I've got a nice, comfortable home now and life is pretty easy. But it wasn't always so. No, back when I was a young fellow my life was not so soft. And these scars, scratches, and scrapes that you see on me now? Well, I got 'em from doing honest, hard work. Every mark brings to mind some adventure I've had in my life, and some of them were pretty scary. You asked me to tell you my life story, Miss Hyve? Well, here goes, as best as I can recollect the details after all this time ...

I came into the world in January, 1917, as an H. G. Co. Petticoat beehive. The very first thing I remember was being awfully warm. I guess I'd just popped out of the mold and had been put on a wire rack to cool. After an hour or so I began to feel better. There were lots of other young fellows around me, and they were the same color as I was. Guess you would call me a sapphire blue. I remember one of my neighbors remarking about a large bubble I had on my skirt. It was in the glass, and was shaped sort of like a kidney bean. (Fact is, I've always been proud of my birthmark, even down to this day.)

A few days later I remember being put (none too gently) into a large wooden barrel with many other beehives just like myself. It got awfully dark in there, and we were terribly crowded. We traveled quite a distance by truck, and the jolting was almost unbearable. Several of my companions literally broke under the pressure. Finally we reached our destination, and after a few more bumps, things quieted down.

We must have been there about a month, and I think we were put on a loading platform right out in the sun, for during that time it grew very hot in the barrel. The intense heat proved to be too much for some of my buddies, and they cracked. I must have been made of sterner stuff, for I survived with no problem.

Next we were put back on another truck and hauled a few miles out into the desert. This time the ride was really rough. All of a sudden, I felt myself being lifted out of the barrel and plunked into a leather bucket. For the first time in over a month I saw the light of day. Little did I know then just how tired I would become of seeing that desert sun!

Then, the most frightening event of my whole life occurred! As a gloved hand grabbed me from the bucket, it lost its grip on me, and I went plummeting downward! I thought I was a "goner" for sure. But I landed in the sand, and no harm was done. I heard the man up on the pole yell to his partner, "Throw that blue one back up here if it's not busted, will ya, Charlie?" So back up I went with the same terrifying speed at which I had fallen. I was then placed in the position which was to be my home for the next 29 years,

It's a good thing that I was young in those days and could stand the strain, because those were to be the roughest years of my life. I found out from George, the green beehive on my left, that we were somewhere in the Southwestern desert. And we were right beside a train track. I tell you, when those trains went by, the noise was deafening! It shook us down to our very threads. All of us became coated with a sooty film that practically choked us. And the weather was beastly hot--hotter than it had ever been in that barrel. Sometimes the temperature reached 1200 F! Railroad signal work in the desert was certainly no easy task. Many of my partners could not endure the sun's relentless fury, and had to be reassigned. George was one of the first to go. I heard later through the "grapevine" that he got transferred to telegraph duty somewhere in the Pacific Northwest. I saw him years later at an insulator show in Kansas; he was right across the aisle from me. We exchanged a few words before he was taken away by a delighted collector. Where he is now is anybody's guess.

Once during my term of duty in the desert a terrible sand storm struck. The wind howled and moaned, and tons of sand was driven against us with hurricane force. We couldn't even see two inches ahead of us for the clouds of blowing, swirling sand. When it all settled down after several hours, I found that my dome on one side had been sandblasted; I no longer shone as brightly as I had before. I felt very depressed, but everyone around me had the same thing happen to them, so I wasn't alone. I was just glad that the storm was finally over. A few days later a refreshing rain came and washed us off, and then we felt much better.

Also around this time I and several of my co-workers developed a little trouble due to the extreme temperature changes which occur in desert areas from day to night. It turned out to be nothing more than an internal stress crack. Although the scar remained, it was not visible from the outside, and the uncomfortable feeling left me after a few weeks.

It was about two years later when we suddenly noticed that things had become much quieter; no trains roared by anymore. Then, after we'd enjoyed a few weeks of much- needed rest and tranquility, workers arrived and began removing us and putting us in barrels. We heard the men talking and learned that the railroad line through that part of the desert had been abandoned, and that all the equipment was being salvaged. We were to be relocated.

A new assignment! I was very excited about it, as I had never been overly fond of my first job. However, I had always tried to do my very best, even under adverse circumstances. After a long journey and a month's rest in a warehouse, I found myself being hoisted up in a canvas bucket. This time I was placed on a pole right above a busy street corner. My new job was of a different nature than before, but one I could adjust to easily. I was to do telephone circuit work. And for the next 21 years I was to hold the most enjoyable position of my long career in public service.

I soon learned my new routine, and from conversations with my partners I discovered that we were in a small Southern town. From my vantage point high above the town I could see the Mississippi River off in the distance. The weather was hot in the summer and cold in the winter, but I liked it much better here than my previous location. And it wasn't at all boring like it had been out in the desert, for here there was always something going on to keep me occupied. Being located above a busy intersection, I could hear trolley cars clang, people laugh and talk, car horns honk, and children play. I well remember a certain little boy named Delbert, for he was to leave a definite mark on me.

Delbert was about eight years old when I came to work there. One Halloween night a year or so later, he and his friends decided to throw rocks at us insulators with slingshots. Fortunately for us, they were lousy shots. Also in our favor was the fact that the police were thick as fleas on a hound dog's back that night. For just as Delbert let a rock fly in my direction, the police rounded the corner. But alas, his aim was true, and I suffered a slight chip on my skirt. It hurt for quite a while, but the pain soon eased a little. I guess my pride was injured more than anything. The chip was only about the size of a dime, but it felt much bigger. Years later I was still on duty at that same street corner when I watched Delbert ride by below in a shiny car with his new bride. I wondered then if he remembered that Halloween night so long ago when he and his friends had thrown rocks at me.

Well, I was retired from my telephone job in December, 1967. My life from then on has been exciting, to say the least. Shortly after I was removed from my position in the South, I found myself at an insulator show in Kansas (the same one where I saw old George for the last time). I spent the next few years on a shelf in a beautiful Arizona home. I was next to a fellow named Calvin, a California hot cross bun--loveliest purple fellow you'd ever care to meet. We had many long talks about our early days on the railroad. (He had also been a railroad man for many years.)

Then after attending a show in Los Angeles, I wound up in a collection in Florida, and I was there for a year or so. But now I'm very happy in my new home here in Guesswheria. I am surrounded with fellows just like myself, except that each one of them is a different color. They all have had a fascinating life, too, and their experiences have been many and varied. I love it here, and I am tired of moving, so I hope that this is my last home.

You asked if I had any photos of myself, and I've found two. You may keep them if you like. The first one is of me working on the railroad signal line, after I'd been on the job about three years. The second one was taken shortly after my retirement, while I was in the Arizona collection.

Well, Miss Hyve, that's my life story. I hope you find it as interesting as it was for me to have lived it. I've been a lot of places and seen a lot of history, and I'm very glad I had a part in all of it. There were good times and rough times, but I survived somehow. And now, if I can bring pleasure to someone when they see me on the shelf, well -- that makes it all worthwhile.