Working Our Way Through Childhood
Ann Stallings Draper
By Ann Stallings Draper
I had been tending my three grandsons for the day, and they had been little “hellers.” My cats were on the roof, toys were scattered all over the house, clothes dropped in every room, and I was ready to blow my top by the time my son came to pick them up. I put on a pot of coffee, and while it brewed, I got the cats off the roof, put the toys away, gathered the clothes and put them into the washer. Then, as I sipped my coffee, I thought about what Mother had put up with, and I polished her celestial crown until it out shown the brightest star in the heavens. It was then that I noticed the magic slate that the kids had been playing with lying on the table. I picked it up to put it away, and saw what had been written on it. “We love you, Grandma.” It was signed Steve, Chris and Michael. Tears came to my eyes, and I stopped to thin, “Had I ever told Mother that I loved her?” I don’t think I ever had, and I couldn’t remember any of us showing Mother or each other any affection.
I wondered how she had raised seven kids, cooked for the family—plus six or eight hired men—kept us and the house clean, and still retained her sanity.
Mother was a morning person. She was always up before the sun, winter and summer. Dad liked the fresh morning air, but he liked it in bed. Mother was up, had the fires started and breakfast ready before anyone got out of bed.
Breakfast at our house was not a bowl of cereal and a slice of toast. We had cooked mush, biscuits, honey, jelly, and jam on the table. If anyone wanted ham, bacon, or eggs, Mother would prepare them in a matter of minutes. One of my favorite breakfasts was cooked whole wheat. Mother cleaned and washed the wheat the night before, poured boiling water on it, and put it on back of the stove to let it soak, steam, and partially cook over night. Boy was it good, whether with milk and sugar, or butter, salt and pepper.
I often thought that one reason Mother got up so early was so that she could spend some time with herself and do her own thinking. She didn’t have much time to do it during the day.
Mom’s Schedule - Mother had a schedule worked out, not by the hour, but by the day. Monday was wash day, come hell or high water.
Nowadays, I gather my dirty clothes, chuck them in the washer, set the timer, and go about cleaning the rest of my house. When the bell rings, I put them in the dryer until the bell rings again. I take them out, fold them, and put them away.
In Mother’s day, it was all done by hand power. We didn’t have hot water, so on Monday mornings she filled the boiler. This vessel had about 10 or 15 gallons of water. She put it on the hottest part of the stove as soon as she got the fire going. While it was heating, she gathered up the dirty clothes and sorted them. Sheets and pillow cases made up the first batches. Towels and dish towels were next, followed by underwear, colored dresses and shirts. Last came overalls, colored work shirts, and socks.
By the time we got up, had our breakfast, and did the dishes, the washing was ready to go. Mother made her own soap—a combination of fat drippings and wood ashes or lye. For washday, she kept a can of soap and put hot water in it, then set it on the back of the stove to wash with. The hot water was carried to the machine, soap added, clothes put in, and motor turned on. The motor consisted of “kid power.” Each child took a turn, cranking the wheel that turned the washer, swishing the clothes back and forth in the soapy water to get them clean. They were clean when Mother said they were clean.
Next, we turned the crank on the wringer that took most of the soapy water out of the clothes. They were dropped into a tub of cold rinse water. Then, they went through the wringer again, and into the bluing water to brighten them. Some of the clothes had to be starched, and all of them had to be hung on the clothes line. On windy days, they dried quickly, and in winter, they froze dried.
About 10 o’clock, Mother had to take a break. Not a coffee break. She had to start getting dinner ready for the hired men. This was the biggest meal of the day, and consisted of meat, potatoes, gravy, one or two vegetables, bread, butter, jam, and dessert or fruit. While the meal was cooking, she continued the washing. Sometimes she ran out of lines, and the overalls, shirts, and socks had to be hung on the bushes or fences. This became a game with us to see who could make the funniest-looking bush. When the clothes were dry, they were brought in and folded or dampened down for ironing. The wash was not finished until supper was over and the dishes washed. If there was any time left, we could play, and Mother could rest.
Tuesday was ironing day. No electric irons then! Mother would get up as usual and clean the back of the stove and put the flat irons out to heat before she started breakfast. If any soot got on an iron, and then on the clothes, they would have to be re-washed. She then set up the ironing board, and brought in the large basket of dampened clothes. The iron had to be tested to make sure it was not so hot it would scorch the clothes. If a drop of water sizzled when you dropped it on the iron, it was just right to use. If you were a good spitter, that would work the same. Once again, Mother did most of the work; the good shirts, best dresses, and fine linens. Gertie and Beulah were allowed to iron some of the colored things, while Mother got dinner. Maude could be trusted with the pillow cases. But my speed was the handkerchiefs. Sometimes Mother sent us out to play, just to get rid of us.
Wednesday wasn’t show and tell; it was patch and mend. I think every week Howard had to have new patches on his knees and behind, and Maude and I had to have hems and seams replaced on our dresses. Buttons were sewn back and stockings darned. Of course, there were other small jobs to be done: churn the butter, bake bread, cakes and cookies, prepare meals. Mother made eight loaves of bread every other day.
It must have been one of those days when Grandmother Ritter brought her friend Mrs. Gallon over to visit. Gertie answered the door, and asked them to come in. “Mother is in the front room resting,” she told them. Mother was lying on her stomach, and Maude, Howard, and I were playing horse on her back. “Nannie, is this the way you always rest?” asked Grandma. “No, Mom, but at least I know where they are,” was Mother’s reply. Sometimes she would go out and hoe the garden just to relax.
Thursday was cleaning day. Floors were scrubbed with strong soap. There were no rubber gloves, so you can guess what our hands looked like. Rugs were swept (no vacuum), windows washed, and other minor repairs done.
Friday was cooking day so we would have plenty of food on hand for Sunday. Bread, cakes, pies and all other goodies were prepared. The house smelled like a child’s dream of heaven. Mother made the best cookies I have ever tasted. Dunked in milk, they were ambrosia. When asked how she made them, it was a cup of this, a pinch of that, and a smidgen of something else. There was no temperature gauge on the oven, so, if the stove was hot, they browned in a hurry. If not, they cooked longer to get the necessary golden brown color.
Saturday morning, we changed the sheets and pillow cases on all the beds to get ready for Monday’s wash. Saturday afternoon and evening was bath day. The boiler was again put on the stove, but this time after the noon meal. Mother washed our hair, starting with the oldest and working her way d own to me. I sometimes thought she used a scrubbing brush on my head. It hurt for the rest of the afternoon.
After dinner, the kitchen was always off limits to everyone except Mother and the kid she was bathing. About half of the hot water in the boiler was poured in the round tub on the kitchen floor. When it had cooled down, she started washing. After each kid was bathed, a little more hot water was added and the next kid was run though. It was something like dipping sheep in the spring of the year, or the modern-day car wash. I was always last. I swear that’s why I’m the darkest one of the bunch; I never got really clean. When we were all through, the water was carried out and dumped on the lawn. I always thought it was for fertilizer. After supper the boiler was again put on the stove. Mother and Dad bathed after we went to bed.
Sunday was a fun day for everyone except Mom. We didn’t go to church, so we had a long day to play. Dad was what was called a “Jack Mormon.” He had been baptized, but didn’t go to church. Mother’s family had never belonged; therefore, we were misfits in a town where almost everyone went to church. There was no definite work for us to do, except help get the meals; milk the cows; and feed the pigs, chickens, cats, and other stray animals that were around. Then, we would play.
We often dramatized the funny papers. Jim always got to be the hero. One comic strip showed he bad guys hanging the hero until he “whistled.” So we got one of Dad’s lariat ropes, put it around Jim’s neck, and hoisted him to a beam in the shop. It’s a good thing one of the hired men came along at that moment or we would be still waiting for him to whistle.
Note: Information for this historical account came from the book “From Swineville to Stringtown: Life in Eden, Utah for the family of Hyrum Stallings and Nancy Ritter” compiled by Ray Wilmot. The setting is from the early 1900s in Ogden Valley. For more information about the book, contact Mr. Wilmot at [email protected]> This story was written by Ann Stallings Draper from a section of the book titled “Working Our Way through Childhood.”
I had been tending my three grandsons for the day, and they had been little “hellers.” My cats were on the roof, toys were scattered all over the house, clothes dropped in every room, and I was ready to blow my top by the time my son came to pick them up. I put on a pot of coffee, and while it brewed, I got the cats off the roof, put the toys away, gathered the clothes and put them into the washer. Then, as I sipped my coffee, I thought about what Mother had put up with, and I polished her celestial crown until it out shown the brightest star in the heavens. It was then that I noticed the magic slate that the kids had been playing with lying on the table. I picked it up to put it away, and saw what had been written on it. “We love you, Grandma.” It was signed Steve, Chris and Michael. Tears came to my eyes, and I stopped to thin, “Had I ever told Mother that I loved her?” I don’t think I ever had, and I couldn’t remember any of us showing Mother or each other any affection.
I wondered how she had raised seven kids, cooked for the family—plus six or eight hired men—kept us and the house clean, and still retained her sanity.
Mother was a morning person. She was always up before the sun, winter and summer. Dad liked the fresh morning air, but he liked it in bed. Mother was up, had the fires started and breakfast ready before anyone got out of bed.
Breakfast at our house was not a bowl of cereal and a slice of toast. We had cooked mush, biscuits, honey, jelly, and jam on the table. If anyone wanted ham, bacon, or eggs, Mother would prepare them in a matter of minutes. One of my favorite breakfasts was cooked whole wheat. Mother cleaned and washed the wheat the night before, poured boiling water on it, and put it on back of the stove to let it soak, steam, and partially cook over night. Boy was it good, whether with milk and sugar, or butter, salt and pepper.
I often thought that one reason Mother got up so early was so that she could spend some time with herself and do her own thinking. She didn’t have much time to do it during the day.
Mom’s Schedule - Mother had a schedule worked out, not by the hour, but by the day. Monday was wash day, come hell or high water.
Nowadays, I gather my dirty clothes, chuck them in the washer, set the timer, and go about cleaning the rest of my house. When the bell rings, I put them in the dryer until the bell rings again. I take them out, fold them, and put them away.
In Mother’s day, it was all done by hand power. We didn’t have hot water, so on Monday mornings she filled the boiler. This vessel had about 10 or 15 gallons of water. She put it on the hottest part of the stove as soon as she got the fire going. While it was heating, she gathered up the dirty clothes and sorted them. Sheets and pillow cases made up the first batches. Towels and dish towels were next, followed by underwear, colored dresses and shirts. Last came overalls, colored work shirts, and socks.
By the time we got up, had our breakfast, and did the dishes, the washing was ready to go. Mother made her own soap—a combination of fat drippings and wood ashes or lye. For washday, she kept a can of soap and put hot water in it, then set it on the back of the stove to wash with. The hot water was carried to the machine, soap added, clothes put in, and motor turned on. The motor consisted of “kid power.” Each child took a turn, cranking the wheel that turned the washer, swishing the clothes back and forth in the soapy water to get them clean. They were clean when Mother said they were clean.
Next, we turned the crank on the wringer that took most of the soapy water out of the clothes. They were dropped into a tub of cold rinse water. Then, they went through the wringer again, and into the bluing water to brighten them. Some of the clothes had to be starched, and all of them had to be hung on the clothes line. On windy days, they dried quickly, and in winter, they froze dried.
About 10 o’clock, Mother had to take a break. Not a coffee break. She had to start getting dinner ready for the hired men. This was the biggest meal of the day, and consisted of meat, potatoes, gravy, one or two vegetables, bread, butter, jam, and dessert or fruit. While the meal was cooking, she continued the washing. Sometimes she ran out of lines, and the overalls, shirts, and socks had to be hung on the bushes or fences. This became a game with us to see who could make the funniest-looking bush. When the clothes were dry, they were brought in and folded or dampened down for ironing. The wash was not finished until supper was over and the dishes washed. If there was any time left, we could play, and Mother could rest.
Tuesday was ironing day. No electric irons then! Mother would get up as usual and clean the back of the stove and put the flat irons out to heat before she started breakfast. If any soot got on an iron, and then on the clothes, they would have to be re-washed. She then set up the ironing board, and brought in the large basket of dampened clothes. The iron had to be tested to make sure it was not so hot it would scorch the clothes. If a drop of water sizzled when you dropped it on the iron, it was just right to use. If you were a good spitter, that would work the same. Once again, Mother did most of the work; the good shirts, best dresses, and fine linens. Gertie and Beulah were allowed to iron some of the colored things, while Mother got dinner. Maude could be trusted with the pillow cases. But my speed was the handkerchiefs. Sometimes Mother sent us out to play, just to get rid of us.
Wednesday wasn’t show and tell; it was patch and mend. I think every week Howard had to have new patches on his knees and behind, and Maude and I had to have hems and seams replaced on our dresses. Buttons were sewn back and stockings darned. Of course, there were other small jobs to be done: churn the butter, bake bread, cakes and cookies, prepare meals. Mother made eight loaves of bread every other day.
It must have been one of those days when Grandmother Ritter brought her friend Mrs. Gallon over to visit. Gertie answered the door, and asked them to come in. “Mother is in the front room resting,” she told them. Mother was lying on her stomach, and Maude, Howard, and I were playing horse on her back. “Nannie, is this the way you always rest?” asked Grandma. “No, Mom, but at least I know where they are,” was Mother’s reply. Sometimes she would go out and hoe the garden just to relax.
Thursday was cleaning day. Floors were scrubbed with strong soap. There were no rubber gloves, so you can guess what our hands looked like. Rugs were swept (no vacuum), windows washed, and other minor repairs done.
Friday was cooking day so we would have plenty of food on hand for Sunday. Bread, cakes, pies and all other goodies were prepared. The house smelled like a child’s dream of heaven. Mother made the best cookies I have ever tasted. Dunked in milk, they were ambrosia. When asked how she made them, it was a cup of this, a pinch of that, and a smidgen of something else. There was no temperature gauge on the oven, so, if the stove was hot, they browned in a hurry. If not, they cooked longer to get the necessary golden brown color.
Saturday morning, we changed the sheets and pillow cases on all the beds to get ready for Monday’s wash. Saturday afternoon and evening was bath day. The boiler was again put on the stove, but this time after the noon meal. Mother washed our hair, starting with the oldest and working her way d own to me. I sometimes thought she used a scrubbing brush on my head. It hurt for the rest of the afternoon.
After dinner, the kitchen was always off limits to everyone except Mother and the kid she was bathing. About half of the hot water in the boiler was poured in the round tub on the kitchen floor. When it had cooled down, she started washing. After each kid was bathed, a little more hot water was added and the next kid was run though. It was something like dipping sheep in the spring of the year, or the modern-day car wash. I was always last. I swear that’s why I’m the darkest one of the bunch; I never got really clean. When we were all through, the water was carried out and dumped on the lawn. I always thought it was for fertilizer. After supper the boiler was again put on the stove. Mother and Dad bathed after we went to bed.
Sunday was a fun day for everyone except Mom. We didn’t go to church, so we had a long day to play. Dad was what was called a “Jack Mormon.” He had been baptized, but didn’t go to church. Mother’s family had never belonged; therefore, we were misfits in a town where almost everyone went to church. There was no definite work for us to do, except help get the meals; milk the cows; and feed the pigs, chickens, cats, and other stray animals that were around. Then, we would play.
We often dramatized the funny papers. Jim always got to be the hero. One comic strip showed he bad guys hanging the hero until he “whistled.” So we got one of Dad’s lariat ropes, put it around Jim’s neck, and hoisted him to a beam in the shop. It’s a good thing one of the hired men came along at that moment or we would be still waiting for him to whistle.
Note: Information for this historical account came from the book “From Swineville to Stringtown: Life in Eden, Utah for the family of Hyrum Stallings and Nancy Ritter” compiled by Ray Wilmot. The setting is from the early 1900s in Ogden Valley. For more information about the book, contact Mr. Wilmot at [email protected]> This story was written by Ann Stallings Draper from a section of the book titled “Working Our Way through Childhood.”
