Distant Memories
By: Andrea Allen

My great grandfather Percy Vere Broughton was born in June of 1890 and he was one of the many sons of his father John Broughton who was born in England. Percy was very young when he and his father traveled by ship to America. Percy grew up in Kansas and after he married his wife Emilie Watts Broughton (Heaton) and they had a few children, Percy left the farming fields of Kansas and followed a friend across the plains, northwest to Washington State, where he and his family settled into the country side near Kelso. Percy began working alongside his friend at the local saw mill for quite some time, before he was offered a new and dangerous position within the company, a position in which another worker had recently been killed. Having five children and a wife depending on him, he turned down the job and quit the mill. Even though my grandmother was not born yet, she remembers him very distinctly saying “No I don’t believe a man with 5 children has any business doing that type of job.”
My Grandmother Vivian Louise Broughton was born on June 19, 1928, a year before the Great Depression. She was born in a large, one room shack, on a small farm outside of town. When she was a young girl the one room shack became the family chicken coup and a new, larger family home was built nearby. “The new house seemed quite large to me at that time, even though large back then was nothing compared to the houses now a days.” She told me with a small chuckle, as she sat across from me, her hands gently folded in her lap, her greenish-gray eyes sparkling beneath her lightly rimmed glasses. She paused and glanced upwards, obviously trying to remember the old shack but not being able recall any details. Shrugging, she continued on. “the new house had four bedrooms two upstairs and two bedrooms downstairs, a wood “heating” stove that was located in the dining room and a wood cooking stove that was located in the kitchen.” Her voice raised slightly as she continued her story. “The new house did not have running water and I had to gather it from a well, which was located outside the house quite a ways by using a bucket.” She laughed while make a flicking motion with her wrist she explained to me just how tricky it was and how it took a certain flick of the wrist to acquire a full bucket of water.
Her father was unemployed during the Depression, so their family grew lots of strawberries to meet the monthly expenses and my grandmother remembers planting and selling these to the Washington Co-Op Cannery when she was a young girl. “Strawberries and filbert trees,” she said with enthusiasm in her voice. “There were 2 types, one type which was shaped more like an almond but it was a filbert and the other one just looked like a plain old almond. You need both for cross pollination you see.” Using a tone of authority. One of my grandmother’s earliest memories she recalls was when she was a little girl around the age of 6. “Christmas came and my sister’s bought me a doll buggy and a Shirley Temple doll and Instead of playing with my doll, I remember taking my kitten Patsy, putting her in the doll buggy, and riding her into the pasture down and all around.” Making a swirling pattern in the air with her fragile, slight bluish and peach tinted age spotted hands, she continued speaking about her other adventures with Patsy.
Before 8th grade my grandmother worked for Bushman’s Farm picking strawberries, young-berries and raspberries. She saved every cent in order to purchase the bike of her dreams. When she had finally saved enough, her mother and father took her all over town to find the perfect one. “I Looked at Montgomery Ward, then went to the Sears in Portland, then returned back to Montgomery Ward and ended up getting the one there.” She said before pausing and pondering for a minute. “I was 2 dollars short when I went to pay the $29.00 for my bike, so my father covered the remaining balance.” Smiling then elevating her tone a little her eyes widened, “The bike was a top of the line bicycle, it had a basket, it had a place over the back wheel to tie luggage for your school books and so forth and as soon as I got it home I started riding it to school every day.“ When it was time to go to high school, she no longer rode her prize possession, but instead she caught a Gray Hound bus by flagging it down on the side of the highway.
My Grandmother met my Grandfather, Earnest James Officer when she a junior in Vancouver high school. “We had locker monitors, I would sit in the hall and different ones that would want to come to the lockers during that time, would have to bring a signed slip. Your grandfather was home on leave and he was visiting the school and his old comraderies ya know, being a typical male he said “do you know what time it is?” I said NO why you don’t look at your watch! and your Grandpa Officer just grinned.” she laughs and continues ” All the time he was home on leave he would come back and visit with me while I was being a hall monitor and he wanted to take me out, but I would tell him no way, I live way out in the country and there are gas rations on.” Pausing for a moment she continued. “So anyways we didn’t go out.”
I couldn’t help but laugh, obviously they had gone out again or my mother or I wouldn’t be here. “Well hold on, so he went back in spring; back to the base. I was working that summer at Montgomery ward then about 2 weeks after school starts, I am going out the door, when he was coming up the stairs and we just about ran into one another and knocked each other down!” She pauses and laughs, excitement dancing in her eyes and in her tone. “We went together for a week and got engaged! Ernie returned to base and got orders for Japan.” Smudging her lips and rubbing her hands together, I could see the excitement building. “So I’m in school, it was October, I’m in speech class and he comes walking in the door to my class!” Her eyes raised and her voice elevated. “I thought he was headed to Japan! But now he was standing in front of me, discharged from the Army Air-Core! So we went together the rest of my senior year.” Changing to a lower tone she continued. “Graduated in June and then we were married August 23, 1946 I had just turned 18.”
My Mother Emilie Louise Officer was born on June 29, 1962. She was the youngest child of 5. One of her earliest memories was watching her mother and father crouched down on all fours picking weeds out of the family vegetable garden. “My mother and father would keep themselves occupied for hours in that garden.” She said with her voice raised slightly. “They were very good parents, they had us in church every Sunday. Your grandma played piano for the church and even though your grandpa wasn’t in the choir, he would spend the rest of his Sunday’s walking around the house singing songs from the Hymns. Church was important” She said with a smile. Looking over at my mother, sitting calmly in her chair across from me, I couldn’t help but smile myself.
When I was a young girl I used to look at my mother the way a fan would look at their idol. Even after having 4 children, she was a size 6 and still able to fit into a pair of Daisy Dukes. I remember her always being out in the yard working on our property of 5 acres or planting flowers in nothing but a bikini top and her favorite pair of Daisy’s, her body was lean, toned and bronzed by the sun. I remember how jealous I was of her beauty. She had dark brown hair and light blue/green eyes, olive skin and a small frame. I was blonde, had ugly hazel/green eyes, an awkward frame, pimples on my chin and the fairest of the fair skin. I felt inadequate beside her but proud that I had such a Betty for a mother. Now grown into a woman myself with a child of my own, my mother seems so small, so fragile. Her dark brown hair is now slightly peppered with silver flakes and her thin oval face is now streaked with time, the past, present and future dance in her light blue/green eyes and her faultless white teeth illuminate the space between us.
Burien was the town that my grandparents settled in after they were married, located just 20 minutes from the outskirts of Seattle. The idea of this rural area becoming a city was addressed numerous times in the 1960’s but each time it went to vote, it was turned down. The City of Burien was finally incorporated on February 28, 1993. My grandparents bought a two-story home on 3 acres in June of 1950 and shortly after, they began buying up numerous homes and lots around them. Eventually, becoming landlords of the entire block. It wasn’t long after the Airport expansion project in the 1960’s, this rural community became an urban metropolis. numerous people from the big city had moved into the area, bringing the city’s problems such as corruption, drugs and violence with them. When my mother was a teenager she remembers the infestation of drugs in the community. “I can’t remember how many places nearby either sold or did drugs in my neighborhood, but I do know that it was common to go babysit for a couple and instead of being paid in cash they would leave a bowl on the table.” My mother said with a look of dismay.
When my mother was in 2nd grade she was at recess playing hopscotch. “I was approached by this cute little blonde haired, blue eyed girl and she asked if she could play hopscotch with me, later that day after school she invited me to her house and from that day forward Molly and I were inseparable, if I was not at her house, she was at mine.” My mother said with a light smile and a blink. One day Molly took my mother down to the stables where she kept her pony. When they returned from the stables my mother begged my grandfather to buy her one and soon after her request he did. “We used to ride everywhere!” My mother said in a raised, excited tone. “We had other friends with ponies too, so as a group we would spend our days riding down the park trails, through the open pastures and over to the beaches. If we would get hungry we would just pull the ponies up to a café or store and tie them up outside, I remember doing that many times at Basket and Robbins.” She said as she laughed.
My mother found out quickly that Molly came from a very different family lifestyle than she did. “Molly’s mom was an alcoholic that would take off for days at a time and leave Molly and her 2 sister’s home alone to fend for themselves. During her absence the girls would come and stay with me at my house.” She said before she glanced over at the window. I could tell that she was thinking about something that troubled her deeply. “One night I was in the living room reading and I heard someone pounding on the front door. When I opened it I saw Molly standing there with ripped pajama pants, a white t- shirt that was covered in dirt and a dust stained face that was wet from her tears. She was screaming at me to let her in and to hurry because a woman was after her and she said she was going to kill her. I let her in and my mother covered her with a blanket and led her to the couch in the living room.”
“She told us that she was in her room reading, when she heard a car pull into the driveway, the door opened and she could hear the voice of her mother and another unfamiliar female voice. She was laying down just about to go to sleep, when she heard angry footsteps approach her door. A woman she had never seen before, busted through the door and started screaming and cursing at her. Molly told us she was confused and scared so the only thing she could do was run. She ducked past the enraged woman and ran straight out the front door, she tripped on the stairs and ripped her pajamas before she fell flat on her face. She said it hurt, but she was so scared and she could hear the woman behind her cursing and telling her when she caught her she was going to kill her, so she got up as quick as she could and started running. She ran all the way to my house which was almost a mile away.” My mother said with sadness mixed with a little anxiety in her voice. “My mother called the police and Molly was taken into state custody that night. Molly spent her 12th birthday in a foster care holding facility. The next day she was released to my parents and soon after she and her sister Teresa were legally adopted by them.
When my mother entered Jr. High, her days were no longer spent on the back of ponies, she and Molly now spent their time hanging out with friends. My mother started to notice that Molly was not the kind and innocent child she once was and even though she was highly liked by many people at their school, Molly had a strange malevolence to her. “Molly was very little and very cute and she was very popular, but she loved to hurt people or see them get hurt” My mother said with a questioning expression on her face. “One day when we were in Jr. High this kid John Blake was walking down the road alone and we were walking towards him, when we got to him, Molly stopped him and told him to pull down his pants. He refused, so she told him, that if he did not do what she said, she was going to have all 6 guys she was walking with jump him. He refused again so Molly signaled for the boys to jump him and they did, they beat him up pretty badly.” She said with a look of sorrow. “There was also this time when I was in 5th grade and I had just recently became friends with Sherry, you know the Sherry Parkin we are still friends with today?” She half asked me and half told me, I nodded. “Well little Molly did not like the idea of having to share me, so one day Molly came up to me and told me that Sherry had said some awful things about me, I don’t remember what was said, but I do remember that I was very upset.”
“The next day I saw Sherry standing outside of school and I lunged at her and just started hitting her as hard as I could, she seemed quite upset with me too so she did not hold back either and we beat one another up pretty bad.” She said as she laughed. “The next day I had bruises up and down my arms.” She showed me her arms and pointed where the bruises would have been, if they were still afflicting her today, then continued. “Well I felt really bad the next day so I went over to her house, she saw me and both of us cried, hugged one another and said we were sorry. After we apologized to one another we tried to explain why we were so upset, but after a few sentences, we knew that whatever Molly had said to Sherry about me, was the same story that Molly told me about Sherry.”
Molly got pregnant at the age of 16 and had a little boy, shortly after giving birth she took a turn for the worse and started using drugs and drinking alcohol. When the baby was a couple months old Molly left the child with his father and became an alcoholic and avid drug user. She met a man a few years later and became pregnant again, this time with a little girl. He was a good man and treated her and the baby well, she cleaned up and they got married. A couple years later Molly relapsed and Dan, her husband wanted her to go to rehab, once in rehab she met another man and before she knew it became pregnant with her 3rd child. She was terrified of Dan finding out so she led him to believe it was his child when she returned home. After the child was born, Molly relapsed once again and the girls stayed with Dan. “Molly became involved with a man that was part of the Resurrection Motorcycle Club shortly after her and Dan split. This club was closely affiliated with the Banditos.” My mother said in an elevated tone. After this was said, I was curious about this Resurrection and Bandito Motorcycle club, so I did a little research.
According to an outlaw biker gang website the Banditos are a “one-percenter” motorcycle gang with a membership of 2,000 to 2,500 persons in the U.S. and in 13 other countries. Law enforcement authorities estimate that the Bandidos are one of the two largest OMGs operating in the U.S., with approximately 900 members belonging to 93 chapters. The Bandidos are involved in transporting and distributing cocaine and marijuana and are involved in the production, transportation and distribution of methamphetamine.” So regardless, Molly was hanging out with a dangerous crowd. It wasn’t very long before she found herself using methamphetamines and heroin on the regular. When Molly was about 26, she had gotten pregnant again by her dealer who fed her heroine during her entire pregnancy. When they broke things off, she was 8 months pregnant, strung out and she had nowhere to go; so she went back to my grandparents’ house.
After the child was born, Molly would drop her off at my grandmother’s friend Monas so she could go get high. “One day Mona was babysitting and she heard a knock on her door, when she opened it, there was a grungy looking couple asking to look at the baby, Mona was confused and asked them to leave. The couple promised that Molly had given them permission to look at the baby and possibly take her with them.” Mother said that Mona told Grandma the next day that she was sure that Molly was trying to sell her baby.
My Uncle Terry was born June 25, 1958. When he was a young boy he enjoyed fishing, collected (comparing them to my grandfathers) and building model cars. My mother’s earliest memory of him, is when she was sitting at the table eating breakfast and she looked over and saw him standing in the doorway with his fishing pole in one hand and a tackle box in the other, waiting patiently. When Terry entered elementary school the teachers didn’t know what to think of his inability to read, so they sent him to a special school. “There was nothing wrong with his eyes.” My mother said with a sincere tone. “ I think it was dyslexia, but it was such a long time ago and such a rare condition, most people didn’t know what to think about it, so he was sent to a different school, a school where they sent anyone with a disability.” She said getting up and heading toward the kitchen to get a glass of water.
When Uncle Terry was a teenager he began hanging out with two brother’s and moved into an apartment with them when he was around 17 years old. “I was in my teens, probably about 14, when my friends and I would go to his apartment.” My mother said as she adjusted herself in her chair. “I remember walking in and seeing powder, marijuana and pipes laying on the coffee table. Even though he was strung out half of the time on PCP, his place was a lot of fun to hang out in.” My mother said as she adjusted her sleeve. My Uncle Terry had also fallen into the pit of addiction. He not only consumed drugs on the regular, but also started selling different drugs like coke and PCP. He began making quite a bit of money. After moving into a nicer home in the South Park district in which he ran his business of paraphernalia, Uncle Terry was about to find out what kind of trouble dealing drugs brings.
One night when my Uncle Terry was sitting at home he heard a car’s tires squealing outside and in a split second “BANG BANG” Terrified he fell to the ground and army crawled to his nightstand, he grabbed his Smith & Wesson Model 351C and opened the door, just in time to see the 1962 Monte Carlo speed off into the night. When his lease was up, my uncle moved into a home my grandfather owned and when my mother realized he was basically staying there for free, she asked my grandfather if she could move into it since she had a job, 2 kids and she was pregnant with her 3rd. Grandpa agreed and asked Terry to move out. Terry had nowhere to go, so he moved back into my grandparents’ house.
It didn’t take long before Molly and Terry partnered up and continued the business in the upstairs mother-in-law apartment upstairs. Even though my grandparents lived there, neither one of them had enough strength to climb the rickety stairs up to the apartment to see what was really going on, they probably just figured that the people who frequently visited the house where friends of Molly and Terry. After my grandfather passed away in 1997 the amount of frequent visitors grew and soon the house was swarming with people from all different walks of life trying to get a hit. My grandmother only standing 5’0 tall and weighing 120 lbs, dared not to get in their way, so she spent her grief stricken days, captive in her bedroom only coming out to eat and visit her other children who would stop by occasionally with their children.
I remember being a young girl around the age of 6, my mother had to run, errands so she dropped me and my 2 brother’s off at grandmas. My Uncle Cary was also there with his 2 boys visiting. It was a hot, sunny day so all of us kids went to the backyard. The yard was square and in the middle there was a vegetable garden. On the side of the house was a large wired fence that separated grandma’s house from the neighbors and the back of the property was lined with cherry and apple trees. When we all had gotten done playing in the trees and eating the tomatoes from the garden, we noticed that the house next door was buzzing with noise. We looked over and there was probably 9 Hispanic children and one lone black girl standing outside yelling over to us. My cousins and I all walked over to the fence and before we got there one of the kids threw a piece of fruit at us and called us a name, I don’t remember which name it was, something like white trash or hippy but I do remember my cousin Casey who was about 4 years older than me, picking up a piece of fruit and throwing it back at them calling them spics and niggers. This name calling continued until one of the children opened the door to their house and started yelling for their parents (who were notorious drug users and dealers.) All of us kids ran into grandma’s house and went to tell Uncle Cary what had happened. Before we could even explain there was a loud knock on the door.
My Uncle Cary answered the door while my younger cousin Jason and I held on to the side of his legs. There in front of us stood a massive black man that stood about 6’4, his pupils where dilated and he was angry. He yelled at my Uncle and told him that his kids where calling his little girl a nigger and before my uncle could say anything the man decked him in the jaw with his fist. My uncle was caught off guard and stumbled backwards leaning down trying to protect me and Jason. My grandmother saw the commotion outside and grabbed a worn broom. She went out the side door that led to the shed and started yelling “get away, get away!” before hitting him with the butt end of it
Without hesitation the man who was clearly under the influence of more than just alcohol, grabbed my brittle grandmother and threw her to the ground. She curled up in the fetal position and He jumped on top of her and began hitting her over and over. Uncle Cary came at the man and pushed him off of her. The man got in one good punch before he jumped over the small entry gate and disappeared into the night. I remember crying as I walked up to my bruised, bloody, unconscious but brave grandmother.
When my grandfather passed many of his possessions began coming up missing. The pension checks from Boing that used to sit and wait for grandmother in the mailbox where no longer there, the World War II gun collection my grandfather cherished disappeared, the valuable coin collection vanished. Grandmother didn’t know who or what was to blame, but she did know there was a wretched menace in her home. She canceled her mail service and got a P.O. Box, she locked anything of value in her room and if she ever got money she would keep it in an envelope in her front pocket. She had become a victim of circumstance and after the home was raided by cops and she was thrown into jail over night because they found an entire drug manifestation in the mother-in-law apartment, she knew that she could no longer live in a place she didn’t feel comfortable or safe.
My grandmother sold her home that she and my grandfather had lived in and raised their family in when I was 15. She lost almost everything valuable and precious to her. Once able to travel and buy things of value, she could hardly afford her electricity. The homes she owned where sold in order to purchase 500 acres in the country and eventually a dream ranch, but because of the loss of so many pension checks and valuables, she could no longer afford the property so she sold that as well. Everything except for a small piece of property and two rickety shacks is all that my grandmother was able to keep.
Molly has since fallen harder into her dependence, she does not see any of her children or grandchildren and rumor has it she frequents the corner of aurora and 69th during the night to fund her addiction. Terry is 54, numerous years of hard drug abuse has left him disabled and unable to care for himself. He has never married and still lives with Grandma.
If the city had not become infested with drugs and my grandmother’s children had not turned into addicts, she would have been set for life, probably in a home, on a buffalo ranch somewhere out in the country like her and Grandpa had always dreamed of. To this day, my grandmother still does not hold anyone accountable for what was lost. She is not sorry for how her life turned out and she knows that this life is temporary and what is really important is God and family.
As I sat across from my grandmother I couldn’t help but see a distant dim light in her eyes, a light that many would think was just the glare from the lamp hanging above, but to me it was much more, it was a light of a distant memory. A memory of the house that sat on the corner of 124th and Main. It’s December, snow falls ever so gently outside the window, all 5 of the children and a small blonde haired, blue eyed girl are opening their Christmas presents, Grandma is sitting at the piano playing Christmas Hymns and Grandfather is standing behind her singing Amazing Grace.

Andrea Allen
4/28/15
Memory Assignment (Draft)

My great grandfather Percy Vere Broughton was born in June of 1890 and he was one of the many sons of his father John Broughton who was born in England. Percy was very young when he and his father traveled by ship to America. Percy grew up in Kansas and after he married his wife Emilie Watts Broughton (Heaton) and they had a few children, Percy left the farming fields of Kansas and followed a friend across the plains northwest to Washington State, where he and his family settled into the country side near Kelso. Percy began working alongside his friend at the local saw mill for quite some time before he was offered a new and dangerous position within the company, a position in which another worker had recently been killed. Having five children and a wife depending on him, he turned down the job and quit the mill. Even though my grandmother was not born yet, she remembers him very distinctly saying “No I don’t believe a man with 5 children has any business doing that type of job.”
My Grandmother Vivian Louise Broughton was born on June 19, 1928, a year before the Great Depression. She was born in a large, one room shack, on a small farm outside of town. when she was a young girl the one room shack became the family chicken coup and a new, larger home was built nearby. “The new house seemed quite large to me at that time, even though large back then was nothing compared to the houses now a days.” She told me with a small chuckle, as she sat across from me, her hands gently folded in her lap, her greenish-gray eyes sparkling beneath her lightly rimmed glasses. She paused and glanced upwards, obviously trying to remember the old shack but not being able recall any details. Shrugging, she continued on. “the new house had four bedrooms two upstairs and two bedrooms downstairs, a wood “heating” stove that was located in the dining room and a wood cooking stove that was located in the kitchen.” Her voice raised slightly as she continued her story. “The new house did not have running water and I had to gather it from a well, which was located outside the house quite a ways by using a bucket.” She laughs while make a flicking motion with her wrist when she explains to me how tricky it was and how it took a certain flick of the wrist to acquire a full bucket of water. The house also did not have electricity until later.
Her father was a farmer in Kansas on a very large farm, before moving to Washington. After arriving he acquired 15 acres and settled down. Her father did not have a job due to the Depression, so they grew lots of strawberries and my grandmother remembers planting and selling these to the Washington Co-Op Cannery when she was a young girl. “Strawberries and filbert trees,” she said with enthusiasm in her voice. “There were 2 types, one type which was shaped more like an almond but it was a filbert and you need both for cross pollination you see.” She explained to me. “I also had a Jersey Cow and a yellow kitten named Patsy she was given to me by my sister, she was such a little sweetheart and I remember when I was a little girl around the age of 6 and how one Christmas my sister’s bought me a doll buggy and a Shirley Temple doll and Instead of playing with my doll, I remember taking my kitten Patsy, putting her in the doll buggy, and riding her into the pasture down and all around.” Making a swirling pattern in the air with her fragile, age spotted hands that also had a slight bluish and peach tint to them, she continued speaking about other adventure with Patsy.
When my grandmother was in 1st grade she became friends with Gloria, Wauneta, Shirley, Bobby, and Preston, then in the 3rd grade she met Wanda, and they all became close friends and stayed that way till 8th grade. When asked about her experience in grade school she laughed and said with an abrasive yet excited tone “honey it was a two room country school with 4 grades in each room! One mile from the house, I walked every day to and from it.” Before 8th grade she worked for Bushman’s Farm picking strawberry, young-berry and raspberries. She saved every cent in order to purchase the bike of her dreams. When she had finally saved enough, her mother and father took her all over town to find the perfect one. “I Looked at Montgomery Ward, then went to the Sears in Portland, then returned back to Montgomery Ward and ended up getting the one there.” She said before she paused and pondered for a minute. “I was 2 dollars short when I went to pay the $29.00 for my bike, so my father covered the remaining balance.” Smiling then elevating her tone a little her eyes widened, “The bike was a top of the line bicycle, it had a basket, it had a place over the back wheel to tie luggage for your school books and so forth and as soon as I got it home I started riding it to school every day. “When it was time to go to high school, she no longer rode her prize possession, but instead she caught a Gray Hound bus by flagging it down on the side of the highway.
The clothing back then was nothing like it is today, she was happy to have clothes to wear, she wore dresses, skirts, sweaters, anklets (socks) and every once in a while she would wear a neck-less. She remembers riding a Gray Hound bus which she took to high school each day and seeing a lady named Yvonne Percy who was a little older than her wearing a nice pair of earrings. “she was a very pretty lady and the earrings looked very nice on her, but I never wanted my ears pierced so I never got them but I do remember Shirley’s mom, who lived just down the way from us, I remember her ears drooping downwards because she wore such heavy earrings.” letting out a high school girl giggle her face lit up and she scooted to the front of her chair. “Oh and those saddle-backs! See we didn’t have these Nike shoes back then, they were BEAUTIFUL! You could get a pair of nice brown or black ones.” Then as soon as her excitement faded a solemn look crossed her face and she stared down at her hands. “Well you know, during the war things were rationed, and shoes were rationed and you could only use ration stamps to buy them. The saddle-backs which were made mostly of leather became rationed because leather was used in the military and they needed to reserve it. You were only able to buy 1 or 2 pairs of shoes a year because of the rationing so instead of buying the saddle-back shoes my family started buying me wooden shoes.”
On December 7, 1941 my grandmother was sitting on her back porch with her sister Ruby looking out across the pasture, when a man who came from Portland to purchase chicken eggs told them that Pearl Harbor had been hit. “See no one in my family went over sees during the war, but my sister Ruby’s husband Clive, his brother’s Cal, Bob and his cousin Tom all went down and enlisted together on the stipulation they would all be kept together, they were Army Engineers and they were all stationed overseas on a Mediterranean island when his brother Cal came down with Typhoid fever. However, around the same time the ship with five brothers went down and the Army made new regulations denying family to be stationed together so just like that, the brother’s and cousin were split up.”
Grandma met my grandfather Earnest James Officer when she a junior at Vancouver high school. “We had locker monitors, I would sit in the hall and different ones that would want to come to the lockers during that time, would have to bring a signed slip. Your grandfather was home on leave and he was visiting the school and his old comraderies ya know, being a typical male he said “do you know what time it is?” I said NO why you don’t look at your watch! and your Grandpa Officer just grinned.” she laughs and continues ” All the time he was home on leave he would come back and visit with me while I was being a hall monitor and he wanted to take me out, but I would tell him no I live way out in the country and there is gas rations on. They she made a pause and said “so any ways we didn’t go out.” I couldn’t help but laugh, obviously they had gone out again or my mother or I wouldn’t be here. “Well hold on so he went back in spring back to the base. I was working that summer at Montgomery ward then about 2 weeks after school starts I am going out the door, when he was coming up the stairs and we just about ran into one another and knocked each other down! She pauses and laughs, excitement dancing in her eyes and in her tone. “We went together for a week and got engaged!”
Grandpa went to Idaho to see his brother Chuck who was also in the Army Air Core, they both came back and grandpa introduced him to Grandma. Grandpa went back to base after his leave was up after “Victory over Japan” in August. He was given orders to be stationed in Japan after arriving. “I’m in school, it was October, I’m in speech class and he comes walking in the door to my class.” Her eyes raised and her voice elevated. “I thought he was headed to Japan! He had been discharged and no longer was in the Army Air-Core. So we went together the rest of my senior year.” Changing her tone “Graduated Friday night and started the telephone company on Monday. Then we were married August 23 1946 I had just turned 18.”

Transcription of Vivian Louise Officer (Broughton) 1928

Grandpa and Grandma Broughton (My great great grand parents)

John Broughton-1st Generation was born in England

John was married to a lady in England, they had 3 sons, He and his 3 sons (almost grown),  Traveled by ship over to the states, The father was separated from his sons when they arrived and for some reason they never found one another and they all went their own ways.

Charlotte Broughton- John married Charlotte after coming to the states

FATHER -Percy Vere Broughton- Born June 1890, (Middle Child) Clarence (Oldest) Naomi (Youngest)

MOTHER-Emilie Watts Broughton (Heaton), Married Dec 18, 1912

Moved from Kansas to Washington in the Kelso/Longview area,

After moving to Washington, her father’s friend who had also moved from Kansas to the Kelso/Longview area worked for a lumber mill and was able to get her father a job, Her father was working there for quite sometime when he was asked to take a new and dangerous assignment, which another worker had recently been killed doing. Having five children and a wife depending on him, he turned down the job and quit the mill. My grandmother remembers very vividly that he had told her  ” No I don’t believe a man with 5 children has any business doing that job.”  This is before she was born.Vivian was born in 1928 a year before the Great Depression had started, in a large one room shack in the Kelso/ Longview area on a small farm outside of town, After a new larger house was built, the one room shack became the chicken coup. She does not remember the shack but she does remember the new home being built. She explains with a small chuckle that the new house seemed quite large at that time, even though large back then was nothing compared to the houses now a days. She describes the house as having two bedrooms upstairs and two bedrooms downstairs, a wood “heating” stove to keep the home warm that was located in the dining room and a wood cooking stove that was located in the kitchen. The house did not have running water so in order to supply water, their family would pull water by the bucket from a well and carry it into the house. The well was located outside the house quite a ways, she laughs when explaining how tricky it was to get a full bucket of water. She makes a flicking motion with her wrist when describing how it took a certain flick of the wrist to acquire a full bucket of water. The house also did not have electricity. Until later, after her dad dug the post holes for the electric poles. Dad was a farmer in Kansas on a very large farm, then after moving to Washington her father bought and settled on 15 acres. Her father did not have a job due to the Depression so they grew lots of strawberries and Vivian remembers planting and selling these to the Washington Co-Op Cannery when she was a young girl.  After she was born she remembers her mother and father planting lots of strawberries, filbert trees, she said their was 2 types she remembered one type which was shaped more like an almond but it was a filbert and she explained how you need both for cross pollination. She had a Jersey Cow and a yellow “sweetheart” kitten named Patsy when she was 6. One Christmas her sister’s had bought her a doll buggy and a Shirley Temple doll. Instead of playing with her doll she remember’s taking her kitten Patsy, putting her in the doll buggy and riding her into the pasture and down and all around. She also remembers throwing darts with the neighbor boy who was biracial part white and part Philippine. When asked about grade school she laughed and said “honey it was a two room country school 4 grades in each room!” one mile from the house, she walked everyday to and from it. When asked about the discipline in her home, she said their was very little, it was just understood and expected to behave. She remember there was absolutely no alcohol or smoking aloud around or on the premises. When asked about the relationship with her siblings she laughed and said she was spoiled, she was the baby the next sibling up was 8 years older. When Vivian was in grade school she became friends with Gloria, Wanita, Shirly, Bobby, Preston all started the 1st grade together, in the 3rd grade they met Wanda, when she graduated the 8th grade their was 5 boys and 5 girls she had all become good friends with, After each person was grown and married they started meeting for annual picnics in which all students from Baker Grade School were invited. All of the girls in this group are in their upper 80’s and still alive and are still close friends, meeting annually for the picnic or reunions. Before 8th grade she had been working hard in the different strawberry, young-berry and raspberry fields picking fruit for Bushman’s Farm, She saved every cent in order to buy her dream bike. When she had enough saved her mother and father took her all over to find the perfect one. Looked at Montgomery Ward, then went to Portland to Sears, ending up returning to Montgomery Ward and getting one there. She was 2 dollars short when she went to pay the 29.00 for the bike. so her father covered the remaining balance. She described the bike as “top of the line bicycle” it had a basket, it had a place over the back wheel to tie luggage. When she entered high school   Everyone was white that attended her grade school, it wasn’t until after WWII started and she started going to Ridgemont and Vancouver High School her Junior and Senior year that she was introduced to multicultural people other then the one neighbor boy. She remember’s one black girl who was very nice named Valerie when she was in high school.The popular and appropriate type of clothing she wore growing up were dresses, skirts, sweaters and anklets (socks) and every once in a while she would wear a neck-less. She remember’s riding a Gray Hound bus which she took to high school each day and seeing a lady named Yvonne Percy a little older than her and how she had a nice pair of earrings. She also remembers Shirley’s mom’s ears looping downwards because she wore heavy earrings. When she describes her saddle-backs and how they didn’t have Nike shoes back then with a small giggle. She said they were oxfords then her face lit up and she exclaimed how beautiful they were. You could get a pair of nice brown or black ones. During the war things were rationed, shoes were rationed and you could only use ration stamps to buy them. The oxfords which were made mostly of leather became rationed because leather was used in the military and they needed to reserve it. You were only able to buy 1 or 2 pairs of shoes a year because of the rationing so instead of buying the saddle-back shoes, her family would buy her wooden shoes which were made in Holland, She had a pair of these wooden shoes when she was a senior but when she started working for the telephone company they did not allow wooden shoes and they were a safety hazard. On December 7, 1941 my grandmother was sitting on her back porch with her sister Ruby looking out across the pasture, when a man who came from Portland to purchase chicken eggs told them that Pearl Harbor had been hit that morning. Ruby’s husband Clive, his brother’s Cal, Bob and his cousin Tom all enlisted together on the stipulation they would all be kept together, they were Army Engineers and they were all stationed oversees on a Mediterranean island when his brother Cal came down with Typhoid fever. Around the same time the ship with five brother’s went down and the Army made new regulations denying family to be stationed together.

Her triggers for memories are rooted in family, family specifics like ages, birthdays, anniversaries all seem to be rooted in her memory the deepest.

Grandma Officer had 6 siblings- Glenn Albert Broughton (oldest)-DOB: Oct 13 1913, Merrial Evon Broughton-DOB: March 19, 1915, Grace Broughton-DOB: NOV 17, 1916, Mary Elizabeth Broughton DOB: July 13, 1918, Ruby Eleanor Broughter-DOB Feb 12, 1920.