18-year-old Helena Muffly wrote exactly 100 years ago today: 

Thursday, May 8, 1913:  Rufus was busy shining up the piano, desk, etc. with varnish. It’s rather difficult to keep from getting in it, and then you have to handle your fingers so gingerly. I’ve been warned several times.

Her middle-aged granddaughter’s comments 100 years later:

The piano was almost new. Grandma’s mother purchased it on March 29, 1913:

. . . Ma bought a piano. I’m so glad for now I can learn to play.

The meaning of the word varnish must have changed over the last hundred years. When I think of varnish, I think of a lacquer; but it sounds like Grandma was referring to furniture polish.

Grandma called her sister Ruth, Rufus when she was annoyed with her.  I can almost see Grandma’s fingerprints on the shiny piano wood; and Ruth’s exasperated expression.

18-year-old Helena Muffly wrote exactly 100 years ago today: 

Thursday, April 30, 1913:

Where the trees put on their green,

When the flowers unfold in beauty

When all nature seems to sing,

Then we know that May is on duty.

Mother and I went to Milton this morning. Shouldn’t everybody notice but what she gets tired of carting me along and buying me things.

I had my pictures taken in the same outfit I wore at commencement, so now I will sure know what I looked like when I graduated.

 

 Her middle-aged granddaughter’s comments 100 years later:  

Grandma—Thank you for getting the picture taken.  Now not only you—but also all of us—are able to see how lovely you looked in your graduation dress.

What did you “need” when you were shopping that your mother found annoying?

Monthly Poem

Another month has passed—and, as usual, Grandma began the month with a poem. This poem particularly resonates with me.

Nature is beginning to sing outside my window, and the flowers are beginning to unfold their beauty.