44.
The Air Raids began in Portland during the war, night times were the worst! Sometimes awakened from sleep that winter as a long, eerie whistle from who knows where was heard. I would huddle closer to my sisters as the shades were quickly pulled down. All lights turned off and a candle lit, and the distant roar of planes was sounded overhead. Somehow, my parents would hear when the all-clear was sounded and, once again, we could breathe a sigh of relief and go back to sleep.
The three-story brick house we lived in was owned by Mrs. Burnham who lived on the first floor in the front of the house. She owned a big parrot who yelled at us whenever we had to go to her front door for anything. I was afraid of it and never wanted to go to her front door. I had to go inside once and all I remember is a dark interior with large fancy antiquated furniture.
