Category: Other

Winter Fun

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

Monday, February 20, 1911: A glorious snow came today, hurrah for the sleigh rides through the fleecy snow. I had a swift ride home from school this evening.

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

Sleigh rides sound awesome. There was probably a building anticipation of fun as the snow fell throughout the day. Grandma may have considered herself too grown-up, but some of the students probably enjoyed sledding during the lunch break.

In Grandma’s day, the school at McEwensville housed an elementary school on the first floor and a high school on the second. About 20 years after this diary was written my father attended elementary school in the same building. He talks about pulling his sled to and from school on snowy days so that he could use it during recess. (He walked nearly 2 miles each way and it seems like it would have been a hassle to pull a sled—but he assures me that it wasn’t).

A photo from last summer of the old "sledding hill" behind McEwensville High School. Look carefully to see the building through the trees.

Dad says that older students and younger students paired up for fast rides down the hill behind the school. Last summer when Dad and I were taking photos Dad was amazed that the sledding hill is now covered with trees—and and that it didn’t look nearly as long or steep as he had remembered it.

Stirring at Something

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

Saturday, February 18, 1911: Strange to say, I don’t believe I was a bit sleepy today, but I didn’t get up so very early this morning. It has been so quiet today, but I don’t think I was, for it seems I am stirring at something that I have no business to. If I would only stir at my neglected studies.

Recent photo of the home where Grandma grew up. I wonder if she looked out of one of the windows in the photo when she woke up.

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

No wonder Grandma slept late since she didn’t get home from the party until 2 a.m. (see yesterday).  Why is her head still spinning with ideas, and she is “stirring at something that I have no business to?” Did a guy show an interest in her? . . . Is he the boyfriend of someone else? . . .

Home by 2 a.m.

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

Friday, February 17, 1911:  I went to a party this evening in McEwensville up at Watson’s I had a very pleasant time. It was almost two o’clock when I got home.

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

Grandma must have actually written this diary entry the day after it is dated. Sounds like a fun party— but, whew, 2 a.m. sounds late for a 15-year-old. I wonder how Grandma got home. . .

Did she walk the mile and a half home?  . . . alone? . . . with her sister? . . . with someone else? Or maybe someone gave her a ride in a carriage? If so, who?

Did Grandma sneak into the house so her parents hopefully won’t notice how late she was out?

Knitting to Soothe Irritable Nerves

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

Monday, February 13, 1911: I can’t find hardly anything new to write today. Besse was out this afternoon. Everything seemed to grow wrong with me this evening.

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

Maybe Grandma should have taken up knitting.  In 1911 the Ladies Home Journal recommended:

Why not try knitting or crocheting when you grow restless? Many girls find the monotony of a simple pattern very soothing to irritable nerves.

Ladies Home Journal, November 1911, p. 44

Horsing Around

15-year-old Helena wrote a hundred years ago today:

Monday, February 6, 1911. It snowed today. Hope it will stay for a while at least. Was rather cold today. Got too close to the stove pipe at school today and burned my hand. Didn’t feel very good. Put some black on a kid’s face, and then he put some on mine. I tried to prevent him. Got my arm scratched and tore my waist. Got a ride home from school today. (It was in a sleigh.)

Waist
Her middle-aged granddaughter’s comments 100 years later:
Whew, a lot happened today. Was a guy chasing Grandma around the coal stove that heated the room?—And did she end up burning her hand and tearing her waist (today we’d call it a shirt)?  Was the guy her classmate Raymond—whom she would later marry— or was it some other student she thought was cute (or annoying)?

I want to ask, “What in the world were you thinking?” Then I remember that it’s a hundred years later, that I can’t talk to the 15-year-old diary author, and that I’m looking at it through my “parent” lens. So I guess if I could talk to the teen-ager in the diary I’d just say, “It’s too bad you burned your hand, but it sure sounds like fun. Hope your mother wasn’t too mad about the waist.”

Just not into ice skating?

15-year-old Helena wrote a hundred years ago today:

Friday, February 3, 1911. I got out of school early this afternoon. They all went skating except me. Helen Wesner was here and is going to stay all night. I’ll have to retire to another sleeping corner but I don’t care. It is only for one night, so what’s the diff? I may have some peace.

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

Sounds like Grandma’s sister Ruth invited a friend over for a sleep-over. This is the third time in the diary that Grandma mentions ice skating—but indicates that she didn’t go (see January 17 and 26). And, no diary entries  indicated that Grandma went skating. It seems odd that she never goes since the skating area apparently is on the creek right next to the  Muffly home. Why? . . Was Grandma  a poor skater?. . . Didn’t enjoy the company? . . . Skates didn’t fit and hurt her feet? . . . Didn’t like the cold?. . .

Reusing Cloth Calendars

15-year-old Helena wrote a hundred years ago today:

Sunday, January 29, 1911. I wondered around aimlessly today doing this and doing that, just to while the time away.

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

Since not much happened a hundred years ago on this date—let’s fast forward to another January day 52 years later–probably a very routine day from Grandma’s perspective, but a day that I still remember.

In January 1963 Grandma would have been 68 years old. I was 7 and often visited her in her cozy bungalow on a neighboring farm. Cloth dish towels with calendars printed on them were the fad at the time, and Grandma always had a cloth calendar hanging decoratively in her kitchen. The calendar towel had a dowel running through the top hem and a string attached to the ends of the dowels, and it hung from a nail that was pounded into the wall.

I noticed that the calendar said 1957. I was old enough to know that the year was 1963. I asked Grandma why she had an old calendar.

She replied, “Calendars repeat themselves every so often.”   She walked over to the closet  at the far end of the kitchen, opened the door, and showed me a stack of cloth calendars. On top of the folded stack was a sheet of paper with Grandma’s handwriting on it. It indicated which years were the same. For example, one row on the page may have said 1958, 1969 which indicated that the 1958 calendar could be reused in 1969.

She pulled out calendars and explained how some patterns repeated with regularity—whereas due to the vagaries of leap year–other calendar patterns seldom repeated. It was so complicated that I could barely follow her explanation—but trying to understand calendar quirks consumed my mental energy for the next several days. I looked at calendars, drew calendars, asked questions about leap year. . .

Today it’s easy to find out when calendar years repeat with a quick internet search—it was a much harder task back then. But, looking back, Grandma’s explanation that day partially frames how I think about her.  She was smart, and obviously enjoyed the challenge of keeping track of calendars and years.

Grandma was also always very frugal and reusing old calendars seemed to fit her. I wonder if the 15-year-old in the diary would have been as frugal—or if the Great Depression and other events in the intervening years made her thriftier.