A Tale of Two Traveling Books

Two books. One is off traveling and the other is safe in my genealogy office.

Dad’s book:

Earl Johnson, about 1944

Sometime in the early 90’s, I was digging through a box of old books that had just been purged from the library of the school in which I taught. As a book lover I was distressed by the quantity of books that had been slated for removal and destruction, in order to make room for more current reading material. I understand the need for updating school libraries but still felt the need to rummage through the outcasts. 

Among my finds was an old gray book about the US Merchant Marines. It was in my stack because my dad had been in the Merchant Marines during WWII. My thought was that it might make a nice gift for him as it had some nice old pictures of ships and men doing their jobs aboard them.

Around Father’s Day that year, I visited my parents in Missouri and casually presented the book to Dad. What I thought might be something interesting for him to look through on a rainy day got a greater response from him than I had expected. 

Inside, were pictures of the actual ship, off the coast of New York City, that he had trained on as a young man. He held on to that book for the rest of his life and once in a while, I overheard him showing it to someone or telling about that book and how I had found it.

About 2014, the book was lost during the clean out and selling of Dad’s condo a few months before he died. Likely, it was donated along with many of his other books.

I like to think someone has since picked it up at a used book store and it has continued its life somewhere else. Who knows? Maybe someday it will come back to me!

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Mom’s book:

A few months ago, my dad’s sister, Helen, left a message asking me to call her when I had a minute. She sounded excited and said she had something interesting to share.

Vera Johnson, about 1951

When I returned her call, she told me about a Wichita neighbor who was moving and had given her some old books she couldn’t take with her. As Aunt Helen looked through them, she noticed something remarkable.

Opening the cover of author Helen MacInnes’ book, Rest and Be Thankful, she found the name of a previous owner, Miss Vera Dibbens, dated August 27, 1949. The name had been crossed out and updated with Mrs. Vera Johnson. This book had belonged to my mother when she was living in Kansas and before she married my dad!

I have no way of knowing how long ago the book left my mother’s possession. My parents moved away from Kansas for good in 1989 and she died in Branson, Missouri in 2004. 

Needless to say, the book is in my custody for now.

Sentimental Sunday - Summer Memory 1963, Age Eight

It's the first day of summer. Summer mornings bring back memories of home.

I wake to my open window as the sun and a cool morning breeze hit my white cotton curtains. They sway in the air, nudging me from my dreams. I stretch, enjoying the morning coolness that will be gone all too soon from this summer scene, and then lay still to listen for the noise of others in the house. Hearing nothing, I sit up, put my feet on the smooth wooden floor, and gaze out the window in front of me. I'm looking for my mother. After a few moments perusing the straight rows of corn, potatoes, beats, beans, and other assorted vegetables, I spot white fabric billowing in the breeze. I know it must be Mom's housecoat I've spied between the single row of fruit trees and the blackberry bushes that stretch the length of our small grove. 

Shari (8), Kristi (6), Laurie (3)

I open the door and step out into the hall where I can see my little sisters, still sleeping in their twin beds, through the slightly open door across from mine. It won't be long before they wake and the house becomes active and full of life. 

As I walk past my parents' room, I notice their bed is neatly made and ready for the day. The windows have been opened and the single air-conditioner, that has run through the night in my parents' window, is getting a rest; waiting for the sun to make its way to the room's west windows. Dad's watch, pocket protector with his pens and mechanical pencils, and change for his pocket are no longer in their spot on the corner of the dresser; a sure sign that he has already left for work for the day. 

I make my way through the living room with its large picture window, on through the dining room, and into the kitchen. Every room looks, smells, and feels like summer.

My Mom is nowhere to be found in those rooms but I see signs of her presence. The double doors in the dining room lead to the backyard. They are open and doing their best to bring in cool air before the afternoon heat takes over. A coffee cup with a brown liquid ring sits on the kitchen table next to a small plate displaying evidence of toast with jelly; a crumpled paper napkin completing the picture. 

Vera Dibbens Johnson

I continue past the churning washing machine in the utility room and out the wooden screen door that leads to the north side of the house. I feel the cool morning breeze as it penetrates my summer pajamas. The small porch sits comfortably between two large flowerbeds full of columbines and snap dragons. English ivy has wound it's tendrils over the red brick of the north wall for so many years that the brick is no longer visible.

I run barefoot, down the steps and into the wet grass, on my way to the garden; our collie, Laddie, matching my steps on the other side of the chain link fence.

As I scan the garden again, I spot Mom bending over a row of snap beans. Her fingers working quickly to pull the ripe pods from their branches. She has nearly finished filling the large plastic bowl. She looks up and smiles as I come to stand beside her on the soft, cool garden soil. I help her finish filling the big bowl and we head for the kitchen where I will help her snap the ends off of the fresh beans. 

As my sisters bounce into the kitchen, I know the rest of the day will be full of summer activity. But, the early morning time with Mom cements the rich memories in my mind forever. 

Happy Birthday to My Mom

Vera Carolina Dibbens

born: January 19, 1929Murdock, Kingman, Kansas
parents: Frances and Forrest Dibbens
married: January 28, 1950
spouse: Earl Milan Johnson
children: Shari (me), Kristine, Laurie
died: October 24, 2004
Branson, Missouri