Teaser Tuesday for The Golden Eagle

Part of my family, early 1900s

I love antiques, and often find myself searching through all sorts of ancient (to me) objects.  This book is one of them. 

The Ideas of a Plain Country Woman by “The Country Contributor”, published in 1909.  This nameless woman wrote several articles for Indianapolis News and then a few for Ladies Home Journal. 

As I struggled to adjust to the writing style of more than one hundred years ago, I also was reminded of my grandmothers who were alive, young women even, at that time period.  While this book could have been entertaining as a memoir of the ‘good ol’ times’, with frequent references to milking cows and churning milk, it did not.

My Grandmother, 1916

Instead this Writer presented the conflict her generation felt with being a countrywoman who has an Eighth Grade education, and sees what is coming for the next generation.  She started the book writing about her struggles in a one room school house, and her struggles with math.  When the writer finished 8^th grade, she was filled with a sense of accomplishment.

The Writer wrote about men, and how their perspectives are with the bigger picture. “…Men think in years and decades…but a woman’s life is in the details of the big schemes of things…(she) rebels (and) wishes she, too, take a hand at epoch making…” 

She also reflected on Women Suffragettes and the right to vote.  All for it, the Writer wondered then about the home and how it would change.  “…wherever you are, wherever there is a 

point of alert, interested consciousness, 

THERE is the centre of the universe…”

One room school house; my dad holding the ball, in front

The Writer wrote about her daughter’s high school graduation.  This was an accomplishment in its own in 1900.  But, as she listened to the guest speaker degraded any woman who did not keep moving into the university, the Writer looked at her daughter.  The young lady already was going to teach in a local school, and change lives by education.

While this book tends to wander in its prose, the Writer stays true to her understanding that there is the centre of the universe, and it is wherever the reader finds it to be.

This is for “Teaser Tuesday” with The Golden Eagle at 

this site!

Samuel and Nana

courtesy of Bing.com

Samuel relived the day from the confines of his crib.  A tent had been installed onto the crib.  It prevented any escapes, despite Samuel’s thorough examination of the installation.

The Mommy went out for something about her nails, and Nana had come to watch him.  Nana, Samuel decided, is one tough old bird. 

Nana had raised The Daddy and four Uncles.  Nana anticipated his every move.  How is that possible?  Samuel himself was making things up as he went.

Nana had put Samuel in the useless play-pen, and parked her rocking chair right by it.  Every time Samuel lifted his foot to the bar, Nana grabbed it and put it down, “NO, you will not TRY that one!”

Oh, Samuel had tried all his maneuvers, everyone in his arsenal.  Nana foiled each one.  When The Mommy came, Nana let down her watch.  The iron oppression lifted, the thrill of the chase began.

Nana’s purse was on the coffee table.  While Nana sipped coffee and laughed with The Mommy, Samuel slinked off with the purse.  Plopping down behind the curtains, Samuel dumped the contents.  Ah ha!  Red Fire lipstick!  The game is a-foot. 

Samuel started small and worked large.  He massaged Red Fire lines into the carpet, onto his face, and wiped his hands on the drape.  Magnificent.  Lipstick is my true medium.

Then there was the screaming, the retribution, and the sounds of scrubbing.  Nana put him in the tub and he did not come out until every hint of Red Fire was gone.   

When Nana put him into his crib, and none too gently, their eyes met and their minds connected.  As Nana left the room, Samuel smiled.  His Red Fire hand prints were all over her butt.  Well played, young man.  Well played.

Go to See*Photo*Write   

Sipping her tea as she watched Cameron with his friends, Sharon remembered every word she and her teenage son had exchanged that morning.  They were bitter words, angry words.

Sharon watched her son laugh with boys just like him, and wondered if they had also fought with their mothers that morning.  The boys erupted into an impromptu football game, showing off their prowess.  ‘Almost men, still little boys,’ Sharon grimaced as one boy hit the ground with a loud grunt.

Jake came into the kitchen from the garage, and wrapped his arms around her.  “Whatcha doin’?” he growled into her ear.  Then he looked out the window.  Jake laughed when Cameron leaped high to catch a bad throw, and landed gracefully.

“Oh, just watching our son.  You hear the fight this morning?”  Sharon walked to the range where a big pot of chili was simmering.  The cornbread in the oven was almost done.

“Oh, yeah, I heard it.  The neighbors probably heard it, too.”

Sharon sighed.  “Oh, Jake.  I am just so scared for him.  He is too young for this football camp…and I know, I know.  It’s his chance for a college scholarship.  But he is so young, so impressionable.”  She stirred the chili, and pulled the steaming hot cornbread from the oven.  “How do we know he will be okay?  That he won’t be pulled into…bad habits.  Ya’ know?”

Jake heard her.  Without a word, he took down a framed photo from the wall.  “I know, because of this.”  He held out the photo.  “This was taken when we were at a Father/Son Church Camp.  He found Christ that year, and hasn’t taken his eyes off God since then.”

Sharon took the photo, and looked at her two men.  Both loved God, and were loved by God.  “God will keep Cameron in His Hands…”  She hummed the old tune.  “Hey, call the boys in for supper.  They must be starved by now.” 

Sharon set the photo on the table, right in front of Cameron’s place.  ‘It’s a great conversation piece’ she thought, as the boys rumbled into the kitchen.