A Fair Wind
As the hayfields became clear of snow and March winds swept the skies, our thoughts turned to kites.
Pieces of smooth pine from old window shades would be split into long, thin pieces for the crossbars, tied with string to form a cross. Each year the paper for the kite was different, depending on what was available.
The string, wound up on a stick, was saved from year to year, occasionally augmented by a new ball from the village store. We raided the ragbag in the cellarway for cloth pieces to make the long tail.
One year my friend Miriam…
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The Two Presidents
Two presidents, the first and the l6th, played a big part in our academic lives. Each February we read about them, wrote essays, and painted their silhouettes on white paper to be hung around the schoolroom.
Our heroes, our shining examples all through the elementary grades, year after year, were expected to be these two men, George Washington and Abraham Lincoln, whether or not we found them inspiring.
By the fifth grade, the second month of the year had become a time of boredom. We knew every available detail in the lives of the “Father of Our Country” and “The…
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Follow Your Heart
Valentine’s Day—the world’s most popular unofficial holiday. It is one of the biggest sale days for florists, candy stores, greeting card shops, and some restaurants. No signs of affection are too corny or too lavish today.
Back in the 1930s we, too, lost our hearts to this romantic day. Its celebration was far more reserved, but was anticipated with spine-tingling eagerness. Those old-time New Englanders had difficulty expressing their emotions in everyday life, and here was an opportunity, without fear of ridicule or censure, to send out a tentative message to the one who took your fancy. Very…
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Rising from the Ruins
During my lifetime, so many things that graced my childhood have disappeared, never to return—meadows and pastureland, blueberry patches, old stone walls, pine groves. Saddest of all, perhaps, was the loss of the elm trees that spread their sheltering arms and deep shade over our old yellow farmhouse. These five graceful trees, their roots long-crumbled into the earth that nourished them, fell victims of Dutch elm disease, along with millions of other elms throughout the Northeast.
Our elms, already centurions, were planted around the homestead in an irregular circle, standing like giant benevolent guardians towering over our lives.
In…
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Taming the Tomboy
If you were a tomboy as a girl, you are one of a dying breed. By the year 2000, say sociologists, the concept of the tomboy will have faded into oblivion.
Today, it is considered normal behavior for a girl to play what were formerly all-boy’s games and team sports, to have boys for playfellows, and compete with them on all levels. These girls are simply “jocks.”
Years ago, it was accepted that “boys will be boys,” and girls were expected to act like “little ladies.” A girl of boyish behavior was labeled—she was a “tomboy.” But being a…
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Lost at Sea
The schoolroom, in all ways except sleeping, was our home away from home. In that one room, we learned our lessons, practiced music, worked on sewing or manual training, struggled through our punishments, ate our lunch. Until we went to high school in a large neighboring town, we had never heard of an “assembly,” a gym, or a lunchroom.
While several grades worked on an arithmetic assignment, the teacher would hear the reading, geography, or history of another grade. It was hard to concentrate on our take-aways while the teacher outlined the battle of Bull Run on the blackboard.
“Eyes…
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Taking a Ride
It was somewhere around 1930 that my mother learned to drive. Not many women took to the roads back then; it was more a man’s privilege.
Undoubtedly, my mother’s venturous achievement had something to do with the many farm errands—learning to drive for pleasure would have been out of the question.
We even had a car in addition to the trucks, a blue Model A Ford sedan. This was a later type than the Model T, but retained the same angular shape and upstanding radiator cap.
This chariot-on-wheels opened up new vistas to me. At that time I…
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The Saving Grace
The first dog I remember was Buster. He was black and white, and I suppose a mongrel, but we never thought of him that way because we loved him whatever he was. My older sister knew Buster best—he was quite old by the time I was allowed the freedom of the out-of-doors; he was content then to be wheeled around in an old baby carriage.
For a while after Buster died we didn’t have a dog. There was sadness in the house, and then too, Rin Tin Tin was dead at 14. Back then, there was no local animal…
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Freedom On Wheels
I never longed for a bicycle. None of my friends had one, or expected to. Back then, a bicycle belonged in another lifestyle, a class farther up the social ladder.
My mother knew there were fur coats, diamond rings and convertible roadsters out there; she never thought of owning them. Such luxuries, along with bicycles, were something “they” had.
“They” was the entire population of the United States existing outside our village. “They” controlled the weather, the prices, the styles, the country.
It was my mother who decided I should have a bicycle when I was 12 years old. For…
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Fanning the Flame
It had been a hard morning in the schoolroom. The long winter was taking its toll on weather-bound spirits, and “unsatisfactory deportment” would appear on many a report card.
Skinny had hidden a big icicle in his desk, which intermittently dripped on the floor, and Willie, miserable with chilblains, sniffled by the stove.
After lunch, eaten while sleet needled the windows, Miss Crosby passed out thin volumes of The Rime of the Ancient Mariner by Coleridge.
Priss raised her hand. “My mother says that book’s too hard for us,” she said.
Miss Crosby gave her stock answer. “Becoming familiar…
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