"Not sure if this is 'web worthy,' but I put down a few of my fond memories.

After reading the offerings in “Recollections,” especially those offered by Lester Baumann, I feel compelled to add my two cents worth! Although Darrtown was never my legal residence, it has always meant “home” to me. For those who don’t know me, I am Sally Rinal Johnson, daughter of Jeanne McVicker Rinal and granddaughter of Opal and Luther McVicker.

Summers and many weekends were spent at the McVicker home on Scott Road. On Friday afternoons, we kept watch for Opal’s 1950 black Plymouth to turn the corner on our street in Hamilton. (She taught first grade at Fillmore for many years.) Nobody could pack bags faster than the Rinal kids when grandma showed up. She let us stay up as long as we wanted watching old movies on t.v., fixed us popcorn and whatever we wanted to eat. We had to let Luther pick his shows first; but, he usually dozed off after a few minutes and we would sneak over and change the channel. Gunsmoke, Ed Sullivan, Jackie Gleason, Red Skelton and Lawrence Welk were among his favorites. Opal’s chocolate cakes with fudge frosting were to die for. She never used a measuring cup or spoon--just an old green coffee mug and a regular spoon.

Opal and Luther had their garden battles every summer, his behind the gas station and hers at home. The corn was never fresh enough, unless Opal took the pot into the garden, shucked it, put it the pot, then directly on the stove! I remember late summer dinners with huge piles of corn cobs on the table. After dinner, Luther always told a few of his classic jokes, like “I got a prize for being the only one sober at the Eagles picnic.”

In the winter, when the weather stayed cold long enough, we would “sneak” across the road to skate on Baumann’s pond. There was an indoor/outdoor thermometer in the dining room, and grandma said that if it went down to 18 degrees two nights in a row, the ice should be thick enough. We had one pair of skates that had been my mother’s, and we took turns, stuffing socks into them in an attempt to make them fit. And, of course, someone always went thru the ice.

Sundays were always special. I remember Sunday school at the Methodist Church, before the fellowship hall was built—everyone crammed into the back of the sanctuary, with folding doors closed. I was painfully shy, but I remember a few in my class: Georgetta Nichol, Naomi Jo Witherby, and Ruth Ann Decker. I am sure they don’t remember me since I most likely never uttered one word the whole time. I also remember Fred Lindley—I was among the large number of girls with a secret crush on him (even though he was 10 years older). “Lutheran” Sunday was the best—we didn’t have to stay for church! Christmas was the worst for me—having to say “my piece” at the Christmas program. For someone so shy, it struck terror in my heart! Easter was special. Grandma woke us up early and we went to the Sunrise Service, the only Sunday of the year Luther put on a shirt and tie and went with us! Opal always cooked a wonderful dinner (every Sunday) and fixed a tray for Bill Glardon, who watched the station, so Luther could eat with the family.

The garage, of course, is what everyone remembers. Luther taught me how to do a “hot patch” once, and sometimes he took a bunch of the repaired inner tubes home. We had a blast playing and jumping on them. Once in a while, I watched the garage for Luther while he went to Hamilton to run errands. Usually, there was no activity; but, one time it seemed like everyone waited for him to leave, before they drove in. I could pump the gas, and once I even added oil for someone, but that was my limit! When someone looking for a fan belt came in, I told them to help themselves and settle up with Luther, when he came back. While Luther was on duty, my Aunt Mary would get us kids to crank-call him—say we needed "our valves ground." Guess that was his least favorite job.

Clarence (Luther’s cousin) and Kate McVicker were frequent visitors, and we went to their place to get eggs and fresh chickens. Luther chopped off the heads, and Opal did the rest. When they (Clarence and Kate) had sheep, we often went to see the new lambs. Once, he had an orphan one he gave us. We took it home, and our boxer, Cindy, adopted him. We named him Davey Crockett. (Guess what show was popular then?) When the bridge over Darr’s Run on Scott Road was replaced, Clarence kept a close watch on the progress—that’s why “McVicker” is welded on the south side of the bridge.

I could ramble on for pages about going to Glardon’s for bubble gum (Opal’s vice was Double Bubble ‘cause it didn’t stick to her dentures!), putting flowers at the cemetery, talking Opal into a St. Bernard puppy, tagging along when my sister, Sharon, was invited to play with Janny Wills, Priscilla Club and on and on. I do have to tell my favorite Luther comment before I close. When he found out I was getting married to my husband, Kim, (at the Darrtown Methodist Church, by the way) he told my brother, “Well she might as well go shoot herself.” My brother also told me that he sniffled during the entire ceremony. When we drove away from the church, he was already back in his greasy clothes, sitting tipped back in his bentwood chair at the garage."

Johnson, Sally (Rinal)

Recollections of Sally (Rinal) Johnson

Sally (Rinal) Johnson, granddaughter of Luther and Opal McVicker sent the following email to the Darrtown.com webmaster on November 10, 2013.