In 1963, Ridgefield was like a foreign country to me. We had moved a lot due to conflicts my parents had, but I had only gone to 2 schools, even w/ the moves. Now, my parents were divorced. One day we were living in Battleground. That night we moved and the next day I woke up in a new house, a new city and had to start a new school. I was in 7th grade.
I had regressed. I went from a junior high with each class in a different room to grade school and recess. At the time, the 7th grade was with 1-6 and the 8th grade was in (mostly) the basement of the High School. After pointing out where I lived, I learned from others to say, “We live in the Barn on the hill”. It was a landmark. I was told that it was really a barn that had been converted into a house. It was large and with my mom and us five kids, better than the two-bedroom house we’d been in. My bedroom took up half of the upstairs. I couldn’t even fill half of the space.
The best part of the house was the wonderful view. We could look on all of the town, and all the way to the river and beyond to the west. The kitchen had a wall of windows. I loved to stand at the counter and look out. It was the nicest house we had ever lived in.
“The Hill” was the ritzy part of town. The Sonneys lived next door. They had a beautiful home with a swimming pool. Beyond them were the Wrays. Lorene Wray was the secretary at the high school. She always was gracious and friendly. Her daughter, Vicky, was a cheerleader. I was in awe of her. I got to go into her room one time when I went to their house. It was all feminine and lovely. Across the street on the “upside” of us, lived the Walter Baty’s (of Baty’s insurance). Furstenbergs (of First Independent Bank) lived at the end of the road and across the street that went down to Main street.
There was another house on the hill. Later in the year, the Eaves family moved into it. The kids were about the same ages as my brothers and sisters and me. David Eaves became my best friend. Being both fairly new to the area, we bonded. Though he may not remember, they moved in just before 1964. The reason I know is because in September 1963, my dad, age 37 died of a massive heart attack. In the attached story, “My Best Christmas” Avis Eaves was the neighbor who took my brother and me shopping. The Eaves were wonderful neighbors to us.
When President Kennedy was shot and killed on November 22, I was already numb from the death of my father. I was in science class when we got the news of the President. Was it Mr. Maguire or Mr Stevens? I know it was the classroom downstairs on the far northwest corner.
I loved walking to school. As an eighth grader, we were relegated to the basement of the school mostly. I liked learning and classes were fun. In those days if we had money, my girlfriends and I would occasionally go down to the local café for burger and fries. You had to be quick. If you weren’t one of the first in line, you wouldn’t get your food in time to get back to school before lunch was over. I remember the short, fat, cripsy fries that they served. Verna Rawson, Christy Schlamm and I would usually share. Sometimes it was on the run back to school. Sometimes we would stop at the variety store on the way and buy gum or candy.
The first thing that greeted you as you walked into the High School building was the apple machine. Five cents bought a nice cold, Red delicious apple. The office was on the left. Mrs. Wray was always there with a smile. Mr. (Wayne) Ball was the principal. I remember his moustache. I heard that there was conflict with older boys who challenged him about the “no facial hair” policy for students and other policies. I never had to face him in that way.
During those days our activities were going to school games (football or baseball) or going to the skating rink. The rink was on the road to La Center. Lots of kids from Ridgefield skated there. I never was a good skater and spent more time on my backside on the floor.
In 1965, we were unable to buy the Barn and had to move out near Duluth. Each year since I was ten, I picked strawberries, raspberries and beans to earn money for school clothes. That year I outdid myself and picked 12 flats of strawberries in one day. I could hardly move when I got home and my back was so sore. My friend, Gayle Cousins and I decided that we should go to work in the cannery instead. I stayed w/ Gayle in Ridgefield that summer and we worked at the cannery in town during berry season. It was 12-hour shifts. We made something like $1.16 per hour. That was a lot of money to us. My family worked the bean fields that year (mom was a field boss). We earned enough money to help my mom pay some bills, pay off the car, buy a stereo and a radio. We still had enough left for school clothes.
The next year, we had to move again. This time it was north of town near Verna Rawson and Jeannie Currie. Chris Mongrain lived a little further away, but in the same area. My mom went to work at the nursing home in Ridgefield. Social Security was just not enough to live on.
In 1966, I quit school and got married. That ended my time in Ridgefield. My mother, Bernice (Dudder) Jehnsen, got remarried to Roy Jehnsen in 1967 and moved to his home near Yacolt. He passed away in 2001. He was a wonderful husband, father and grandfather. But, that is another story…. My mom still lives at 23000 Jehnsen Road where she has been for 43 years.
Until some time in the 1990s I never even set foot in Ridgefield. I had moved to back to Snohomish county where I lived as a young child. While visiting family, I drove to Ridgefield. The Barn and the Eaves house were both gone. New houses had been build that were newer and nicer. But, the patina on my memories is still rich. I look back on those times but not with great pain. It was a part of life.
I got courageous and attended the 40th reunion of the class of 1968. Most of my classmates hadn’t even remembered that I didn’t graduate w/ them! Since then, I have learned what a great group of people I went to school with. The small town, Ridgefield, experience is one that I savor.
Joyce Dudder can be reached via email at fishnut1949@aol.com.
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