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The Pythian Hall

When I was a young child my parents were members of the Knights of Pythias. My mother was a Pythian Sister. These names I can recall, but what it all meant I have no recollection. I do know that it was kind of a secret society At the time I accepted the informal hush-hush of the organization as something children just didn’t need to know about.

 I can remember going to the Pythian Hall with my parents and being in awe of the large thrones or stations that sat elevated above the floor. In between each station were leather sofas and some straight backed chairs. All the members sat in those during the meetings to leave the center floor section free for the parade when the Grand Chief and other designated leaders entered the room.My brother and I would run around and sit in them and call out various commands. We felt very regal. I’m sure our parents allowed only so much rambunctious behavior before we were called out.

My mother worked her way up through the ranks as did my father. She was a Grand Chief; he was Chancellor in Command. I can remember my mother practicing for the various tests she had to take before she could earn the right to be at a station. She was perfect for such a job because she had a great memory and good public speaking skills. I remember she also worked with my dad on his agenda and speeches also.

Downstairs in the Pythian Hall was a large recreational room with a kitchen. Every year there was a pancake supper with rows and rows of tables and chairs lined up. People from all over town filed in to take advantage of the inexpensive meal and lots and lots of conversation.My dad was always behind the grills making pancakes. Then and at the tent at the fair were the only times I remember him cooking. He never did that at home.

Also every year they held a Christmas Party. Santa would show up and hand out gifts. Somehow Santa always knew what we wanted. It was the most magical moment to have him read off your name and open the package to find an item that had been on your list. The year that I found out my mom took the gifts was just so disappointing. I had loved the Santa myth.

For a few years at the Christmas party they had a talent show. For some reason my parents decided my brother, who is five years younger than myself and I should be part of it. We had no talent. I didn’t know how we were going to fake that in front of a crowd, but my mother persisted and probably worked with us for weeks on a routine. I would sing, “Teddy Bear, Teddy Bear turn around, Teddy Bear Teddy Bear touch the ground” in my off-key, unmelodic voice and my brother would do the actions. He was probably two or three at the time and very cute. I was seven or eight with a pixie cut and a big space between my two front teeth. I don’t think cute would have described me.

Somehow we pulled off our adorable albeit comedic routine to my mother’s satisfaction.I just felt relieved to put a check after our name in the accomplished category. It was memorable for my brother and I as sometimes now at family gatherings we still do our routine. I do believe we’ve improved in some ways. My voice is better trained, but my brother is not as cute with his larger frame and balding head. However our performance now meets with greater laughter.

At some point when I was in high school the membership in the Pythian Sisters and Knights of Pythias dwindled. I’m sure my parents found having three children at home, a business to run, and other interests led to letting go of a past activity. Or if they did attend meetings or social occasions it was sporadic.

It is easy to see the importance of a club in one’s life. In the early 1950s there was no television in every home and a club provided both social networking and entertainment. The meeting’s structure and discipline offered an opportunity to learn transferrable skills.  Also knowing about my parents’ membership gives me a glimpse of them as adults when I didn’t really now them, a look at how they once were strong, vibrant, energetic citizens very involved in their community.