Kids of the Homefront Army

War-Time Romance

2012-02-24T00:01:00.003-05:00

Homer

WAR-TIME ROMANCE

I take my girl down
to Frenchman’s Bay
for a little talk and
maybe something more.
Glancing over the water
we see nothing, only
stars in the distance,
and yet, we can hear
a steady thrumming—
the muffled sound
of an engine.
She leans against me
and breathlessly whispers
"U-boat,"
before she nibbles
on my ear.

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Postcard courtesy Boston Public Library.

Do You Hear Belles?

2012-02-20T00:01:00.005-05:00

Brenda

DO YOU HEAR BELLES?

Sorry to be boastful,
but a woman can do
most anything nowadays.
She picks up a shovel
to turn over a victory garden.
She hefts a welding torch
and puts together a Victory Ship.
And now I’ve heard,
that right here in Wisconsin,
women have shown up
to replace men on
baseball diamonds.
Summer’s coming and I
can’t wait to see those Belles
put together a victory season!

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Welding photo courtesy Library of Congress. Photo of Sophie Kurys of the Racine Belles from the author's personal collection.

Bond Rally

2012-02-17T00:01:00.001-05:00

Donald

BOND RALLY

Everyone loves going
to a war bond rally.
When Hedy Lamarr is
giving kisses for bonds
who wouldn’t pay $18.75
for a note that will be
worth $25.00 ten years
from now?

Big-star bond drives
happen in California.
In this eastern city,
we get circus clowns.
No matter, bonds sold
by clowns, and bonds
sold by stars, both
keep our boys flying.

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Photo courtesy Library of Congress. Poster stamp from author's collection. Poster courtesy University of Maryland.

Postcards

2012-02-13T00:01:00.004-05:00

Mary

POSTCARDS

He joined the navy
to see the world and
to send us postcards
from exotic places.

He ended up sailing
all along the east coast
protecting America from
unseen German subs.

And so, when he’s in port
he sends us postcards
of Boston’s baked beans,
swans at a park in Virginia,

or Mama’s favorites—
from a city called Providence.
His being in Providence,
she says, is a good sign—

Providence is another word
for "God is watching."

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Postcards and photo from author's collection.

June 6, 1944

2012-02-10T00:01:00.005-05:00

Cathleen

JUNE 6, 1944

It’s almost as though
everyone is walking
on tippy-toe.

New York City is quiet—
hushed and listening
for the latest news

of the invasion
that will lead us
on the path to peace.

Or not, depending
upon how it goes.
For now, all eyes

are on the news line.
All hearts have stopped beating.
Please, Lord...

Please.

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Photo courtesy Library of Congress. Note: if you click on the photo, it opens in another screen and the news ticker is easier to read.

The Last Period

2012-02-06T00:01:00.001-05:00

Jerry

THE LAST PERIOD

We have a little celebration
to bid farewell
to our favorite teacher.
We joke, we tease, we laugh.
We make promises to write.
Then suddenly,
the talk stops.
There is nothing else
we can say without
one of us choking.
Of course,
men don’t cry,
so we stare at the wall
and pray for the bell
to ring.

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Photos from author's personal collection.

Whispers at Hebrew School

2012-02-03T00:01:00.005-05:00

Eben

WHISPERS AT HEBREW SCHOOL

Whispers

Whispers

Whispers growing

Louder

Louder

Louder words:

Condemnation

Deprivation

Exploitation

Retaliation

Concentration

Extermination!

What is the Hebrew word for enough?

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Photo courtesy Library of Congress.

A Discussion of Stars

2012-01-30T00:01:00.000-05:00

William and Jack

A DISCUSSION OF STARS

Hey, did you hear
Martin got killed
in a jeep accident
out in San Francisco?

Yeah, I heard.
I can’t believe it.
He was only eighteen—
three years older than us!

I wonder if Mrs. Metcalf’s
going to change his blue star
to gold?

Why wouldn’t she?

Well, it’s not like he died
on some Pacific island
fighting the Japs.

But, he’s still dead.

I guess you’re right.
Dead is dead.

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Photo courtesy Library of Congress.

Birthday Dinner

2012-01-27T00:01:00.000-05:00

Forrest

BIRTHDAY DINNER

One of Dad’s favorite meals
is meatballs, gravy, and
hot buttered noodles.

Tonight the table is set
for a birthday dinner.
Dad is ready with
a broad smile and a
napkin tucked into his shirt.
Mom dishes out a big
portion of meatballs, gravy,
and hot oleoed noodles.
Dad takes a bite of meatball.
He chews.
He swallows.
"Darlin’" he says,
"You did something a
little different here."
"It’s just chopped chuck
and an egg," Mom says.
"And...?"
"And Wheaties?" Mom says.

"Uh, huh," says Dad
putting down his fork.
He turns to us. "Hey kids,
who’s ready for cake?"

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved.

A Plane!

2012-01-23T00:01:00.001-05:00

Linda

A PLANE!

Oh! There’s a plane!
I hate when a plane goes by!
There aren’t many that fly over,
so I know if I see one it means
the Nazis are coming.

They’re coming to bomb us,
or maybe they’re going to the
POW camp in the next county.
Either way, there’s Nazis overhead.
Quick, let’s hide in the barn!

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Poster courtesy University of Maryland.

The Last Straw

2012-01-20T00:01:00.001-05:00

Kenny

THE LAST STRAW

I turn off the water
when I brush my teeth.
I don’t travel unless
it’s absolutely necessary.
I never waste food.
I shut the lights
when I leave a room.
I reuse boxes until
they fall apart.
I can’t get tires for my bike
for the duration.
I wear Grandma-knit sweaters
instead of store-bought.
I give up my Saturdays
to work for the Junior Red Cross.
But this is the last straw—
no two ways about it—
this is the last straw!
Due to wartime
paper restrictions,
Comic Cavalcade
was cut to 92 pages.
Now, a half-year later,
it’s been cut to 84!
At this rate, my favorite
comic book will disappear
by...
by...
before you know it!

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Comic Cavalcade cover courtesy DC Database.

Shortages

2012-01-16T00:01:00.003-05:00

Ava

SHORTAGES

Appliances, hosiery,
butter, coffee, shoes,
anything rubber, sugar,
gasoline...

The list goes on and on,
but I think, what I miss most
are the smiles, the teases,
the boasts, the charms,
the arms, the kisses
of boys.

Gone to factories.
Gone to war.
Gone.

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Stockings, fuel, young men posters courtesy University of Maryland.

Free Admission

2012-01-13T00:01:00.003-05:00

Helen

FREE ADMISSION

The Regent Theater is
giving free admission
to the matinee if you
contribute records.

It’s for the war effort.

The records are used
in making shellac.
Don’t ask me what
the shellac is used for.

It’s for the war effort.

I don’t think I can
bear to part with one
of my Sinatra records.
Not the Jo Stafford ones!

Not even for the war effort.

Maybe, just maybe, I can
get some of Enrico Caruso’s.
No one but Papa listens to opera.
And if he protests, I’ll say,

"It’s for the war effort."

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Photo courtesy Sam Samuelian.

Booty

2012-01-09T00:01:00.001-05:00

Marshall

BOOTY

Captain Long John Silver
would be proud of a crew
that collected as much booty
as the soldiers of this town have done.

Wooden boxes that had been
sent to the front filled with medical
supplies are now coming back
packed with the spoils of war.

Bayonets and pistols,
collar emblems and medals,
field glasses and scopes—

items captured and sent home
to mothers who don’t
give a damn about treasure.

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Photo courtesy WW2 Museum Online.

When I Grow Up

2012-01-06T00:01:00.005-05:00

Barbara

WHEN I GROW UP

When I grow up
I'll join the WACs.
Instead of dresses
I'll put on slacks.

When I grow up
I'll join the WAVES.
I'll learn to swim
and I'll be brave.

When I grow up
I'll join the Nurses
and save the soldiers
from rides in hearses.

When I grow up
I'll join the poets.
My words have power.
My rhymes will show it!

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. WAVES, WAC, and Red Cross posters courtesy University of Maryland.

Loose Lips

2012-01-02T00:01:00.002-05:00

Johnny

LOOSE LIPS

Whenever I pass that poster
hanging at the package store
I get this picture of a giant
standing waist deep in the ocean.
He sneezes and his lips go flying--
"Watch out below!"

It makes me laugh,
and if I’m laughing
I won’t be thinking
about something I may have said.
Something a lousy Kraut
could have overheard.

I don’t want the ghost
of no sailor saying to me,
"Johnny, you bastard--
you should have kept your mouth shut!"
Nope, I don’t want no ghosts
talking to me.

Not ever.

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Poster courtesy The Wire.

A Ceremonial Launch

2011-12-30T00:01:00.004-05:00

May

A CEREMONIAL LAUNCH

Mrs. Roosevelt came
to launch one
of the ships Dad helped
build at the shipyard.

I’m small, so Dad’s
coworkers pushed me
closer where I could see.
I ended up next to her!

She raised a bottle
of champagne high,
ready to christen the ship
with foam and bubbles.

When Dad saw me so
close, he grabbed me
and lifted me out
of the way of flying glass.

Gosh darn it!
I stood right next to
Mrs. Roosevelt and still
missed the whole thing!

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Photo courtesy Library of Congress.

A Tanka

2011-12-26T00:01:00.002-05:00

Tomo

A TANKA

high desert wind
Manzanar dust scratches
our throats raw
still we sing in the choir
and smile for the camera

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Top and bottom photos by Ansel Adams, courtesy Library of Congress.

The Train Stop

2011-12-23T00:01:00.004-05:00

Madeleine

THE TRAIN STOP

Before the war, the train stopped here
only to pick up coal and water.
This town was never a destination.

Now when the train stops,
soldiers and sailors scramble off.
They stretch their legs.

They’re greeted with a big "Hello,"
and a substitute sister’s smile.
My job is to pass out the doughnuts.

Once, a soldier was so grateful
he gave me a kiss—my first!
I was so surprised, I couldn’t enjoy it.

Now, please, don’t tell my mother!
If she finds out I’ve been kissed,
my doughnut days are over!

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Junior Girls Canteen photo from the collection of Scott D. Trostel, used with permission.

Uncle Lenny

2011-12-19T00:01:00.003-05:00

Ronald

UNCLE LENNY

My mother nearly collapsed
when she heard that
her brother had been
shot down over Germany.

We knew nothing for
weeks, until one day,
the Red Cross notified us
that he was in a POW camp.

And then we got a letter.
Uncle Lenny is okay.
He is with other Americans.
He has only one request:

Send socks.

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Photo courtesy Library of Congress.

A Letter Obsession

2011-12-16T00:01:00.003-05:00

Phyllis

A LETTER OBSESSION

When I was younger
my alphabet book
told me "V" is for vase,
violin, and vegetables.

As I grew older,
I found "V" is also
for velocity, vicuna,
and valedictorian.

Now, the only thing
"V" is for is VICTORY!
We are obsessed
with the letter "V."

"V" is for victory gardens,
victory dishes, victory brooches,
victory puzzles, victory bobbie pins,
victory cookbooks, victory comics.

"V" is everywhere—
on signs, in magazines,
on old ladies, in windows.
Dot dot dot dash.

Will there ever be a day
when "V" will once again
be one letter, among many,
in an alphabet book?

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. The photo, and other objects are from the author's personal collection.

Brownie Face

2011-12-12T00:01:00.003-05:00

Della

BROWNIE FACE

They've been calling
me "Brownie Face"
ever since I got the little
box camera four
Christmases ago.

I look at my world
and break it down
into tiny 1 ⅝ x 2 ½"
deckle-edged pieces.

Maybe the WACs
can use my "Brownie
Face" to look at a world
in torn-up pieces and
make it whole again.

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Baby Brownie camera photo courtesy HistoricCamera.com. Poster courtesy University of Maryland.

Certain Advantages

2011-12-09T00:01:00.001-05:00

Luka

CERTAIN ADVANTAGES

Things have always been rough,
after all, there are eight kids
in the family.
Father worked days
while mother worked nights,
and we barely got by.
Now mother is working
at the railroad station.
She cleans out the cars
that carry the troops
on their way to the war.
I never would have thought
that a war could be good,
but for us, it has been.
Mother brings home
sandwiches and candy bars
left behind by the soldiers,
and we all get to eat.

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Photo courtesy Library of Congress.

Novena

2011-12-05T00:01:00.001-05:00

Eileen

NOVENA

The church is open
twenty-four hours a day.
People come in
at all hours
to pray,
to remember,
to light a candle.
I make sure I go
on Friday nights.
We say a novena
for the boys.
When prayers are over,
the lights are turned out.
The flames of the candles
glimmer and glow.
My heart, too, glows
as the soloist sings,
Good Night, Sweet Jesus,
and I know
we’ve made it through
another week.

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Photo courtesy Library of Congress.

A Great Month

2011-12-02T00:01:00.002-05:00

Marco

A GREAT MONTH

October 1943
was a great month!
September was good,
what with Italy surrendering
to the Allies and all,
but, October beat that!
The Bronx Bombers
came back from last year’s
defeat to slam St. Louis
four games to one!
They did it without
Joe D or Phil Rizzuto.
They did it despite
the Cards' Stan Musial’s
.357 season batting average!
They did it! They did it!
The New York Yankees
won the World Series!

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Program image courtesy Baseball Almanac.

Savings Stamps

2011-11-28T00:01:00.001-05:00

Elizabeth

SAVINGS STAMPS

Sometimes little sisters
can be annoying.
Take my sister, Jeanne.
Each Monday, everyone
brings money to school
to buy savings stamps.
Jeanne wanted to
buy stamps, too.
Father gave her 15¢.
On the way to school
she lost it!
The next week Mother
tied 15¢ in a corner of
Jeanne’s handkerchief.
When she got to school,
the teacher untied the knot
and Jeanne bought a 15¢ stamp.
She put the stamp in
her shoe to keep it safe.
On the way home,
Jeanne stepped in a mudhole.
I wonder if President Roosevelt
has a little sister? If so,
he’ll understand why it’s
going to take Jeanne a while
to fill her stamp book.

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Photo courtesy Library of Congress. Poster courtesy Northwestern University Library.

Black Market

2011-11-25T00:01:00.002-05:00

Adele

BLACK MARKET

I’m so angry I could scream!
Someone stole my heifer.
Had the nerve to back a truck
right up to the barn and coax
my gentle Betty out of her stall.
She wasn’t afraid of anyone—
she’d been shown at the fair
and was used to people.
She was halter broke.
Could be led anywhere.
Was tame as a puppy.
She’ll probably end up as
black market beef.
My poor sweet Betty.
I hope whoever snatched her
chokes on her bones.

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Poster courtesy Northwestern University Library.

On This Early Autumn Day

2011-11-21T00:01:00.002-05:00

Jay

ON THIS EARLY AUTUMN DAY

It’s sticky hot,
the leaves are only
beginning to turn
yellow and red,
and yet we have to
wrap presents
for the boys.
If they’re not mailed
soon, they’ll never
make it in time
for Christmas.
We're playing Santa
in September!
Ho! Ho! Ho!

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Poster courtesy Northwestern University Library.

About Parades

2011-11-18T00:01:00.005-05:00

Louise

ABOUT PARADES

If there is such a thing
as too many parades, then,
I think we’ve reached that point.

Americans love a parade.
Nowadays they have one
to celebrate almost anything.

To encourage citizens.
To recruit volunteers.

To collect more scrap.
To sell more bonds.

To honor a flag.
To honor a war hero.

People persist in marching,
while bands continue to blare.

They
keep
us
from
falling

apart.

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. All photos courtesy Library of Congress: children with flags, civil defense workers, tank, servicemen, spectators.

See You in the Funny Papers

2011-11-14T00:01:00.006-05:00

Gary

SEE YOU IN THE FUNNY PAPERS

The Sunday funnies were
always my favorite
part of the weekend.
We’d give the paper to dad
then Norman and I would
lie on the floor and look
through the comic strips.
We’d take turns reading.
Norman was real good
at doing the voices.
I concentrated on getting
the words right.

Now that Norman is away,
Dad and I lie on the floor
and read together.
Then we get the scissors
and clip comics and jokes
from newspapers and magazines.
When we have enough
we glue them into
a scrapbook and take it
down to the hospital.
Medicine for the
soldiers’ funny bones.

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Cartoon from author's personal collection.

Dear Cousin

2011-11-11T00:01:00.004-05:00

Tasha

DEAR COUSIN

I won’t write much tonight,
I’ve been working all day picking.
This is my third day in the fields.
Day one was fun.
All of us girls rode out
to the farm in a truck.
It was gossip, gossip,
gossip, all day long.
Day two was okay.
We were a little stiff
from bending over the day before,
but, still we talked,
and sang lots of songs.
Today is day three.
My fingers have blisters.
Every bone in my body aches.
I’m tired of singing songs.
And, I’m tired of listening
to those girls TALK!
I told mother I’m happy
to help bring in the harvest.
But between you and me,
I’d rather be back at school.

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Photo courtesy Library of Congress. Poster courtesy Northwestern U. Library.

At the Picture Show

2011-11-07T00:01:00.000-05:00

Lucille

AT THE PICTURE SHOW

Every Thursday night
since the war began
my mother and I go
to the picture show.
She claims it’s because
she needs to escape
from the kitchen.
She doesn’t fool me.
It’s the Movietone news
she goes to see.
Newsreels show the war
as it is—dirty and deadly.
As long as Lowell Thomas is able
to narrate the horrors every week,
Mother will be there to watch.
She wants to be a witness.
Me, I’d rather be a slave
in the kitchen.

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Photo courtesy Library of Congress.

The Victory Garden

2011-11-04T00:01:00.001-04:00

Joseph

THE VICTORY GARDEN

Everyone’s growing a victory garden.
Even those of us in the city.
We spend hours each week
hoeing, planting, and weeding.

The little ones plant radish
seeds and can hardly wait
until the greens are tall
enough to pull.

Fathers plant seeds
of tomatoes, beans, and corn.
Mothers tout the virtues
of garden fresh vegetables.

I’ll hoe and plant seeds.
I’ll pull every last weed.
I’ll pick vegetables from dawn to dusk.
But I still won’t eat peas and carrots!

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Seed and garden photos courtesy Library of Congress.

July 1943

2011-10-31T00:01:00.001-04:00

Emily

JULY 1943

I can’t stop singing!

I feel so patriotic,
I could burst!

We were coming home
from a week at Grandma’s
when we stopped at
the newsstand at Union Station.
I didn’t know it
until I saw it,
but it seems every
magazine in the country
has an American flag
on the cover of its July issue.
It’s a red, white,
and blue bonanza!
Come on, join me—

"God bless America..."

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Magazine covers from author's personal collection.

Flag-Draped

2011-10-28T00:01:00.000-04:00

Chester

FLAG-DRAPED

The American flag
drapes the coffin.
Another serviceman lost.
Another mother childless.
Another wife a widow.

The number of stars
on the flag can’t even come close
to the number of souls
who will never be born,
because this one American is gone.

I try not to think about it.

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Photo courtesy Library of Congress.

When the Lights Go On Again...

2011-10-24T00:01:00.000-04:00

Marguerite

WHEN THE LIGHTS GO ON AGAIN…

I sure hope they
don’t hurry turning
those lights on again.
I’m making pretty
good wages right now.
When this war is over
the white men will come home,
and all the youngsters,
and all the women,
and all the colored folk,
will once again be
without a job.

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Photo courtesy Library of Congress.

Up Late

2011-10-21T00:01:00.004-04:00

Danny

UP LATE

I’m not supposed to
be up after nine o’clock,
but Mom seems to have
forgotten about the air grate
in the parlor ceiling.

Monday through Friday at nine,
Gabriel Heatter comes on
the Mutual Broadcasting System.
I lie on the floor
in the hallway to listen.

Last year, more often
than not there was bad
news, though Mr. Heatter
would never have said it.
Sleep didn't come easy.

The Allies are now advancing
on the European front.
When he says,
"There is good news tonight,"
I can relax...finally.

By the time Mr. Heatter
starts talking about Kreml
my head hits the floor.
"Get to bed, you rascal!"
And I can tell Mom's smiling.

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. The photo is found on many sites on the internet, but I could find no attribution; if anyone knows the source of the image, please let me know. Hair tonic ad from author's personal collection.

Going to California

2011-10-17T06:43:00.008-04:00

Sylvie

GOING TO CALIFORNIA

Today’s the last day of school.
I’m not going back in the fall.
I’m going to California.

The war needs workers,
including women,
and I’m a willing one.

In California,
I’ll build ships or planes
and be handsomely paid.

In California,
movie theaters are open all night.
I’ll dance at the Hollywood Canteen.

Even better than movie stars
will be the gorgeous servicemen
lining up to meet me.

Yes, tomorrow,
I’m boarding a train,
and going to California.

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Photo courtesy Library of Congress. Poster courtesy the Victoria & Albert Museum.

A General

2011-10-14T00:01:00.002-04:00

Eddie

A GENERAL

I’ve been working real hard.
It’s nearly the end of the school year
and if I can earn a few more points,
I’ll get to be a one-star general!

Won’t Mom beam when she sees that!
She’ll say it was worth all those hours
helping me tie up bundles of papers
and crushing tin cans.

Grandpa will get tears in his eyes
when he sees my commission.
It was because he bought
so many savings stamps off me!

But I’ll be proudest of all!
Who cares if I got a D in 'rithmetic?
Or that teacher wrote on my report card,
"Eddie needs to pay attention."

No one will care
when I’m a general!

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Photo courtesy FDR Library.

A Tale of Hosiery

2011-10-10T00:01:00.002-04:00

Betsy

A TALE OF HOSIERY

Most of us couldn’t afford
silk stockings even before
the war, so we don’t miss
them now that they’re scarce.

No patriotic American girl
needs to wear real hosiery
when there’s leg makeup
and you can paint your seams.

When it gets colder,
we’ll wear cotton socks
and rayon stockings—
ugly, but functional.

Besides, with shoes
being rationed, too,
a good pair of trousers
will hide both legs and feet.

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Photo courtesy FDR Library. Sign reads: Uncle Sam needs your discarded silk and nylon stockings for gun powder bags. Please launder and leave here. Leg make-up ad from author's personal collection.

Heaven

2011-10-07T00:01:00.001-04:00

Chris

HEAVEN

It seems like
everyday I’m standing
in another line.
A line to get ration stamps.
A line to turn in fats.
A line to board the bus.
This line, though,
is like standing in front
of the pearly gates.
Once through the door,
I’ll hold out my pennies
and buy my own little
piece of heaven—
a packet of chewing gum!

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Gum ad from author's personal collection.

This is the text from the ad:

Spring 1943

2011-10-03T06:30:00.001-04:00

Lillian

SPRING 1943

I woke up to sounds of
hundreds of cedar waxwings.
They’re stopping over
on their way north.

Outside my window
two squirrels chattered
and chased each other
up, down, around the oak.

When I opened the door
the scent of wisteria
hit me before I could see
the vines in the garden.

It was then I remembered
that God made this world.
God, if you do all this,
surely you can end the war?

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved.

The Oleo Kid

2011-09-30T00:01:00.002-04:00

Randolph

THE OLEO KID

Bobby was too young to be
part of the homefront army,
or so, he was told,

You can’t collect scrap,
you’ll get hurt.

You can’t put up the
blackout curtains,
you’re too short.

You can’t write to Uncle,
‘cause you can’t write!

You can’t knit...

You can’t...

Oleo now comes in bags
with a little red capsule.
Bobby’s in charge of the oleo.
He squeezes the bag
to break the capsule.
He squeezes some more.
The red mixes in with the white oleo.
Bobby’s always surprised
to find that the red isn’t
really red, it’s yellow!
He squeezes and squeezes
until the oleo is colored completely.
It almost looks like the butter
it’s supposed to replace. Almost.

In the homefront army, which
now recruits even five-year-olds,
"Oleo Kid" is considered
a respectable appointment.

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Oleomargarine ad from author's personal collection.

Have You Heard?

2011-09-26T06:58:00.001-04:00

Henry and Jane

HAVE YOU HEARD?

Have you heard?
There’s a new mechanic
at the garage.

So?

The mechanic’s
a woman!

Really? I wonder how
she keeps her nail polish
from chipping?

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Photo courtesy Library of Congress. Nail polish ad from author's personal collection.

What Makes an Enemy?

2011-09-23T06:12:00.000-04:00

Viviana

WHAT MAKES AN ENEMY?

My Papa left Italy
to get away from "El Duce."
He left his home
because Mussolini
is a man not to be trusted.
Over here,
Papa is considered
a man not to be trusted.

Papa is Italian.
We are at war with Italy.
And, to some, that makes Papa
the enemy.

Papa works long, hard hours
to provide for his family.
With great pride he sends
his oldest son into the Marines.
In his broken English
Papa sings Praise the Lord
and Pass the Ammunition,
loudly and with all his heart.

This is no enemy.
This is no saboteur.
This is my Papa—
an American!

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Photo courtesy Library of Congress.

Rationing

2011-09-19T00:01:00.000-04:00

Wilson

RATIONING

I don’t know why people complain,
it’s easy, nothing but arithmetic.
Everything has a point value.
When you buy your food,
you turn in your point stamps.
It’s easy. Even a kid can do it!

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Photo courtesy Library of Congress.

Mail Call

2011-09-16T00:01:00.001-04:00

Shirley

MAIL CALL

I love to talk, so teacher
thought I would be best-suited
for writing to the boys overseas
and telling them all the news
of our little town.

Many graduates
of Abraham Lincoln School
are now serving in
Europe, Africa, and the Pacific.

I can’t imagine how dull it must be
for a worldly-wise man in uniform
to receive a letter
from a twelve-year-old girl
who writes about
the wedding of Mr. Peacham
and the widow Mrs. Barnes,
or of the latest episode
of Daredevils of the West.

One week, the only thing
I had to write about
was the snowstorm and
getting my toes nearly
frostbit while sledding.
How boring for my readers.

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Photo courtesy Library of Congress. Poster courtesy newhousedesign.

The State of Me

2011-09-12T06:42:00.002-04:00

Ellie

THE STATE OF ME

The president says
our spirit is strong.
I don’t believe him.

When Milt died
my spirit couldn’t wait
to get out the door.

My faith was stretched so thin
the blackness came through
to enshroud what was left

of my heart, leaving me
in this state of shock.

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Poster courtesy UNT Digital Library.

Musician

2011-09-09T00:01:00.002-04:00

Nate

MUSICIAN

I picked up the trumpet
in grade school
for something to do.
It was my dad’s horn.

He had played in his
high school band.
He was rather good—
or so he said.

I liked tootling around
pretending I was
swinging with Benny
Goodman or Tommy Dorsey.

One day, at school,
a horn player was recruited
to play Taps as a tribute
to our fallen servicemen.

I had pretended for so long
that I believed I could play.
"I’ll do it!" I said,
before I stopped to think.

Now everyone would know.
I was a faker—a fraud.
How could I have been
so foolish?

I practiced all weekend
in the cellar where my squeaks
and squawks were muffled.
I drilled until my lip bled.

On Monday, bruised and swollen,
I took my place on the landing
between the two floors.
I lifted the trumpet.

I played slowly,
I played deliberately,
I played my best.
I played for my dad.

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Musical notation courtesy Internet Archive.

Boys At Play

2011-09-05T06:38:00.004-04:00

Jeanette

BOYS AT PLAY

I've been watching Mrs.
Quincy's little ones while
she puts in overtime
at the factory. If it wasn't
my patriotic duty I would
have quit long ago. Her
boys are savages--it's war,
war, war. And guns, guns,
guns. Bombs and death
every day. This is play?

I suppose it's to be
expected. Their daddy
is off fighting. The papers
and magazines are full
of the war. Posters
everywhere: Somebody
blabbed..., How to fight
fire bombs. They're
even told what to eat
to be strong enough...

If this war doesn't end
these little boys will grow
up to be killing machines.

Is there anyone who knows
where God has hidden
the off switch? We need it.

I need it.

Now.

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Poster courtesy National Archives. Photo courtesy Library of Congress.

Model Airplanes

2011-09-02T00:01:00.000-04:00

Eugene

MODEL AIRPLANES

For years I made model airplanes.
I have sixteen hanging from
the ceiling of my room.

My sister thought it was
a childish hobby until
the war began.

Now my sister and I
lie on my floor
and memorize the shapes

of the enemy.

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Photo courtesy Library of Congress.

Patriotic Duty

2011-08-29T06:12:00.006-04:00

Ray

PATRIOTIC DUTY

What a lecture I got
from Miss Lyles
when I said I couldn’t
stand readin' all the time.

It’s your patriotic duty to read!

In short order, she
told me about the Nazis
burnin' books,
and the Japanese doin' it, too.

You’re free to read anything you want!

I don’t wanna read anythin',
I said under my breath.
But she heard and now
I’m havin' to read Moby Dick.

I guess you can call me a patriot.

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Top and bottom posters courtesy Northwestern University Library.

For the Duration

2011-08-26T00:01:00.004-04:00

Vera

FOR THE DURATION

Mama says Ida needs care.
We’re her closest relations.
We can’t get enough gasoline
to check on her often enough,
so she’ll have to move here

for the duration.

Don’t get me wrong,
I love Aunt Ida,
but what thirteen-year-old
wants to share a room
with an old lady

for the duration?

I’ll have to check the dictionary
and make sure "duration"
doesn’t mean forever.

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Photo courtesy Library of Congress.

Aspirations

2011-08-22T06:52:00.006-04:00

Dexter

ASPIRATIONS

I take a sketch pad
with me everywhere.
I practice drawing--
composition and perspective--
every day except Sunday.
I’ve been studying the
Home Course in Cartooning
for two whole months!
Ask me anything about
complementary colors.
Go ahead, ask!

Sister Mary Thomas
says that twelve
may be a little young
for painting bombers,
but, since she’s
a patron of the arts,
she’ll let me repaint
the storeroom walls.

Hey, da Vinci painted walls--
you have to start somewhere!

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Photos, top, middle, and bottom courtesy Library of Congress.

The Bumps Were the Best Part

2011-08-19T00:01:00.004-04:00

Nicholas

THE BUMPS WERE THE BEST PART

Our school is super!
We collected enough money
in bond sales to buy a jeep!

As a thank you,
two men in uniform drove
our jeep to the school.

Since Annie collected the most,
she got to christen it.
Lucky her!

Then came time for a ride—
I was first in line.
The bumps were the best part!

Next week
we start saving
for a tank.

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Photo courtesy Library of Congress. Captioned: Chicago schoolchildren buy 263,148.83 in war bonds. In a special war bond campaign which began April fourteenth and was ended May twelfth, the public schoolchildren of the South-Central District of Chicago purchased 263,148.83 in war bonds and stamps, enough money to by 125 jeeps, two pursuit planes and a motorcycle. Photo shows one of the jeeps being christened in the war bond rally in Washington Park on June fourth. Twenty-four public schools participated in the campaign. Poster stamp from author's personal collection. Poster courtesy University of Maryland.

The Dictionary

2011-08-15T06:08:00.004-04:00

Norma

THE DICTIONARY

Half the time I
don’t know what
my brother is talking about
in his letters.

I went to the public library
and borrowed a copy
of The War Dictionary.
I studied it cover to cover.

Now, when Stanley
writes that he’s spending
time bubble dancing,
I know he’s been washing dishes!

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. The War Dictionary from author's personal collection.

Bacon and Eggs

2011-08-12T00:01:00.005-04:00

Andy

BACON AND EGGS

Gosh, I really loved bacon.
I loved the sound of the sizzle
as the bacon hit the hot iron pan.

A yummy sound!

The bacon crackled.
It popped and a shower
of grease fell over the stove.

The smell. Mmm!

I used to love my eggs scrambled
in the hot grease that was left
after the bacon was lifted from the pan.

Oh, my mouth watered.

But no more.
Now mother fries it
crisper than crisp.

Nearly burnt.

Then she grabs a towel,
hefts the heavy black pan
and pours off every drop of grease.

The eggs are kinda dry.

The grease I take
downtown on Saturday
where we stand in line
waiting for Mrs. Johnston
to collect it in a drum.

It is sent away and
made into explosives!
Bombs sizzle! Kaboom!
I imagine bacon scented death
raining down on the enemy.

I used to love bacon and eggs.
Most days now, I prefer oatmeal.

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Poster courtesy Northwestern University Library. "Stop" poster stamp from author's personal collection. Photo courtesy Library of Congress.

Flight Training

2011-08-08T06:06:00.004-04:00

Paul

FLIGHT TRAINING

Dad is finishing
flight training soon.
He has a brown leather jacket
with a lambswool collar.
I bet even his pants
are made of leather.

Mother keeps his picture
on the table near the Philco.
Gosh, he sure looks handsome.

I like it when he sends
me postcards from the base.
Silly postcards
that make me laugh.
Dad is always willing
to poke fun at himself.

He once told me,
"If you laugh at yourself,
you’ll always be amused."

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Photo courtesy David C. Foster. Postcard from author's personal collection.

Sleepover Camp

2011-08-05T00:01:00.008-04:00

Linda

SLEEPOVER CAMP

I saw Natsu the day
she and her family
left for camp in April.
There were no shouts,
"See you in a few weeks!"
There were no giggles
of excitement at the prospect
of sleeping in a tent.

Natsu, will you sing
around a campfire?
Will you swim
in cool clear waters?
Will you make yet another
knotted lanyard?
Will you write?

Natsu, my friend,
will you be coming home?

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Photo courtesy Library of Congress. Evacuation instructions photo courtesy FDR Library.

Tin Can Commando

2011-08-01T06:22:00.006-04:00

Anthony

TIN CAN COMMANDO

I’m the Tin Can Commando
for these three square blocks.
My job is to tell people how
to get cans ready for pickup.
Each Saturday a truck will come
(although sometimes it’ll be
Mr. Bruno and his horsecart)
to pick up your cans at the curb.

Now here’s what you have to do:
1. take off the top and bottom...
Oops, wait a second...
1. clean the can and take off the label.
2. THEN take off the top and bottom.
3. place them inside the can.
4. crush the can.
5. place at the curb.

You should bundle up
newspapers for pickup, too.
What? You want instructions?
Okay. Here’s what you have to do:
1. read the newspaper...

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Top photo courtesy Library of Congress. Middle photo courtesy FDR Library. Poster courtesy Northwestern University Library.

Pledge of Allegiance

2011-07-29T00:01:00.004-04:00

Wallace

PLEDGE OF ALLEGIANCE

I was taught the Pledge
at a very young age.
Stand arrow straight.
Raise your hand to the flag.
Speak clearly.

We don’t do it
that way anymore.
We still stand straight.
We still speak clearly.
But we place our hands
across our hearts.

Raising our hands up high
looked too much
like a "Heil Hitler" salute.
That may be, but it’s awfully hard
breaking an old habit.

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Old style pledge and new style pledge photos courtesy Library of Congress.

Better Than New

2011-07-25T06:19:00.008-04:00

Milly

BETTER THAN NEW

I go to the movies
to look at the fashions.
I study Schiaparelli’s designs
in the magazines.

Lucky for me, Mother
and Grandmother never
throw anything away.
They’ve kept their old dresses
and using a little
Yankee ingenuity
I take apart those frocks
and make them over

better than new.

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. July 1943 Vogue fashion spread, and poster stamp, from author's personal collection. Photo courtesy University of Maryland.

Scrap Metal

2011-07-22T00:01:00.004-04:00

Nancy

SCRAP METAL

We took the wagon round
to the back of the barn
and dug through the trash heap
to find dozens of old tin cans,
a rusted tractor seat, one
cracked iron skillet, two
bent bicycle wheels (from
George’s daredevil days),
snippets of bailing wire too short
to use, and an old umbrella
with just a tatter of black cloth
on its ribs. These we piled upon
the wrought iron gate that
had guarded the graveyard
that held the bones of
grandma, and her mother and father,
and the baby that had died
before daddy had even been born.
We hoped mama wouldn’t see it,
but if she did, we’d say it was
for Georgie. For bullets to
keep the enemy away. For tanks
to stop the enemy’s advances.
For anything that would help
keep my brother out
of that family graveyard.

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Photo courtesy Library of Congress. Poster courtesy Northwestern University Library.

The Clean Plate Club

2011-07-18T06:13:00.005-04:00

Peter

THE CLEAN PLATE CLUB

In the Great War, Mom was a member
of the Clean Plate Club. She says we
have to be members, too. "It isn't
voluntary--it's mandatory!" She tells us
over and over. And over, again!

I never had a problem being a member
of the Clean Plate Club, I love to eat—
even vegetables. My little brother, though,
is always being scolded and called,
"Hitler’s Helper." That’s what happens

when you’re fussy. I cannot understand
what cleaning your plate has to do with
winning the war. As a matter of fact,
I think Stevie’s lima beans should be
saved and sent to the troops as ammo.

When you let them sit on a plate long
enough, they become deadly. Stevie
and me have a plan. From now on,
he’s going to sneak his vegetables
under the table to me. That way we’ll

both be members of the Clean Plate Club,
Mom can stop nagging, and Hitler will
have to find another new helper.

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Lima bean can label from author's personal collection. Posters at the top and bottom courtesy Northwestern University Library.

Infinity

2011-07-15T00:01:00.006-04:00

Patsy

INFINITY

The number of hours it takes
to fill a potato sack to the top
with milkweed pods.

The number of life jackets
that can be stuffed with the fluff
collected by seven girl scouts.

The number of sailors
who will not drown because
they’ll have new life jackets.

The number of movie stars
my friends and I can name
in an afternoon spent picking pods.

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Children with milkweed pods photo courtesy UNH. Ship photo from author's personal collection.

The Bus

2011-07-11T06:18:00.002-04:00

Emily

THE BUS

The bus is fairly crowded.
A dark-haired girl
of about my age
sits alone in the seat
opposite mine,
her face turned
toward the window.

A woman of my mother’s age
climbs aboard.
She could be
anyone’s mother—
a typical American woman.
She walks down the aisle.
The girl turns to face her.

The woman stops.
Her face contorts.
She purses her lips.
"Ptttt!"
A glob of spit flies across the aisle.
"Go back to Japan!" she hisses
as the girl wipes her face.

It’s funny how everyone
on the bus suddenly
finds something of interest
to look at through the window
or down at their feet—
including me.

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Photo courtesy Library of Congress.

I Don't Even Know Him

2011-07-08T05:45:00.002-04:00

Harry

I DON'T EVEN KNOW HIM

Dad said, "Uncle Sam
called and he needs me."

Grandpa said, "He owes
it to Uncle Sam to go."

Who is this Uncle Sam?
He's never come by the house.

He's never been at Grandpa's
for Thanksgiving dinner.

Mama can't say his name
without busting out in tears.

You know what? I don't think
he's my uncle at all.

There's one thing I do know--
he's taking daddy away.

And I. Don't. Like him.

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Poster courtesy National Archives.

Boarders

2011-07-04T06:03:00.003-04:00

Sallie

BOARDERS

I sure don’t like sharing
my house and my mama
with the rest of the world.
But, for the duration,
we will have boarders
'cause as Mama says,
"We gotta keep body and
soul together, somehow."

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Photo courtesy Library of Congress.

Square Dance

2011-07-01T06:39:00.003-04:00

Cora

SQUARE DANCE

I’ve always watched
the hands of women
as they sat on front porches
knitting and crocheting.

The dance of wool and needle
is a mystery to me.
I’m a lefty and somehow
my hands don’t dance.

But now I’ve got a
good reason to master
the complicated steps—
the Ladies’ League.

The Ladies’ League
is collecting squares.
Six inches by six inches.
Knitted or crocheted.

My square will be
joined to someone else’s.
And ours to yet another’s
until a blanket appears!

A snuggly warm blanket
for a cold and lonely soldier
who dreams of once again
dancing with a girl.

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Photo courtesy Library of Congress. Poster courtesy Smithsonian National Museum of American History.

Revenge!

2011-06-27T06:00:00.002-04:00

Richard

REVENGE!

To put it plainly,
the Japanese have been
whuppin’ us.

Pearl Harbor,
the Phillipines,
and then the Coral Sea.

Pounding us silly.
Killing our boys.
Humiliating America.

But at Midway
our glorious Navy downed
more than 300 planes.

They destroyed
the Kaga, the Soryu,
the Hiryu, and the Akagi.

Three of these carriers
had surprised us at
Pearl Harbor.

Now it’s our turn
for surprises!
Revenge is sweet.

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Photo courtesy Naval History and Heritage Command.

Air Raid!

2011-06-24T00:01:00.002-04:00

Walter

AIR RAID!

eeerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

At the sound of the first siren,
Daddy leaves the house
to take his post as
Civil Defense block captain.
The rest of us run around
putting up black-out curtains
(sneaking a peek outside) and
turning off unnecessary lights
(a bathroom light is a necessity).

eeeRRRReeeRRRReeeRRRReeeRRRR

At the second siren,
we move the kitchen table
away from the window
(but within reach of the cookie jar).
Before the siren stops,
Mom, Josephine, and I
crawl under the table.
Mom starts to pray.
Josie and I pretend to pray,
but really, we play a game
of stealth-kicking until

eeerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

All clear!

We climb out from under,
take down the black-out curtains,
turn on the lights,
move the kitchen table back
to its place by the window.
By the time Daddy
walks in the door,
dinner is on the table
but we’re too full of cookies
to eat.

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Photos courtesy Library of Congress: home scene, air raid warden. Poster courtesy National Archives.

Xenophobia

2011-06-20T03:01:00.001-04:00

Alice

XENOPHOBIA

The word was on the
blackboard in chalk.
"It’s pronounced,
ZEE-NO-FO-BEE-AH."
I stuck my hand up and asked,
"What does it mean, Miss Lehrer?"
"It means being
unnecessarily afraid of,
or hateful toward, foreigners."

She made us think of examples:
--Posters showing Japanese soldiers
with big buck teeth.
--Townspeople refusing to buy
milk from the old German milkman.
--The rumors that went around
saying the DiMaggio brothers
wouldn’t be playing ball because
their father came from Italy.

"But why do we have
to know such a big word
in the sixth grade," I asked.
"Because, Alice," Miss Lehrer said,
"my father is the milkman."

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Photo courtesy Library of Congress.

Oh Boy!

2011-06-17T03:01:00.001-04:00

Tommy

OH BOY!

Oh boy! Oh boy!
We’re gettin’ a puppy!
Dad sent a picture
of himself at camp.
He’s holdin’ a puppy!

He didn’t write
that it’s mine,
but I know it is.
Dad knows how
much I want a dog!

Oh boy! Oh boy!
We’re gettin’ a puppy!
I can hardly wait!

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Photo courtesy Library of Congress.

Bundles for Britain

2011-06-12T09:00:00.001-04:00

Edith

BUNDLES FOR BRITAIN

For nearly a year now
we’ve been sending
Bundles for Britain;
packages for Aunt Isabelle
and her two children.
We’ve always sent
a shirt or socks for
each cousin and a little
something for Auntie, too.
Things to keep them warm
in the underground shelters
where they are forced to stay
while the Germans bomb
the moxie out of London.

Now, we’re at war with Germany.
And Japan. And Italy.
All our Allies are in
the thick of it.
Sometimes I wonder
who will be left to send
Bundles for America?

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Photo courtesy Library of Congress.

December 8, 1941

2011-06-11T15:09:00.003-04:00

Imelda

DECEMBER 8, 1941

Yesterday, all was confusion.
Today we got out the big map
of the world and laid it flat
on the table so we could see.

We found the Hawaiian Islands.
Pearl Harbor was there somewhere,
but, it wasn’t marked. We saw
Hawaii as a stepping stone.

"Look at Japan," said Mother.
"How tiny it is compared to America.
There shouldn’t be anything to worry about."
Then just after noon, the president spoke...

"Yesterday the Japanese Government also
launched an attack against Malaya...
Hong Kong…Guam…the Philippine Islands...
Wake Island…Midway Island..."

We all went back to the map
and studied the Pacific area.
I learned more geography today
than I have all year at school.

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Pearl Harbor photo courtesy FDR Library. Poster stamp from author's personal collection.