DAY 6 – A FARMHOUSE CHRISTMAS

 

All night long the wind had whistled and howled around the house, and they felt the effects of the chill in the house as well, but the day was bright and beautiful even though breezy.

Shirley tried a new recipe for gingersnaps, but they all agreed that Ina’s old family recipe handed down from her mother was still best.

The operator at the Western Union office called mid-morning to read a telegram from Ethel providing the details of her pending visit. She briefly explained that Ernest would be on assignment during Christmas, so she and Sadie would come to the farm for Christmas and an indefinite stay. They would arrive by train from Spokane on the 18^th.

“The 18^th! That’s less than two weeks away,” exclaimed Ina, suddenly startled again by the rapid passage of time.

Hearing the rising panic in her mother’s voice, Shirley hastened to reassure her. “Never mind, Mama,” she said. “Let’s look at your lists and take first things first. After all, we don’t have to finish everything before Ethel arrives. She would love to help us.”

So, they sat down and revised the lists. They could postpone Christmas baking until Ethel and Sadie were there. Ethel was a good cook and always brought new recipes when she came. But they must finish Sadie’s Christmas presents, and they were still undecided on just what to make. As for decorating, Ina did not allow it until Christmas Eve. 

“So you see, Mama, it’s not so much. We can do it!” KW

DAY 5 – A FARMHOUSE CHRISTMAS

 
The Christmas doings were women’s work as far as Jack was concerned. For the most part, he stayed out of the way. Still, several important tasks were entrusted to him – carrying mail to and from the mailbox, including outgoing and incoming packages, and cutting the Christmas tree. Last summer, he had spotted a nice little fir tree out on the canyon rim, but he now had second thoughts. He wanted to take Sadie with him when he cut the tree, and the canyon rim was too far for a little girl to walk.

So, after a hearty lunch, Jack set off to the draw on the northern boundary of his property with his faithful companion, “Dick the Dog,” at his side. Before long he spotted a young fir that would make a perfect Christmas tree to set on the library table. It would still be a good stretch of the legs for little Sadie, and he hoped Ethel would allow her to go. He smiled to himself as he thought of Sadie.

Jack & June -- which is which?

Having accomplished the task at hand, Jack walked up Plank’s Pitch to the mailbox. He pocketed the mail – no Christmas cards or packages yet – and walked home by way of June and Bertha’s house where he stopped in to warm himself and chat a spell with his twin brother and family. The coffee was good and so were the gingersnaps, which tasted just like Ina’s. He and June made plans to cut a tree for the schoolhouse next week, and then he ambled on home. KW

DAY 4 – A FARMHOUSE CHRISTMAS

 

[Author's note: Please understand that this story is based on life in a remote rural farmhouse. As family history, it may or may not be true. I call it fractured family history. To continue:]

After a light supper of beef vegetable soup and bread, the three of them – Jack, Ina, and Shirley – sat reading under the Aladin lamp at the dining room table. Shirley was delighted to discover the next installment of a serialized novella she had been following in the most recent batch of shared publications. Ina was pondering an inspirational article in the Christian Herald, and Jack was reading political opinions in an outdated newspaper. Just then the jangling telephone startled them, and Shirley, being closest, rose quickly to answer it. 

“Shirley,” she heard her sister Ethel say, “let me talk to Mama.” 

Ina quickly took the receiver and stepped up to the mouthpiece while simultaneously turning over the three-minute egg timer that she kept near the telephone to time long-distance calls. 

“Mama,” Ina heard Ethel say, “Ernest . . . on assignment during Christmas.  . . . Sadie and I . . . to the farm for Christmas.” 

Ina could barely hear Ethel for the static on the line. “Yes, do come,” she shouted into the mouthpiece.

“What, Mama?” answered Ethel. “I can’t hear you.” 

Further communication being impossible, they each rang off. Ina had no idea when Ethel would arrive, but it was no matter. Ethel would make her plans known in some way. For the time being, it was enough to know that Ethel and Sadie would be home for Christmas. She and Shirley were both too excited to sleep, and while Jack said little, he was pleased, too. Ethel was always a lively addition to the household, and four-year-old granddaughter Sadie was the delight of their hearts. Sadie’s presence would make this Christmas.  

Ethel with her daughter Shirley Jean

[Ethel and Ernest Robinson had one child, a daughter named Shirley Jean after their respective sisters. However, I call her Sadie in my story because apparently two Shirleys in one blog is confusing, even if one is Shirley Jean. Even back in the day, the family would call her S.J. to avoid confusion. The real Shirley Jean, my cousin, was born in 1926 and passed away in 1996.]

DAY 3 – A FARMHOUSE CHRISTMAS

 

We continue our imaginary December visit at Ina’s farmhouse in 1930.

It was still cold but brighter than the previous day. Ina sat in the dining room mending by the light of the north window. Sensing her mother’s pensive mood, Shirley retrieved her Aunt Ida’s wonderful reminiscences of their first Christmas here at Gilbert, Idaho. [Ida Dickson Patchen was Ina’s sister, six years older.]

I think the best time I ever had working for that especial time was that very first Christmas at Gilbert. Those little evergreens inspired me to attempt something out of nothing. Our little sister Mabel helped me, and we put in all those long, long afternoons and evenings that otherwise would have hung heavy on our hands doing things for the little folks. Remember how it surprised you and Bertha and how after we had come and gone tramping through the snow on Christmas Eve, Jack had you light the lamp again and together you inspected our handiwork. The way you four Dobsons looked when we presented our trees was pay in plenty.

As Shirley read the letter aloud, Ina’s thoughts drifted to those first homesteading days. You see, when she and Jack came to this ridge in 1895 and ‘96, they weren’t alone. June and Bertha, her parents, her brothers Ben and Frank, and her sister Ida and her husband Ed Patchen took adjoining homesteads. After the obligatory five years, Ed, Pa, and Frank sold out and moved to Drain, Oregon. Even though Bertha and June had remained, as did Ben, the departure of Ma, Pa, and Ida constituted a blow to Ina’s support system. She had felt abandoned.

Sometimes memories of past Christmases are bittersweet, but Ina knew all of this was in the past and there was no use to think about it. So, she engaged Shirley in conversation about the Christmas Eve dinner they would provide for family and friends. We must not live in the past. The present has need of us. KW

DAY 2 -- A FARMHOUSE CHRISTMAS

Jack is honest, hardworking, ambitious, independent, public-spirited. Wanted to carve his own way and not work for someone else, wanted his sons to do likewise, and never wanted his daughters to work for others. He’s always been strictly decent, does not believe in “filthy communication.” -- Ina Dobson

Remember – We’re imagining it’s December 1930 at a farmhouse on Russell Ridge in remote central Idaho, observing Christmas preparations with my paternal grandmother, Ina Dobson (1870-1957).

It had turned cold. The fog rose up from the river and settled on the ridge. Ina could barely make out the barn. The day was dark and dreary – “a dull day,” as she called it, and as Shirley ironed away by the cookstove, Ina’s thoughts drifted back over the years. Christmas is a nostalgic time, and sometimes memories rest uneasily.

She and Jack (Julian) had married in a double ceremony with her sister Bertha and Jack’s twin brother Junius on Christmas Day, 1891. It was a small affair held at her parents’ home. A few neighbors dropped in to wish them well and have a piece of Ma’s pork cake.

Actually, their marriage was not a love match. Circumstances had brought them together, and it seemed natural that they should marry. Pa was anxious that she and Bertha should marry and form their own households, so their marriages were arranged. Ina had understood the situation and supported Jack’s goal of owning his own land and being his own man, made possible when the reservation opened in 1895.

So, she and Jack had worked together to establish a family, prove up on the land, and make a working farm. She had done her part and had no regrets. They had known from the beginning that it wouldn’t make them rich. It was subsistence living but a good life nevertheless.

In 1930, Ina was 60 and Jack was 66. The future seemed uncertain, especially since the stock market crash the previous year and the ensuing recession. But Ina knew it was no use to think of these things. Instead, she shook herself free of her reverie and turning to the box of Christmas cards before her, she began to compose a newsy holiday letter to her aunt in Iowa. KW 

DAY 1 -- A FARMHOUSE CHRISTMAS

 

God rest ye merry, gentlemen,

Let nothing you dismay,

Remember Christ our Savior was born on Christmas Day

To save us all from Satan’s pow’r when we were gone astray

Oh tidings of comfort and joy! -- English Traditional Carol, 18th Century

Imagine it’s Monday, Dec. 1, 1930 – 95 years ago.

It was still dark outside when Ina arose at 5:30. Even though it was washday, her heart was light and her spirits bright. It was finally December, and she allowed herself the frivolity of the season.

As usual, Jack was already up and had stoked the fire in the stove, made coffee, and set pots of water heating for the washing. Ina quickly dressed and set about making breakfast – oatmeal, bacon, eggs, and toast. She always made a hearty breakfast.

The aroma of coffee and bacon had roused 20-year-old Shirley, their youngest child, who appeared in the kitchen to dress beside the stove. Soon breakfast was ready and as if on cue, Jack arrived from the barn. Some mornings breakfast was accomplished in a leisurely fashion, but not today. They ate quickly, anxious to get on with the daily chores and the washing.

Of course, washing was a physically-draining, time-consuming task, and Ina was glad that Shirley was on hand to handle the manual agitating, somewhat like churning butter. Shirley was a strong, energetic lass and also a cheerful worker. Meanwhile, Ina made the beds – top sheet on bottom, fresh sheet on top, and clean pillowcases.

As Shirley hung the last load of clothes, Jack mopped the kitchen floor with the last rinse water before he dumped it. And that was how they did.

It wasn’t a “Christmassy” day, but while she worked, Ina was preoccupied with her holiday plans. That afternoon she made list after list of holiday preparations – sewing, baking, writing, wrapping, packaging. But the truth of it was that Ina loved the exchange of gifts most of all. She had little money, but such as she had, she would give to those she loved.

Having thus organized, Ina was ready to move forward. She would take it one step at a time. She could stand all the Christmas doings. She knew she could! KW

PRELUDE TO ADVENT 2025

 On Monday, December 1, I will commence my annual advent visit with my paternal grandmother, Ina Dobson, whose farmhouse is our second home. I treasure Ina’s love for her understated celebration, which she called a “skimpy Christmas with everyone well-remembered.” I expect to post every day until Christmas, imagining holiday preparations in 1930. Interestingly, 1930 is the only year in the ‘30s when Christmas Day fell on Thursday as it does this year.

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 THANKSGIVING DAY, 1930

Ina sat in her comfortable upholstered rocking chair with her feet up on the matching footstool and a coverlet across her lap. She had been reading a magazine story about the first Thanksgiving, but at 4:00 p.m., it was already too dark to see the print. Jack’s snoring as he dozed “before the blazing fireplace” was hypnotic, and she felt herself also drifting into slumber.

The community Thanksgiving potluck at the schoolhouse was all they could have wished for in the way of a satisfying meal, and now they were content as they counted their blessings. The food had been simple but delicious – roast beef, fried chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans, corn, homemade bread and preserves, plenty of pumpkin and mince pies, and gingerbread cookies. Ina had roasted a young chicken and also provided baked beans. What? No turkey? No, turkey wasn’t available in this community, but they had plenty of beef, chicken, and pork.

It was no secret that some in this remote farming community were struggling to get by. In silent agreement as they cleaned up after the meal, the gentle farmwives quietly bundled leftovers and handed them to those that they knew were hungry.  

The gathering had included an impromptu program. One clever farmwife gave an inspirational reading, and several of the youngsters recited Thanksgiving poems learned at school.

As the program drew to a close, several farmers with cars offered to take some of the attendees to the Thanksgiving program at the other one-room schoolhouse on Russell Ridge Road. Certain of the young people, including daughter Shirley, had piled into two cars for the five-mile trip. Ina was pleased that Shirley could get out with others of her own age. Such opportunities were infrequent.

Rousing herself, Ina reached for a calendar. Of course, she knew that Monday would be December 1, but she was startled nevertheless to realize that was only a weekend away. KW