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Gasport Girl

by D. Jean Lang

84 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #02-1294; ISBN 1-55395-578-1; US$17.50, C$19.95, EUR14.50, £10.00

World War II. Its impact on the childhood of the author in the small Western New York State village of Gasport.

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about the book      about the author      sample excerpt      catalogue info

About the Book An autobiographical look at the author's growing-up years in the 1940's in Gasport, a small town in Western New York State. Spending summers and holidays with her maternal grandparents surrounded by loving aunts, uncles and cousins, the author captures the tempo of life in a small town as World War II impacts the lives of its residents. Lessons learned through the unconditional love of her grandmother and extended family, the author paines a picture through which we can view how family and community impacts a child's life. Family photographs, a picture of The Degan home on East Avenue complete with their famous giant horse chestnut tree and a photo of Gasport's Hammond Hotel and Joneses' Store let the reader share the visions of the past.

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About the Author "Gasport Girl" is Jean's second book. The first is A Month in Riva Trigoso, a travel essay of Italy. Jean is most recently a retired Middle School Guidance Counselor. Prior to that career she was an editor and writer for a small publishing company, and also wrote a weekly column in her neighborhood newspaper, "The Henrietta Post." Being retired has given her time to return to her first love - writing.

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Sample Excerpt

THE DEGANS

WARM FEELINGS

Sinking down into the feather mattress of the big black four-poster bed, I could hear the voices downstairs of my grandmother and uncle. The smell of bacon frying and coffee boiling made me feel warm and secure. All was well this summer morning of 1940 in Gasport, New York. The voices rose and fell as I heard the clatter of pots and pans in the big kitchen at the rear of the house. This house that my grandfather had built mostly by himself, as I was told.

I eased out from under the covers into the chilly morning air of the bedroom put on my socks, shoes, sweatshirt and pants and hurried down the steps to the warm kitchen. The toilet facilities consisted of an outhouse some distance from the rear of the house. My grandfather had built that also. It was in the style of the house with a slanted roof and painted the same color. Today it would resemble a children's playhouse. He had constructed a cement sidewalk from the rear of the house at the bottom of the steps out to the outhouse. The sidewalk also encircled the house from the wide covered front porch to the rear porch/shed just outside the kitchen door. I didn't really mind this trip in the summer but visiting during Christmas or other colder holidays, it took quite a bit of courage to get dressed and brave the weather just to go to the bathroom. We had pitchers of water and bowls in the bedrooms for washing, and to take baths my grandmother would heat a giant copper kettle on the large kitchen wood-fired cook stove.

Entering the warm kitchen I was greeted by my grandmother with a big smile. My Uncle Emmett was sitting on top of the far end of the cook stove also smiling and joking with my grandmother. Emmett was the baby of the family and he enjoyed the reputation of a teaser and party goer.

"Come over here, Jeanie. Tell me if you think I need to shave." At that he picked me up and rubbed his scratchy beard up against my smooth cheek.

"Ouch, gramma...?." I pleaded...as he threw his head back in gales of laughter.

"Emmett, leave her alone now," Gramma said without rancor.

The kitchen was rectangular shaped with the large black iron cook stove between the two back windows that looked out onto the sloping yard in the rear. On the end furthest from the door was another window looking out onto the side driveway and a full-flowered lilac bush. Next to this was a kitchen table in one corner with three chairs next to it and Gramma's rocking chair in front of the window. To the right of the entrance of the kitchen was a sink with a counter top and a metal pump that brought water from the cistern in the basement. We didn't drink this water, it was only for washing ourselves or dishes.

Grampa had come into the kitchen and quietly put a mirror on the upper windowsill and turned down the collar of his shirt to prepare to shave. There was a teakettle full of hot water on the stove which he used to fill the white metal basin in the sink. He did not speak. All 5 feet 5 inches of him stood in front of the mirror where his completely bald head reflected the light bulb hanging from the ceiling. Most of the time he covered it with a brown well-worn bowler hat. His pants were held up with suspenders and were tucked into knee-high rubber boots. The long sleeves of his cotton shirt were rolled up to his elbows. This was his constant attire for as long as I can remember him.

"What would you like for breakfast, Jeanie?" Gramma said. I knew that it would be a large cup of freshly brewed coffee with canned milk and sugar and toast. Gramma made toast on the griddle of the cook stove and I loved the burnt taste as big wedges of butter melted into it. Soon there would be fresh strawberries from the neighbor's garden.

Emmett had on a white sweatshirt and khaki pants. His reddish blond hair was seldom combed but looked as though he just pushed it back with his fingers. He slid down off the stove and announced, " Okay, guess I' ll go out and cause some trouble." as he looked smiling at Gramma.

"Be gone with you before I spank you right here in front of Jean." At that he swung around and picked all 4 feet 11 inches of her off her feet and swung her around as her pure white hair that was pulled back into a bun started to unravel down her neck. She loved it. He grabbed me again and rubbed his beard across my cheek again. " EMMETT... .GRAMMA... make him stop." Grampa never blinked an eye but just kept shaving the white lather off his face with his straight razor. He sharpened the razor on a long black razor strop he had hung from the sink. Gramma had Emmett very late in her life. She was now 73 and Emmett was only in his twenties. Of course I didn' t even think about it then. I just knew he was great fun and loved it when he threw me up in the air and caught me coming down. I had been the only grandchild to spend time here with my grandparents so far. After being the only child of my parents for almost seven years, my sister Joanne was born followed thirteen months later by another sister, Mary Ann. I delighted in still being "the favorite" here in this house where I did not have to share the spotlight with anyone else.

Since I was very young (I was told), I was brought down to Gasport to spend the summers and vacations with Gramma, Grampa and the two uncles still living at home. At home in Buffalo I lived a totally different life. We lived in South Buffalo in a very diverse neighborhood with first generation, Italians, Poles and Germans. I rode city buses, went to public school and even at 8 years old was doing grocery shopping for my mother at the local shops. Friends my age lived in almost every house near me, and I never lacked for friends to play with or go to the movies with.

Here in Gasport, there were mostly adults. And while I was loved as a child, I felt treated like another adult. My opinions were listened to and Gramma talked with me as if I were her best friend. I think I might have been....

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Catalogue Information

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