Lakewood Lore

Doggerel verse helps her recall, for better or worse

"When you get married

And live upstairs,

Don't come down

And borrow my chairs."

Whatever happened to autograph albums -- those small four-by-six-inch leather-bound books of blank pages that we kids passed around at school?

Wanting to know was Carlyn Irwin, 93, who headed the Rationing Board in this city during World War II.

Into her album, schoolmates scribbled corny sayings, sage thoughts, expressions of affection, and miscellaneous nonsense.

Irwin showed me a copy she circulated among her friends at Lakewood High School between 1919-1922. She also saved another album she had while attending Mount Ida College, a finishing school in Newton, Mass., and a third that belonged to her mother during school days in the 1880s at Huron, Ohio.

They tugged at the heartstrings.

I checked with Elizabeth Foote, an LHS senior who lives on my street.

"That is no longer done here," Foote observed . "We hold up now until May when the yearbook comes out. Then we write our autographs and remarks in it."

Well, so much for a nostalgic practice that once kindled memories in a language of its own, the closest to it probably being that of valentines.

Nonagenarian Irwin lamented that most of her participants have departed, but their cherished entries have remained treasured keepsakes through the years.

Here are some of the signed comments.

I hope when Cupid shoots his arrow,

He "Mrs." you.

I only ask one little spot,

To write these words:

Forget-me-not!

May your path be strewn

With roses,

And your children have

Pug noses.

Your hair was made to crimp and curl,

Your cheeks were made to blush --

Your eyes were made to vamp the boys,

Your lips were made -- oh, hush!

In your fireplace of memories,

Consider me a brick.

May your life be like a fried egg , sunnyside up.

Life is like a deck of cards,

When you're in love, it's hearts;

When you're engaged, it's diamonds;

When you're married, it's clubs;

And when you're buried, it's spades.

Forget the moon, forget the stars,

Forget to flirt on trolley cars.

Forget your husband's

Socks to mend,

But don't forget

Your old school friend.

My father's a butcher,

My mother cuts meat,

And I'm a little hot dog

Runnin' round the street.

I wish you wealth,

I wish you plenty.

I wish you a husband

When you're twenty.

Q.T.U.C.I.M.4.U.

With Love

May your life be like a piano --

Grand, upright and square.

My friend I divide into classes two:

Those I can do without, and you.

May your cheeks retain their dimples,

May your heart be just as gay,

Till some manly voice shall whisper,

"Dearest, will you name the day?"

Life is one darn fool after

Another.

Love is two darn fools after

Each other.

Wishing our Carlie every success

In the world, 'cause she wears

Such a broad smile she has to go

In the door sideways.

This article by Dan Chabek appeared in the Lakewood Sun Post February 19, 1998. Reprinted with permission.

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