(Ms.) Sam Heede’s letter (Nov. 22, 2020) was interesting.

I often thought of writing my memoirs, but would anyone care that I went to a two-room grade school with a cloak room, inkwells, blotters, spelling bees, and the water pail with a dipper from which we all drank and no one got sick? Outside was the hand pump and two outhouses. Later on we had history bees.

I remember ration stamps, war bonds, and going to the slaughter house with Daddy to buy meat. The floor was covered with sawdust. At home, we’d attach the meat grinder to the table and made hamburger and red flannel hash, too. We “put up” food down in the cellar, had a sauerkraut barrel, a root cellar and homemade root beer.

I remember the iceman. We had a wooden ice box.

Doctors made house calls. All of us were born at home. We had mustard plasters, Musterole, paregoric, and a teaspoon of cod liver oil every morning.

On Saturday nights we took our weekly bath with homemade soap in the galvanized tub in front of the wood-burning stove.

We took bricks to bed to keep our feet warm. There was no heat at night – no matter how cold. The ashes were banked in the stove for the morning. Also, we’d bank the foundation with autumn leaves against the oncoming winter.

Every store was closed on Sunday and all churches were always open in the event one felt the need to kneel at the altar to pray and talk to God. Now the stores are open and the churches are locked. How did that happen?

I’ll end this by asking, “What will you do with this paper after you read it?” Will you pass it on, throw it in the rubbish, recycle, or use it to clean windows? Growing up, we’d bundle them, tie with string, and sell them at the salvage yard. The same for clean, dry rags.

Thank you Ms. Heede for the trip down Memory Lane. Merry Christmas and God bless you.

Dorothy Smalls is a resident of Lake Placid. Viewpoints are the opinion of the writer, not necessarily that of the Highlands News-Sun.