Vivian's High School Graduation, part two

Leta had not seen or talked to her daughter Vivian in nearly a month. At Easter, Vivian reminded her mother that she would be graduating from high school in June with a quiet request that Leta attend. Mother assured daughter that she would be there, and Leta’s sister-in-law Florence, who was also in the kitchen at the time, added her certainty that the entire household would attend the event. A couple of weeks later, in May, Leta took Vivian shopping for a new dress for the event, but after that, no contact.

Leta had a difficult time remaining in contact with Vivian and her son Dale. The children lived with their father—her ex-husband—his parents and his second wife. After their divorce, when the children were quite young, Leta had retained custody, but following the unexpected death of her second husband and a disastrous marriage to the third at the height of the Great Depression, Leta reluctantly took her beloved children—Vivian was 15 and Dale was 12—to live with their father. While she had hoped it would only be temporary, life circumstances intervened. Her financial capability deteriorated, her almost immediate next marriage was too hasty and a horrendous error in judgment. And Ralph re-married. Although his second wife was an overbearing alcoholic, Eunice had always wanted children around and clung to Leta’s.

Eunice’s attitude, the children’s grandmother Ida’s determination that the children should remain in her care, and Leta’s ongoing financial and life uncertainty collaborated to keep mother and children separate.

Could any mother feel guiltier than I? Leta wondered.

Waite was a large high school; its territory included all of Toledo’s East Side and part of the outlying townships. Vivian’s graduating class was over 300 students, yielding hundreds, perhaps over one thousand attendees.

“We’re late,” Aaron grunted, as he circled the area in search of a parking spot. “Let me drop you off, so you can find a place to sit.”

“But you’ll never find us,” Florence protested.

“I’ll go with you,” Lucille suggested, “and then meet Papa at the entrance.”

“That settles it then,” Aaron declared. “Leta should be there when the graduates come in.”

Just then, from out of the corner of her eye, Leta saw Ralph’s brother Walter, his wife Mildred and their children walking from one of the residential streets toward the school. While she had never harbored any anger or resentment toward her former brother-in-law, she felt a slight stab in the heart at seeing them. After all, over the past two years, they had spent more time with her children than she had, having participated in Ida’s Sunday family dinners for years.

“There’s a spot!” June called.

“I see it!” Aaron agreed and quickly jerked the motorcar into the trajectory to acquire the space before any of the other wandering drivers could.

After he parked, Aaron jumped out of the automobile and checked his watch. “We only have ten minutes before they start,” he declared. “We need to move like a rabbit to its burrow.”

This was easier said than accomplished with a carload of women, because each needed to press out her dress, straighten her hat and compose herself after the warm, cramped drive. Further, Leta was looking to see the location of her former brother-in-law. She had no intention of arriving at the same time and putting herself through the awkwardness of polite but strained conversation with him.

“Aunt Leta?” Lucille inquired gently. She always had a way of knowing when her aunt was troubled and became very gentle. While Florence was suspicious and perhaps a bit jealous, aunt and niece held a special bond.

Leta quickly left her thoughtfulness. “Let’s go,” she said and started walking toward the event entrance.

While they did not have good luck in locating a place to sit, they found several seats together where they could see well enough. And they had just settled when the music began and the graduating seniors began to process in. Suddenly all eyes were on the line of students approaching. As her surname began with a “C”, Vivian would be near the beginning, and June saw her first.

“There she is!” the girl shouted, and a few moments later, the rest of her family had identified which of the students was theirs. Leta, of course, could tell instantly. Had she not made the stylish hat and selected the most fashionable dress for her daughter’s big day? In fact, those with an eye for detail might notice how Leta’s own hat and dress were quite similar.

The ceremony went as expected, and upon its conclusion, Leta and her brother’s family sought to congratulate their high school graduate. Vivian was with her father, brother, and other members of the Chetister family when they reached her, and Leta, who was leading them, suddenly allowed the others to pass her. Although she was generally bold and outgoing, Leta felt some reluctance in greeting her beloved but slightly estranged daughter, particularly in the public eye. She had broken several promises between the dress shopping and today and feared that Vivian would make an inappropriate response, shame her mother in front of everyone, or worse yet, simply reject Leta for her many unforgivable sins. While she had one bottle of beer before they left the house, Leta wished she had actually had at least one more.

However, Leta could not hide, and her 15-year-old son Dale saw them approaching.

“Ma! Ma!” he shouted, then left the other Chetisters to run to her.

While Leta wanted to welcome her boy into her arms, her dread of the situation overwhelmed her. Still, she accepted his hug, albeit stiffly, and permitted him to take her hand and lead her to Vivian. The girl’s own countenance had changed, at least enough for a mother to recognize. While still filled with excitement at her accomplishment, Vivian had lowered her head slightly.

To be continued.

Vivian's high school graduation, part one

Leta was actually nervous. Her hands were trembling so much that she had great difficulty with the pinning her hat.

From the reflection in the mirror, she could see the adoring eyes of her 13-year-old niece June, daughter to her brother Aaron and his wife Florence, watching her intently. The girl was always fascinated by Leta’s preparations, whether for church, a special event or an evening out. This prompted an idea to mask her insecurity.

“What do you think, June?” Leta asked. “Should I put the hat this way…or this way?”

June rose from her seat on the bed to come closer, applying her diligent, yet inexperienced mind to the task at hand. As Leta was an experienced hat designer, June was guided by the information she learned from her aunt augmented by her own imagination. Leta almost immediately regretted asking the question. After all, her purpose was to mask her insecurity, but the girl’s close proximity only increased it. Leta could hear her own heart beating.

“Well…?” June started, wrinkling her face in deep thought.

Leta handed the girl the hatpin and sat on the bench of the vanity.

June fussed only a little, without, much to Leta’s relief, mussing her hair, and placed the hat stylishly on Leta’s head.

“How is that?” June inquired.

Leta smiled. “Perfect. Now slide the hatpin in.”

June carefully tackled the task, and a moment later, Leta looked ready to depart.

“You look beautiful, Aunt Leta,” June gushed, as Leta stood and straightened her dress.

“Thank you, June,” Leta said with a smile.

Then she reached into a vanity drawer for a handkerchief to dab her forehead and cheeks.

“It’s warm in here, isn’t it?”

“I guess,” June answered, shrugging her shoulders. The child seemed impervious to higher temperatures.

Now that Leta was fully dressed and ready to leave June had lost all interest.

“We better get ourselves downstairs,” Leta said. “Your father will be waiting.”

Taking one last look in the mirror, Leta followed the girl out of the room and down the stairs into the living room.

Aaron was sitting on the sofa with the newspaper, a bottle of beer on the end table beside him.

“Papa!” June called as they entered, “Aunt Leta is ready.”

“About time,” he grunted, folding the paper. “If we wait much longer, we won’t get a good seat. Flo!” he called to his wife, who was in the kitchen. “It’s time to leave!”

“Be right there,” his wife called back.

Leta’s perspiration, and, at least to her, trembling, had increased as she left her bedroom.

“I’ll see what’s taking them so long,” she said and practically darted into the kitchen.

“Jesus Christ!” her brother swore, “Now I’m missing three!”

In the kitchen, Leta’s older niece Lucille was standing on a chair, while her mother was quickly repairing a loose hem.

“I’m sorry,” Florence said, as she sewed. “We didn’t see this until now.”

Leta barely heard her; her own mind was occupied with one thought. She went right to the icebox and retrieved a bottle of beer.

“Leta?” Florence questioned.

But Leta followed through with her objective, popping off the cap and chugging the beer. It was cold and soothing, refreshing and shocking to her system.

When she finished, she sighed with great satisfaction. Florence and Lucille were staring at her with astonishment.

She shrugged her shoulders slightly.

“What?” she demanded. “I was thirsty.”

“Oh, Leta,” her sister-in-law muttered and returned to the hemming. Lucille, noting that her mother was no longer paying attention to Leta’s behavior, grinned at her aunt.

Leta then rinsed the bottle in the sink, opened a cupboard door, slid out the bin that concealed a wooden box, and put the empty beer bottle away.

“Ready!” Florence said loud enough for everyone to hear, and then Aaron hustled everyone to the automobile.

Leta was feeling far more relaxed and cooler.

Ten minutes later they were at Morrison R. Waite High School near the Maumee River for Leta’s daughter Vivian’s high school graduation.

To be continued.

3.2 Beer

"You don't drink, do you?" Grandma Eckman asked me during one of our conversations.

It was December 1983, and I was in my sophomore year at Wittenberg University, who had just turned 19, enjoying a 10-day Christmastime visit with my family.

Although it was afternoon, Grandma was in her nightgown and robe, but sitting in one of the very warm lounges of the senior residence where she had been living for over a decade. She was 86 years old.

I laughed—for a couple of reasons. First, as an independent student attending a private university, I could not afford to eat regularly. From the beginning of the quarter in September to my visit in December, I had lost more than 10 pounds, and I was thin to begin with. (I gained seven or so back during those 10 days of non-stop holiday eating.) If I didn’t have enough money to eat three meals a day, I definitely didn’t have enough money to purchase alcohol. Second, I was not a moocher. My pride and sense of reciprocity forbade me from drinking others’ alcohol without providing some of my own. Third, aside from a sip of beer or a cocktail when I was a child, I had really never acquired the taste of alcohol. And fourth, I was a little bit afraid of letting myself go in that manner.

“Nope,” I answered, “but I know why you asked.”

During the summer, Ohio had changed its minimum legal drinking age from 18 to 21. The previous Ohio law was that adults from 18 to 21 could drink 3.2% beer. Any higher percentage alcoholic beverage, such as wine, any of the hard liquors (whiskey, vodka, gin, rum, etc.) and even 7% alcohol beer was illegal until a person reached 21.

But the new law stated that any alcohol could not be legally purchased or consumed until a person became age 21.

“You know,” Grandma Eckman continued, “I know a little about alcohol laws myself.”

“Really?”

“I did live through Prohibition!” she said emphatically, almost as if she could not believe I didn’t know this. “It was a tough time for a lot of people, and even I liked a drink every now and then.”

I looked at her intently, to confirm that I was listening.

“All this regulation,” she concluded, “I just don’t like it.”

My great-grandmother was a grown woman when the 18^th Amendment was passed in 1919. For fourteen years, it crated derision, division and increased crime in the country. Then it was repealed in December 1933, via the 21^st Amendment.

During Prohibition, she was one of the many who continued to imbibe, even make her own, putting herself and her family at risk. She was very sensitive to laws regulating alcohol usage.

However, in more recent times, the country was experiencing some unpleasant changes, particularly as a result of response to the passage of the 26^th Amendment in July 1971. This Amendment lowered the legal voting age from 21 to 18. Between 1970 and 1975, 29 states also lowered the Minimum Legal Drinking Age (MLDA) from 21 to 18, 19 or 20. The nearly universal thought was that if a person was adult enough to vote at age 18, s/he was adult enough to manage alcohol usage.

Unfortunately, these changes were soon followed by studies showing an increase in motor vehicle fatalities, mostly attributable to the lower MLDA.

In 1980, Candy Lightner and Cindy Lamb began to speak out. Lightner founded MADD (Mothers Against Drunk Driving) after her daughter Cari was killed by a repeat drunk driving offender. Lamb’s daughter Laura became the nation’s youngest quadriplegic at the hands of a drunk driver. The women’s goal was to save lives, and they pursued their objective by following the evidence.

MADD demanded state legislatures pass stricter drunk driving laws. In March 1983 Ohio passed its own stricter drunk driving law. However, those with grave concerns about youth drinking continued to push at the federal level. As drinking and driving laws are state laws, the federal government needed to be more creative about how to protect individuals from drinking and driving. In 1984, Senator Frank Lautenberg introduced the National Minimum Legal Drinking Act, which required all states to enforce a minimum legal drinking age of 21 or else risk losing 10% of all federal highway construction funds. This bill was quickly passed by both houses of Congress and signed by then-President Ronald Reagan on July 17, 1984.

As the act controlled the distribution of anywhere from $8 to $99 million in federal transportation funds, depending on the size of the state, for all intents and purposes the act mandated a minimum legal drinking age of 21. Over the next several years, the states became compliant. By mid-1988, all fifty states and Washington, DC were in compliance, with South Dakota and Wyoming as the final two states to comply.

But this was December 1983, and the Ohio law was already in effect.

“Well, Grandma,” I said, “I feel a kind of disappointment in the law. As you know, when I turned 18, I could drink three-two beer, and now to have that right taken away is disappointing. At the same time, I don’t drink any kind of alcohol, so it doesn’t officially affect me. It’s a weird sort of feeling.”

“Like betrayal?” she asked.

“More like sadness,” I answered, “and maybe not the way you’re thinking. Sadness in that some of my peers have behaved so foolishly that this has to be.”

Grandma Eckman looked at me, and I could see that her mind was considering what I just shared.

“It’s about responsibility,” I continued. “As much as I hate the idea of the government drawing up these kinds of parental-like laws, what else can it do when the people indicate so strongly that they need them?”

“Yeah, fine,” she snapped, signaling that this was the end of the conversation. I had worn her out. “Walk me back to my room,” she added more gently.  And, of course, I did.

Leta divorced from Leech Hoose

In my recent research, I located some of the divorce documents from Leta’s marriage to Leech Hoose, her fourth husband. They were married on March 3, 1929, only eight days after Leta’s divorce from Ora Freeman. While the marriage and divorce to Ora occurred in Lucas County, the marriage to Leech Hoose occurred in a Wood County, which is adjacent to Lucas.

Slightly over two years later, on October 8, 1931, Leech Hoose filed for divorce from Leta. This was a bit of a shocker, since she was the one who instituted both of her prior divorces. In the document submitted by his attorney James L. Monaghan, Leech claims:

“Plaintiff [Leech] says defendant has been guilty of gross neglect of duty toward him in that she deserted this plaintiff six months after their marriage, and has remained away from him since that date, and refused and still refuses to return to plaintiff.”

I admit that learning that Leech divorced my great-grandmother was a surprise, and the further revelation that she “deserted [him] six months after their marriage” was stunning. In fact, it alters the timeline I have been following. While I knew that at some point, Leta took her children Vivian (my grandmother) and Dale to live with their father, stepmother and grandmother, it now appears that this occurred either before or during her marriage to Leech. Based on prior information, I timelined this for right after the break-up with Leech. Then Leta moved in with her brother Aaron and his family. However, I sincerely doubt that she would have left the children with Leech when she abandoned him, and my grandmother Vivian’s report cards end in 1929, signed by Leta Freeman. The combined information indicates that Leta took her children to their father around the time she finalized her divorce to Ora Freeman and married Leech Hoose. This was also before their father and Leta’s first husband Ralph married his second wife.

In addition to being left, Leech: “further complains of defendant and says that during the time they lived together, defendant was of quarrelsome disposition and abusive toward plaintiff, and continually neglected her household duties, and that by reason thereof she is guilty of extreme cruelty toward plaintiff.”

This paragraph increases my curiosity further and perhaps gives insight into the brief marriage. Leech alleges that if a wife neglects her “household duties” and is “quarrelsome (and abusive)” that she is “guilty of extreme cruelty.” I wonder what kind of household duties he was expecting and why she neglected them, or if this is simply legalese used to fortify his claim.

Leech further filed an Affidavit of Poverty, declaring that he was “without sufficient means to prepay or give security for costs of said action.”

Is it any wonder that she didn’t stay with him?

According to the County Clerk’s records, no final divorce decree remains in the records. However, Leta was married again—to Robert Fields—on September 17, 1937 in Lucas County. This marriage would not have been legally possible or wise if she did not have proper divorce papers. Still, there is a curious cover document from the same case filed on December 29, 1933 that states: “Dismissed, at Ptlf’s cast No record.” As this record is dated over two years after the originally divorce filing, I am more inclined to think that it relates to something connected to the divorce rather than the divorce itself, perhaps a counter filing for alimony, or the court went after Leech for court costs or even an argument over a piece of property.

As for Leta, as far as I know so far, she remained single until her marriage to Robert Fields on September 17, 1937.