| A Word Edgewise by Mary Joe Clendenin |
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| A Word Edgewise by Mary Joe Clendenin |
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Last Updated 01/20/06
READING IS THE GREATEST TIME MACHINE
When Joe Fitzgerald, my father, wrote about things in his early childhood, he is taking us back to life in the 1800s, because he was born in 1876. So, let’s go back about 100 years and get a glimpse of how things were then.
I can remember back to the time we trimmed the lamp wicks, and, farther, when they put a little tallow or gravy in a saucer and laid a cotton string in it for a wick. I have carried many a can of coal oil from the store with a potato stuck over the spout.
That was back when they had sitting rooms, or parlors, and the young men went there to spark the girls. They sat around and looked at the family album.
Visitors always slept in this room. There was a big feather bed and when you go into one of them you felt like you were sinking into a cloud. You went off into a dreamless sleep and was always awakened too soon by Pa calling the boys to get up and go tie fodder while it was damp.
They would be out and in the field at four o’clock and then Ma would get up and put the big pot in the little one for the guests. In a little while you would hear the old coffee mill going and that was always time to get up. But often—more often than not—the guest would get out and help the old man and the boys tie up the fodder. You could hear a lonely old owl crying over in the woods, and the cowbells begin to jingle as the girls went to the cow pen to juice the cows.
Back then, nearly every home had an aged grandma or grandpa. I can remember grandma Bibb, grandma McInroe, grandpa Moore, grandpa Johnson and many others. That was before they got cancer to kill the old people off. Old gramdma would sit by the side of the fire, and would have her clay pipe laying up handy. She would fill her pipe with big bale tobacco and reach down and pick up a live coal with her hand and lay it on her pipe. When I was a kid, I wondered how they could do this and I got burned many times before I learned how to pick up a live coal.
They churned in an old-fashioned—often a cedar—up-and-down churn. Took all the morning sometimes to get the churning done. Often, near the house was a patch of sorghum cane. And such molasses some people could make!
Come fall and it was a delight to take a day off and go to the creek to gather pecans. Back then, there was a wild, very sour grape, which grew out in the thick woods, and people would gather these and even dry them to make pies in the winter time. I know where two of these grape vines are now, but no one pays any attention go them.
We lived close to nature then and, who knows, getting away from nature may be the cause of cancer. The land is poor and what we eat now could not have the kick to it that old-fashioned turnip greens and sow belly had.
Remember how they would put the milk in stone jars, set it in front of the fire and turn the jars around so the cream would form? That was back when the roosters were allowed to run with the hens, the brazen mean things; when we had muzzle-loading guns and it took a gun a minute to fire after the trigger was pulled; when the little girls went to school with their hair braided, and hanging down the back.
That was when they had Arbuckle coffee, and you could save the signature and send off and get a ring or razor. But you always had to send along two cents to pay for them. I can remember when such a thing as baking powder was unknown and the women would brag about the biscuits they could make with soda and sour milk. Just after hog-killing time we would have crackling bread, and we would put potatoes in the hot ashes to roast them. Wonder how many kids have ever eaten a roasted potato? They didn’t have lunches then, but we did have breakfast, dinner and supper. Back then, when they killed the hogs they would roast the pig tails along with the potatoes. And they were good.
That was back when we had the Populist party and everyone hated old King George. When it was a crime to cuss in front of a woman or ride a pony in a store house. They were always getting some fellow up for carrying concealed weapons and it was considered an honor to stay all night in a hotel.
It was when they buried the dead in home made coffins and a few of the neighbors acted as undertakers. You could die, then, and be buried for ten dollars, but if you get out of the world now for less than five hundred dollars you have done something to be proud of. They say the world has gotten small, but it was just as small then. It was an event when a farm woman went to town, and if a man went to another county, when he got back his neighbors would all visit him to see how tricks were in the other part of the world.
Forget about science fiction time machines, reading is the greatest time machine ever. The library is well stocked with good books about any time period you care to visit. I just read a delightful book, UP FROM THE DUST, by Hesse, about the dust bowl days in Oklahoma. The book is written in blank verse and for young adults, but appeals to all ages. It is a jewel, not only is that opinion, but it has won many prizes. I was given a copy when a guest at Authors’ Day in Loleta, Texas, recently, and have since bought several copies for friends. Check it out.