The early 1940s were not easy on families. There was the Depression, war and rationing. Many people had to relocate in order to support their families. This was a challenge.
1942 was a year of change for us. We moved to another town far away from our birthplace _ a "new to us" house, new school, new friends to make, new everything.
All this was quite an adjustment.
But we did have family togetherness: our loving parents, our loving grandparents, animals and "us three siblings" _ 8, 10 and 12 years old. I was in the middle and in fifth grade.
Dad had a new position that was to last about a year and then he would be back to New York City. The job caused the family temporarily move to a town just outside of Allentown, Pa., called Catasauqua. (It took a long time to learn to spell that one).
The gray stone house we rented looked like a mansion _ probably because it was big and I was little.
To describe the house would take a few pages because it was unusually large for a home. Mom and Nanny were good at rearranging our belongings, furniture, etc., and decorating, so we all settled in quite comfortably with lots of room to spare.
I remember being entertained _ no TV or electronic gadgets "back when."
During the warm evenings we would toss pebbles as high up in the air as we could. The many bats in the area would swoop down, maneuvering and vying for the prize. "Sorry, Mr. Bat, it's just a stone and not a tasty insect" _ but they kept playing our games and it was truly amazing to see the agility of flight they had.
Fascinating and very educational.
There was an old elevator in our house. (Believe it or not!) It used to travel up to the second and third floors.
Perhaps it was used by the servants long ago, for it was located by the back stairway and smaller living quarters.
This building must have had quite a history. I never found that out or perhaps my parents never knew either, since we were to live there for such a short time.
We did not use the old elevator. All doors were securely padlocked, completely immovable from little curiosity-seekers. Mom and Dad were taking no chances. But there must have been something lurking in the dark spooky shaft because one night:
It was a very hot and muggy night. One of those nights when the high humidity caused you to sleeplessly toss and turn until finally exhausted slumber claims you.
I had a habit of sleeping on top of the covers _ "upside down and turned around" _ with my feet up by the pillow and my head at the bottom of the bed. That way I could be closer to any air that might stir through the open window.
The streetlight shone through the window screen to cause silhouettes of dancing leaves on the opposite wall. My eyelashes fluttered to the hypnotic rhythm of the shadowy movements. And soon sleep overtook me. All was quiet.
All of a sudden there was a noise _ like a fluttering of cards being shuffled. Flip, flip ... flip, flip. My eyes popped open to stare at a giant flapping monstrous creature projected on the bedroom wall. Yikes _ and it was flying all over!
One shriek, one turning leap into the air and I was safely under the covers screaming my head off.
All came running.
Peeking out from under the sheets I could see brooms flying through the air. A thud and then a soothing voice, "All's OK now. Back to sleep everyone." (That took some time with all my nerves rattled ... easier said then done.)
Mom used to joke about some folks having "bats in their belfry." Well, I certainly got a bat education living in that area.
Another experience was when my sister and I discovered an injured bat one evening when attending Girl Scouts in an old church building. We always seemed to rescue creatures in need and so we carefully wrapped our little furry mouse with wings in our green wool-felt berets.
We took him (or her) home to nurse. We used the old-fashioned pie-cooling cabinet that hung in the cool dark cellar-way. It had small screen doors that latched and made an ideal "bat hospital." All went well and he recuperated quickly with much TLC. His injured wing mended and he flew, away happily to meet his friends in the air.
All this was in the early 1940s when life seemed simpler. True ... there were hardships due to world conditions but, looking back, childhood was happy, for the most part, and we siblings had a measure of "togetherness" _ family and all.
Elaine W. Kniskern is a 75-year-old resident of Schenevus and a grandmother of five.
