The car I did not remember, was the car my dad possessed when he got out of the service, the year I was born, 1953. It was an early ’40s Nash. This is the model with the smooth-flowing, rounded, no-hump back. Humpbacks were standard fare for cars in the 1940s and early ’50s. The Nash was set apart in style and features, but they were unable to convince the buying public of their superior quality. They and their successors eventually failed.
Times were different back then: politicians and taxpayers never gave a second thought to propping up and going into debt to forestall eventual corporate failure. In fact, we fought a war against this. We buried over 130,000 of our men on foreign soil in our fight against socialism, fascism and big government during WWII. We can thank God for our victory and hope we do not lose our vision.
My dad’s very first car was a ‘38 or ‘39 Chevy, like the one in this picture. It was a rust-bucket. He paid $50 for that car in 1949, which was an incredible amount of money for a boy of nineteen years. In my dad’s time, life was not easy and one had to work hard and save every nickel just to purchase basic transportation. People were grateful for every opportunity and determined to work hard to afford the things they needed. There was no minimum wage back then.
We live in bountiful times, despite the daily whine that flows from our politicians and the media. Our “difficult times” brought on by a “recession” still affords us more leisure and luxury than days of old. Today, a high school kid with a part time job can go to the bank or credit union and walk out with a loan for a five thousand or twenty-five thousand dollar car. Few students have to make the choice between that extra job and participation in sports.
When my dad was young, he lived in Greeley, Colorado with his family. His father built a house very similar to the one in the picture, but they never moved into it. This was a disappointment to my dad. But times were difficult and the house was sold and the family moved to Seattle.
This was a good thing, else my dad would never have met my mom and I would not be writing this story. My dad is a quiet man, steady, plodding and not prone to exhibition. My mom is . . . eccentric. One day, she found a rattlesnake skin and wore it around her neck to school. She was a hit and a controversy and my dad broke off with her. This, he usually did with every display of eccentricity – but this is also what drew him to her.
Mother was a Waley. Her dad, Gilbert, was an upholsterer, as was his father. He claimed to be part Cherokee, which grandma always poo-pooed. He told me that we came from a long line of Spanish conquistadors who came to live with the Indians. The problem was, grandpa had no Spanish blood, grandma did.
Grandpa always had stories of pirates and escapades and he told them as if he were part of it, even if they took place generations ago. Grandma, on the other hand, was secretive and hushed up the family history for quite some time. All her life, she went by the name Babe. It was even printed on her checks. In the last five years of her life, she saw fit to let us know the truth, that her name was Esmeralda.
Grandpa Waley’s cousin was the notorious Weyerhaeuser kidnapper, Harmon Waley. This man was the longest running prisoner at Alcatraz (1935 – 1963). He arrived approximate eight months after it opened and was released less than a half year of its closing. He is the same man who beat up Al Capone and his two goons, as reported in Time magazine 15 Jun 1936. The rest of this episode will be saved for a later date.
One of these days, I may also tell you the story why an apparently English surname, Waley, belongs to a French people. My grandfather, Gilbert, had a grandfather named Gilbert. It is this Gilbert Waley, the captain and owner of five whaling ships, the son of a French general under Napoleon, who brought the heritage of the tall boats and whaling ships to Mystic, Connecticut.
How is it such a boring little shop-keeper came from such a colorful history? And how did we get into all this by talking about old cars? More to come . . .
On the economic front, the big news of the week is that unemployment numbers have fallen and it looks like they are turning around. Large companies have reduced their wholesale layoffs and a lot of small businesses are really gearing up – and many of the laid off have started their own businesses. But the media is unrelenting: I read two accounts this week – news stories, not editorials, mind you – why this is not good news and that it is not going to last. Doom and gloom will be the media’s mantra – they are determined to self-destruct. Don’t join them in looking down – look up!
There is good news all around us! Always remember, God watches the sparrow and He cares about you. Don’t live in fear but be thankful for all God has given us!
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Best Of Times: part five
The car I did not remember, was the car my dad possessed when he got out of the service, the year I was born, 1953. It was an early ’40s Nash. This is the model with the smooth-flowing, rounded, no-hump back. Humpbacks were standard fare for cars in the 1940s and early ’50s. The Nash was set apart in style and features, but they were unable to convince the buying public of their superior quality. They and their successors eventually failed.
Times were different back then: politicians and taxpayers never gave a second thought to propping up and going into debt to forestall eventual corporate failure. In fact, we fought a war against this. We buried over 130,000 of our men on foreign soil in our fight against socialism, fascism and big government during WWII. We can thank God for our victory and hope we do not lose our vision.
My dad’s very first car was a ‘38 or ‘39 Chevy, like the one in this picture. It was a rust-bucket. He paid $50 for that car in 1949, which was an incredible amount of money for a boy of nineteen years. In my dad’s time, life was not easy and one had to work hard and save every nickel just to purchase basic transportation. People were grateful for every opportunity and determined to work hard to afford the things they needed. There was no minimum wage back then.
We live in bountiful times, despite the daily whine that flows from our politicians and the media. Our “difficult times” brought on by a “recession” still affords us more leisure and luxury than days of old. Today, a high school kid with a part time job can go to the bank or credit union and walk out with a loan for a five thousand or twenty-five thousand dollar car. Few students have to make the choice between that extra job and participation in sports.
When my dad was young, he lived in Greeley, Colorado with his family. His father built a house very similar to the one in the picture, but they never moved into it. This was a disappointment to my dad. But times were difficult and the house was sold and the family moved to Seattle.
This was a good thing, else my dad would never have met my mom and I would not be writing this story. My dad is a quiet man, steady, plodding and not prone to exhibition. My mom is . . . eccentric. One day, she found a rattlesnake skin and wore it around her neck to school. She was a hit and a controversy and my dad broke off with her. This, he usually did with every display of eccentricity – but this is also what drew him to her.
Mother was a Waley. Her dad, Gilbert, was an upholsterer, as was his father. He claimed to be part Cherokee, which grandma always poo-pooed. He told me that we came from a long line of Spanish conquistadors who came to live with the Indians. The problem was, grandpa had no Spanish blood, grandma did.
Grandpa always had stories of pirates and escapades and he told them as if he were part of it, even if they took place generations ago. Grandma, on the other hand, was secretive and hushed up the family history for quite some time. All her life, she went by the name Babe. It was even printed on her checks. In the last five years of her life, she saw fit to let us know the truth, that her name was Esmeralda.
Grandpa Waley’s cousin was the notorious Weyerhaeuser kidnapper, Harmon Waley. This man was the longest running prisoner at Alcatraz (1935 – 1963). He arrived approximate eight months after it opened and was released less than a half year of its closing. He is the same man who beat up Al Capone and his two goons, as reported in Time magazine 15 Jun 1936. The rest of this episode will be saved for a later date.
One of these days, I may also tell you the story why an apparently English surname, Waley, belongs to a French people. My grandfather, Gilbert, had a grandfather named Gilbert. It is this Gilbert Waley, the captain and owner of five whaling ships, the son of a French general under Napoleon, who brought the heritage of the tall boats and whaling ships to Mystic, Connecticut.
How is it such a boring little shop-keeper came from such a colorful history? And how did we get into all this by talking about old cars? More to come . . .
On the economic front, the big news of the week is that unemployment numbers have fallen and it looks like they are turning around. Large companies have reduced their wholesale layoffs and a lot of small businesses are really gearing up – and many of the laid off have started their own businesses. But the media is unrelenting: I read two accounts this week – news stories, not editorials, mind you – why this is not good news and that it is not going to last. Doom and gloom will be the media’s mantra – they are determined to self-destruct. Don’t join them in looking down – look up!
There is good news all around us! Always remember, God watches the sparrow and He cares about you. Don’t live in fear but be thankful for all God has given us!
This entry was posted on Tuesday, May 26th, 2009 at 8:57 am and is filed under best of times, commentary. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. // Both Comments and Pings are open ?> You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.