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

Sunday, February 22, 1914:  Went to Sunday school this afternoon. We had church. Got a bid to a party next Fri.

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

The Baptist Church that Grandma attended is long gone. I think that it once stood on either the lot where the modular home is now or the vacant lot next to it.

Grandma—

Yeah! “He” finally asked you out.

—

I learned several things from this diary entry.

I learned a new meaning for the word “bid”.  According to the dictionary, one of the definitions of bid is “an invitation.” Does anyone use bid that way anymore?

And, (though I can’t be positive because of the way Grandma worded her diary entry), I think that I learned that the guy Grandma liked attended her church.

Sometimes I’m absolutely amazed how commenters on this blog have premonitions about future events in the diary before I do.

I never work very far ahead writing posts. Occasionally I get 5 or 10 days ahead—other times I’m writing them the day before they’re posted.

I’m writing this post two hours before I post it—and I’m amazed how several commenters realized before I did that the guy Grandma liked went to her church.

On February 15 Grandma wrote:

Didn’t get to Sunday School this morning as the road is not much broken. Felt quite vexed about it as I didn’t want to miss more than what I could possibly help.

Here are two comments that people made on that post: Allysonj wrote:

I wonder if she is eager to get to Sunday school because of the Valentine she missed earlier in the week – maybe the sender will be there.

And, Catherine wrote:

I also wondered if the reason Miss Muffly did not want to miss Sunday school was because of a “love” interest there…

Thank you– Allysonj, Catherine, and everyone else who takes a few moments to help me try to make sense of the diary. You’re awesome!

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

Saturday, February 21, 1914:  Went to Watsontown this afternoon on important business. Came home in due time.

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

What constitutes important business when you are 18. . . and very interested in a guy (who has only been identified as “he” in the diary)?

—

I’m probably way off base, but somehow this diary entry brings back memories of my excitement after my first date with the guy who eventually became my husband.

I wanted to show my cousin where my new boyfriend Bill lived. He lived on a farm that was visible from the main road—but down a long lane. So my cousin and I rode our bikes over to where Bill lived. We continued past the lane to a spot where we could look across the fields and get good view of his family’s farm.

We then turned the bikes around, and headed towards home. Just then Bill’s father drove up the lane, hopped out of his car and walked toward his mailbox. Of course he saw us, and I just about died.  He said “hi” (and immediately went home and told Bill that he’d seen us).

—

These many year years later, Bill still teases me about spying. Was Grandma spying on “he”?

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

Thursday, February 19, 1914:  Guess I just dozed this morning. Don’t ever sleep well after being out so late. Had a tired feeling all day.

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

No wonder Grandma was tired. She got home from a party at 2:30 a.m.

The previous day she wrote:

Ruth and I went to a party tonight over at our cousin’s. We walked to town and from there the party was conveyed in sleds. Didn’t go very fast as the roads were full of snow. My, but we did have the eats. Bet there were some, who made it hard for their poor tummies. Got home 2:30 a.m.

I can’ imagine coming home in the middle of the night and immediately sitting down to write a diary entry.  My gut feeling is that Grandma wrote both of these entries at the same time on the 19th.

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

Wednesday, February 18, 1914:  Ruth and I went to a party tonight over at our cousin’s. We walked to town and from there the party was conveyed in sleds. Didn’t go very fast as the roads were full of snow. My, but we did have the eats. Bet there were some, who made it hard for their poor tummies. Got home 2:30 a.m.

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

Grandma—

What an awesome party! . . . friends, sleds, lot of good food. . .  Was “he” at the party? Life sounds good.

I want to just enjoy your fun, but somehow the time warp isn’t totally working for me—and the middle-aged mother in me has to ask you several questions:

Don’t you think that 2:30 a.m. was a bit late to stay out?

Did you and your sister Ruth have to walk home to the farm in the middle of the night all by yourselves? Was it safe?

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

Tuesday, February 17, 1914:  Miss the mail now. Don’t get it till evening. Makes me so mad that the mail carrier is too lazy to bring it here.

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

Grandma–

Yeah! I’m glad you finally got your mail (even if it didn’t come until evening).

On Saturday, February 14 and yesterday you wrote that you were expecting a valentine, but didn’t get mail because of a snowstorm.

DID YOU GET A VALENTINE? Please don’t leave us hanging!

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

Monday, February 16, 1914: Guess I’ll be kept like a prisoner this week, at least at the first part.

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

Sounds like Grandma was going to need to wait another day to get her valentine. Two days previously she wrote:

Looked forward to a valentine this morning, but no mail carrier came as the roads were rendered impassable from the snow storm. The snow lies 18 in. deep on the ground.

February 14, 1914

Even though Grandma doesn’t mention anything about how the snowstorm affected the farm operations I can’t help wondering what her father was thinking and doing.

The Muffly’s had several cows. They would have stored the milk in the milk in cans—and may have enough cans to hold several days’ worth of milk. But it seems like Grandma’s father would have been panicking that the milk would spoil if he didn’t get it to market soon.

When I was a child growing up on a dairy farm, we always had to the get farm lane open within two days of a snowfall so that the milk truck could get in to take the milk to market.

My father would sometimes work day and night to clear the lane (and to keep it open if the snow was drifting).  If the milk truck couldn’t get in, the tank where we stored the milk would be totally filled and we would have needed to start dumping milk.

(I digressed enough. Back to Grandma’s story–another possibility is that the Muffly’s didn’t need to regularly get milk to market because they only sold butter made from the cream, and that they fed all of the skim milk to calves or pigs.)