Life at 28 Ludwig Rd. with my sister - Melanie Sundgren Welch

                                                                                                        Melanie, ca.2005.  Photo by June Mita

     Melanie Lee Sundgren came into this world on October 25, 1965.  I know I was very excited to have a baby coming into the family.  For me, I was around 8, and still was into dolls and trying to be a mommy.  So I did spend a lot of time pampering her, holding her, and telling all my little friends about her.  Of course, the reality is that babies are not dolls.  They cry, they poop, they need baths, and they can't be left in a corner, forgotten for the moment.  The only thing I enjoyed doing after about a month was feeding her a bottle, because that was like feeding a doll.
     Our brother, Craig was 9 and he also liked taking care of little Melanie, at least for a little while.  Then he began to make himself scarce, choosing to be with friends over Melanie.  So it went for most of her childhood.  We being the older brother and sister were always trying to lose her to be free of any responsibility, and she was always trying to tag along with whatever we were doing at the time.
     I don't remember too many funny stories about Melanie's childhood.  I am sure there were plenty of funny things that happened to her, but they aren't something I took much notice of, so I will try to tell a few of the things I remember.  These stories are mostly for Melanie's children, Marc, Amy, Ryan and Sarah.  They may already know them, but for the sake of history, I will repeat them.  Melanie was daddy's little girl when she was small.  She said when he died in 2013 that the worse day for her was when she couldn't crawl up beside him and lay on the couch because she was too big.

                                                 Funny Photos - Long Gone ca. 1967

     My grandfather, Ralph Harlow, had a strange sense of humor.  He smoked these smelly, kind of bumpy dark cigars that were thin.  They may have even been a cigarette.  When Melanie was around 2 1/2, he decided to let her have a taste.  He gave her the cigar, told her to pretend she was sucking a straw, then blow out.  Well, we had a picture of her blowing smoke out of her mouth, holding the cigar in her two hands while it was still in her mouth.  Her cheeks were puffed out and she was surrounded by a fog of smoke.  The picture is long gone, but I remember it because we looked at it so often and laughed.
     I remember another photo of her.  She was around 14 months.  She had on only a sagging diaper with rubber panties.  She had on a red knit stocking hat of Craigs, one of dad's ties wrapped around her neck and practically touching the floor and a pair of dad's slippers on her feet.  Her head was turned away from the camera as she walked past.  We always got a kick out of that one, too.  She always did like to play dress-up using mom's heels or dad's big shoes.  He was a size 11.  She was so tiny, though, that I was surprised she could even move her legs to walk.  That was another photo that didn't survive all our moves.

                                 Surviving on Peanut Butter and Bread ca. 1968

     Melanie was a terribly finicky eater  She hated most foods.  She would drink milk, eat bread, have peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and eat cereal, because we always ate cereals like Lucky Charms, Captain Crunch or Count Chocula.  I think she ate pastas as well, like macaroni and cheese, beefaroni and ChefBoyArDee ravioli.  Mom used to buy Tree Tavern frozen pizza and she also got a make
your own pizza called Appian Way.  Melanie would eat those later on but not until she was around 7.   

                                                                    Mel, ca. 1970 Photo by June Mita
     Many suppers, Melanie would drop broccoli or spinach under the table and of course the dog would eat it.   She never really seemed to get in trouble for not eating.  I guess by the time she came along, mom and dad were not as anxious about kids getting enough food.  They had already been through it with Craig and I.  Of course, all that lack of interest in food caused Melanie to be so skinny it made me angry.  Craig and I were solid, big kids.  We ate everything it seemed.  But not Melanie.  She was a light weight through most of her childhood.

                                    Cute Didn't Work This Time ca. 1969
                                                                                                                              Naoma Harlow, ca. 1952
     Melanie was used to getting away with stuff.  One time, though, she did a very wicked thing.  She was perhaps 3, maybe 4, and my mom must have wanted her to do something.  It made Melanie really mad at her, so she took mom's most favorite photo and put a mustache on it and scribbled a little.  Melanie saw how mad mom was and ran under my white iron bed in the furthest corner she could.  Mom went diving under, but couldn't reach her so Melanie just looked at her, put her two index fingers in front of her face and said to mom, while shaking her head, "No,No, No, No."  Mom started laughing so hard and Melanie began to smile and said "Your laughing.  You won't spank me."  So she came out and mom grabbed her and spanked her really good.  From that point on, Melanie realized even if mom and dad laughed or smiled, if she was going to get spanked, she would.
     Years later, Melanie made good her angry pen by bringing the picture to a restorer, who was able to redo the picture to its original beauty.  When mom got it for her birthday around 1992, she cried because it was the best photo she had ever had taken of her.

                                             Industrious Melanie ca. 1971

     Mel was always industrious.  She didn't have any girls her age nearby, so she had to find ways to keep herself busy.  My dad had a roofing business and brought a lot of envelopes, paper, pens and pencils home.  Behind the bookcase was a large area that was supposed to be the stairs to the basement.  Dad had put a floor in when we rented the upstairs to a family named Champ.  He never removed it when we moved back upstairs so he used it for a mini office.

I still have the table.  Here it is, 55 years years later.  Photo by June Mita

     Mom had set up a table for Melanie while she worked on dad's business.  The table was built by my Uncle Walter for Craig and I when we were very little.  It was about 20 inches by 30 inches.  He had it painted with Pennsylvania Dutch designs.  The table became Melanie's "office." She would spend hours organizing papers and envelopes and writing pictures or doodles into a paper pad.  She would carefully fold the papers and put them in envelopes and then put them into a cardboard box that became the 'out' box.
     Mom had extra ledgers and receipt pads as well, which Melanie made out for pretend customers.  We always knew where to look for her when we needed her.  She was usually behind the bookcase.

                                                         Blankie ca. 1966

     Melanie had a blanket she carried around with her for many years.  Mom couldn't ever wash it without Melanie going into hysterics over that blanket.  I  am never certain it ever got washed unless mom did it while Mel was asleep.  That was very difficult because Mel would have her hand so tight on that blanket, if you tried to undo her hand she would wake up.  Yep, she always had her thumb in her mouth and her blanket held up to her cheek.  Dad called her Linus, from the Peanuts comic strip.  She used to pull the fuzz off the blanket too and put it up to her nose, so it was pretty threadbare by the time she went to school.
     Mom had a heck of a time separating Melanie from that blanket when she had to go to school.  There was lots of temper tantrums from Melanie when she couldn't find her blankie.  I don't know when she stopped carrying around the darn thing, but it was pretty soon after she started going to school. 

                                      The Bicycle Incident ca. 1975

     Melanie had a lesson taught to her one day when she was about 10.  She had a nice speed bike that let her get to her friends houses very far away.  One time she went about 2 miles to visit her friend. As industrious as she was with schoolwork and business forms, she was rather careless when it came to taking care of her things.
     She left the bike on the side of the road where her friend lived, and the two went walking somewhere.  For some reason, dad needed to find her so he went to the friends as well.  Melanie was not about anywhere, but he did see the bike parked right on the street, so he took it.  He hid it in one of our sheds, and waited for Mel to stroll home.
     Melanie came home and didn't say a word.  She watched t.v., played with the cats, and dived into a book.  Dad watched her carefully, but Mel never gave any indication anything was wrong.
      Finally near supper he looked aat her and said "So, Mel, are you missing something?"  She looked back and with a complete stone face said no.  He said "Are you sure?"  She shook her head yes, she was sure.  In his way he said "Come here, I want to show you something."  He took her to the shed and said "Open it."  Well, there inside was her bike.
     She was grounded for a week because of the lie and dad said "If I ever see that bike on the side of the road again, you won't get it back."  She took great care of her bike after that. 

                            1973 - Of Weather, Horses, and Chicken Shows
   School Photo ca. 1973                                      

       1973 was a big year for our family.  Lots happened that year.  Right around Craig's 17th birthday in April, Melanie had a terrible accident.  We had a horse named Bucky.  He was more of a pony and had been a barrel racer.  Melanie wanted a horse, so dad got her one.
     Bucky was very good at jumping fences so he would often jump over his yard fence and run down the street to the Ludwig's farm.  They had lots of fields, and Bucky had a taste for fresh grass.  Because he was so nimble and stubborn, he wasn't always the best riding horse.
     It was early April and mom was walking next to Bucky while Melanie tried using rein commands.  Well, I believe a car came down the road and spooked Bucky because of the unsure rider Melanie was.  He reared up a little and Melanie fell off.  She hit her head so bad it started bleeding.
     Mom picked Mel up and carried her home while leading Bucky.  Mel was incoherent all the way home.  Mom was afraid that the fall had smashed Mel's brain somehow.
     I remember dad putting Mel on my bed and making the room dark.  He took a flashlight and flicked it on and off in Mel's eyes.  The pupils were responding to the sudden flashes of light but because she made no sense, he said they had to get Mel to the hospital.
     They had to keep her awake all night.  She had suffered a concussion and was in the hospital for a few days.  I thought she was going to die and cried all night the first night.  She missed Craig's birthday on Apr. 8, but when she came home we had cake for 2 occasions, her coming home and Craig's belated birthday.
     Not two weeks later, we were in York, PA. for the biggest chicken show on the east coast.  Melanie was still feeling the affects of the concussion when mom had a car accident going into the parking lot of the motel.  Thankfully our Chrysler Newport cushioned any force of the blow, and none of us were phased at all by the car that crashed into us.  Follow the link for the whole story on this incident.
     On December 16, we were under one of the worse storms damage wise for Connecticut.  It was a mix of rain, ice and snow.

Glistening ice from the December 17, 1973 ice storm in Connecticut.  This photo was taken from the cemetary off North Eagleville Road at UConn.  Photo submitted by Wayne Norman Shpow listener Dave Doiron of Mansfield.

When we were sent home early from school the bus couldn't get up our double hill on Ludwig Rd.  Melanie was totally wild with worry about our dad because he wasn't coming home.  Finally he showed up around 5:00 in his truck.  He barely made it home.
     We lost power for the first time around 6:30 p.m.  Melanie was in her element.  We could not go anywhere and we all had to stay in the living room where we had a fire going in the fireplace.  Since there was no t.v., no lights and no in and out of the refrigerator, we took to playing board games by candle light.  It was the happiest childhood memory Melanie had.
     With me at 16 and Craig at 17, and Mel only 8, we did not spend any time with her.  She was just a kid.  We were teenagers and were constantly with our friends.  During that storm, though, she had our undivided attention.  That was all she wanted occasionally, just us spending even a few minutes with her, which we hardly ever did.
    The storm knocked our power out but we happened to have a CL&P worker who lived in the neighborhood.  Mr Darling lived on Newell Hill Rd, and restored our neighborhood for about 13 hours.  Then it went out again for about 9 hours and he came back to restore it for all of us.  There were many shivering out the storm for days, but Mr. Darling, who was a darling, made sure we were all okay.

                             Sibling Antics And Jealousies - Barbizon Girl

Family portrait, ca. 1969.  Photo by William C. Sundgren, Jr.

     Our attention toward Melanie as siblings was generally harassment.  She was the baby who got away with everything it seemed and she got to do things that Craig and I never got to do.  Craig was the biggest trail to Melanie.  He used to coax her under a blanket or sleeping bag because she was always cold.  Then he would wrap the blanket around her very tightly and either hold it down or sit on her.  We pig piled on her regularly.
     Melanie always screamed she had to go to the bathroom, so we would let her go.  Well, it was her way of getting away.  Once, though, she had cried wolf too many times so Craig wouldn't let her go, and she really did pee inside the blanket.  Craig stopped harassing her at that point, but we probably did long term damage to not only her pride, but her bladder. 
     Melanie was a girl scout, just like I was.  She
collected many more badges than I ever did.  She was rewarded by my mom and dad by being able to attend girl scout camp every year for 2 weeks.  I never got to go, and I used to get so mad that she could have all that fun while I had to sweat through humid, hot days with no relief from lakes like she had.  Of course, when I finally discovered what they actually did, between bugs, wild animals and hiking, I was glad that I didn't have to go after all.

Barbizon Girl, ca. 1979  Photo by Richard Sundgren

     Another point of contention between sisters was when she got to attend Barbizon School of Modeling.  I think it was around 1979-80.  I was married by then but there was still a bit of a sting when I found out once again she got something I never did.  She learned things about posture, walking, and hair care.  Of course, the biggie was learning how to use and apply make-up, something I never learned very well.  Dad was so pleased at this beautiful daughter of his that he shot a ton of photos and showed them to all his cronies from roofing and at cafes and taverns.
     I am not certain Melanie ever appreciated that kind of attention. She had no aspirations to be a model.  It may have been our mom's way of getting her out of her introverted shell to socialize more and have fun.  Melanie had always been more academic and serious, unlike her very flighty, rebellious , artistically bent older sister.  
     I was terribly jealous of all the perks Melanie got growing up, but she was always envious of my abilities with poetry, music composition, sewing, drawing, photography and painting.  She was also sad because she didn't have any sibling close in age like Craig and I.  We were 14 months apart and could always use the other for a playmate when our friends were away.  

                                                    Auction Block ca. 1978

Very Last Christmas, 1977 at 28 Ludwig Rd.  Photo by Naoma Sundgren

     Melanie did endure many more upheavals than Craig and I.  The worse was when the town of Ellington came by in October of 1977 and nailed a sign on our big ash tree next to the road at 28 Ludwig Rd.  I had just gotten married in June, and I went to visit one November day and there was an auction sign.  Dad hadn't been able to pay the property taxes so the town seized the house and told the rest of the family they had only until March of 1978 to either pay the taxes or move all their things out.
     Melanie was 12 at the time.  I sat with her for many hours between November and March as she cried about losing the only home she had ever known.  Nothing could be done.  Michael and I couldn't pay the large tax bill, which was over $10,000.  Neither could we bid on the house.  We had no money to help.  I think the selling bid was around $28,000 for an oversize ranch with two complete houses (upstairs and downstairs), 4.5 acres, and a corral and several outbuildings that had housed our large chicken population. 
     They moved to Hoffman Rd., down in the valley in Ellington and rented half of a duplex.  It wasn't a bad place really.  Mel quickly got used to it and even liked it more than Ludwig Rd.
     Then she had to live through the mounting arguments between our parents until they finally split up.  Mom worked hard to pay the rent and they stayed there until around 1984.  

                                                      School Days

Melanie in EHS marching band, ca. 1983.  Photo by June Mita

      Mel seemed to be interested in music.  She didn't really sing, but she did begin taking banjo lessons at around 12.  She wanted to learn to play the theme from the movie Deliverance.  I played the guitar and within a few months we were playing the duet.  She learned the song much better than I did.  She would start going really fast and I would give up because I couldn't keep up with her.  She also learned to play the clarinet and played with the Ellington High School marching band for most of her 4 years there.
     One memory that I have was when Mel was in 1st or 2nd. grade at Crystal Lake School.  I was very sentimental at 15.  The class was doing a Christmas concert and the class sang "It's A Small World" so sweetly it made me cry.  Melanie had this other worldly look on her face, one of rapture and uplift as she sang.  Normally I hate that song, but when she sang it with her class, for that one moment I wished they could continue singing forever.
     In her adult life she also learned to play the piano only because she wanted to be able to play the piece from A Charlie Brown Christmas.  She learned it.  Whatever she set her mind to to learn, she did.
     If Melanie got into any funny scrapes, I don't know any.  She was always very controlled and stayed out of trouble.  She was brainy and was 4th in her graduating high school class of 1984.  She won a Pell grant for her grades as well as a few scholarships.  She went into the ROTC Air Force at UConn to study engineering.  Because of her accident with Bucky, the Air Force wouldn't let her stay in the program.  A traumatic brain injury or concussions are considered placing the pilot and plane at risk, so after a year she had to leave the program.  She studied Economics instead.  
    

    
     

                                             

Naoma Harlow Sundgren - Of Farms, Dances and Marriage

                                                     The Aborn's of Ellington  

                                                              Meadowbrook Rd., ca. 1944

  One of my mother's favorite trips was to Meadowbrook Rd. in Ellington, CT.  That was where her Uncle Robert had his dairy farm.  My grandmother was an Aborn, and Robert was her brother.  Mom loved visiting all her cousins there like Sherwood, Emerson and Shirley Aborn.  Emerson was her favorite cousin.
     When you threw all the kids together there were around 11 or 12, enough for a baseball team.  She never told me they played baseball somewhere on the 55 acres,  but it is only natural to assume they did.  There were plenty of cow plops to create bases and a pitcher's mound.
     The farm always had lots of barn cats.  Many a family member would leave with a kitten or two hidden under their shirts when they went home.  When the mom's and dad's woke up the next morning, they would find new kittens looking for milk or food.  Nobody would claim they brought a kitten home, so there was never a way to find out who did it.  They didn't get turned out, either.  The cats were just given a new home in a different barn or garage.
     Mom told me about her cousin, Grace Aborn.  Grace never married.  She always wore pants and boots and smoked cigars.  Mom always thought Grace was a little off, as did many folks in Ellington farm country.  She was full of heart, though.  She helped everyone and hardly ever lost her temper.
     The farm is still located on Meadowbrook Rd.  It is still owned by an Aborn and it is still a dairy farm.  Emerson took over the farm when his father died, then his son Skipper took it over when Emerson died.  Now Skipper's kids are running the operation.
     I do remember many visits to Emerson and family when I was growing up, because both our families lived in Ellington.  He loved to joke around and give us a hard time when we said something backward, or could be interpreted in another way.
     There was an old gray horse at the farm.  Mom said the horse was there even when she was younger.  When I was 8, Emerson told me that horse was around 30 years old.  I don't remember when the horse died, but it was around for a number of my growing up years.  We used to have rides on it when we were really little and mom remembered riding the horse as well before we were born.  Mom called the horse a swayback.  That is why we couldn't ride the horse when we got bigger, because not only was it old, but it had a weak back.
     We used to always play the game of Life at Emerson's with our cousins Audrey, Richard and Skipper.  They were always ready for board games, including some lengthy games with Monopoly, and fun battles with the game Battleship.
     Audrey had her own record player.  She had dozens of the small 45 rpm records. We spent hours listening to Creedence Clearwater Revival in the late 60's and early 70's.
     They had a stuffed owl on top of an old stand up piano.  They must have used it in days long past as a scare tactic to keep birds out of the gardens.
     Our favorite thing to do was ride in the back of a trailer hauled by the old Farmall tractor. 

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Aunt Ellie, ca. 1943

     Mom told me her sister Eleanor, my Aunt Ellie, was born a blue baby.  When you're born a blue baby it means the umbilical cord gets wrapped around your throat or waist, cutting off breathing.  It turns your skin blue because it is like holding your breath.  It was a very good doctor because he/she was able to clear Ellie of her obstruction so she could breathe.  She changed color from blue to pink.  Because of it though my mom said Ellie was never 100% right in the head.  She also had a very crooked knee that made her leg go outwards.
     Even so, she went to school to about 8th grade, got married, adopted a son (my cousin Lee), held a job and ran the farm with my Uncle Dick.  Whatever she lacked mentally she made up for with her warm and caring heart and abundant amounts of love.
     My mom's mother died in 1948 from diabetes.  My mom was on a ski trip in Vermont when it happened.  They told her to finish her trip, then they would have the wake and funeral.  So she did.

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                                         Lady of The Dance

    My mom, ca. 1950                                                                                                 Jean Harlow
     My mom was beautiful.  They used to call her Jean Harlow because of her blonde hair that she kept styled like Jean Harlow.  She could have been a pin up girl and even had several photos taken in the pin up girl fashion.
     My mom loved dancing.  She was raised on musicals, the Big Band Era, and the Follies.  She remembered dances that were held at Colt Park in Hartford every Saturday night during the summer.  She was a very good social dancer and always had plenty of partners.  She always had dreams of becoming a Ginger Rogers with a partner like Fred Astaire.  Of course no partner was anything like Fred Astaire.  During WWII she used to go to the USO gatherings, and got a number of marriage proposals. She was having too much fun and always said no.  Then she met my dad.
     I can't be sure how she even met my dad.  It may have been at a dance hall.  My mom was very independent and had her own car.  If there was a dance hall near by she would drive to it.  My dad was living in Crystal Lake, a village of Ellington, CT.  There was also a lake there called, of course, Crystal Lake.
     On the west shore of the lake was a restaurant and dance hall called Pagani's.  It had a beautiful location and there was a gorgeous sandy beach along the lake.  It was a hopping place in the 40's and 50's.  My mom used to go there often.  My dad was a great dancer, too.  That was the common ground between them.  Both seemed perfect dance partners.  I wouldn't doubt they met at Pagani's and finally at 29 mom said yes to a marriage proposal from my dad.  They were married on April 2, 1955.  My mom was 30, and my dad was 29.

                                                   Mom and Dad's wedding photo, ca. 1955

 

                          L. to R.   Ronald Harlow, Eleanor Harlow, Richard Sundgren, Naoma Harlow, Ralph Harlow, Phyllis Harlow, Ralph Harlow.


                               The Business Of Beauty In The 50's

Naoma Harlow, ca. 1953

     My mom told me that she used to ski at Wickham Park in Manchester, CT.  For those familiar with the park, there is a very steep hill that faces Hartford.  I don't know where, but there used to be a ski tow rope on that side so you could get back to the hill top.  It was a close run for my mom to go to in order to keep her ski legs.  The tow operated around 1965 to about 1970.  I don't remember the ski tow myself, but she says she did ski there.  I remember the skis were always leaning up against the back of her closet.  I used to put them on my feet when I was small and into dress up.  She was not happy that I scraped the skis across the floor and sometimes outside on the grass. 
     Her favorite kind of skiing was spring skiing.  She would go out to New Hartford or up to the Berkshires on warm sunny days in March.  The temperature would reach the 50's and 60's and there would still be plenty  of snow to ski on. 
     In order to keep her slim figure, mom used to exercise every morning to Jack LaLanne.  My brother and I would exercise to the t.v. right beside our mom.  We would hop and jump and clap our hands in the air.  I never did get a figure like my mother.

Mom, ca. 1988 When she had a hankering for some ice.

     She also liked to ice skate.  The pair of skates she had were from the 40's I think.  They weren't even figure skates.  They were actually hockey skates.  She told me the reason why she had so much trouble skating backwards and in figure 8's was because she had weak ankles.  Maybe it was because the skates were not meant to do figure skating.  Craig and I skated frequently with her.  I had tiny figure skates and Craig had a pair of black ones.  Mom always made sure we always had ice skates as we grew.  She always wanted to be able to bring us with her when she got the hankering to take on some ice. 
     I remember my mom getting a rubber suit to wear while she did chores.  It was supposed to make you sweat so you could lose  weight.  They call them sauna suits now but back in the late 50's and early 60's the suit was made of plastic or rubber.  I remember trying it a few times in my teens.  It didn't work, probably because I wouldn't give up my Frito bandito habit.  It did make me sweat, that much I remember. 

     Mom also had a vibrating belt machine.  You would place the belt around your waist and turn on the machine.  It would shake and jiggle your fat away in theory.  I am not sure it really worked either, but mom would try anything that said it was an easy way to lose weight or maintain your small waist.  Her waist was probably around 23 before she had my brother Craig.  I don't think she ever saw below 26 inches after 1956. 
     She never went out publicly without her lipstick.  Mom didn't always wear lots of eye make up, but if she planned on even just going out to the local corner store in Crystal Lake, her lips would always be red before she left the house.  Powder was usually a requirement as well, and she would always make sure she had on a clean blouse and pants.  Casual clothes such as jeans were not something she would be seen in outside of our own four walls at home.
     Another thing she had lots of were hats.  Mom always had hats to wear for church or special occasions.  In the early 50's she was a secretary at Travelers Insurance and I don't think the ladies of the office ever went bare headed while they were going to work.  I loved playing with all her hats and using them for dress up.  She was the perfect person for dress up.  Between gowns, heels, makeup, jewelry, scarves, and hats, I never wanted for materials to pretend I was a queen or Cinderella at a ball.
     The shop that mom bought all her fine clothes was called the Blue Bird Shop.  I think it used to be on Pratt Street in Hartford, CT.  When I started working in Hartford in 1977, the shop was still operating.  It was primarily a wedding shop by then, but in the 50's it was a women's version of Stackpole, Moore and Tryon, the men's shop on Trumbull St. 
     Overall, I should have learned to be much more vain and refined with my appearance.  Well, perhaps I just got exposed too much to it as a child, but it never took.

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     Mom tried to be the perfect housekeeper during the 50's and 60's.  I am not sure that even with her farming exposure throughout her formative years, domestic mastery really rubbed off.  She used to stuff all our drawers with any clutter that showed up on tables and in chairs, so as the years went by it became harder and harder to open drawers.  The linen closet was always in a rumpled state, and grunge built up in the corners of the bathroom regularly.  Her closet was always very organized, though.  Her shoes were always straight, her clothes were always pressed, and her bureau was always tidy. 
      She had some strange food tastes.  During her single days at Travelers, she told me she would bring onion sandwiches with her for lunch.  Frankly, to think of someone in a closed office sitting at a desk after eating an onion sandwich for lunch must have been very "fragrant" for her co-workers.
     She also liked cucumber and peanut butter sandwiches.  Well, I used to eat Purina dog chow, so I guess eating a peanut butter and cucumber sandwich isn't so strange.  As a child, when the cucumbers started coming, Craig, Mel and I ate a lot of peanut butter and cucumber sandwiches.  They were actually pretty good.
     Another favorite of hers was hot coffee poured on shredded wheat biscuits, with a little milk and sugar.  I never tried that one.  I thought it was weird as a kid and I still do.
     She wasn't much of a cook, really.  Mom could make a decent farm pie crust, though, out of lard.  The original recipe came from Women's Home Companion Cookbook, published in the 1950's.  Here is a recipe I found on Food.com.  I have tasted the crust of my friend, Lynn, who said her mother always used vinegar.  The crust is EXCELLENT.  Here is the recipe. 

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• 2 cups flour
• 1 cup lard, cold
• 1 teaspoon vinegar
• 1/3 cup milk
• 1 pinch salt

Directions:

1. 1
   Cut lard into the flour.
2. 2
   Add the last three ingredients, mix and form into ball.
3. 3
   Divide into thirds.
4. 4
   Chill.
5. 5
   This will be sticky until you chill it.
6. 6
   Keep unused portion in refrigerator until needed.
7. 7
   Roll each out into a 9" piecrust.
8. 8
   If you are baking single crust bake at 400 degrees for 11-13 minutes or until lightly browned.
9. 9
   If you are making a double crust pie follow directions from the can of fruit.
10. 10
    As you bake your pie, you may want to add foil around the edges so they don't brown to quickly.
    
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        Mom also baked a lot of homemade bread.  When it came to feeding us, though, I don't know where she got the idea but she used to cut hot dogs into small pieces, then mix them in with canned Franco American Macaroni and cheese and she would add little bits of chopped celery.  I tried doing this once for my husband Michael.  He nearly vomited, and threw it away in the garbage disposal, then went out for pizza.
         We all survived, though.  From Tree Tavern Pizza to Swanson T.V. dinners, to Cott soda, we lived through bad food and good, and can reminisce about those days with many laughs and good humor.  
                         
                          Mom's Macaroni, Franks and Onion Skillet 
    
    
     1/2 cup sliced celery                                2 tblsp chopped onion
    1/4 cup chopped green peppers                3 frankfurters cut in 1 inch pieces
    2 tblsp butter or margarine                       1 can Franco American Mac and cheese
    
    In skillet cook celery, onions, and peppers in butter until tender.  Add franks and brown.  Mix in macaroni and cheese.  Heat, stirring now and then.  Makes 2 or 3 servings.  
    
    
    
    
     
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    

             
                                                                                        







 

Naoma Harlow Sundgren - My Mom

    My mother was born to Ralph Harlow and Gertrude Aborn on March 14, 1925.  I think she was born in Hartford.  She was the youngest of five.  Her siblings were Eleanor, Phyllis, Ralph, and Ronald (Ronny to all of the family.) Her first name, Naoma, was strange.  Nobody could ever tell her why she was named Naoma rather than the more common Naomi, but she always liked the name.  We think it may have had some Native American roots. 
  
      My mom's middle name was Gertrude.  She always hated it.  Of course, her middle name was the same as her mom's name, but she never took a shine to the name for anyone.  She always wanted to legally change it to something else, and when anyone asked her what her middle name was, she would make a sour face and say very dishearteningly "Gertrude."


Photo ca. 1986 by June Mita                                     
                                      
                                The Story of Minnehaha ca, 1928  
                 
       She told me about what happened to her when she was around 3.  Her dad raised pigs, amongst other farm stuff like sheep, chickens, horses and vegetables.  One spring, baby pigs were born and her dad told her to choose one.  It would be her special pig.  She named the pig Minnehaha, after an Indian woman in the story "Hiawatha" by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.
     My mom disappeared one day and no matter where her mother looked, she couldn't find 3 year old Naoma anywhere.  All the kids went looking in the woods and fields, calling "Naoma."  They checked the strawberry field, they checked the open well, and they checked her room.  Her dad said to her mom not to worry.  She would eventually come back.  He was not one to be agitated easily.
     So he went out to feed the pigs, and when he got to the pigsty where the baby pigs were, there he saw a little golden head shining in a patch of sun, covered by hay.  My mother had fallen asleep, with her arm stretched around Minnehaha, asleep in the pen with her special pet pig.  When he brought his sleepy daughter up to the house in his arms, her mother thought she was dead.  She wasn't, but she sure was dirty.  Right away, she had to have a bath before supper.


                                          The Butcher Knife Incident - ca. 1937/38

     Naoma in 1937 - Age 12

     My mom was the baby and was quite spoiled.  She was one of those angelic looking children with clear blue eyes and blonde, curly hair.  She was born with a droopy lip which always made her mouth look a little sideways.  However, her fair skin, blue eyes, and blonde hair were show stoppers for anyone that saw her.  This allowed her to almost get away with murder.
     Her older brother, Ronny, was always causing trouble.  He loved making sensations, and he could always tell a great story.  Because of his troublemaking ways, he usually got blamed for anything that happened automatically.                                                            

     My mom was around 12 or 13 and did something but I can't remember what.  Rather than owning up to the fact she had done the deed, she let her mother go on blaming Ronny for it.  He told his mother it was Naoma, but she didn't believe him. He was very mad at the fact that his baby sister always seemed to sidle out of any kind of punishment.  He wanted to make her pay for what she had done.  He also wanted to bring her off her high and mighty horse.
     I am not certain what he did.  Perhaps he twittered her about her mouth or maybe he called her Gertrude in front of a friend.  The actual detail is lost.  However, he made her so mad one day that she picked up the nearest object to throw it at him.  It happened to be a butcher knife.  She winged it at him but her aim was thankfully really bad, so she missed him by a mile. It did lodge itself into the wall, however.
     She got walloped pretty hard by my grandfather, and Ronny accomplished what he set out to do.  That incident may have finally gotten her over being the spoiled princess that she had been. 

                                      
                                                Strawberry Shortcake ca. 1930

     My grandfather always had strawberries growing.  When my mom was little, her and her brothers and sisters always loved the month of June because that was strawberry month.  They didn't always like having to pick them, though.  My mom said as soon as they could walk, they picked berries.
     My grandfather always had the sweetest strawberries.   Mom told me it was because he put fresh chicken manure on them as soon as the snow melted.  It was the chicken manure that made them so sweet.  He also used sheep manure when there wasn't enough chicken manure.
     In order to give all the Harlow children incentive to pick the strawberries, there was a reward at the end of the day.  My grandparents were basically easy going people who didn't always have to prepare a well balanced meal.  It was a farm, and farm rules are a little different from suburbia.  Basically, chores had to get done, animals had to get fed, but not too much else applied.  So my grandmother would set to work making a huge batch of shortcake.
     My mom told me that when the strawberries were plentiful, they would eat shortcake for breakfast, for lunch and for dinner.  There would be no side dishes unless something else happened to be growing.  She said they never got sick of strawberry shortcake.  Sugar was not common to snack on, so when the kids had a chance to eat sweet cake, fresh whole cream right from the cow, and strawberries swimming in their own juice with sugar, they would eat it until they popped.  One rule applied though.  If you didn't pick any strawberries, you didn't get the  shortcake dinner, or anything else.
     Guess who went without the annual strawberry supper sometimes.  You guessed it.  Brother Ronny. 

                          Grandma Aborn's Shortcake
                                                          serves 8

2 cups flour                                                 2 tblsp. sugar
5 tsps. baking powder                                 1/4 cup lard
1 tsp salt                                                      2/3 cup milk

     Mix and sift flour, baking powder, salt and sugar.  Cut in lard with a knife or rub in with the finger tips.  Add milk gradually and mix to a soft dough.  Roll out on a lightly floured wooden board to 1/2 inch thickness.  Cut with a large cookie cutter.  Bake in a quick oven (425 F) for 15 minutes.  Break apart and put sliced and sweetened fruit or crushed berries between and on  top of cakes.  Top with fresh, raw cream that has been sweetened with sugar.


                                                  Secret In the Basement ca 1940


     My grandfather made his own wine.  He would make dandelion wine, elderberry wine and grape wine.  He might have even made apple wine.  I always wondered why he spent so much time in the basement when I visited my Aunt Ellie and Uncle Dick on Day St. in Newington, CT.  He lived with them.  Us kids were never allowed to go in the basement.  We always wondered what the big secret was that we couldn't see.  Well, it was because he had loads of wine down there. 
     My mom told me a story about her mom, my grandmother.  Every Thanksgiving and Christmas every one, even the kids, were allowed a little wine.  My  grandmother was diabetic so she shouldn't have had any, but it was a family tradition.    When she drank her wine, she would get all flushed and red in the face and she would start to sweat a little.  Then she would get silly and laugh a little too loud.  It was about the only time my grandmother ever smiled, when she was drinking my grandfather's wine. 

 ==============================================================

     Things were not always secure when my mother was growing up.  She wasn't very forthcoming about life during the depression.  They did not always have a farm to raise their food on.  Before 1929, the family rented a farm.  Things were fine.  They sold eggs, strawberries, and meats.  Her father knew exactly how to slaughter sheep in the kosher way and was one of the few sheep farmers that could do that.  He made quite a business from it.  Mom tried to explain the process to me, but wasn't certain all the techniques involved.  
     When the crash occurred in 1929, it seems things were not good for even renting a farm.  She told me that after 1929 the family moved around often.  She thought they must have moved about 8 times from 1930-1940. She told me about one place they rented that had a great hill.  The kids always tobogganed down it.  It was in Newington, not too far from Day Street.  
     During that time, her father picked up jobs wherever he could.  Sometimes it would be just a day or two, sometimes it would be a season on a farm, and it is even possible that they all had to stay with her mother's family, the Aborns, in Ellington, for short periods if money couldn't be earned.  I seem to recall mom telling me that her father finally got a job in a factory that made light bulbs.  
     These were not the light bulbs of today.  These light bulbs were huge.  They were made of clear glass and had an obvious filament.  They measured about 14 inches from top to bottom and were not only extremely bright, but also very hot.  They were made mostly for commercial purposes, such as institutions and hospitals, but he used to get them for free.  I know for a fact that when I visited my grandfather on Day St., he had these light bulbs still working in the chicken coops even in the 60's and 70's.  My Uncle Dick gave me one of those light bulbs in 1985, and I had it in my basement in the laundry room for at least 15 years.  It would have kept on working if I hadn't hit it with a light stand that I used for photography.  
     I can't be sure of the date when the family finally landed on Day St. in Newington CT.  My grandfather did buy the place, so there was no more rental fees.  That is the farm I remember as a child.  It wasn't a big one, but there were a few chicken coops and there was a place for sheep and pigs, and a large field on the side of the house where he raised those wonderful strawberries that I remember so fondly.  
     
                                Swizzle Sticks and Rubber Bands ca 1935

     My mother had an aunt that lived in Cushman, MA.  It was her father's sister, Aunt Doris.  Every year the family would try to visit at least once.  In our modern age of highways and reliable cars, visiting a family member only once a year when the location is so close seems odd.  However, back in the 1920's and 1930's, there were no highways.  It would take at least half a day to get from Connecticut up to Amherst/Cushman, often times longer.  
     Cars were slow and when something went wrong, it was usually the dad in the family that fixed it.  Hence, the reason why our dads always seemed to collect every little nut, bolt, and part.  You never knew when you would need one, and even if it didn't fit, you would make it fit.  
     Mom told me that their car was far from pristine.  She said she could see the road under the floor going by, and the windows didn't roll up or down.  They stayed open.  One day on one of their trips to Massachusetts, the car door kept opening up every time they hit a bump, and there were lots of them.  Finally her father used the girls hair ribbons to tie it closed.  She said her father used to keep the car together with swizzle sticks and rubber bands. 
 

    

    

Introduction To Our Living History

It began as a dream in May of 2014.  My sister, Melanie Welch, was in and out of the hospital as she battled an incurable form of cancer called soft tissue sarcoma.  She had been fighting this particular form of cancer since 2011.  My mother, Naoma Harlow Sundgren,  died from breast cancer in 1998 and my father, Richard Pride Sundgren died from a blood infection in 2013.

As I struggled with my sister's worsening condition, I had a dream visit from my father in May of 2014.  He was in full voice and spoke to me.  He told me that I knew all the stories of the family, and I needed to tell them.  My sister Melanie had always wanted to but never got around to it.  I have been keeping journals since I was 15, so I was the obvious choice to finally tell our unique family history, going back to when my mom was born on March 14, 1925, and my dad was born on November 18, 1925.

My sister died on July 8, 2014 at the age of 48.  She left behind our brother Craig, myself, her husband David Welch, and her four children, Marc, Amy, Ryan and Sarah.

I have had the voices of the past haunt me since, hearing our laughter, our tears, our crazy young days, and the squeals of our children at the pool, on Christmases, on Thanksgivings, and any and all celebrations we got together about, sometimes not for any reason at all.  I also began to hear the voices of my cousins, my aunts, my uncles, my grandparents, and childhood friends.  It is time to set some of those stories down, to share with the remaining family I have, as well as a few of our childhood friends that are still alive today and remember our times together. 

A little about our history before I start.  My mother was part of the family Harlow.  Our line of Harlow's were founders of this great country, the U S of A.  The first Harlow landed in Plymouth soon after that famous first winter.  We have much research that has gone on in my generation to get the genealogy of the family set down.  Most of the information is now housed in Plymouth, MA. at The Harlow House.  If I am able to get this set of stories done, a copy will be given to the family archive if they wish to have it.

My mother was born to Ralph Emerson Harlow and  Gertrude Aborn.  There were five children which included Eleanor, Ralph, Phyllis, Ronald and my mom.  More on all these Harlow's later as I recall the oral history and stir up my memory banks.

My father was part of the Pride family on his mother's side and the Sundgren family on his father's side. The Pride's did not come over on the Mayflower, but they were part of some of the first families that came later, on other ships.  The Pride's landed in Massachusetts as well, and founded a town called Pride's Crossing, a burrough of the current Beverly, MA. as they made their way up to Maine.  They also settled Windham County in Maine, and the family owned most of it.  That land was lost due to one of the family that had a penchant for gambling.  He gambled away his land to pay his debts, and the family was left with hardly more than the shirts on their backs.

The Sundgrens were relative newcomers to America back in the mid 1800's.  Peter Sundgren came over from Sweden to live with his brother Nicholas, who had a large dairy farm in Bristol, CT. 

  He met a woman named Anna, and they married and began the first generation of Sundgren's.  From that first generation, my father's father was born.  His name was William Sundgren.

William met Edna May Pride and they married and had William, Elizebeth, and my father Richard.  Dad was born in New York City, but grew up primarily in Maine.

My dad met my mother in 1954 and they married in 1955.  Then came Craig, me (June) and our little sister Melanie.

Melanie married David Welch and they had Marc, Amy, Ryan and Sarah.  That is when the Welch's entered this mix of families.

I married Michael Mita, and we had a daughter, Kathleen Linnea, and that was when the Mita's joined our clan.  Enough of family connections and births and deaths.  That will all be covered throughout the compilation of these stories.  Let's get on to the fun stuff now.

The stories I convey are not in any particular chronological order.  Some were told to me by my mother and father.  Some are experiences that happened in our childhood and others are relatively current.  These stories are not anything more than a living history to be given to our children and any other family member that would like a copy.  However, they can be viewed publicly by anyone interested in knowing how life was lived since 1925.  I hope that strangers will find some to be quite humorous and entertaining.

My intention is to inspire all families to try their hand at creating their own anthologies of stories, history, and accomplishments to be given to their families.  I think most children would love to have a written history of their family life to give to their children, or to their town's historical society, or to a local library.

If nothing else, every parent should take the time to write letters to their children throughout their children's growing up years.  My sister's kids would have loved to have letters of advice from their mother as she tried to imagine various events in their lives, such as marriage, children, job changes, travel, etc.  She never wrote any letters to them, and now she is gone.  So I will try to step in and give them some of what their mother might have written if she had taken the task to heart.

Here is to all the Harlow's, all the Sundgren's, all the Welch's and all the Mita's.  The families are a lot smaller now, but perhaps some good will come out of this loosely written story of our lives.

June Sundgren Mita
Tolland, CT.