must be grandpa

Who's got hair that's short and white?
Who drives a great big motorhome?
Must be grandpa.

Yes, Norman...there really is a Santa Claus

Historians tell us the decade of the 1930s was not an easy time. They talk of the Great Depression, stock market crash, bank failures, massive unemployment and bread lines. Somehow this was mostly hidden from a boy growing up in those years. We were not rich but didn't feel poor. My father always had a job even if it was only digging graves in the Wauwautosa cemetery. My friends seemed to be in the same situation so it was not something we thought of often.

At Christmas we knew, however, that we would always get clothes and one or two "real" gifts. That didn't stop us from dreaming and wishing. Santa Claus was a very real figure to me, fostered in great part by a radio program I think named "Billie the Brownie". The half hour program was on WTMJ (the WCCO of Milwaukee) from 5:00-5:30 p.m. each night my sister, Lois, and I would sit in the kitchen and listen to our white Zenith radio. This was important stuff. Billie (or Billy) must have been one of Santa's elves. He had a high, piercing voice and talked very fast. There were other people on the program since they read real live letters to Santa Claus on the air. I am not sure but would guess I sent Billie a letter each year. I know mine never got read. Maybe it was my handwriting, although I would have printed something that important.

The program began sometime after Thanksgiving and finished the night of December 24th. Toward the end of the program, they would contact Santa Claus at the North Pole. At first we would hear Santa talking of the hustle and bustle of getting ready to leave the North Pole. Later, about seven days before Christmas, we would hear Santa leave the North Pole. There were stamping reindeer, bells jingling, wind howling and Santa ho-ho-hoing through it all. The next week took forever. I think we knew Santa was flying but never questioned why it took so long. Each night they would attempt to contact Santa by wireless. The radio would crackle with static and Santa's voice would get louder and then fade. He always ran into a terrible storm and at least one night they couldn't contact him at all. I could visualize him forced down on a snow-covered mountain and not getting to 2521 Wauwautosa Avenue at all.

He always made it through. Never missed once. Although he may have been a little late a few times. Not too late since we had to eat supper, open presents and be in church in what seemed like an hour. Dad would always leave the supper table for a short time because he thought he heard something on the front porch. "Nobody there," he would say. But when we finished supper and went into the living room, the presents were sitting around the tree. Good old Santa had made it again.

Now that Santa was real to me. There were other Santas. Some were in front of stores standing next to a red pot and they were ringing a hand bell. They really weren't Santa. Inside Gimbels and Boston Store were other Santas sitting on thrones. I guessed they weren't real either since the real Santa Claus was still a zillion miles away on WTMJ. I was a little confused, however, when at least once a year they ushered the entire Roosevelt School, grades kindergarten to sixth, outside to see Santa and eight real, live reindeer hooked up to a full-sized white sleigh, all on top of a flatbed pulled by a semi-truck.

The real Santa from WTMJ reappeared, however, at Grandma Fenske's house after church. All the cousins would be there and we would be put in the living room, with parents standing in the doorways and behind chairs. Suddenly there would be a commotion in the kitchen, the glimpse of red, the sound of bells, and then Santa Claus was there with a big white bag of toys. He knew us by name and I can remember helping him hold the bag open as he distributed the gifts. Mine was usually a Hardy Boys book. I remember being so close I could see he was sweating, but hey, that's hard work distributing gifts to every kid in the world in one night.

I don't know when the doubts began, but I do remember that Christmas Eve, just before Santa came in, when one of my cousins said, "That's not Santa, that's Uncle Walter." And when he came in the door I could see Uncle Walter, and hear Uncle Walter and couldn't see or hear Santa Clause again, no matter how hard I tried.

The next year, I don't believe I listened to Billie the Brownie at all.

cars

According to the US Energy Information Administration, in 1994, U.S. residential vehicles traveled 1,793 billion miles, a distance equal to more than 70 million trips around the world.

Norm, no slouch behind the wheel, has made his contributions. We've calculated that in his 56 year driving career he has logged more than 12 million miles; a trip nearly half way to the moon. He's spent more then 2.5 of his 75 years behind the wheel; and he's burned through more than 75000 gallons of gasoline.

Therefore, we're driven to dedicate this blog to Norm's 21 cars. Some were dearly loved. Others were simply transportation. Most were worn completely out or given to family members to wear out. Its a proud Schwister tradition to perform the last rites drive to Jellison's Junk Yard.

So here, in vintage order, is the complete list:

1939 Hudson [1st car, grandpa bought it for me in 1950]

Army Jeep
1950 Packard [bought in 1956 when I got out of the army]
1956 Chev [Winthrop going to the dump car]
1957 VW
1959 TR-3
1960 TR-3
1963 Corvair
1967 Ford Station Wagon
1972 Ford
1972 Maverick
1976 Ford Station Wagon
1976 Chev Malibu [ Grandpa car ]
1979 Citation
1982 Chev [694]
1985 Lynx [Daugher-in Law car]
1987 Toyota MR-2
1988 Mazda 626
1994 Winnebago Minnie Winnie DL
2002 Toyota Camry
2002 Winnebago Sightseer

news flash

This just in. . .

A field report from our intrepid Norm-Herald correspondent has just crossed our editorial desk. Photographic evidence suggests a definitive outcome to the Wisconsin vs. Minnesota lightweight bout referenced in the previous story.

As you can see, no sign of any Wisconsin lights. Fight over. . . lights out.

Our correspondent also uncovered these unretouched archival photos from 2003.

lightweight bout

Tree-trimming season is upon us, and with it, another round in the storied lightweight bout between two exterior holiday decorating concepts, a veritable clash of aesthetic titans. This intense rivalry between opposing lighting schemes begins to heat up in the Schwister household every year after Thanksgiving. Actually, it's outside the household---the battle royale of lights is joined in the front yard, its thrilling highs and gut-wrenching lows strung up and lit up for all the neighborhood to see. Wait. . . what's that? Do I hear the ring announcer now?

"To my left, in the Minnesota corner, wearing the tastefully understated white trunks, is the Wayside Warrior: Mary "Gibson Golightly" Schwister! And to my right in the Wisconsin corner, wearing the gaudy, glowing trunks-of-many-colors, is the legendary Wauwatosa Bomber himself, Norman Schwister!"

Before the first round bell, let's take a brief moment to learn about outdoor lighting.

Currently in vogue are those ubiquious strings of tree lights with smallish, white lights---you've seen them: very tasteful, very secular, very timeless. In their purest expression, they shine steadfast and cool, staying solidly in the background. They're modest about their talent and don't make a big deal out of stardom. They're generous tippers and always wait their turn in queue. If they have something to say, they keep it to themselves because, really, they wouldn't think of imposing. We shall refer to these as Minnesota lights.

Wisconsin lights, on the other hand, had their heyday long ago but dream of a big comeback. They're over-the-hill quarterbacks who've had three beers too many and won't shut up about that Hail Mary touchdown pass back in junior year. They are large, colorful, inefficient, and prone to shorts, bulb breakages, and fires. These garish dinosaurs look a little something like this:


Wisconsin-style "C-bulb" lights were at the cutting edge of outdoor holiday lighting technology in the 1950s and 60s before losing market "wattage" to more energy-efficient white-light models in the 70s and 80s. The white light manufacturers moved their factories just across the river to the lawless Minnesota Territory, where they could produce lights cheaply and in mass quantities by forcing thousands of hapless University of Minnesota English majors to labor in sweatshops (that's okay; they didn't have anything better to do), and the Wisconsin light industry just rolled over and went to sleep. While we'll likely never see those chunky bulbs circulating in great numbers again, exuberant Wisconsin-style lighting aesthetics are undergoing a kind of renaissance lately. Sales of blinky lights, tube lights, and icicle lights are robust. And that's not even getting into those creepy animatronic lighted deer figures.

Back to the fights. In recent years, Norm and Mary's gleeful holiday bouts have mostly ended in split decisions, with the yard on one side of the driveway decorated a la Minnesota, and the other side Wisconsin style. Who can say what will be the result of this year's go-around? Stay tuned. Round one is due to begin shortly.

[Editor's note: The 75 Norm-Herald has dispatched our most highly decorated field reporter to the scene to collect photographs of the 2006 Schwister lighting bout. Images will be posted as soon as they're available.]