Tag: Jo-Brew

Workin’ at the Cannery

By Pat Edwards

I lived and went to school in Lebanon, Oregon in the 1950s and early 1960s. It was not located on the Highway 99 corridor but, being a neighbor to Albany, my family frequently ventured over that way. We used Highway 99 for our northbound trips to Salem and Portland and south to Eugene, where my grandparents lived, quite often.

In 1960, I graduated from Lebanon Union High School and immediately put in my application at the Flav-R-Pac cannery in Albany for summer work. I had enrolled at Linfield College in McMinnville and needed to supplement my tuition savings. My family had owned and operated a bean and strawberry farm in Lebanon during my high school years and we had connections at the cannery, so I wasn’t surprised when they called and told me to report for work the next night. Night?.. Yep!… I was being hired for the graveyard shift. Not only wasn’t I prepared to work through the night, I had an appointment in Salem the next morning to take my SATs for college!

Not wanting to miss out on the opportunity of the job, however, I agreed to report in a little before midnight. I have always been a hard worker, but I was used to working outside in the sunshine and, occasionally, rain. So, the experience of spending the night under bright fluorescent lights, standing at a dripping-wet conveyor belt and trying to focus in on the endless parade of green beans that slid past me was a new and traumatic experience. My job was to pick out any debris or problem beans from the millions that went by me every hour. I took an occasional break and ate my hand-packed lunch in the break room. I was always rather shy, so I ate alone. I was definitely not enjoying myself.

While working, I was dressed in a heavy rubber apron and rubber galoshes and wore a hair net, but at the end of the shift, my shoes were soaked, my clothes were damp and my hair was flattened into a not-so-becoming style.

When the time finally came to stamp my time-card and walk out to my car where my mother was waiting to drive me to Salem, the sun was up, but my feet were dragging. I was not only tired, but my brain was trying to focus on the upcoming and very important test that awaited me in less than two hours. I didn’t even have time to go home to change or shower.

By the time I entered the assigned classroom where I was supposed to take the SAT, I felt like I was dragging a heavy weight on my feet and all of my senses seemed dulled. It took all of my resources to focus on each question and somehow, I was able to finish all but a few problems that had me stumped, and I slowly made my way out to my car. My sweet mother drove me home and although I don’t remember, I’m sure I slept all the way home.

I reported back for work at midnight again that night, and was scheduled to be off the next night. But, after much soul-searching, I made the painful decision to quit the job at the cannery. I knew I could get work on one of the local farms, hoeing or “bean-bossing.” The pay wouldn’t be as good, I knew, but if I ended up sweaty and wet from my toils in the sun, it was a much better feeling than being eternally wet, standing in one place in front of a drippy conveyor belt all night long.

A couple of weeks later, I was notified of my SAT score and, although it was “good enough,” I retook the test later that summer and was able to enter Linfield with my head held a bit higher than it would have been otherwise.

Included in OREGON’S MAIN STREET: U.S. Highway 99 “The Stories” by Jo-Brew (2014)

Memories of U.S. Highway 99

By Pat Edwards

While I was attending Queen Anne Grade School in Lebanon, Oregon during the late 1940s and early 1950s, my father owned the Smith-Kuehl International Harvester dealership there.

I vividly remember that our family recreation in those days, during the summer months, was to go to area stock car races each week. We’d all load into Daddy’s red International pickup truck. He and our mother sat in the cab and my brother, sister and I climbed into the open truck bed. Each of us would bring along a blanket and a pillow. We used them as seat cushions as we made our way north on Highway 99 to the Salem area where our favorite races took place.

During the usually hot summer afternoons, we gloried in the feel of the wind whipping our hair into our faces and mouths whenever we tried to talk – at least my sister and I did – our brother always sported a crewcut.

By the time we made our way home after a long day of dusty car races and destruction derbies, darkness had usually descended and we’d wrap ourselves into our blankets and lay our sleepy heads on the pillows which did not do a whole lot to cushion the bumps. My older brother and I laid there singing ‘Ninety-nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall’ at the top of our voices while our younger sister invariably fell asleep in her little cocoon between us.

We always stopped at a drive-in near Albany to get an ice cream cone before heading east towards our home in Lebanon. My brother and I were very careful not to wake our little sister who usually slept right through the stop. Then, mean kids that we were, we teased her about missing her ice cream treat the next day.

We moved away from Lebanon in about 1954, but later returned in 1958, where I graduated from Lebanon Union High School in 1960. Sometime before my sixteenth birthday, my mother would frequently take me out to practice driving so that I could get my driver’s license. Our favorite practice spot was on an unopened section of the new Interstate 5 freeway that was being built through the Albany area. I had miles of smooth pavement to drive on with no other traffic. I’m not sure that it was legal at that time, but we never got stopped or fined for doing it. It turns out that I flunked my first driving test, though… I couldn’t parallel park!”

Included in OREGON’S MAIN STREET: U.S. Highway 99 “The Stories” by Jo-Brew (2014)

Sweet Lorane Community News, March 29, 2018

Fern Ridge Review
Creswell Chronicle
Sweet Lorane Community News
March 29, 2018
By Pat Edwards

For the past month (and a little more), I’ve pretty much stayed at home. I had a virus that held on for much too long. I still am dealing with residual symptoms of it as well a painful shoulder that I injured last August, and, most of all, the loss of my friend and colleague, Jo-Brew. I’ve been quietly occupied much of the time, working on writing projects, painting our guest bathroom and taking a lot of naps, but I haven’t tried to get out much.

Contributing to my general ennui, we rehomed one of our sweet Blue Heeler dogs because I realized that Nora really needed to be the only dog in the family. She is now with a couple without children who absolutely worship and spoil her rotten, playing her favorite game of fetch several times each day. We both love and miss her, but we knew that we were being selfish to continue to keep her with Toby who has declared his ownership of Jim and me and resented the attention I, especially, paid to her.

All of this adds up to what I feel was a minor bout of depression. I feel, however, that I’m beginning to step out of the fog I’ve been in and I’m ready to experience more of life again.

It’s time to make plans and to get outside more. I’m making a list of the plants I need to get in the ground soon and to fill two petunia planting boxes I made a couple of years ago for our daughter, Michele, and me. I’ve begun taking notice of all of the small limbs that need to be picked up from this winter’s brush clearing that we had done and the fact that the grass is growing a lot right now. I want to take Toby on some more walks and let the still-crisp air fill me with new energy and life.

Yesterday, I was sent information on a writer’s “summit” that is taking place at Sunriver over Memorial Day weekend. I don’t usually participate in these types of things, but it is offering classes and topics on things that really interest me as a writer and I’m hoping that I can work out a way to go… hopefully, with another good friend and colleague, Jen Chambers.

I’ve also decided to take on a new book project about Capt. John O’Brien that I’ve been hoping to write for quite a few years as part of my Early Lorane Settlers series. I published one on the Bailey family of Bailey Hill last year, so this will be the 2nd in the series. I have already gathered a great deal of information on this fascinating Civil War veteran, newspaper publisher and long-time union organizer. All I’ve needed was an incentive to begin it. I’m finally feeling it! It’s time.

This column is supposed to be about Lorane events and people, but there’s little news to share right now and I feel that by talking about my own experiences occasionally, I am able to let others, who are experiencing the same types of things, know that they are not alone. We all have our bouts of the doldrums occasionally and I’ve learned that it’s ok… it’s part of life. We need to learn to deal with the downs in our lives as well as the joy. Each balances out the other and makes life much more interesting!

And just to make sure this column isn’t totally about me this week, I need to remind everyone about the upcoming annual RAC/Lorane Grange-sponsored Talent Show that will be held on Sunday, April 8 at 3:00 p.m. If you want to participate, give Lil Thompson a call at 541-952-5701.

Happy Spring everyone!