18-year-old Helena Muffly wrote exactly 100 years ago today:
Sunday, January 18, 1914: A couple of girlfriends called this afternoon.
Her middle-aged granddaughter’s comments 100 years later:
Since I don’t think that the Muffly’s had a phone, I assume that “called” means “visited.”
Did Grandma serve a snack to her girlfriends? . . .Maybe some Libby’s California canned fruits?
18-year-old Helena Muffly wrote exactly 100 years ago today:
Saturday, January 17, 1914: I don’t believe I slept at all this morning. Got home at two o’clock. Felt rather queer all day.
Her middle-aged granddaughter’s comments 100 years later:
Grandma–2 am!!!
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Awe, the joys of being young–I can’t remember the last time I stayed up until 2.
Probably Grandma couldn’t sleep because of all the thoughts, wishes, and dreams rushing through her head. The diary entry for the previous day said:
Ruth and I went up to Oakes’ this evening. The occasion being a birthday surprise part for Al. Had a very, very fine time. He was there. That’s why I had such a good time.
—
Based on the way the entries for January 16 and 17 were written, it seems like Grandma wrote them both on the 17th. It makes me wonder how often she actually wrote several diary entries at the same time.
18-year-old Helena Muffly wrote exactly 100 years ago today:
Friday, January 16, 1914: Ruth and I went up to Oakes’ this evening. The occasion being a birthday surprise party for Al. Had a very, very fine time. He was there. That’s why I had such a good time.
Her middle-aged granddaughter’s comments 100 years later:
Grandma—
What fun! It’s wonderful to hear that you had a “very, very fine time.” It sounds like your life is getting more exciting.
Just one question—Who the heck was “he”?
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The Oakes lived on a farm near the Mufflys, and had several children about the same age as Grandma and her sister Ruth–—Al, Jim, and Rachel.
This was the second time in less than two weeks Grandma and Ruth went to Oakes. On January 7, 1914 Grandma wrote:
. . . Ruthie and I went up to Oakes’ this evening.
18-year-old Helena Muffly wrote exactly 100 years ago today:
Thursday, January 15, 1914: Well we did get our piano tuned at last. Am so glad of it. This will be more an inducement to get my lessons better.
“A piano tuner’s most basic tools include the tuning hammer (lever) and mutes.”
Photo and caption source: Wikipedia
Her middle-aged granddaughter’s comments 100 years later:
The piano tuner probably arrived in a horse and buggy—and today they’d come in a car—but I don’t think that the process used to tune pianos has changed much over the last hundred years.
This is how Wikipedia describes the process:
Piano tuning is the act of making minute adjustments to the tensions of the strings of an acoustic piano to properly align the intervals between their tones so that the instrument is in tune. . . .
18-year-old Helena Muffly wrote exactly 100 years ago today:
Wednesday, January 14, 1914: Did some experimenting in the baking line this afternoon. Didn’t turn out so bad either. That’s ‘bout all I can think of at present.
Her middle-aged granddaughter’s comments 100 years later:
Grandma—
What did you make? Maybe some Raisin-Filled Cookies? I remember that we often had them during the winter when I was a kid. They made the perfect after-school snack on cold winter days.
Old-fashioned Raisin-Filled Cookies
Filling
3/4 cup raisins
2/3 cup brown sugar
3 tablespoons flour
2/3 cup water
Combine all filling ingredients and cook over medium heat until thick.
Cookie
1/3 cup shortening
2/3 cup brown sugar
1 egg
1/2 teaspoon vanilla
1/3 teaspoon baking soda
1 1/4 cup flour
Preheat oven to 375 degrees.
Combine shortening, brown sugar, egg, vanilla, and soda; then stir in flour. Roll thin and cut into cookies using a round cutter. Place on a lightly greased cookie sheet. Put a spoonful of filling (don’t overfill) in center of cookie. Top with another cookie that has a small circle cut in the center. Firmly press edges together.
Bake for approximately 10 minutes or until cookie is lightly browned.
I have a set of round fondant cut-out cutters. I used the large cutter to make the cookies—and then cut the hole in the center of the top cookies using the small cutter.
When I was a child we made cookies that were a little larger. We used a doughnut cutter that had a removable hole cutter. We removed the hole cutter to make the bottom cookie.
18-year-old Helena Muffly wrote exactly 100 years ago today:
Tuesday, January 13, 1914: Ditto
The Start for Her
“My Dear Girl” said a father to his daughter, “what do you suffragists want anyhow?”
“Why Dad, we want to sweep the country.” Replied the daughter.
“Do you?” said the father, “Why, now, suppose you take a broom and start with this room.”
Ladies Home Journal (January, 1914)
Her middle-aged granddaughter’s comments 100 years later:
The previous day Grandma wrote that it was cold outside. Since she didn’t have much to say a hundred years ago today, I’ll share a joke (and the illustration) about suffragettes in the January, 1914 issue of Ladies Home Journal.
Women didn’t get the right to vote until 1920. It’s somewhat shocking how little support a women’s magazine in 1914 showed for women’s rights.
18-year-old Helena Muffly wrote exactly 100 years ago today:
Monday, January 12, 1914: Pretty cold today.
Her middle-aged granddaughter’s comments 100 years later:
Since Grandma didn’t write much a hundred years ago today, my thoughts keep going back to the dance she went to the previous Friday. . .
The February, 1914 issue of Ladies Home Journal had some recommendations for where the man should place his hand when dancing:
The Man’s Hand in Dancing
Since the mania for dancing is so prevalent, and all decent people are anxious to check the present indecent tendencies in the dances, may we suggest to parents and to all dancing teachers that the proper place, laid down by all good authorities in the art of dancing, for the man’s right hand is at the woman’s waist-line and not in the middle of her back?
This may seem like a small and incidental point in good dancing, bit it has much to do not only with the morality of the dance, but with its graces as well, to say nothing of his partner’s dress incidental to his perspiring hands. . . .
