Shopping Saturday

Pearl Dibbens and Frances Dibbens in Wichita about 1957

It looks as if this shopping trip has been going on for a while. What could be in the box and all of those bags they are carrying? I love this candid shot of my Great Aunt Pearl Dibbens and, her sister-in-law and my grandmother, Frances Rutkowski Dibbens. It was taken during a shopping trip in Wichita, Kansas.
When Grandma would come to visit, we would go shopping downtown. I can still remember walking through Kress Department Store, on Douglas and Broadway, and looking at the clothing folded neatly on big square display tables along with anything else you could ever need. They had a bargain basement that we enjoyed wandering through, stopping to admire whatever they had to offer. That is also where the toy department was. I don't remember that they had as many shelves as they did racks and large display tables with drawers and cabinets below where more merchandise was kept. The staircase leading down to the basement was wide with red tile.
Macy's and J.C.Penney's had elevators with operators who slid the metal gate and the door closed before cranking a dial that would take us to another floor. When the elevator stopped, the operator would call out the floor number and what we could find there. I thought that would be a fun job! Macy's had a mezzanine with a walk-way that led to the offices. It also had tall escalators. Coming down from the 2nd floor, I would look down to the main floor with the glass jewelry and make-up counters along with shoes and bags.
At Christmas, it was the outside of the store that was the biggest attraction for me. Every big showcase window had an elaborate display of moving scenes of toy land or a winter wonderland. Our family would stand in front of each window, and bundled up in our coats, hats and mittens, my sisters and I would take in every detail of each window. Then we would pile back in the car and head for King's X Restaurant for a cup of hot chocolate.

Christmas 1958 - Another wordless Wednesday!

Shari (me) and Kristi (one of my sisters) at Christmas, 1958 in Wichita, Kansas.

Wordless Wednesday, Christmas Day about 1950

This picture is another treasure that I found while scanning some of my dad's old color slides. It is of my grandparents, Ida and Arthur Johnson, and their 5 children during a Christmas celebration. At the time this picture was taken, their ages ranged from about 14 to 29. They now range from age 74 to 89. The only way I know that the picture was taken at Christmas is that I can see tree lights in the upper left-hand corner of the picture. On the couch, next to their parents, are LaDonna and Helen. Don, LeRay and Earl (my dad) are sitting behind them. I am trying to get all of the slides scanned as quickly as possible because they are beginning to deteriorate and take some work in Photoshop to get them ready to publish.

Julotta Christmas Service

Julotta is a Christmas service that was brought to the United States by Swedish immigrants. Since the Covenant Church was founded by Swedish immigrants, Julotta was naturally included on the calendar of events for most Swedish Covenant congregations.
Every Christmas morning, before most people were even awake, my family and I were up, dressed, and on our way down the empty streets and across the city to the First Evangelical Covenant Church in Wichita, Kansas. It felt odd to be out so early in the morning, with the lighted streets lined by houses with windows still dark. Walking into the church, we were welcomed by dozens of candles that provided the only light in the sanctuary and the smell of coffee and breakfast wafting up the stairs from the kitchen in the basement. Before we could concentrate on food though, we gathered in the sanctuary to participate in a very special early morning service. There were Christmas carols, special music played on many different instruments over the years, (including guitar when I began playing as a teenager) and a celebration of the birth of Jesus.
After Julotta, we made our way downstairs to enjoy a breakfast that had contributions from every family present. Swedish pastries, fruit, fruit soup, little smoked sausages, bacon, egg dishes, juice and coffee filled the long table close to the kitchen. Food was eaten, dishes were washed and everything was dried and put away by 8:00, just in time for us to head for home and then on to Christmas Day celebrations with extended family.

Ho Ho Ho! Christmas Grab Bag

Do you see cute little Santa sitting between my younger sister, Kristi, and I? I continue to hear the story of his arrival year after year. For some reason my dad has never forgotten how this jolly elf with a tiny coke bottle in his hand came to live at our house, but neither have I.
According to my dad's memory of the event, he was innocently driving down the road with his happy little family when he noticed that the car needed more gasoline. It seemed simple enough to pull into a nearby filling station for more, right? The way Dad tells it, it almost seems like a horror story but I remember it differently...
Dad pulled up to the pump and rolled down his window. Out of the station popped a friendly gas station attendant ready to put gas in the car, wash the windows, check the oil and, generally, be as helpful as possible.
He must have seen me sitting in the back seat and realized I was totally without a toy. What three year-old would want that? That nice young man left the gas running and ran as fast as he could back into the station. He was back in a flash. Now he was my hero, for in his hand was the cutest little Santa anyone had ever seen.
He proceeded to tell my dad how wonderful it would be if he would purchase the Santa for me. (After all, I deserved it!) What a great idea! Of course, I was all for it! For some strange reason, Dad wasn't impressed at all. I began to try to convince him which cause the attendant to have to speak louder and my dad to shake his head a little quicker.
Now, this is where our stories really begin to differ. Dad says I began to cry loudly when I realized that my hero might loose the debate and have to return to the station with my Santa! Surely not! I thought we were just having a conversation about the benefits of having our own personal Santa come to live with us.
Eventually, I made my point and Dad agreed to buying Santa AND the tank of gasoline. For some reason, I don't think Dad liked my hero as much as I did. He talked to Mom about that attendant for quite awhile on the way home. Oh well, what did it really matter? I no longer felt alone with my new friend, red velvet suit, shiny black boots and belt and silky white beard and all, sitting on my lap.
Just look how happy I am!