Her middle-aged granddaughter’s comments 100 years later:
Speck is an old-fashioned term for weight. I think that the way it is used in this sentence has Pennsylvania Dutch or German origins.
I bet Grandma lost a pound or two. I’ve chased pigs a few times in my life and they are darn hard to catch.
I’m not talking about greased pigs that are sometimes seen in competitions at fairs. I’m referring to chasing a run of the mill farm pig that has escaped from a field or pen. You’d think that it would be easy to chase back into the field or pen. Wrong!!
When chasing a cow, all you need to do to get it to turn is to stand in front of it—and the cow will immediately turn and can be directed back into the pen or field. Pigs, however, are very smart (and surprisingly fast), and they know where you want them to go. No matter what you do, a pig will refuse to head in the direction you want it to go. If you stand in front of a pig to try to make it turn, it will almost run you over as it continues going wherever it feels like going.
18-year-old Helena Muffly wrote exactly 100 years ago today:
Wednesday, July 2, 1913: It’s most too hot to do anything important so I need to write about the weather. Oh yes, I recollect, I did pick some cherries this afternoon for one thing.
Her middle-aged granddaughter’s comments 100 years later:
Mmm—cherries! What were Grandma’s favorite cherry foods? . . .maybe she made old-fashioned cherry bread. (This recipe is a favorite of one of my sons—and he always wants me to make it when he visits. Either sweet or sour cherries may be used.)
Old-Fashioned Cherry Bread
Bread
2/3 cup shortening
1 1/4 cup sugar
4 eggs
4 cups flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking soda
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 1/2 cups milk
2 teaspoons almond extract
1 cup pitted fresh cherries (or 1 pound can cherries), drained (reserve juice)
Glaze (optional)
1 tablespoon butter, melted
1 cup confectioners’ sugar
1 teaspoon almond extract
approximately 2 tablespoons reserved cherry juice
Bread: Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease and flour two 9 X 5 X 3 inch loaf pans or three 8 1/2 X 4 1/2 X 2 1/2 inch loaf pans.* ** Beat together shortening and sugar; add eggs and beat. Add flour, salt, baking soda, baking powder, milk, and almond extract; then beat until mixed. Finely chop cherries and gently fold into batter. Pour batter into prepared pans. Bake full-size loaf pans 1 to 1 1/4 hours or until wooden pick inserted in center comes out clean. (Smaller pans will take less time.) Partially cool and then remove from pans.
Glaze: Beat together until smooth: butter, confectioners’ sugar, almond extract, and cherry juice. Use more or less cherry juice to get desired consistency. Spread over loaves. Let the glaze drip down the sides.
*I usually use one 9 X 5 X 3 inch loaf pan and three “personal” loaf pans (approximately 5 1/2 X 3 X 2 inches).
**If planning to remove bread from the pans, cut a piece of wax paper to fit the bottom of each pan. Grease pan, then put wax paper into pan. Grease wax paper, and then flour pan.
Previous posts with cherry recipes that you may enjoy include:
18-year-old Helena Muffly wrote exactly 100 years ago today:
Monday, July 1, 1913:
The hottest month of the whole year ‘round.
We may surely call July
When the sun shines down and makes us brown.
Then, oh then we often sigh.
(For a day in winter.)
The beginning of this month finds me at the same things I was doing yesterday.
Her middle-aged granddaughter’s comments 100 years later:
In the diary Grandma began each month with a poem. I’ve periodically pondered whether she wrote the poems herself—or got them from some other source.
Over time, I’ve gradually (with the help of some blog readers) come to the conclusion that she wrote them herself. This poem provides even stronger evidence that she wrote them herself.
The previous day she complained about getting a tan and this poem continues along the same vein.
I’m getting a liberal covering of tan on my arms. As for my hands they experienced that some time ago.
I decided to see how Grandma’s poems have changed across the years. Surprisingly (at least to me) the poems she wrote in July, 1911 and July, 1912 had similar themes to this one.
Her middle-aged granddaughter’s comments 100 years later:
Two days ago Grandma wrote that she had to help make hay. They probably were still making hay. I picture Grandma leading horses, or using a pitchfork to sling hay onto the wagon, with the hot sun beating down on her.
An aside: I’m intrigued by the picture that I found to illustrate this post. Is it my imagination or is there a huge bridge in the background of this 1913 photo? There couldn’t have been many bridges like that a hundred years ago in agricultural areas. Does anyone have any idea where the photo may have been taken?
18-year-old Helena Muffly wrote exactly 100 years ago today:
Sunday, June 29, 1913: Went to Sunday School this afternoon. Tweet came down this evening.
Source: Milton Evening Standard (June 26, 1913)
Her middle-aged granddaughter’s comments 100 years later:
Tweet was a nickname of Helen Wesner. She was a friend of Grandma’s .
Did Grandma and Tweet gossip about the latest news in McEwensville a hundred years ago tonight?
An aside–All of the pieces don’t quite fit together in this post, so feel free to take the information with a grain of salt, but here goes—
Grandma’s former teacher at McEwensville got married. . .to a former student!
On August 26, 1912 Grandma described Bruce Bloom, her teacher during her senior year:
. . . He is rather wide, wears a pair of pinchers, and has yellow hair. Not so very cross, but I believe he could be.
The newspaper clipping says that Bruce married Mary C. Rothermel of McEwensville on the previous Monday (June 23, 1913).
I have the 1913 commencement program for McEwensville High School and it indicates that Mary C. Rothermel (as well as Grandma) were members of the class of 1913.
Now to the part about all of the pieces not quite fitting together—the newspaper article indicates that Mary C. Rothermel was a graduate of Bloomsburg State Normal School which suggests that she was a little older and not a recent graduate of the high school. . . But in a tiny village like McEwensville how could there have possibly been two Mary C. Rothermels?
I’m probably way off base—and trying to create something to gossip about a hundred years later when there really is nothing of particular interest—but I almost want to argue that the newspaper made a typo and that the groom rather than the bride was the graduate of Bloomsburg State Normal School.
And, while I’m worrying about the details, there’s another little thing that bothers me–Why did Bruce and Mary get married in Renovo on a Monday at the church parsonage? Mary was from McEwensville; Bruce was from Sunbury which is about 20 miles south of McEwensville. Renovo is a very remote town way up in the mountains about 75 miles northwest of McEwensville. Did they elope?
Whoa! I need to rein myself in. . . Improbable as it seems, there probably were two Mary C. Rothermels in McEwensville . . . and the boring newspaper clipping probably accurately tells the entire story.
18-year-old Helena Muffly wrote exactly 100 years ago today:
Saturday, June 28, 1913: Got initiated into the hay field this afternoon, and I can say that I didn’t stay there very long either.
Source: Ladies Home Journal (July, 1913)
Her middle-aged granddaughter’s comments 100 years later:
How did Grandma manage to convince her father that she didn’t need to help for very long? It takes a lot of labor to make hay, and I’m surprised that he allowed her to be a slacker.
First the grass needed to be cut, and periodically turned as it dried.
After the grass had dried into hay, it was loaded onto wagons. Horses needed to be held and led as the hay was gathered, and workers needed to fork it onto the wagon.
And, of course, this all needed to be done very quickly—with eyes always looking towards the sky for any clouds that might suggest an impending storm. As the old saying says—Make hay while the sun shines.
You may also enjoy a previous post about how hay was unloaded from wagons a hundred years ago and moved into the haymows in the barn:
18-year-old Helena Muffly wrote exactly 100 years ago today:
Friday, June 27, 1913:I forget what I did today.
Postcard of General Warren’s Statue on Little Round Top, Gettysburg, Pa. (circa 1913)
Her middle-aged granddaughter’s comments 100 years later:
Since Grandma again didn’t write much a hundred years ago today—and I find the story of the 50th Anniversary celebration of the Battle of Gettysburg fascinating, I’ll share some more excerpts from 1913 newspapers:
Gray Praises the Blue for the Great Reunion
Los Angeles Times (July 2, 1913)
In the pitiless glare of a sun that sent the mercury bubbling over the hundred mark the armies of the North and the South began today the formal exercises to mark the semi-centennial of Gettysburg.
Every seat under the canvas was taken long before Secretary of War Garrison and Gov. Tener, the orators of the day, came chugging up in their automobiles. Although the men in gray were far outnumbered by those in blue, there were possibly 2000 southerners in the amphitheater and what they lacked in numbers they made up in lung power.
Before the morning exercises began, the reunions of regiments and companies and squadrons began. Confederates who were in Pickett’s charge took keen delight in marching with fife and drum to Spangler’s wood, where the columns of Pickett formed on July 3, ’63, to begin the charge that marked the high tide of the lost cause.
On the edge of the Union side of the camp, the veterans of Meredith’s Iron Brigade and of Pettigrew’s brigade of North Carolina got together to go over the story of the fight of the first of July.
Veteran Resents Slur on Lincoln: Seven Wounded
Chicago Daily Tribune (July 3, 1913)
Seven men were stabbed tonight in the dining room of the Gettysburg Hotel as a result of a fight which started when several men aroused the anger of a veteran in blue by abusing Lincoln. . . .
. . . the flight started suddenly and was over in a few minutes. It began when the dining room was full and caused a panic among the scores of guests.
The veteran heard the slighting remarks about Lincoln. He jumped to his feet and began to defend the martyred president and berated the detractors. . .
A romance developed in camp today when John Goodwin of New York, a veteran, and Margaret Murphy of Chicago were united in marriage by Squire Harnish. Forty-six years ago the two were engaged, but they subsequently married others. They became widower and widow, the old flame was rekindled, and they agreed to come to Gettysburg on the fiftieth anniversary of the battle and marry. The happy pair will go on a wedding tour from here and will reside in New York.
Gen. “Tom” Steward of Pennsylvania is telling an amusing story of a “runaway vet” he came across in the big camp. The veteran is 85 years old and his son at home announced decisively that under no circumstances should his aged parent go to Gettysburg. The desire to be here and meet his former comrades was so strong in the heart of the old gentleman that he climbed out of a window of this home and ran away, turning up here in good shape. He is now happy and well cared for.
Veterans as Good Story Tellers as They Formerly Were Solders
New York Times (July 3, 1913)
Last night the veterans were really able to enjoy themselves for the first time since their arrival. ..
A roaring storm swept down out of the Blue Ridge over the plateau of Gettysburg yesterday morning, bringing needed relief to the thousands of veterans in blue and gray, who had sweltered for four days in an atmosphere that was dangerous in the city of 50,000 old and weary men.
For more than a half hour the rain came pouring down upon the sun-cracked and wind-swept encampment grounds. It charged with violent thundering over the ground that Pickett covered in ’63. Its salvos of thunder were like the booming guns of Meade and Lee, but the thermometer dropped with wonderful ability and the lightning cleared the air of its humidity. . .
So many cases have been reported of veterans losing their return railroad tickets and the consequent distress because of the inability to purchase transportation that Governor Tener yesterday notified General Liggett, the United Sates army officer in charge of the camp, that the state of Pennsylvania would pay the return fare of all veterans who had lost their tickets.
Gettysburg Cold to Wilson’s Speech
New York Times (July 5, 1913)
Mr. Wilson came to Gettysburg at 11 o’clock by train from Baltimore. His appearance at the station of Gettysburg was the signal for a cheer and from down in the Gettysburg College grounds came a twenty-one gun salute. . .
The President spoke slowly and carefully, but the breeze played under the side of the tent and the restless feet of those who hastened in made it difficult for the old men to hear and understand. He was interrupted only once or twice with cheering and that seemed perfunctory. . .
At high tide the camp cared for 65,000 men, about 85 percent of whom were old warriors, not put under the discipline of fighting men, and susceptible to all the ill-effects that climate and camp hardships can have on men. The youngest was scarcely less than 65 years old, and most of them were 70 or more. In view of the average fatalities in the best conducted military camps of the world, allowance had been made for ten deaths a day in the camp. Yet there were only eight deaths for the four days of the encampment, and one of the victims was killed by an automobile.
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