Sometimes when I hit the pillow at night, exhausted and stressed by a full day and yet too keyed up to sleep, I fantasize about living as my great-grandmother might have, a century ago. I’d be surrounded by a loving, extended family with nothing more taxing to do than rock a fretful baby or dole out advice on relationships.
But was Grandma’s life enviable?
Women on the farm a century ago worked from sun up to sun down and sometimes longer. Running water usually meant grab a bucket and run to the well or dugout. Wood had to be hauled in for heating and cooking and the ashes had to be hauled out. The older children often helped with these chores but it still fell to Mother to oversee the running of the house.
She likely spent all day Monday doing laundry and all Tuesday ironing. The water had to be hauled in, heated and disposed of. I remember Mother using the last grey soapy wash water to scrub the verandah. That hot water was precious!
There was no corner store to run to, so at least once a week she was baking bread and churning butter, if they were lucky enough to have a milk cow. Separating milk, feeding the chickens and gathering eggs were also usually part of the “kitchen” chores.
Because there was no 24-hour WalMart, our grandmothers made an art of “making do.” Recipe books always had a lengthy section on substitutions. Rationing during the war years added to their inventiveness.
Off-the-rack clothing was rare, so sewing and knitting were continuous projects. Father’s shirt got a new lease on life by turning the collar. The knees of pants were patched of necessity, not fashion. And when you had lovingly knit those socks, you darned the holes in the heels, rather than throw them out.
There was no walk-in clinic with free medical care. Grandma had a remedy for most things and nursed sick family members while she kept the house running. When Grandma became too old to care for herself, there was no nursing home to go to. She was cared for at home but probably worried that others were resentful of the burden she imagined she had become.
The dark side of “the good old days” was the many infants who died of preventable infections and the vigorous young women who died in childbirth. The headstones in the cemetery tell the grim story.
I know that my grandmother loved to learn and expand her mind. I believe she would have enjoyed the Internet. We used to keep in touch by telephone and letters, but now grandparents can Skype with toddlers on the other side of the world.
Grandma had a career before she was married and she always believed in rights for women. One of my treasured possessions is her first voter registration card.
I think I’m living the “good days” now. The old days were good in their own way, but definitely much harder for women.
They say each of us stands on the shoulders of the previous generation. I think my grandmothers had very broad, strong shoulders indeed.
