I Thank God For Them

Married? Yes - one of the best of husbands - a nice home, and two dear children. I thank God for them when I look at them. But I don’t want any more until these are old enough to take care of them. - Frances, February 1892

As I’ve been adjusting to my own major life change, I’ve been thinking about not only Annette’s story, but Frances’ as well. For starters, I have been brainstorming baby names by digging through decades of family names. For those of you who know Frances’ full name, there may be a clue there. =)

Also, as Valentines Day came and went, I took a moment to celebrate Frances’ birthday! You may remember that we aren’t really sure when Frances was born. At some point, she changed her birthday to February 14 - Valentine’s Day - so everyone would remember the date!

In this entry, Frances reflects on the passing of another birthday. She was a young 22-year-old, married with two children. She would go on to have 3 more children, losing one daughter at just 6 months of age, but at this moment in time, she admits that she doesn’t want to have any more children for a while. Even with her household help, she wasn’t sure she was ready for more children. This entry reminded me of Annette’s second pregnancy. She wasn’t sure she was ready.

I must admit that I feel that way at times. I am much older than both Frances and Annette, but I still have moments when I don’t feel ready at all! I am fortunate to have so many resources available - resources that were non-existent for my ancestors. I hope I can stay present and take things one day at a time. When everything in your world changes, sometimes that is the best way forward!

On Her Way

I got sick at noon and lost my lunch so I guess Joyce is really on her way. I would have to be different than all other women. I didn’t want another baby so soon, but I guess there is nothing to do about it now. - Annette, December 1941

We’re back! Thanks so much for your patience during the down time! The holidays were a bit hectic for me, as I’m sure they were for a lot of people. While I appreciated the time off from the blog, the women's stories were always on my mind. Particularly, Annette’s story.

This entry from her is so honest. Her entry from just a few days prior says “Today U.S. declared war on Japan.” She is quite literally in the middle of a war zone, trying her best to care for the doctors, nurses, workers, and babies in the orphanage. Her toddler is not gaining weight, and has whooping cough. In the midst of all that, she finds out she is pregnant again. Imagine how scary that all must seem. What kind of world will that baby grow up in? Will it even survive? She started off calling the baby Joyce, and later Carol, but eventually the baby would be called Tom - my dad. She was just about two months pregnant when she wrote this entry.

Throughout this project, I have tried my best to relate to Frances’ and Annette’s stories. There are so many common themes that show up in all three of our journal entries from our twenties, except for one. Motherhood. Both Frances and Annette were mothers in their twenties, while I was building my career. I draw from my experiences as a teacher, aunt, and friend of little kids, but I could never truly say that I understood their feelings. Until now!

One of the reasons I took some time off over the holidays was because…I found out I am pregnant! My husband and I are so excited, and we have launched ourselves fully into baby planning, shopping, etc. Once the shock wore off a bit, I had a bit of a revelation. My baby is due just a few days after my dad’s birthday. Essentially, I am in the same stage of pregnancy in 2018-19 as Annette was in 1941-42. How cool is that?!

As I get back on track with blog posts, I’ll keep alternating between stories from Annette, Frances, and younger Miranda, but as you can imagine, I’ll probably see the stories through a different lens. I can’t wait to see how everything - and I do mean, everything - develops!

I Had Every Attention

At my babies birth I had every attention. Mrs. Herbert was with me besides others. Annie is with me too, and she is the kindest of sisters. And if I do say so, she is one of the loveliest women I ever knew. Dr. Pearson will surely get a treasure. During my illness she has anticipated my every wish and stays devoted to our dear babies. - Frances, October 1891

Prince Harry and Meghan Markle announced today that they are expecting. On top of that, my good friend is expecting her second child, and my husband’s good friend just welcomed a beautiful baby girl, so there has been a lot of pregnancy talk in the air. I found it amusing that I came across this entry from Frances.

Here, Frances reflects on the support she received during the birth of her children. I am guessing that Mrs. Herbert was a nurse or midwife, but she also had her sister with her (who later married the family doctor, Dr. Pearson). She also refers to her pregnancy and birth as an “illness,” which may have been common at the time.

I marvel at how things have changed. Imagine how different it was to give birth in 1891 compared to now. Given the medical knowledge at the time, what a comfort it must have been to have your sister - your closest ally - by your side. Imagine the kind of care and treatment Meghan Markle will have throughout her pregnancy. Whether her family is present or not, I’m sure her experience will be quite different!

We can look to the past for guidance, and we can look to the future for hope, but at the end of the day, all we have is the present moment. At your life’s biggest moments, who is in the room with you?

Chill Until Set - or, Aspic For Breakfast!

We've been spending a lot of time with Annette lately, so I thought it was time to come back to Frances' kitchen.  Full disclosure here:  I did not find this recipe in Frances' diary.  This recipe has been in the back of my mind for years - nestled in the family cookbook that I love, but always a bit too weird to try.  Until now.  In honor of Mother's Day, I decided to go for it. 

This recipe is from my mother's mother's mother.  Let's break that down - my mother Guesna, her mother Frances, Frances' mother Guesna - who was the youngest daughter of Frances (whose diary we have been reading).  Apparently, my mother wanted to break the whole Frances-Guesna cycle by naming me Guesna instead of Frances.  Frances didn't write about food much in her diary, but it is not a far leap to guess that her daughter Guesna inherited the recipe.  What is this legendary and slightly terrifying recipe?  Tomato aspic.  Here we go!

Tomato Aspic

1 can (32oz) tomato juice or V-8

1 box gelatin (4 pkgs.)

1/8 cup red vinegar

1/8 cup white vinegar

1 t. salt

1/2 t. pepper

1 T. lemon juice

1 T. onion salt

1 T. celery salt

4 T. Worcestershire sauce

Optional ingredients:  sliced artichoke hearts;  shrimp; olives

Mix gelatin into heated juice; add remaining ingredients.  Add optional ingredients.  Pour into two well-greased ring molds and chill until set.

First, I gathered the ingredients. I wasn’t sure what ‘red vinegar’ was, so I went with red wine vinegar from my pantry. This was my first time using gelatin, too. More on that later. I chose to make the original recipe first, without adding any optional ingredients.

This Tupperware-brand ring mold belonged to my grandmother Frances. It seemed appropriate that its inaugural (for me) use would be the famous Tomato Aspic. I greased it with butter-flavored Crisco, because I was running low on butter - the horror!

I heated the juice in a sauce pan, then added the gelatin. All at once. Which was a mistake. It clumped up and gelled together, creating a sticky mess. I recommend adding one packet at a time, stirring constantly so it incorporates evenly. That must be one of those tips that gets ‘left out’ of family recipes.

After I worked through the gelatin disaster, I added all the seasonings and poured the mixture into the greased ring mold. I didn’t need two molds - this one worked just fine.

I popped the mold into the fridge (and added the lid later) to chill and set.

Turned out onto a glass plate! There was a bit of sticking. It seems that ‘well-greased’ really meant ‘greased beyond what you think is normal.’

First slices!

For Mother's Day breakfast, I served my former fiancé (now husband!) a lovely slice of tomato aspic.  "So, it's like tomato jello?"  Obviously, he was skeptical - as was I.  After the first bite, we both concluded that it's not nearly as bad as it sounds like it would be.  Overall, it was a bit salty for my taste, so I immediately started thinking about how to adjust the recipe.  Then it hit me.  I know this taste.  The gelatin texture is new, but I am confident that I can modernize tomato aspic.  The next time I am invited to a dinner party or brunch potluck, I am bringing a Bloody Mary Aspic.  Add some chopped celery, pickled green beans or okra, and a good bit of vodka, and you will have a delicious, boozy, throwback dish that no one will expect, but everyone will love!  I'll work out the details and post when I have the amounts worked out.  Apologies to my friends and family - a lot of tomato aspics are coming your way.   

I Want Him To Say Mother

I bathed both the little ones before breakfast.  Then push sister in the buggy in the dining room so that Willie could keep the flies off.  Brother big man sits at the table + must have his "gass" of water.  He will call me "Miss Fannie" + I want him to say Mother.  - Frances, June 1892

Frances certainly had her hands full with caring for her children and maintaining the household.  Here, she describes part of her daily routine.  However, Frances wasn't truly on her own.  She had a cook to help with preparing the meals, and a nurse, Willie, to help with the children.    

How many times have you wished for extra help during a hectic day?  In our modern times, some people are fortunate enough to have that kind of assistance.  In Frances' time, her 'helpers' were former slaves. 

After the abolition of slavery, so many white families kept their cooks, nurses, maids, etc.  I wonder about Willie's story.  Was she paid for her work?  Had she been with the family long?  She was obviously integral to the family's daily life.  From this post, it sounds like Frances' son spends more time with Willie than his own mother - even calling her "Miss Fannie" as Willie likely did.

It always makes me uncomfortable to delve into this aspect of my family's past.  It also makes me uncomfortable that, as a country, we are still struggling with equal rights for all.  Maybe discomfort is a place to start.  Maybe it opens the door to conversations.  Maybe it shines a light on the darkness.

All Through Life

It is Sunday + we keep reminding our boy he is one year old.  May God watch over our darling boy all through life.  And each successive birth-day find him as pure + sinless as he now is.  And may God help us to live right + train our little darling up to be a noble christian man.  - Frances, April 1891

Birthdays are a cause for celebration, but particularly so in the 1890s.  Frances had 6 children - one little girl died as a baby, and from what I can gather, she had a stillborn or miscarriage as well.  Birthdays were a celebration of life - and survival.  People didn't talk much about the losses.

Even today, miscarriages are considered a taboo topic.  I have had friends and family members go through this terrible loss, and each one of them has said how lonely it felt.  They felt they couldn't talk about their experience.  

Who do we turn to in the horrible times?  What about the joyous times?  Frances's faith in God was central to her identity.  On her son's birthday, she offered up prayers to God to help her protect, teach, and care for her young child.     

What helps us through the celebrations and and the sorrows?  How do we connect?  Or share?  Or ask for help and guidance?  Some people choose religion.  Others a network of family and friends.  Some have faith in something else altogether.  I don't believe that there is a right answer.  I do believe that sometimes the hardest thing in the world is feeling alone.  What if we all took a moment to share in someone's joy?  Share in their tears?  Share in their anger?  Share in their fear?  Share in their hope?   

I Ought To Be Happy

This is the thrice anniversary of our marriage.  I ought to be happy.  Here I have a nice comfortable home, a dear kind husband.  Two of the dearest little ones in the world.  I am, most of the time.  Sometimes I am about half sick - feel real bad + imagine Mr. Grimes don't love me, but I reckon he does - he does think to say a few kind sympathetic words.  I was never petted in the least in my life.  Why should I expect it now?   - Frances, June 1892

Every time I read Frances' diary, this entry stands out.  Here she is, on her third wedding anniversary.  Living the life she is 'supposed' to live.  Raising two children.  Living in a nice house.  Maintaining that household (with the help of a cook and a nurse).  Supporting her husband.  She has all the comforts a woman could want.

But why isn't she happy?  Are these fleeting moments of sadness - or a more telling description of her married life?  She calls her husband Mr. Grimes - was this just formality, or something deeper?  Was she seeking more affection and connection with her husband?  Or was she just tired that day?

So many questions from one entry, and such a revealing glimpse into her world.  Have you ever felt like Frances?  Felt disconnected from your loved ones?  Felt guilty for not being grateful enough?  Those are definitely familiar to me. 

Journals contain more than lists and recipes - they also hold our doubts, fears, and insecurities.  We are all complicated, messy, beautiful humans - at both our highest and our lowest - and we are more alike than we are different.  

Lovely Moonlit Nite

Elsie came over tonite + helped me with my sweater.  Doc + Clary came in for tea + then we all went out and went sliding on Shoyin's slide.  Lovely Moonlit nite.  The slide was lots of fun.            - Annette, September 1941

Sometimes we need a little time to decompress.  Our lives are serious.  We have important decisions to make.  Annette and Elsie were both mothers, raising their babies in a foreign land, making their own clothes as well as clothes and toys for the kids.  Imagine the simple joy of sneaking out to play on a child's playground.  To unleash your inner child - what a luxury!  And yet, simple pleasures can sometimes keep us sane.