MEMORY LANE PASSPORTS BY R. AUBREY LA FOY A favorite pastime of mine when I was a kid was to visit my uncle and aunt home only ½ block from my house. My aunt was my Mother’s elder sister and my uncle was a printer. Uncle Ray always subscribed to the National Geographic Magazine and I spent hours poring through those magazines looking at weird people, their dress, customs, buildings, maps and styles. The magazine opened up a world far removed from our small tight nit community in Iowa. We could dream and wondered if we would ever get to travel and see some of those exotic places and people. Little did I know at that time (age10 or 11) that by the time I was 21 years old my journeys would take me clear around the world. In July 1943 I left Milford, Iowa and traveled west and west and west until I returned to Milford from the east in January 1946. When I was a kid the highest hill I had ever seen was Hi Point on the west side of Lake West Okoboji but before I returned home in 1946 I had seen and driven mountains in Burma and China flew over the Himalayans of Tibet. The largest boat that I had ridden on prior to 1944 was the Queen on Okoboji but before I returned home in January 1946 had voyaged on an ocean going vessel that held over 8,000 people and another that held 3,500 military personal. Wow! The largest body of water I had observed prior to 1943 was Big Spirit Lake and then I sailed across the Pacific Ocean, Indian Ocean, Bay of Bengal, Red Sea, Mediterranean Sea and the Atlantic Ocean. The Little Sioux River was huge when I was a kid but it didn’t compare with the Missouri River, Hooghly or Irrawadity in India, the Yangzee in China, Hudson River or the Mississippi River in the USA. I thought people from Minnesota talked different until I associated with fellows from Brooklyn and Texas but that was nothing compared with the languages in India and China. Years ago we would beg my Father to drive up past the Inn so we might see some of the employees but we found out in World War II the color of our skin was in the minority in India and China. I won’t even get into religions but when we found out that cows were sacred in India that was the ultimate. My Grandfather, two uncles and my father were butchers and that wouldn’t go very well in India. I also never had a good steak in India or China. We ate chicken and pork but no beef unless you call water buffalo beef, but chewing it was another venture. All of those adventures fulfilled the pages of the old National Geographic. In 1998 Connie and I celebrated our 50th wedding anniversary. We were married in 1948 while still in college at Iowa State Teachers College at Cedar Falls. To help us celebrate that occasion our three sons, Randy, Ray and Carl presented us with a trip to Mexico. The original plan was to go to Cancun, Mexico but because they had just had a hurricane there switched our destination to Mazatlan, Mexico. Prior to leaving on that trip we applied for a passport. Although I had traveled clear around the Earth, entered and exited six countries not counting the USA it was my first passport. Since that time I have had to secure another as the first one expired because of time. I will state also, that getting the second passport was a bit more complicated that getting the second especially since 9/11. My first encounter leaving the USA occurred in February 1944. The military outfit I was assigned were slated to go overseas. I was with the XX Bomber Command-B-29s Air Corps in Great Bend, Kansas. We trained there and in February told to gather our gear, assemble in front of the barracks and marched five blocks to a waiting railroad train. Each man was assigned a certain coach and in we went not knowing our destination. There were four of us in seats facing each other along with our gear. Our barracks bags were stored elsewhere. The only way we could tell where we were was to see the station names but finally we stopped in a military camp near Riverside, California. We embarked and assigned barracks. The following days we received physicals, shots and trained on how to scramble up and down some netting much like ones we saw in movies and newsreels. We never did know where we were going and rumors were ramped as we kept our winter clothing so guessing was Alaska or maybe Australia. After a week at that base we were again assembled with our gear and barracks bags and boarded a train. Upon entering the train all the shades were pulled and we were instructed not to peek or let them up on our journey wherever that was. The train trip lasted about five or six hours. When it finally stopped we got off the train we were on a wharf and berthed next to a huge ship. It was sure larger than the Queen on Lake West Okoboji. We were formed in single file carrying our gear and barracks bags and as we approached the gangplank our names were read and we answered with our Army Serial Number. My ASN was 37675696 and told to proceed where a sailor escorted us into the ship. The officer in charge never asked for my passport-Ha! Ha! I won’t go into great detail of life aboard a troopship for 33 days but it wasn’t pleasant but endurable. I recall that when Connie and I took a cruise to Alaska I felt like a King with my Queen after my first ocean cruise; a stateroom, real bed, shower, toilet and sink with fresh water and a view with a balcony. Our troopship’s stateroom had 400 men, four tier bunks, and salt water showers. The portholes covered over and welded shut and we were issued two canteens of water each day. The food on the cruise ship was great with all you wanted to eat and more, shows, entertainment, bars and lounges. What a contrast! The Alaskan Cruise was great but we still had to present identification upon leaving and entering the ship. Since that first venture to Mexico we have traveled to the Panama Canal, Hawaiian Islands, Belgium and Holland, Ireland and Mexico. The American passport is a valued piece of paper and one is always warned to keep it secure at all times. Several incidents come to mind relating to our passports having to be presented upon entering and exiting countries. I recall going to Puerto Vallarta, Mexico several years ago. We flew Alaskan Airline and upon disembarking the plane with our carryon bags proceeded into the terminal. Lines were formed and as one approached the Mexican officials there was a Stop and Go sign that flashed for each person entering. If the light was green you just proceeded ahead but if you got a red light you were stopped, presented your passport and the officials opened and went through your carryons. In all our travels to foreign countries that operation was unique. Passport pictures are much like your state driver’s license photos in that they are never glorious. Today it takes a longer period of time to get an American passport. Times change and I’m sure our president doesn’t have to show his passport upon entering foreign countries but I wonder if American troops have to have a passport to enter and exit Iran or Afghanistan?MEMORY LANE PASSPORTS BY R. AUBREY LA FOY A favorite pastime of mine when I was a kid was to visit my uncle and aunt home only ½ block from my house. My aunt was my Mother’s elder sister and my uncle was a printer. Uncle Ray always subscribed to the National Geographic Magazine and I spent hours poring through those magazines looking at weird people, their dress, customs, buildings, maps and styles. The magazine opened up a world far removed from our small tight nit community in Iowa. We could dream and wondered if we would ever get to travel and see some of those exotic places and people. Little did I know at that time (age10 or 11) that by the time I was 21 years old my journeys would take me clear around the world. In July 1943 I left Milford, Iowa and traveled west and west and west until I returned to Milford from the east in January 1946. When I was a kid the highest hill I had ever seen was Hi Point on the west side of Lake West Okoboji but before I returned home in 1946 I had seen and driven mountains in Burma and China flew over the Himalayans of Tibet. The largest boat that I had ridden on prior to 1944 was the Queen on Okoboji but before I returned home in January 1946 had voyaged on an ocean going vessel that held over 8,000 people and another that held 3,500 military personal. Wow! The largest body of water I had observed prior to 1943 was Big Spirit Lake and then I sailed across the Pacific Ocean, Indian Ocean, Bay of Bengal, Red Sea, Mediterranean Sea and the Atlantic Ocean. The Little Sioux River was huge when I was a kid but it didn’t compare with the Missouri River, Hooghly or Irrawadity in India, the Yangzee in China, Hudson River or the Mississippi River in the USA. I thought people from Minnesota talked different until I associated with fellows from Brooklyn and Texas but that was nothing compared with the languages in India and China. Years ago we would beg my Father to drive up past the Inn so we might see some of the employees but we found out in World War II the color of our skin was in the minority in India and China. I won’t even get into religions but when we found out that cows were sacred in India that was the ultimate. My Grandfather, two uncles and my father were butchers and that wouldn’t go very well in India. I also never had a good steak in India or China. We ate chicken and pork but no beef unless you call water buffalo beef, but chewing it was another venture. All of those adventures fulfilled the pages of the old National Geographic. In 1998 Connie and I celebrated our 50th wedding anniversary. We were married in 1948 while still in college at Iowa State Teachers College at Cedar Falls. To help us celebrate that occasion our three sons, Randy, Ray and Carl presented us with a trip to Mexico. The original plan was to go to Cancun, Mexico but because they had just had a hurricane there switched our destination to Mazatlan, Mexico. Prior to leaving on that trip we applied for a passport. Although I had traveled clear around the Earth, entered and exited six countries not counting the USA it was my first passport. Since that time I have had to secure another as the first one expired because of time. I will state also, that getting the second passport was a bit more complicated that getting the second especially since 9/11. My first encounter leaving the USA occurred in February 1944. The military outfit I was assigned were slated to go overseas. I was with the XX Bomber Command-B-29s Air Corps in Great Bend, Kansas. We trained there and in February told to gather our gear, assemble in front of the barracks and marched five blocks to a waiting railroad train. Each man was assigned a certain coach and in we went not knowing our destination. There were four of us in seats facing each other along with our gear. Our barracks bags were stored elsewhere. The only way we could tell where we were was to see the station names but finally we stopped in a military camp near Riverside, California. We embarked and assigned barracks. The following days we received physicals, shots and trained on how to scramble up and down some netting much like ones we saw in movies and newsreels. We never did know where we were going and rumors were ramped as we kept our winter clothing so guessing was Alaska or maybe Australia. After a week at that base we were again assembled with our gear and barracks bags and boarded a train. Upon entering the train all the shades were pulled and we were instructed not to peek or let them up on our journey wherever that was. The train trip lasted about five or six hours. When it finally stopped we got off the train we were on a wharf and berthed next to a huge ship. It was sure larger than the Queen on Lake West Okoboji. We were formed in single file carrying our gear and barracks bags and as we approached the gangplank our names were read and we answered with our Army Serial Number. My ASN was 37675696 and told to proceed where a sailor escorted us into the ship. The officer in charge never asked for my passport-Ha! Ha! I won’t go into great detail of life aboard a troopship for 33 days but it wasn’t pleasant but endurable. I recall that when Connie and I took a cruise to Alaska I felt like a King with my Queen after my first ocean cruise; a stateroom, real bed, shower, toilet and sink with fresh water and a view with a balcony. Our troopship’s stateroom had 400 men, four tier bunks, and salt water showers. The portholes covered over and welded shut and we were issued two canteens of water each day. The food on the cruise ship was great with all you wanted to eat and more, shows, entertainment, bars and lounges. What a contrast! The Alaskan Cruise was great but we still had to present identification upon leaving and entering the ship. Since that first venture to Mexico we have traveled to the Panama Canal, Hawaiian Islands, Belgium and Holland, Ireland and Mexico. The American passport is a valued piece of paper and one is always warned to keep it secure at all times. Several incidents come to mind relating to our passports having to be presented upon entering and exiting countries. I recall going to Puerto Vallarta, Mexico several years ago. We flew Alaskan Airline and upon disembarking the plane with our carryon bags proceeded into the terminal. Lines were formed and as one approached the Mexican officials there was a Stop and Go sign that flashed for each person entering. If the light was green you just proceeded ahead but if you got a red light you were stopped, presented your passport and the officials opened and went through your carryons. In all our travels to foreign countries that operation was unique. Passport pictures are much like your state driver’s license photos in that they are never glorious. Today it takes a longer period of time to get an American passport. Times change and I’m sure our president doesn’t have to show his passport upon entering foreign countries but I wonder if American troops have to have a passport to enter and exit Iran or Afghanistan?

MEMORY LANE

PASSPORTS

BY R. AUBREY LA FOY

A favorite pastime of mine when I was a kid was to visit my uncle and aunt home only ½ block from my house. My aunt was my Mother’s elder sister and my uncle was a printer. Uncle Ray always subscribed to the National Geographic Magazine and I spent hours poring through those magazines looking at weird people, their dress, customs, buildings, maps and styles. The magazine opened up a world far removed from our small tight nit community in Iowa. We could dream and wondered if we would ever get to travel and see some of those exotic places and people. Little did I know at that time (age10 or 11) that by the time I was 21 years old my journeys would take me clear around the world.

In July 1943 I left Milford, Iowa and traveled west and west and west until I returned to Milford from the east in January 1946. When I was a kid the highest hill I had ever seen was Hi Point on the west side of Lake West Okoboji but before I returned home in 1946 I had seen and driven mountains in Burma and China flew over the Himalayans of Tibet. The largest boat that I had ridden on prior to 1944 was the Queen on Okoboji but before I returned home in January 1946 had voyaged on an ocean going vessel that held over 8,000 people and another that held 3,500 military personal. Wow! The largest body of water I had observed prior to 1943 was Big Spirit Lake and then I sailed across the Pacific Ocean, Indian Ocean, Bay of Bengal, Red Sea, Mediterranean Sea and the Atlantic Ocean. The Little Sioux River was huge when I was a kid but it didn’t compare with the Missouri River, Hooghly or Irrawadity in India, the Yangzee in China, Hudson River or the Mississippi River in the USA. I thought people from Minnesota talked different until I associated with fellows from Brooklyn and Texas but that was nothing compared with the languages in India and China.

Years ago we would beg my Father to drive up past the Inn so we might see some of the employees but we found out in World War II the color of our skin was in the minority in India and China.  I won’t even get into religions but when we found out that cows were sacred in India that was the ultimate. My Grandfather, two uncles and my father were butchers and that wouldn’t go very well in India. I also never had a good steak in India or China. We ate chicken and pork but no beef unless you call water buffalo beef, but chewing it was another venture. All of those adventures fulfilled the pages of the old National Geographic.

In 1998 Connie and I celebrated our 50^th wedding anniversary. We were married in 1948 while still in college at Iowa State Teachers College at Cedar Falls. To help us celebrate that occasion our three sons, Randy, Ray and Carl presented us with a trip to Mexico. The original plan was to go to Cancun, Mexico but because they had just had a hurricane there switched our destination to Mazatlan, Mexico. Prior to leaving on that trip we applied for a passport. Although I had traveled clear around the Earth, entered and exited six countries not counting the USA it was my first passport. Since that time I have had to secure another as the first one expired because of time. I will state also, that getting the second passport was a bit more complicated that getting the second especially since 9/11.

My first encounter leaving the USA occurred in February 1944. The military outfit I was assigned were slated to go overseas. I was with the XX Bomber Command-B-29s Air Corps in Great Bend, Kansas. We trained there and in February told to gather our gear, assemble in front of the barracks and marched five blocks to a waiting railroad train. Each man was assigned a certain coach and in we went not knowing our destination. There were four of us in seats facing each other along with our gear. Our barracks bags were stored elsewhere. The only way we could tell where we were was to see the station names but finally we stopped in a military camp near Riverside, California.

We embarked and assigned barracks. The following days we received physicals, shots and trained on how to scramble up and down some netting much like ones we saw in movies and newsreels. We never did know where we were going and rumors were ramped as we kept our winter clothing so guessing was Alaska or maybe Australia. After a week at that base we were again assembled with our gear and barracks bags and boarded a train. Upon entering the train all the shades were pulled and we were instructed not to peek or let them up on our journey wherever that was. The train trip lasted about five or six hours. When it finally stopped we got off the train we were on a wharf and berthed next to a huge ship. It was sure larger than the Queen on Lake West Okoboji. We were formed in single file carrying our gear and barracks bags and as we approached the gangplank our names were read and we answered with our Army Serial Number. My ASN was 37675696 and told to proceed where a sailor escorted us into the ship. The officer in charge never asked for my passport-Ha! Ha! I won’t go into great detail of life aboard a troopship for 33 days but it wasn’t pleasant but endurable.

I recall that when Connie and I took a cruise to Alaska I felt like a King with my Queen after my first ocean cruise; a stateroom, real bed, shower, toilet and sink with fresh water and a view with a balcony. Our troopship’s stateroom had 400 men, four tier bunks, and salt water showers. The portholes covered over and welded shut and we were issued two canteens of water each day. The food on the cruise ship was great with all you wanted to eat and more, shows, entertainment, bars and lounges. What a contrast!  The Alaskan Cruise was great but we still had to present identification upon leaving and entering the ship.

Since that first venture to Mexico we have traveled to the Panama Canal, Hawaiian Islands, Belgium and Holland, Ireland and Mexico. The American passport is a valued piece of paper and one is always warned to keep it secure at all times. Several incidents come to mind relating to our passports having to be presented upon entering and exiting countries.

I recall going to Puerto Vallarta, Mexico several years ago. We flew Alaskan Airline and upon disembarking the plane with our carryon bags proceeded into the terminal. Lines were formed and as one approached the Mexican officials there was a Stop and Go sign that flashed for each person entering. If the light was green you just proceeded ahead but if you got a red light you were stopped, presented your passport and the officials opened and went through your carryons. In all our travels to foreign countries that operation was unique.

Passport pictures are much like your state driver’s license photos in that they are never glorious. Today it takes a longer period of time to get an American passport. Times change and I’m sure our president doesn’t have to show his passport upon entering foreign countries but I wonder if American troops have to have a passport to enter and exit Iran or Afghanistan?

SWIMMING

MEMORY LANE

SWIMMING

BY R. AUBREY LA FOY

The other day I chanced upon the baby books for my sister’s and myself.  My Mother, Jean Holcomb LaFoy, was very diligent in keeping records of our first words, first walks and even locks of our hair. Wow! How mine has changed over the years from blond to brown to white. My baby book did not include when I first began to swim.

Do you remember when you first walk or talk? Probably not, but for many of you your first attempt to swim may not have occurred until you were grown or a teenager. In my case I cannot remember NOT swimming. My wife, Connie, didn’t learn to swim until we started to date and were married.

In my case my parents built and owned a cottage on Jones Beach in 1925 the year I was born. At that time is was named Milford Beach and was populated primarily by Milford citizens. My Uncle Ollie Holcomb was one of the founders and developers of Milford Beach. He worked out of a bank in Milford. He built a cottage on Milford Beach which was east or my parent’s cottage. Walter & Elizabeth Jones also built a cottage. Walter was a brother-in-law of Ollie Holcomb. Ollie’s’ wife was Blanch Jones Holcomb.

Milford or Jones Beach has a wonderful sand beach and it was no trouble for kids to play on the sand and venture out into the lake. I don’t recall learning to swim but remember diving from the dock and swimming under water to gather clams from the bottom of the lake. After bringing the clams to sore put them in a minnow bucket probably to die. I recall swimming under water long before I ever learned to swim on the surface of the water. I was not very old to remember swimming at Jones Beach as my parents sold their cottage in 1930 and built a cobblestone cottage in Maywood. The cobble stone cottage is still there just inside the middle stone pillars to the right.

My parents rented out their cottage in Maywood and many times when they went up to clean and mow the yard I would take the trail down to the lake and go swimming. It wasn’t as much fun as Jones Beach but it was fun to dive off the docks and swim around.

I don’t think people who live in or near the lakes really appreciate the advantage of ready access to swimming. Talking with many people who grew up on farms or small towns where they had no lakes it was a thrill to come to the Iowa Great Lakes and go swimming.

Owning a bathing suit was another obstacle for many but that was solved by being able to rent suits. The rental bathing suits were wool and not very attractive and as I recall one color-dark blue. People could rent bathing suits at Terrace Park in conjunction with the Casino. (One of the buildings that one could rent a bathing suit is still in existence on the beach at Boy’s Town.) Other places that rented bathing suits were Benit’s’ Park and there was also one rental facility on the north-west corner of the lake at Triboji Beach. Whether there was one on Big Spirit Lake I don’t know.

One could rent the bathing suit, get a wire basket, place your shoes and clothing, check it in and retrieve it when you returned from swimming. You were issued a metal tag with a number that matched your wire basket. Scuba divers and collectors have discovered many over the years on beaches and from the lake bottoms. Many of the rental facilities provided docks, diving boards, rafts and water wheels. I know there were water wheels, rafts and diving board at Terrace Park, Benit’s Park and also a Crescent Beach. Arnolds Park was the place to go as Benit’s constructed a diving tower and many times we went there to dive and “show off”. In the 1930’s young men were employed to be life guards at the beaches through the WPA. The “life guards” not only watched the swimmers but gave “life saving” lessons.

It was my privilege to take “life saving” lessons one summer at Benit’s’ Beach at Arnolds Park. Recalling how we were instructed to give and help a drowning victim is a far cry from today’s methods. I don’t think what we learned in the 1930s was far from rolling drowning victim  back and forth over a barrel but we laid the victim on their stomach, make sure there  tongue was okay and push just below the rib cage to extract the water at a steady count. In 1947 while going to Iowa State Teachers College in a course of First Aid they still continued the method I learned in the 1930s.

The skills (?) I learned in that “life saving” course I took in the 1930s came very useful over the years while living at Terrace Park. Somebody was always over extending themselves swimming. Shortly after taking the course (1930s) it was helpful in assisting a friend of mine who was going down the third time. I don’t know if what I did was correct but he is still alive after 70 years.

During World War II it was privilege to go swimming in the states and overseas. Swimming in a pool was s treat but give me open water anytime. I recall my first military camp was at Camp Dodge at Des Moines. The camp had a wonderful swimming pool and many of us from Dickinson County availed ourselves of that facility. My first permanent camp at March Field, California had a great swimming pool facility. We spent many a happy hours swimming in that pool especially as our part of the camp was in the desert and very dusty. Another facility that I availed myself was at Bombay, India. We had spent 33 days on a troopship from California via Australia and finally to Bombay. We were quartered at a camp in Bombay near the harbor. About three blocks from our camp was huge swimming facility that incorporated the ocean into swimming pool. Fortunately I always kept my bathing trunks so going to that pool in Bombay was real treat. The next time I could avail myself to a swimming pool was in early 1945. I was assigned to the 2459^th Quartermaster Truck Company that hauled military supplies over the Ledo-Burma Road from India to China. The Army Engineers tried to make our rest stops nice and provided showers or swimming holes. I recall the engineers had constructed a swimming hole near our rest stop. We had been driving all day and were tired and dusty and when we spotted that beautiful wonderful swimming hole nothing doing but jump in. I put on my swimming trunks, ran over to the side of the water and dived in. That was a mistake as the engineers had only dammed up a mountain stream that was just above freezing. It was a shock to the system but refreshing. Didn’t stay in long but it was great to get rid of all the dust and dirt.

We drove up to Kunming, China and from there took roads (?) to several western Chinese cities. I recall one evening we stopped along a shallow river and floated down about ½ mile, walked back up and did it over and over again. Another time we parked along a swift flowing stream and swam in that for a long time. We also washed our clothes.

When you grow up at the Iowa Great Lakes wherever you are you seek out swimming facilities. When we were attending college at Cedar Falls we availed ourselves to swimming facilities at Cedar Fall and also at Waverly, Iowa. We have also swum in Clear Lake, White Bear Lake, Gull Lake, Spirit Lake, Pacific Ocean, Atlantic Ocean, Gulf Of Mexico, Texas, Mexico and Hawaii.

We have two Olympic style swimming pools where we live in the winter. The “heated” pools are really used. Believe it or not I get into West Okoboji at least once each summer, when it is hot. When I was a kid living in Milford we tried to be the “first” to go swimming in Lake West Okoboji in the spring but no more. Our two granddaughters, Becca and Sonja LaFoy have carried on the tradition and try to be the first to go swimming at White Bear Lake, Minnesota after the ice goes out. I like “heated’ pools.