Being Wilder’s story of the childhood of her husband. Two things strike me in reading the opening chapters. The idea of the husky older farmboys beating up on the city-soft schoolmaster. And a renewed appreciation for the time-saving modern conveniences we take for granted today. For example, to have clothing one first raised the sheep and sheared them in spring after washing the wool on their backs. The wool was dyed with locally obtained mordants after being carded into skeins which were then spun into yarn. The yarn was woven on a loom into cloth. A pattern of the appropriate style and size was laid on the cloth and it was cut and finally sewn into the appropriate clothing. Imagine a mother’s consternation at the speed at which a growing boy outgrew her hard work. Mittens, socks, scarves, sweaters, and such were hand knitted by lamplight in front of winter fires. Even hard-hewn lumbermen knit and darned their own socks. This was done by lamplight with no radio or TV to act as diversion. My grandmothers would have so laboured. This family is obviously extremely successful with resources probably not the norm, for example, in Laura Ingalls’ household.
No qualms here about child labour. If there is important work to be done on the farm there is no question about a child of nine staying home from school to work in the fields. So it was in my own Father’s day. Children were expected to earn their keep by doing chores morning and evening. Sunday might be a day of rest but the animals still had to be fed, cleaned out, and the cows milked twice a day every day without fail. And twenty-first century children accustomed to today’s permissive norms take note, a child was expected to be seen and not heard at all times including the dinner table, even fidgeting was forbidden. And discipline was iron.
The book is written from the point of view of the youngest child in a family of six. He chafes at being told he’s too young as do most babies of the family but he also idealizes his older brother and father and his boasts that theirs is the best anywhere get rather tiresome. This is not a Hardy Boys Adventure but as an artifact of its time it is priceless. In Canadian Literature Susannah Moodie and Catherine Parr Traill covered much the same territory but as spoiled upper class immigrants they did so in a most disparaging manner.
No qualms here about child labour. If there is important work to be done on the farm there is no question about a child of nine staying home from school to work in the fields. So it was in my own Father’s day. Children were expected to earn their keep by doing chores morning and evening. Sunday might be a day of rest but the animals still had to be fed, cleaned out, and the cows milked twice a day every day without fail. And twenty-first century children accustomed to today’s permissive norms take note, a child was expected to be seen and not heard at all times including the dinner table, even fidgeting was forbidden. And discipline was iron.
The book is written from the point of view of the youngest child in a family of six. He chafes at being told he’s too young as do most babies of the family but he also idealizes his older brother and father and his boasts that theirs is the best anywhere get rather tiresome. This is not a Hardy Boys Adventure but as an artifact of its time it is priceless. In Canadian Literature Susannah Moodie and Catherine Parr Traill covered much the same territory but as spoiled upper class immigrants they did so in a most disparaging manner.
No comments:
Post a Comment