The Ruby Chronicles (#7)

Editor Note:  The Ruby Chronicles essays come to me courtesy of Sid Stivland. 

My First Job

The summer I was fourteen, my mom asked me if I would help an acquaintance, Gerda, with housework for a week.  She had a new baby.  They lived on a farm six miles from our place.  There was a half-mile driveway to their buildings nestled in a thick grove of beautiful trees.  There I felt so isolated from the rest of the world.  They had no telephone.  I missed my family and girl friends.

There was plenty of work to do – helping with the cleaning- the cooking and hanging clothes out to dry.

Before I came there Gerda had promised to take me to our church’s midsummer picnic in the afternoon.  It was held at one of the parishioner’s farm home.  The children gave their Bible School program and a fancy work (crafts) auction was held.  The pop and ice cream stand was a big attraction for the kids.

The night before the picnic I picked sticks in the woods for kindling.  I was going to be sure I had the dinner ready early.  I had never fired with coal briquettes before.  I filled the stove full of coal and got a red-hot fire.

Ruby Johnson Anderson

The Ruby Chronicles (#6)

Editor Note:  The Ruby Chronicles essays come to me courtesy of Sid Stivland. 

Our Cheery Kitchen

Our spacious cheery kitchen with a southern exposure, also used as a family room, is the center of much activity. 

Aromas of delicious food often wafted from the two warming compartments at the top of the stove. The four chrome legs on which the stove rested made it look very elegant.

What a delight after our long walk home from rural school to run into the kitchen and catch the aroma of freshly baked bread.  And best of all, Mom is always waiting for us there.

If the kitchen table we had in my childhood home could talk, it would have many stories to tell.

The wooden oblong table with four grooved legs stood in the middle of our large kitchen.  It could be moved easily because the legs had casters underneath.  The extra table leaves were used when a longer table was needed. Seven sturdy chairs stood around the table for my two brothers, two sisters, Mom, Dad, and me. Since there were five of us children, two boys and three girls and Mom and Dad, we had a large table.  At mealtime the boys were always seated on the south side; Mom and Dad on the north side and the girls on the ends of the table.  The cloth on the table was a brightly colored oil cloth with and interesting design.  On Sunday or special occasions when we had company, a white linen cloth was used.

Even as younger children we were excited to see a new colorful oil cloth replace the old one so worn in the corners. At dusk the kerosene lamp, later replaced by the Aladdin lamp, was lit and placed in the center of the table.

During threshing time the table could easily be extended to accommodate many men.  They eagerly sat down to devour the fresh beef roast, brown gravy, potatoes, fresh green vegetables, warm home-made bread and delicious dessert.  My mouth waters when I think of the aroma of fresh bread wafting from the table.

The table was used for many purposes.  The ironing was done on a padded board laid on the table.  When our seamstress came she laid the material and pattern on the table and cut out the garment.  Many lessons were learned sitting around this table – table manners, public and Sunday school lessons, and our table prayers.  Games were played and many valentines and paper dolls were cut out.

At meal-time I sat across from my Mom, and often she would say, “Ruby, you have to eat some potatoes”.  I would rather make a meal out of only bread and butter.

At eventide a kerosene lamp with a shiny globe was lit.  However, the corners of the room were not very light until the Aladdin lamp was used.

In our kitchen there were no built-in cupboards, but a walk-in pantry with many shelves adjoining the kitchen on the north side.  The fancy dishes and all the best dinner set were placed on the top shelves while the grocery staples, baking pans, and the kettles were on the lower shelves.  Many home baked goodies were found on the shelves, and the many loaves of homemade bread and buns were kept fresh in a large crock.  

The white enamel water pail with a dipper from which we all drink is on the table near the pantry.  On this table Mom makes the big loaves of yummy bread and cakes and cookies.  She bakes them in the large latched oven of the nickel trimmed stove.  The stove has a large reservoir filled with water from the cistern pump.  The pump is on the right side of the sink where we wash ourselves. Either wood or coal was used for fuel. The heating unit was at one end of the stove.  From this the hot air circulated to the cook top with the four round plates, and around the oven with the heavy hinged door, and to the rain water reservoir at the other end of the stove. A crank was used to shake the grates, so the ashes would fall into a pan below.

A table on the north side of the kitchen was the work table on which much baking was done.  On this table, too, the dishes were washed and rinsed in the dish pan and rinsing pan.  Then all the dishes were carried into the pantry and placed on the shelves.

Since we did not have electricity, we didn’t have a refrigerator.  What a luxury it was when ice box was purchased and placed in the hallway adjoining the kitchen.

In the southwest corner of the room a Minnesota sewing machine similar to a Singer machine stood.  A great variety of things were mended and sewed on this machine.  Grain sacks were mended before threshing time.  Many overalls were patched and a hired seamstress sewed many pretty dresses for the girls from organdy, wool, cotton, and rayon materials.  In this corner were boxes of clothes or socks to be mended, towels to be hemmed, or aprons to be sewed.  Many a late night Mom sat there patching or sewing

A lot of living took place around this table and in our cozy kitchen.

Ruby Johnson Anderson

The Ruby Chronicles (#5)

Editor Note:  The Ruby Chronicles essays come to me courtesy of Sid Stivland. 

The Attic

Spring or fall was the only time we could play in the attic.  It was not heated or air conditioned. Rummaging through the many big boxes containing old dresses and hats was so much fun.  There were the black velvet, wide-brimmed with fancy plumes, the plain hats, and the straw hats.  Rhoda and I often played we had a millinery shop like Mrs. Irgens in part of their Mercantile Store in Farwell.  Mrs. Irgens was a high pressured saleslady whom we often mimicked “If this hat is too plain-looking, I can put some flowers on it, or “I can put a plume on this hat – how would you like that?”  A chicken long tail feather or turkey tail feather found in the yard made a nice plume, we thought.  The long black skirt made of cotton or sateen and the sheer white blouse trimmed with fancy small buttons or lace trim made quite an outfit.

Another day we would go in to the restaurant business.  Little did we know about restaurants as the only time we went into one was when we went into the little café in Lowry and bought an ice cream cone for five cents.  To be a waitress was so much fun.  The customers, our dolls, sat on an overturned box.  Larger cardboard boxes served as tables.  The dolls ordered coffee (water) and cookies or crackers. Many of the youngsters drank coffee in those days.

Clothes dryers were unheard of.  The attic was a good place to hang the wet clothes on long lines.  At least the clothes froze and this speeded up the drying.  To go up two flights of stairs to get these heavy clothes – long underwear with frozen arms and legs sticking out wasn’t much fun.

In the middle of the roof was a trap door.  Pa climbed a ladder, opened the door and got on top of the roof to check on the chimney.  We thought it would be such fun to get on top of the roof and look over the country side.  But that was definitely a no-no.

The last year I lived in my childhood home the attic was almost empty.  During World War II, Mother and I sent many boxes of good used clothing – men’s suits, sweaters, dresses, and curtains to my relatives in Norway.  Clothes and many commodities were scarce there.  We read with great interest their letters telling who used the clothing.  It was especially interesting to hear how Aunt Margith made a bridal veil and train from one of the long lace curtain panels we sent.  And when Aunt Margith visited us in the fall of 1947, she brought me a wedding photo of my cousin and husband.  

She was wearing the veil made from the lace curtain.

Ruby Johnson Anderson

The Ruby Chronicles (#4)

Editor Note:  The Ruby Chronicles essays come to me courtesy of Sid Stivland. 

Christmas in My Youth

Why are Christmas decorations hung up so early in our small towns and cities?  We haven’t digested our Thanksgiving turkey before we hear the cities are already decorated for Christmas.

When I was a young girl perhaps 10 or 12, our mother always asked us to go to our kind neighbor lady, Mrs. Borg, on December 24^th and help her get her house cleaned and tree decorated if they had one.  My older sister often baked cookies for her while Rhoda and I cleaned.

Oh how pleased we were and how good we felt when Mrs. Borg’s house was ready for the holidays.

Late afternoon we trudged home and decorated our tree which stood in one corner of the living room.

After our traditional Christmas Eve meal of lutefisk, lefse, and potato sausage and outside chores all done, we all went into the living room and had our gift exchange.  The gifts were practical ones – scarves, mittens, etc.

I remember I brought a little red ball for 5c at Bisek’s Mercantile Store to give Rhoda one year.

Ruby Anderson Johnson

The Ruby Chronicles (#3)

Editor Note:  The Ruby Chronicles come to me courtesy of Sid Stivland. 

Walking To and From School

What a picture we must have made – five brothers and sisters walking Indian style over fields, meadows, and hills.  Neighbor children joined us.  Our two-mile walk was exhilarating and fun.  

Time passed quickly when our older sister taught us spelling and poetry.

When we were in the lower grades, we would rush in and say to our teacher, “I can spell ‘extraordinary’ or some word of many syllables.”  Even more exciting was when we could say to her, “We can recite ‘The Village blacksmith’ or ‘Still Sits the Schoolhouse By the Road’”.  

To change our route during the muddy season and crawl under ten fences was a challenge.

When homeward bound, our dear neighbor lady often called to us, “Kom in for kaffe”.  Oh how good the coffee and home-made bread tasted.  Yum yum.  It makes my mouth water.

Ruby Johnson Anderson

The Ruby Chronicles (#2)

Editor Note:  The Ruby Chronicles essays come to me courtesy of Sid Stivland. 

Our Country Schoolhouse

The one-room school with high bell tower and tall flag pole stood on one acre of land. The hall and class room looked bleak with its gray ceiling, walls, and floor.  We were fascinated by what was on the walls – the colorful pictures, pupils handiwork, the clock with the swinging pendulum, maps on rollers, kerosene lamp on a bracket, pencil sharpener, a large picture of George Washington, the long chart of the alphabet, and the glass framed Gettysburg address.

How fun to share a double seat and desk carved with initials with my twin sister or a friend. We often huddled close to the black jacketed coal stove on the coldest days and soon there was the smell of hot rubber and leather.

Although the supply of paper and library books in the big book case was limited, our kind teacher gave us a good beginning.

All the boys and girls waited for the school noon hour.  We wanted to skate on the glassy ice on a pond nearby.

We gulped our cold meat sandwiches and a cookie.

With our teacher’s permission, we quickly ran across the field to the pond.  The cold southeast wind nipped the nose and fingers.

We were happy to find a log by the edge of the pond.  We sat on it as we took off our four-buckle overshoes and put on our skates.  These clamped to our shoes.

For awhile we all skated around the edge of the pond.  Soon, my twin sister, a better and faster skater than I, skated toward the middle.  Suddenly, the ice gave way and she plunged into the cold icy water up to her waist.  She floundered around in the water.  The boys and girls yelled.  Then we all froze.  There wasn’t even a long stick we could push out to her.  Somehow she managed to grasp onto the broken edge of ice and climbed out of the water.  The bell was ringing so off went the skates and we all dashed back to the schoolhouse.

The teacher, soberly and quietly, told my sister she would have to remove her shoes and socks and sit by the stove.  The stove was in the back part of the room.

My sister, embarrassed and uncomfortable in her one-piece long underwear and woolen dress, sat there the rest of the afternoon.  Some of the boys snickered when they smelled the drying shoe leather.

No one scolded my sister for everyone was happy she didn’t drown.

Ruby Johnson Anderson