Peggy Sharon Adams (1933-2003)

b.  10 May 1933     Los Angeles, California
m.  28 March 1951   Las Vegas, Nevada
d.  19 December 2003   Gresham, Oregon

Father:  Charles Clifford Adams
Mother:  Pearl America Garland

Husband:  Kenneth Laurel Sterndahl

Children:  Kathleen Laurel Sterndahl
               Dennis Scott Sterndahl
               Nicole Lynn Sterndahl
             

1934?

1940?

1950?

1994?

When she became interested in genealogy, Sharon began writing a journal of her memories. Actually, I discovered three different journals with overlapping information, the main one in about 1988. I've combined them here and tried to make the combination make sense. (Unfortunately, Blogger doesn't give me a 'cut and paste' option, so I couldn't move anything once I typed it. Sorry!) It's long, but it is also a great documentation of her life:

I am sure my mother and father thought their small family was complete that hard year of 1932. They had two lovely daughters: Phyllis, 14, and Patricia, 11. But when they found out there would be another baby, they were not at all unhappy. They were much better off than lots of people, since they had their own car, a Terraplane, and the small, Spanish-style bungalow was almost paid off. And maybe this baby would be the son they had hoped for. My father's three brothers each had only one daughter, and one of them had died in infancy. So they hoped that, at last, there might be a boy to carry on their particular branch of the family tree.

But that lovely spring morning, May 10, 1933, a chubby, round-faced little girl with lots of dark curly hair made her appearance. They decided to name me after my mother, not the real name of Pearl, but Peggy. My middle name, Sharon, was chosen by my mother, but my big sisters quickly shortened this to Sherry. The maternity home where I was born was known as "The Terry Sanitarium". The bill, marked "PAID IN FULL" shows that it cost my parents a grand total of $25. I have always been proud to be, like my dad, a native Californian.

My father's full name was Charles Clifford Adams; Charles after his paternal grandfather, and Clifford was his mother's maiden name. [Note: He went by Cliff and signed his name C. Clifford Adams.] My mother's full name was Pearl America Garland. She preferred to be called Peggy. Her middle name, America, was her maternal grandmother's name, also.

At the time I was born, my father's only living family were his three brothers and their wives, his step-mother, whom I knew as Grandma Adams, and a step-sister and her husband. We rarely saw them except on Christmas Eve. My mother's family, on the other hand, was so large that I still have cousins that I don't know. I can barely remember Grandpa Garland who died when I was about three years old. I do remember that my mother sat down and cried when she received the news of his death.

Grandma Garland used to visit us about once a year when she would come and stay for a couple of weeks. She used to knit me mittens on a long string that I could thread through my coat sleeves so they wouldn't get lost. I can remember going on walks with her when she stayed with us. Once she found a dead stick from some tree when we were on a walk. She brought it home, poked it into the ground and told me it would grow. I didn't believe it would, but it sure did! I think she had a green thumb like my mother. Another thing she did on walks was pick mustard greens in vacant lots. I told her people would think we were poor and didn't have anything to eat, but she laughed at me. She loved those cooked greens. She is really the only grandparent I have personal memories of, though I have second-hand memories of the others - things that I have been told. It used to make me very jealous that Grandma talked so much about Auntie Mickie's daughter Jeannie, especially since I knew that Jeannie was adopted and not even her real granddaughter. But she lived with them most of the time, so of course she was quite close to Jeannie. All the time I was growing up, Grandma used to write long letters to Mother, keeping her up on all the family news. When I was old enough to read those letters for myself, I made some remark to Mother about Grandma's writing, because when she referred to herself, she would write "i" and not "I". Mother scolded me and told me that Grandma had only had the opportunity to go to school to about third grade, and she had managed to raise eight children well. I think the only reason she went to school such a short time was that there was no more schooling available in the area.

All my memories of childhood are happy ones. I was surrounded by a constant warm bubble of love. I remember baths in the kitchen sink with the sun shining in the windows, and Mom's ring making dancing rainbow sparkles on the ceiling and walls. Mom washed my long hair with Ivory soap and then rinsed it with vinegar. Even today, those smells bring back the memories! As I got bigger, the noon bath would be in the "stationary tub" on the back porch. Mom would make me stand up as the tub drained "so the lint wouldn't settle" on me, and I must be careful not to bump my back on the sharp metal corner of the vegetable bin which hung on the wall over the tub. There was a big black water heater over the wringer washer, and I remember the flame showing through a small window at it's bottom and the sound of it's burner lighting when the thermostat switched it on.

When it was time for my bangs to be trimmed, I sat on the lid of that old green washer with a large flour sack dish towel tied around me to catch the hair. I sat very still, even when it tickled, because once I wiggled to see if the lid would fall in as I'd been told, and it did!

When I was born, my family lived in their own home at 3000 Wellington Road in the Adams-Crenshaw district of West Los Angeles. I liked the days when Mom would have errands to run. She'd put me in my stroller, which was called a Taylor Tot, and we'd walk over to Roth's Market on Crenshaw, or to Van de Kamp's Bakery in the windmill at Crenshaw and Adams. There we'd get a Van de Fan which was a special kind of ice cream cone with Neopolitan ice cream. Sometimes we'd go to another bakery on Adams where they had delicious eclairs. And quite often we'd go to the bank on Adams that had long benches with fat leather cushions, and brass spittoons on the floor. Mom always shushed me when I asked about those spittoons, for she thought they, and those who used them, were quite vulgar!

And sometimes we'd go on the yellow "A" streetcar that was open at both ends and closed in the middle. I always got to put the money or the tokens in the little glass-sided box by the conductor. Mother said ladies sat inside on the long sideways benches, but I always wanted to go outside at the front or back of the streetcar. If it was quite warm, she'd sometimes agree, but not often. Later, when I was big enough to ride those streetcars alone, I always sat outside.

We'd get off the streetcars in downtown L.A., though to me at the time, it was just "downtown". We'd go to all the big stores: May Company, The Broadway, Robinson's, and Bullock's. Once in a while we'd go to Barker Brothers Furniture store or Parmalee-Dohrmann's where they had china and crystal. But mostly it was just the big department stores. If Mom bought me a new dress, she always went right away and bought socks and hair ribbons to match it.

When I was about four, I remember having my picture taken on the top of one of those stores. We still have the picture and it looks like I'm wearing lipstick because it was hand-tinted. I always had to wear high white laced shoes like in the picture, too. Mom said she wanted me to have strong ankles. In the shoe department when I 'd get a new pair, there was an x-ray machine that you could look at your feet in. Your toes would be scrunched in the old shoes, but in the new ones, there would be lots of room to grow. They decided much later that those machines were dangerous and exposed children to too many x-rays, but they sure were fun. You could wiggle your toes down there and you could see them move, but you could see right through them, too, and see your own bones!

Most of the stores had a sort of babysitting playroom on their roofs, too. There were toys there, like slides and blocks, and you were allowed to make things from construction paper to take home. I always hated those places because I was so shy. The other kids were rowdy and noisy and I always hoped they wouldn't talk to me. I don't think Mother put me in these places often, probably only when she needed to buy a surprise gift for me, like at Christmas or my birthday.

Christmas was a wonderful time to go to town. All the big stores had marvelous animated window displays that you could stand and look at for a long time and still not see everything. Inside, there was a Santa Claus at each store, and if you stood in line and talked to him, he gave you a small gift. Sometimes there was a sort of maze with Christmas scenes that you could pay to go through. At the end, you'd tell them how old you were and a gift, all wrapped, would come down a slide or out a hole. Once I got a tiny doll-sized folding table and chairs. I was careful with my toys and things lasted me a long time.

Sometimes, after these shopping trips, Daddy would pick us up on his way home. Mother usually had our purchases delivered and sometimes they beat us home. I always wanted to go to Boos Bros. Cafeteria for lunch and I always ordered macaroni and cheese with chocolate pudding for dessert. 

If we got tired during the day and wanted to rest, there was a large ladies' restroom on the second floor of the May Co. There were rows and rows of chairs and also phone booths down two walls.We always used one certain phone booth and if Mom wanted to call home, she would let it ring once and one of my sisters would know it was her and would call back on that phone. That way, she would save the nickel. 

I still remember the phone numbers that were drilled into me as a small child. Ours was Parkway 2864, and Daddy's at work at the Quality Electric Company was Trinity 5981. If I ever got lost or separated from the person I was with, I was to ask someone for help and tell them those numbers. Our address was easy: 3000 Wellington Road. Luckily, I never did get lost so I never needed this knowledge but it was taught to me so thoroughly that I shall have it all my life.

Our home had only two bedrooms so I shared my parents' until the year my sisters married, when I was six. That was alright since it was a large room. It had windows on three sides and I can still remember the window shades slapping gently in the breeze when I took my nap. 

The year I was three, I got whooping cough, and I got to spend my days in Mother and Daddy's big bed and I felt like a princess. I even got to play with Mother's large French lady doll that sat on the bed. She had white hair, purple eye shadow, and a beauty mark.

Either that whooping cough brought on my asthma or it made it worse, because after that I was pretty bad with it. Mother has told me that she sat up all night holding me many a night for fear I would die if she lay me down. My more or less chronic illness was probably another reason I was so sheltered. But in looking back at those years, being sick is not what I remember.

My first pet was a striped kitten which was given to me for Christmas after my tests showed that I was allergic to dogs but not cats. I named her Nicky Froodle after an elf in a Christmas program that was on the radio that year. Nicky lived a long happy life, had kittens several times, and was my friend always. She was not allowed in the house very often, but didn't seem to mind. I had other cats later in my childhood, but none who stand out in my mind like Nicky Froodle.

My mother was a good housekeeper and took pride in her home and family.Our house and yard were always clean and neat. As a matter of fact, our yard was a showplace. Mother is very good at growing things and loves to putter in her yard to this day.

The back yard was shaded by two large trees, a camphor tree and a fig tree. I liked the fig best for it held my swing and had low branches and smooth bark for climbing. There was a rose arbor over the driveway in front of the garage, and honeysuckle vines covered the garage and the wall of the house where the bathroom window was. Daddy built a covered patio with brick floor next to the garage and a large brick barbeque across a small brick-paved court from it. There was a lattice screen with a Cecil Breuner rose climbing on it. We had a large covered lawn swing where Mother always sat to read the morning Times or to shell peas or snap beans.

Our house was on the corner of 30th Street, and the side fence was right on the sidewalk, so Daddy planted thick bushes and vines near the fence to keep it private. I remember one was a Passion flower vine with it's intricate pale green and blue flowers. It was always fun to eavesdrop on people's conversations as they walked by on the sidewalk because they never even knew you were there, right close to them.

Our next-door neighbor on Wellington Road was Auntie Goldsmith. She and her husband Sam had no children, but she always was so nice to me. She would ask me over to visit and we would dance with the bears. She had an old wooden table with three carved bear figures on top. You turned one and a music box played. Another lifted off and we would hold it's paws and dance in a circle. She got such a bang out of this. I sort of  humored her, but I did like to hear the music box play. She had a large china cat curled up asleep and painted with gold patterns that I would love to have. Of course, she's gone long ago, but if she'd known how I loved it, I know she'd have left it to me.

She also had a Tiffany table lamp which sat in a place of honor on a large shawl on her baby grand piano in what should have been her dining room. She used that lamp as a sort of nightlight and I remember it across from our kitchen window. It was really lovely.

When I was about five, My mother and father bought me a playhouse. I can remember going to the house where we bought it, and being allowed to go inside, but I had no idea it was going to be mine. Later, it was brought to our yard, and Daddy built a new floor for it, and I was set. It was probably only about twelve feet square, but it had a front door, windows, a kitchen sink with real running water, and dividers to make it into two rooms. I had many hours of pretending fun in that playhouse.

Starting Virginia Road school was a marvelous adventure. Everyone there knew me, even if I didn't know them, because my sisters had gone there and been excellent students and everyone liked them. Also, Mother had been PTA president before I was born. I was born during PTA Convention at Long Beach, and in my baby things, there is a note from all the ladies who were there that year. I called them all "Auntie" though they were really just close friends of Mother's. Those ladies all stayed good friends until they died. There are only a couple of them left now. They met once a month at their homes for lunch and bridge or sewing long after their children were grown. 

Anyway, everyone at school knew who I was, so I had a certain status. My kindergarten teacher, Miss Howard, had taught my sister Patty and was always sweet to me. I loved the stories she read to us and the game called "Did you ever see a lassie?" the best. For Christmas that year I made Mother a clay hand print and Daddy a calendar on red construction paper with a picture of a sailboat. I know he liked it because he kept it hanging in his office at work long after the 1939 calendar was no good.

I went to Virginia Road School until the middle of the third grade, when we moved to Glendale. My first grade teacher was Miss De Nubla, second grade, Mrs. Elliot, and third grade, Mrs. Barns. I missed a lot of school being sick, but never had any trouble keeping up. Lucky for me, I was a good student or I surely would have been held back because of it. In fact, my health was the reason we moved to Glendale. The doctors had recommended a dryer climate. They felt West L.A. was too near the ocean dampness. As it turned out, they sure were right.

After we moved to Glendale, I went to Balboa School on Bel Air Drive and had Mrs. Zweiful for the rest of third grade, Miss Ross for both fourth and fifth grades, and Mrs. Nellis for sixth grade. I liked all my teachers, but I think Mrs. Nellis was the best teacher. She was so strict that she prepared us for anything! But she knew her business and I truly believe that I had more education after completing her sixth grade class than many high school graduates have today.

Both my elementary, or grammar schools as we called them then, were quite modern - not much different from schools today except that all the rooms were in one building, unlike many elementary schools now. The children were made to behave much better than they are now, and the teachers seemed to be able to impart more, probably because the students were usually quiet and in their seats. [Re: class size - Sharon's sixth grade class photo shows 34 students. Ken's shows 39 students!]

Virginia Road School was only one short three-house block away from home, so I thought my four and a half block walk in Glendale was a long way. Sometimes we would roller skate to school, if it was the right season. By 'season' I mean that while we roller skated all year around, at certain times we went on real skating binges. It was the same with jump rope, kites, marbles, and jacks. All of a sudden, everyone would bring their jacks to school, just as though a season had been announced, and we would all sit and play jacks at every recess, with continuing games. Not the boys, though. They played marbles but not jacks, and they almost never jumped rope, either, or played hopscotch. We played kickball, volleyball, tether ball, and sometimes dodge ball and baseball in Physical Education. But if the teacher declared a free-play day, we went back to the games we played at recess.

As a small child, I was quite sick with asthma and had to spend a lot of time out of school, struggling to breathe. Dr. Goodhill, my asthma doctor, suggested to my parents that they should move to a drier area such as the San Fernando Valley. At that time they didn't tell me why, but we began to look for a new home. My sisters were both married and in their own homes by then, so it was just Mama, Daddy and me looking. We went out many Sundays and looked at many houses, both old and new. My parents decided they liked Glendale and our search narrowed to that area.

Finally, we found one house that everyone liked. The address was 1332 Winchester Avenue, and it was between Kenneth Road and Bel Air Drive. The house was brand new, a Cape Cod style, with two bedrooms, a den, and two bathrooms (an unheard-of luxury!) The lot was 150 feet deep, which allowed lots of room for my parents hobby of gardening. Though entirely bare the day we chose the house, that yard, in only a few years, was a simply beautiful showplace. I still love that house, and occasionally we drive by it. I feel a kind of resentment for the unknown family that lives there now, and I think they really don't know that house like we who lived there first did. 

Going to a new school, Balboa Elementary, was a little hard because I was shy, but soon after moving my health improved so dramatically that I was like a new person, surprised that I was no longer quiet and shy. I grew to love my new physical capabilities and got good at hopscotch and jump rope. Moving allowed me to do regular kid things for the first time in my life and I loved it!

In addition to learning outdoor games and sports, I began to take piano lessons when I was about eleven. We always had a piano and both my sisters had taken lessons, so I wanted to. My lessons lasted about five years but I never became really accomplished. And I did hate the recitals that all my teacher's pupils had to perform in!

Until we moved to Glendale, I didn't have many playmates, but in Glendale there were lots of kids on our block, and we all had lots of fun. We played baseball or 'hit the bat' in the street, rode bikes, scooters, wagons, and Flexies up and down the hill. Sometimes we would take grocery sacks and a wagon or Flexie up two blocks to Brand Castle to pick oranges. It is now called Brand Park, and the orange groves have been replaced by baseball fields. Anyway, the groves were delicious navel oranges, and nobody harvested them except us kids. There was also an old barn, the family cemetery with a pyramid to climb, a small lake behind the check dam, and lots of other fun places to explore around the hills. The whole place was our neighborhood playground, and the fact that we had to climb over a wall and sneak in made it all the more fun. The Castle, as we called it, is now Brand Library, but at the time it was only an empty house - a very grand and unusual one. 

We also frequently went down the hill a few blocks to the library, which was across the street from Jefferson Elementary School. To me, having a bunch of new library books to read was just like having a present just waiting to be opened. There was a large children's section at that library but it was nothing like they have today. I can remember reading the Little House on the Prairie books, a series about a boy and girl twins from different countries, all the Nancy Drew mysteries, and many others.

After graduating from sixth grade, I started at Toll Junior High. It was my first experience changing classes and having different teachers for each subject. I made the Scholarship Society the first semester, but never quite made it again, because I had reached the age when socializing was much more important than scholarship. My grades were pretty good, though. I had mostly As and Bs and never had a D. I made lots of new friends from other elementary schools and had many different boyfriends.

Many of my friends would go to the show on weekends. There were many good movies then; it was Hollywood's heyday. On Friday nights we went to the Alex Theater, and on Saturday afternoon to the Glendale Theater. At both places, we would congregate in the third row so we could see who else was there.

Around this time, I had my first 'dates', maybe going to the show or to a football game, or to a party with someone who was special at the time. Transportation was a problem, but we could take the bus downtown or to Verdugo to go swimming. If we wanted to go to an 'away' game, sometimes a dad or an older brother would take us. 

After ninth grade when I graduated from Toll, I entered Herbert Hoover High School. At the time, I was much more concerned with social activities than with getting an education, but I cared enough to want decent grades and maintained a B+ average, intending to go to college. English classes were very easy for me, and I was able to sail through. The other types of classes I took were Spanish, typing, sewing, chemistry, history and government. 

I had joined Job's Daughters while in junior high and was elected to the office of Marshal while in the ninth grade. This meant that I would progress through the offices to Honored Queen someday. I threw myself into Jobies heart and soul. Girls who went to both of the Glendale high schools belonged, so I made new friends there that I would not have known at my school. There were many activities and events that I enjoyed. My dad was elected President of the Dad's Club and my mother became Guardian of Bethel 19.

When I was fourteen, I got my Social Security card so I would be able to get a job, but I was never able to find anyone who would hire me. By the time I was 16, when they probably would have, I was too involved in Job's Daughters and didn't really have time to work. I did get paid to babysit for the neighbors once in a while, but my only real paycheck was for one day of selling flowers and corsages during a Shriner's Convention in downtown L.A., a job I got because of Job's Daughters. My responsibilities at home at that time consisted of keeping my room clean, dusting and vacuuming, washing and/or drying dishes, and mowing the lawn occasionally. Since we had a dichondra lawn, it didn't need mowing often. Since Mother and Daddy were both working during this time, and I was rarely home, we didn't have much housework. The yard required lots of work, but that was my parents hobby and love, so I wasn't asked to do much.

Though she always tried to take a job where she would be home during summer vacation, my mother had gone to work about the time I was in fourth grade. It was during World War II, and she wanted to help the war effort. I missed her pretty badly at first, but I soon got used to her being gone part of the time. She worked at Don Baxter Labs making blood plasma kits for blood transfusions, and she really was helping the war effort! After she started working, I had some chores which I was supposed to attend to before going out to play. I was supposed to wash the breakfast dishes, dry them, and clean up the kitchen (it was never really messy), empty the wastebaskets and take out the garbage, and practice my piano lesson. I frequently put it all off until the last possible moment, then raced around to get it all done before Mother got home.

Right after we moved to Glendale, I was invited to join a Brownie Troop at my school. I had a lot of friends and fun with that troop. We 'flew up' to regular Girl Scouts together and remained a troop until high school. We had many craft projects and did various things together to earn our badges, including putting on shows for our parents. It was all great fun and I enjoyed it, but I never appreciated how dedicated those moms who were our leaders were until I became a leader for my own girls. It was Dorothy Martin, one of my scouting friends, who later asked me to join Job's Daughters.

My room in the house on Winchester was in the front. It had two fairly large windows with venetian blinds and priscilla curtains. I had a dark green rug and a bedspread with blue and burgundy flowers. My bed was a maple four-poster with a matching chest of drawers. I had the small secretary desk that had belonged to my dad's mother, and also, Mother's cedar chest. 

It wasn't always very neat, but from time to time, I would do a thorough cleaning, rearrange the furniture, and vow to keep everything picked up and put away. Then I would get busy and in a hurry and pretty soon it would be messy again. I never had posters on my walls like the kids do today, but I used to write on my full-length mirror with lipstick. I would put the initials of me and my current boyfriend, and those of my best girlfriends with their boyfriends', like S A + K S.

My closet was pretty full. I sewed and Mother bought me things quite frequently. My sister Patti, who is a skillful seamstress, made nearly all my formal dresses. I had several, for there were at least four formal dances each year. I was not hard on clothes, so my things lasted a long time. I was finished growing by about the ninth grade, and so my clothes fit for a long time. I made lots of clothes for myself at this time, and always took a sewing class at school. Mother had always sewed for me, so this seemed quite natural.

My favorite foods were macaroni and cheese and chocolate pudding, so, of course, those were the very first things I learned how to make. When I had my braces on my teeth, I always ate Franco-American macaroni for dinner the day they were tightened. It was nice and soft and didn't hurt to chew. Another of my favorite foods has always been peanut butter. I didn't eat meat except for hamburgers, hot dogs, and bacon until after I was married. When Mother and Daddy took me with them to restaurants when I was small, Mother would order a vegetable plate for me and say I was a vegetarian. I didn't know what I was missing! I could eat whatever I wanted without worrying because I never put on any weight. I weighed about 103 pounds when I got married, and I was only 5'2".

Throughout my high school days, until I met Kenny, I had always thought I would probably go on to college, just because that is what all my friends were planning. But after Ken and I became engaged, I knew I would not be continuing my schooling. In fact, after we were married in March of 1951, I quit high school with only about 2 1/2 months left to go. The Girls' Vice Principal and my P.E. teacher were both old maids and they made it very hard for me at school. They acted as though I was contaminated because I was now married, and warned me not to discuss "married life" with any of the other girls. They were both so old fashioned that they thought I might teach the other girls something that they didn't already know about sex!

I decided I didn't need to put up with that kind of treatment, so I just quit school. It was pretty stupid and childish, but at the time I guess I thought it was the right thing to do. Much later, in 1969, I managed to get my diploma by going to night school. 

I was very busy raising my children during the first fifteen years of my marriage, so I did not work outside the home until they were all in junior high school. Up until then, I had been a Brownie and Girl Scout leader, scorekeeper for Little League and Babe Ruth baseball, on the Guardian Council of Bethel 19 Job's Daughters, and very active in PTA at the kids' schools. But when they all reached what I thought was a reasonable age, I decided to go to work. I worked at Mitchell Camera Corporation for a year and a half before we decided that it was better for the kids if I stayed home, but I learned very valuable office skills that would by helpful in the future. I still did occasional temporary work back at Mitchell Camera, but also at Bullock's department store, and at Hickory Farms for the Christmas rush. Much later, when Chip started Sterndahl Enterprises, Ken and I both worked with him until we retired.

My daddy was always a very special person in my life. He never so much as smacked or spanked any of us girls. Just to know Daddy was unhappy with our behavior was the worst sort of punishment. He always had time to talk over anything with me. If he was asked for an opinion he would give it, and you always knew he'd really take time to think his answers through. If he thought you were setting out on something hare-brained, a gentle, "Do you think that's wise?" would be his only restraint. It was enough. 

When I was quite small, we had a game. When I heard his car coming home, I'd run and hide behind the couch or behind a drape or door. He'd come in, kiss Mama and Phyl and Patty, and talk for a few minutes that seemed forever to his smallest girl. Then he'd say, "Where's Sharon?" and start hunting for me. I'd try hard to smother my excited giggles, but, of course, I really wanted to be found. Then he'd hug and kiss me and take off his suit coat, and we'd read the funnies. He always held me on his lap for this and we were avid followers of all the Times comics. I especially remember Li'l Abner, Gasoline Alley, Harold Tien, Abbie 'n Slats, and Smokey Stover.

Of course, on Sunday morning, this custom took a bit longer since there were more comics and in color. Red Ryder and Buck Rogers shared the front page, and Dixie Dugan, Fritzi Ritz, and others were added to the regular dailies.

Sometimes on Sunday I could talk Daddy into going for a walk with just me. I always liked that because I could have him all to myself. The only other time that happened was when he had to go into the shop on Saturday mornings. I'd go with him, and sometimes we'd even stay in town for lunch. At the shop, which was Quality Electric, I could play in his office at his desk or on the big stake bed trucks which were backed right up to the loading area so you could step right onto the beds. On the mezzanine over the offices, there was a huge old billiard table and sometimes I was allowed to play at it.

The few men who'd be working all seemed to like me all right. I was a good little girl, and of course they all liked my daddy, so they thought "Cliff's kid" was okay, too. In fact, over the years, and especially since Daddy died, every time I've run into someone who knew him, they made a special point to tell me what a wonderful, intelligent, kind person he was. It's very nice to know your father is loved and respected by so many people, though of course I've always known how great he was.

As soon as I was old enough, Daddy taught me to drive. We had a 1948 Dodge at the time, and I learned easily. But I was so nervous the day I took my driving test that I backed right up over the curb when I was told to turn around. I was sure I had blown it, but the tester just told my dad I needed a little more practice turning around. And I got my license! Not too long after that, Daddy had let me use the car one evening, and I had two of my friends with me, and I ran into the back of another car. Nobody was seriously hurt, but I felt horrible! I never would have asked him to use the car again, but one night when I asked him to take me somewhere, he said I could just take the car.

The saddest time of my life was when my father died. He was a young man, barely fifty-nine, and I was very close to him. I was not yet twenty-one, and had just had our third child. Daddy had always been on the heavy side, short and round, and we knew he had been diagnosed with high blood pressure. The doctors had put him on a stringent diet, and he had lost quite a bit of weight. When he had the heart attack that put him in the hospital, it was a complete shock to me, but we found out later that he had had a couple of slight ones earlier and had not told us. He had been in the hospital for about a week when he had the last fatal attack. We all worried about Mother because she had been so dependent on him, and had never even learned to drive a car. But she learned then , and went back to their business and ran it until one of their key employees was able to take over and buy her out. We all made it through the sad time as Daddy would have wanted, but it was sad to lose him so soon. He was such an honorable man, and managed to impart that honesty to his daughters, so that when I have trouble making a decision, or knowing what is the right thing to do, I can still get help from him by thinking of what he would want me to do.

My sisters were so much older than I that they were almost like two more mothers. Phyllis was always very indulgent, and patient, and Patty, though she loved me, was always expecting a little more than I could produce and very firm with me. In fact, they both treated me exactly as they each treated her own children some years later. I thought it made me something special to become an aunt at only eight years old and always made my little niece and nephew call me "Auntie Sherry." I loved them very much, and to this day, when we are all middle-aged, I feel especially close to them, though we no longer see each other very often.

As I went into my teen years, Mother and I often seemed to be arguing. As I look back, I realize that she must have been going through "the change of life" just as I was at my most difficult period. How this distressed Daddy! He loved us both, and it was probably impossible for him to understand why we both seemed so angry at each other so often. Of course, we both survived the bad times, and so did our relationship.

My mother is a remarkable woman. She has always known exactly what to do in any situation, while remaining 'a lady', a very exacting set of standards defining 'lady' in her eyes. I never saw her look in the least flustered or at a loss, no matter the circumstances. When I was in Job's Daughters, she always made me proud of the way she handled her different positions on the Guardian Council. When she became Guardian, I noticed her poise even more. The lady who had preceded her was Rose Enefer, a lovely person who was just naturally endowed with authority. I wouldn't have wanted to step into her shoes! But Mother never hesitated that I know of. And if she had doubts, I never knew. 

When I was about thirteen or fourteen, my Grandma Garland had her 75th birthday, and a sort of family reunion was held at my Auntie Hazel's house in Hollywood for the occasion. All of my mother's family came, and I met several cousins I didn't even know I had. It was the only time I ever saw some of them. 

I always liked to go to Auntie Hazel's house anyway. She had four children and there was always something happening at their house. They had an Irish Setter named Big boy, and they always had cats with kittens. My cousins were fun to be around, and though they were all older than me, the youngest, Jodie, was only a year or two older so we had fun. The cousins and I would walk to an ice cream store a block or two away, and get ice cream to be dished up for everyone. Uncle Jimmy would sit at the table and tell tall tales to keep us all entertained. He used to play golf with Bing Crosby, and, living in Hollywood, he knew lots of people, or at least knew enough to make us think he did!

Their home in Hollywood was on Winona and was a big old two story house with wood siding and a large arbor across the front. It must have had five or six bedrooms, and there were always extra kids there. It was always a special time for me when Mother would say to Daddy, "Let's go over and see Hazel and Jim."

Weekends were the best time for me growing up because Mother and Daddy didn't have to go to work. On Saturdays, we shopped for groceries and for anything else that was needed. We usually went to the Ralph's grocery store on Broadway and Orange in Glendale. On Sundays' my parents usually worked in their beautiful garden, and maybe we would visit some special nursery to buy more plants, such as begonias or fuschias. My dad was president of the Glendale Fuschia Society, and we had many, many types and varieties. I guess my appetite for floral beauty was sated from long exposure, and I never had much interest in growing things until my own children were grown and gone from home. At that time, I belatedly took an interest and learned about many yard and house plants and had my own showplace garden. I even took horticulture classes at Glendale College for a while and could roll Latin names off my tongue with the best of them.

I met Ken when I was a junior in high school. It was at the birthday party for a friend and it was a blind date set-up that he knew about but I didn't! He asked if he could drive me home and invited me to go to the beach with him the next day, which was Memorial Day, 1950. He told me that he was 19, had graduated from Hoover the year before, and worked as a carpenter. When he picked me up the next morning, my mother liked him right away, and I got to meet his mother when we stopped by his house on the way home.

We started going steady less than a week later, and he gave me an engagement ring on August 3, after asking my father's permission. Since I was only just past my 17th birthday, we knew it would be some time before we could get married, but being engaged was the next best thing.

For the next several months, Kenny continued to work and I went to school, but we were together every possible minute. I became very fond of his little brother, Dennis, who was fourteen. I had always wanted a little brother, like all my girlfriends, and now I could have one.

Ken seemed to have all the wonderful qualities I had known in my father. He was sweet and sincere, honest and hard-working. He seemed to be completely trustworthy, and my judgement was absolutely right. He is my best friend as well as my loving husband.

We were married on march 28, 1951, in Las Vegas, Nevada. The only witnesses were our parents. We could not afford to go anywhere for a honeymoon, but our relationship was now official, and that was all that mattered. We found a small furnished apartment and set up housekeeping. Those first few months of marriage were fun, and we had enough money to go bowling and have fun with our friends. We went camping on vacations, and after the first few years, almost always had a small boat we could use to go water skiing and fishing. Our favorite place to fish was June Lake in the Sierras, and one season, we even moved up there, intending to stay, but coming back to Glendale after only a few months.

Our first child, Kathleen Laurel Sterndahl, was born on December 4, 1951, at Physician's and Surgeon's Hospital in Glendale. She was a beautiful baby with long dark hair that stood straight up. It was so long that the nurses sent her home with a tiny ponytail tied up with a strip of merthiolate-dotted gauze. Kathy always stared at everything around her with eyes open so wide her little forehead was wrinkled. She looked as though the world was really amazing to her. She held herself up with her arms straight from the day she was born, so she could better see everything that went on. She was a bright, quick little thing and understood what was said at only a few months. She began to talk at about nine months, and was speaking in short sentences at one year. She has always been an intelligent, caring person with a strong sense of fairness, and a penchant for defending the underdog. She was a pleasure to have around, nearly always happy and laughing. As the oldest, she was perhaps a little bossy with her brother and sister; at least, they sometimes thought so. She has always been sensitive and caring, and we are very proud of the person she has turned out to be. [On my honor, cross my heart, I did not edit a single word of this. :-) ]

Only thirteen months after Kathy's birth, our second child, a son, was born on January 23, 1953, at the same hospital. We named him Dennis Scott, but have always called him Chip, or Chipper when he was small. He was half-grown at birth, weighing in at ten pounds, two ounces. He caught up with his sister in size at about twelve months, and passed her up at five years. The closeness in age and size caused a lot of rivalry between these two, as their physical and mental development was closely matched. Chip had a strong personality from the very beginning, and resisted his sister's attempts to mother him. But they were good friends, too, and played together with no problems. As he grew up, his leadership abilities showed more and more, and he was always the center of a group of friends. His intelligence is above average, and he has an ability to see a problem from all sides. He always was at the top of his class in school, and got in trouble a couple of times for defending others he thought were be treated unfairly.

Our third child, Nicole Lynne, known as Nicki, was born on December 30, 1953. He brother was only eleven months old, and her sister less than one month past her second birthday.She has a wonderful, sunny disposition that makes her a pleasure to be with. Maybe it's her position as the baby of the family that makes us all love her so much. Both her brother and sister have always given her everything they possibly could. She was the easiest to raise of the three, rarely giving me cause to be angry with her, and has kept her happy disposition to this day.

We had many good times together as a family. We used to go water skiing often, usually to the Salton Sea, where it would be so hot we'd have to spend a lot of time in the water to keep cool. The kids all learned to ski, and we taught many of our friends as well. When the kids were all in their teens, we took our last family vacation where all of us went. We borrowed Ken's folks' travel trailer and went to Sequoia and then up to San Francisco, where we saw all the sights - Fisherman's Wharf, Chinatown, and Haight-Ashbury, which was the hippie mecca at the time. I think they were a little shocked that it was so old and dirty, since they must have thought at the time that it would be glamorous, since all the flower children were there. They were all just a little young to get caught up in that craziness, thank Heavens! But at the same time, they were old enough for there to be a definite appeal. [Note from Kathy: Hah! I was bribed to go on this vacation with a promise of going to Haight-Ashbury. The only shock I felt was when we got to that very corner and Dad just kept on driving right through. We never stopped. I felt like I had been double-crossed!] Anyway, we all had a fun time on the vacation, and it stands out because it was the last time we all went on one together. 

I tried to raise my kids to be people I enjoyed being with, and I think I was quite successful. We have seven grandchildren and every one is special and outstanding. They all have above-average intelligence and good looks. I am very proud of them. I hope they will all fulfill their potential and be happy and successful at whatever they choose to do.

I'm sorry my father did not live long enough to get to know my children and grandchildren. We lost him right after Nicki was born, so the kids were all too young to remember him. But we are fortunate to still have my mother with us (she is ninety-two at this writing) and Ken's folks, also. Parents always seem to me to be such a rich source of advice and knowledge, and I hope my children will think the same of me. 

Our family base was nearly always in Glendale until we bought our farm in Visalia and moved to it in January of 1976. That move was a major lifestyle change, since Ken and I were both city kids. We loved every bit of it and raised many animals and had a large garden, with self-sufficiency our goal. In the six years we lived on the farm, we learned enough about the animals, how to raise them, etc., to fill volumes. Although we hated to give up the life, we returned to Southern California in early 1982 to help Chip get the contracting business going. We, along with Debby's dad, Stan Baker, had formed a partnership a couple of years earlier, and Ken had been building equipment at the farm full time for the entire year of 1981. Though we still own the farm, I have realized since returning to San Fernando Valley that my asthma and hay fever are so much better when I am here, that I don't think that I can ever go back there to live. The business has prospered in the last seven years, and we are certainly better of financially that we were on the farm, for which I am thankful, but I still miss the country life.

Our first home after marriage was on Belmont Street in Glendale. It was a very small apartment, with no bedroom, that had formerly been a garage. It was furnished, and everyone in the family said we should get a place that was unfurnished because they had this or that piece of furniture that they would be glad to give us. So after only about a month and a half, we rented a one-bedroom apartment over a garage on Lake Street, just around the corner from Ken's folks on Roberta. We had to buy a refrigerator, but between the family and the few pieces of furniture that were there already, we had enough. We stayed there until after Kathy was born, when it became a little crowded.

We found a two-bedroom apartment at 1746 Scott Road in Burbank. It was a nice-sized place, upstairs. We lived there until we bought our first home in Pacoima, just after we had Chip. We had lots of fun there because there were a lot of young people in the neighborhood. The address of our first home was 8858 Greenbush. We lived there for three years, during which we had our Nicki. We later sold this home so we could buy into Dip Braze, Inc., a new business which was being started by Ken's boss. Ken's folks were living in a new home in Granada Hills then, and were renting out their Glendale home [on Roberta], so we rented it from them. We stayed in it for about a year, and then decided that we wanted to move to June Lake and get out of the rat race. So we put most of our furniture and possessions in storage, and moved to the High Sierras with three preschoolers! We loved it there, but it was very hard for Ken to find work, so when his former boss offered him the grand sum of $100 a month more than he had been getting to come back, we returned to Glendale, where we moved into my mother's apartment, downstairs from her. This was to have been a temporary move, but we ended up staying there for several years. 

We moved to an apartment in Bell to be near where Ken was then working, but we really disliked the neighborhood. Our apartment was really nice but we didn't like the way others were allowing their kids to run wild, so after only about six months we moved to Temple City, to a tiny house on a big lot, but a much nicer place to raise kids. We had acquired our boxer dog, Thunder, and he was a problem in the apartment, so now he had lots of room. We lived there about a year, and then Ken again changed jobs, so moved to Glendale again to be nearer his work and our families. A house became available on Fairmont, down the street from our friends, Donna and Earle Male, so we were happy to rent it for $120 a month.

We had been there only a few months when the owner decided to return, and asked us to move. At that time, the state owned houses in a swath that would later become the 134 freeway, and they were only a block away. Since we didn't want the kids to have to change schools again, we rented one on Pioneer for the same amount we had paid on Fairmont. We lived there for a while and then heard of a house for sale at 617 Milford Street, again just a couple of blocks away and in the same school district. We bought this home from parents of one of Chip's Little League team mates and lived there for about thirteen years.

After all the kids had married and moved out, and over a year of searching for a small farm, we found the one we wanted in Visalia, at 5232 Avenue 304. It took a lot of work but we fixed it up pretty much the way we wanted it after six years. The farm is a story in itself, and I will have to devote a whole chapter to it. When we left it in 1982, to come down and help Chip get the business going, we thought that we would return in just a couple of years. But that was not to be. The farm was just too much work, and we were having too much fun at our own business.

When we first returned south, Chip and Debbie found us a house to rent in Tujunga, near where they were living. The rent was an outrageous $625 per month, but they convinced us that we couldn't do any better in an area where we would want to live. So we took it and stayed for three years, until we had saved up enough to buy our home in Sylmar. Our home is a condominium but it is a single-family detached house. We like it very much and have our small back yard fixed up really nice, with a hot tub of our own.

[When they retired, they first traveled around the country in a beautiful Monaco motor home before settling in a retirement community in Reedsport, Oregon. Their address was 100 River Bend Road, Space #100. The community was on a river, so Ken bought a Bayliner fishing boat. He spent as much time as possible fishing while Sharon enjoyed quilting and counted cross stitch. Ken died in 1997 and Sharon continued living in Reedsport until she began having health problems in 2003. I was living in Japan at the time, but moved to Portland to be near her. Six months later, we bought a house together in Gresham, at 4005 SW 30th Drive, where we were living when she died three months later.]