Last week, due to the prospect of inclement weather we let school out at 1:30 and we reported back to school on Friday at 10. Fortunately...the weather did not behave exactly as the weather forcasters predicted....good for us. I would rather have been proactive here....than reactive....and because we came to school we do not have to make up any days....so far. Anyways...the day we were dismissed early was the day of the National Championship Football game. Now, those of you who know me...know that I am not a big football fan. I love my Wildcats....Benjamin Russell ones that is....and pull for ALL teams in Alabama. I don't watch football....I don't attend any games...except high school ones....but my boss made me laugh last week. He is a HUGE Alabama fan....and when he came on the squawk box to tell us we were getting out early....he phrased it that...."in order to get ready for the big game we were dismissing school early....and we would come back late...because the game was going to be over so late....then he said...no, all kidding aside the weather is the reason." Later in the day...he came up to a group of us....and told us that it was foretold in the bible that Alabama would win on Thursday night. Ok, I bit and said, "where?" He proceeded to tell me that in Job 1:15 (New International Version)....it plainly states: "and the Sabeans attacked and carried them off. They put the servants to the sword,..." I had to laugh and knew my preacher husband would get a kick out of this. It was expecially funny when Alabama won the National Championship. I watched every minute of the game...it was a nail biter there for a while. I must say...I also watched Auburn in the Outback Bowl...and pulled for them...and Troy in the Bowl game they were in in Mobile against the Chippewa's. When Alabama teams win it is good for the state. Football in the south is a strange bird. I have never quite understood the complexity of the beast...but I will say this...it gets ugly around here when the season begins...especially if one team has a better year than the other. I don't care which side of the fence you are on....there are always ugly supporters. It saddens me that even now...with Alabama the National Champions...some people just won't let it go. Whether you cry..."Roll Tide Roll", "War Eagle"...or "Go Trojans"...enjoy the moment...Alabama is in the media...in a positive light and lookin' good!Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Football According to the Book of Job
Last week, due to the prospect of inclement weather we let school out at 1:30 and we reported back to school on Friday at 10. Fortunately...the weather did not behave exactly as the weather forcasters predicted....good for us. I would rather have been proactive here....than reactive....and because we came to school we do not have to make up any days....so far. Anyways...the day we were dismissed early was the day of the National Championship Football game. Now, those of you who know me...know that I am not a big football fan. I love my Wildcats....Benjamin Russell ones that is....and pull for ALL teams in Alabama. I don't watch football....I don't attend any games...except high school ones....but my boss made me laugh last week. He is a HUGE Alabama fan....and when he came on the squawk box to tell us we were getting out early....he phrased it that...."in order to get ready for the big game we were dismissing school early....and we would come back late...because the game was going to be over so late....then he said...no, all kidding aside the weather is the reason." Later in the day...he came up to a group of us....and told us that it was foretold in the bible that Alabama would win on Thursday night. Ok, I bit and said, "where?" He proceeded to tell me that in Job 1:15 (New International Version)....it plainly states: "and the Sabeans attacked and carried them off. They put the servants to the sword,..." I had to laugh and knew my preacher husband would get a kick out of this. It was expecially funny when Alabama won the National Championship. I watched every minute of the game...it was a nail biter there for a while. I must say...I also watched Auburn in the Outback Bowl...and pulled for them...and Troy in the Bowl game they were in in Mobile against the Chippewa's. When Alabama teams win it is good for the state. Football in the south is a strange bird. I have never quite understood the complexity of the beast...but I will say this...it gets ugly around here when the season begins...especially if one team has a better year than the other. I don't care which side of the fence you are on....there are always ugly supporters. It saddens me that even now...with Alabama the National Champions...some people just won't let it go. Whether you cry..."Roll Tide Roll", "War Eagle"...or "Go Trojans"...enjoy the moment...Alabama is in the media...in a positive light and lookin' good!
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
1790 Diary of Weaver Elizabeth Fuller Age 14 Massachusettes
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Elizabeth Fuller (1775-1856) was 14 years-old, when she started keeping a diary. She made regular entries from October 1790 through December 1792. She lived with her family on a farm in Princeton, Massachusetts.
Unmarried young women in rural New England, often spent their days at home engaged primarily in textile production for both their own family's use & to trade for other items. Elizabeth Fuller washed, carded, & spun wool, while assisting with everyday chores such as making cheese & cooking.
Oct 1790
13 — Mrs. Perry, Miss Eliza Harris, Miss Sally Puffer, and Miss Hannah Haynes, and Wareham, and Rebekah Hastings were baptised by immersion. — I was fifteen to-day.
14 — A hard storm. Mr. Eveleth was buried.
18 — Pa and Ma set out for Sandwich. I am quite sick, don’t sit up but very little.
21 — I was so bad that we sent for Dr. Wilson. When he came he told me I had a settled Fever.
1790 Nov.
5 — Nathan Perry here about an hour this eve. I am a good deal better, have been out of my room two or three times. 8 o’clock Pa and Ma came home, we were over joyed to see them, but had done expecting them.
7 — Sabbath, no preaching in town.
11 —Timmy went to mill.
14 — Sabbath. Mr. Sparhawk preached, came here at night.
19 — Nathan Perry here this evening.
20 — Leonard Woods here this morn. Mrs. Perry here this afternoon a visiting.
21 —Sabbath. Mr. Brown of Winchendon preached.
22 — Revd. Mr. Brown breakfasted with us this morning. He is an agreable pretty man.
23 — Mr. Gregory killed a cow for Pa.
24 — We baked two ovensfull of pyes. — Mr. Nathan Perry here this eve.
25 — Thanksgiving to-day we baked three ovensfull of pyes. There was no preaching so we had nothing to do but eat them. The pyes were a great deal better than they were last Thanksgiving for I made them all myself, and part of them were made of flour which we got of Mr. H. Hastings therefore we had plenty of spice.
26 — Mr. Ephriam Mirick here. Pa went to town meeting.
27 — Mr. Gregory killed our hogs to-day.
28 — There is no preaching in this town. There came a considerable snow last night.
30 — Caty Eveleth was married the 22nd inst.
1790 Dec.
1 - I went to Mr. Perry’s to make a visit this afternoon, had an excellent dish of tea and a shortcake. — Betsey Whitcomb at work there. Had a sociable afternoon.
2 — Silas Perry here to-day before sunrise. Pa is very poorly having a very bad cough. I am a good deal afraid he will go into a consumption. Oh! if my soul was formed for woe how would I vent my sighs My grief it would like rivers flow, from both my
streaming eyes. I am disconsolate to-night.
4 — I minced the Link meat.
6 — Timmy has gone to the singing meeting.
11 —Sabbath. David Perry here to borrow our singing book.
16 — John Brooks here killing our sheep. A severe snow storm.
17 — Very cold. I made sixteen dozen of candles.
19 — Sabbath cold enough to freeze fools but I was so wise I would have gone to meeting had not Ma kept me at home. I had not sense enough to more than balance my folly. Pa went to meeting, got there time enough to hear three hims and the prayer, but it was as much as ever he did. Mr. Lee preached.
21 —James Mirick is here, says Ephraim is gone to Fitzwilliam to bring Mrs. Garfield and her household stuff down.
22 — David Perry here to get Timmy to go to the singing school with him.
24 — I scoured the pewter. Pa went to Fitchburg.
26 — Sabbath. Stormy weather. We all stayed at home. Pretty warm.
28 — Cold and pleasant to-day. Pa sold his mare, is to have eleven dollars and a cow. Pa and Timmy went to Mr. Holden’s in Westminster to drive the cow home. She behaved so bad they did not get her farther than Mr. Dodd’s. Mr. Woods here to borrow some books of Pa.
30 — Very pleasant. Mr. Eveleth’s personal estate vendued. Pa and Tim gone there.
31 — Cloudy and cold, evening. Mr. Nathan Perry herethis evening...
1791 Mar.
1 — Pa went to Mr. Stephen Brighams to write his will. Ma began to spin the wool for Pa’s coat. I card for her & do the household work.
2 — Ma is a spinning.
3 — Ma spun three skeins. — Nathan Perry here. — Pa is gone to Mr. Hastings this eve.
4 — Mrs. Perry here to spend the afternoon.
5 — Ma spun.
6 — Sabbath, no Meeting in Town.
7 — very warm. Anna Perry here visiting. — I made 18 dozen of candles & washed.
8 — Ma spun.
9 — Miss Eunice Mirick here a visiting this afternoon.
10 — Warm and rainy. — Francis Eveleth here to borrow our singing Book. Ma spun.
11 — Rainy weather. Mr. Thomson here to-day after rates. Mr, Parmenter here, bought two calf skins of Pa, gave him ten shillings apiece. — David Perry here. — Timmy went to Mr. Brooks.
12 — David Perry here to-day.
13 — Sabbath no Meeting.
14 — March Meeting Mr. Crafts asked a dismission, had his request granted without the least difficulty, so now we are once more a free people ha ha, he is going to Weymouth to keep shop a going out of Town this week 'tis thought he has not much to carry with him I do not know nor care what he has.
15 — Revd. Mr. Rice & Mr. Isaac Thomson here. Mr. Rice Dined here.
16 — Pa went to Mr. Bangs to-day.
18 — Capt. Clark here this evening.
19 — John Brooks here to-day. — Nathan Perry here for the newspaper. — Ma spun two skeins & an half of filling yarn.
20 — Sabbath. Pa went to church Mr. Saunders Preached, he is one of Stephen Baxters classmates, the going was so bad that none of the rest of our Family went to hear him.
21 —- Cold. Mr. Brooks here.
22 — Pa went to Mr. Bangs.
23 — Pa went to Mr. Rolphs to-day. On the 13th inst. Miss Caty Mirick was Married to Mr. Joshua Eveleth.
24 — Mr. Brooks here to-day to get Pa to write a Deed of Mr. Hastingses Farm for him.
25 — Ma finished spinning her blue Wool to-day.
26 — Ma went to Mrs. Miricks to get a slay Harness. Mrs. Caty Eveleth came home with her.
27—Sabbath very pleasant I went to church. Mr. Rolph Preached. — Esqr. Woolson here to tarry all night.
28 — Esqr. Woolson went from here this morning. A man here to-day that was both deaf and dumb, he is Son to a Merchant in London, he went to sea & the ship was struck with Lightning & which occasioned his being deaf & dumb, he could write wrote a good deal here. He was a good looking young Man, about 25 he wrote his name Joel Smith. I really pitied him. I went to Mrs. Miricks & warped the piece.
29 — Mrs. Garfield came here to show me how to draw in Piece did not stay but about half an hour.
30 — I tyed in the Piece & wove two yards.
31 — Fast. I went to Meeting all day. Mr. Rolph preached half of the day & Mr. Saunders the other half. Mr. Saunders is a very good Preacher & a handsome Man. — David Perry here this evening to sing with us.
1791 April
1 — I wove two yards and three quarters & three inches to-day & I think I did pretty well considering it was April Fool day. Mr. Brooks & Mr. Hastings here to get Pa to do some writing for them.
2 — I wove three yards and a quarter,
3 —Sabbath. I went to church. — an anular eclipse of the sun, it was fair weather. 4— I wove five yards & a quarter. Mr. Cutting here this eve.
5 — I wove four yards. Mrs. Garfield & Mrs. Eveleth who was once Caty Mirick here a visiting. —The real estate of Mr. Josiah Mirick deceased is vendued to-day. (eve) Timmy has got home from the vendue Mr. Cutting has bought the Farm gave 255£ Sam Matthews has bought the part of the Pew gave eight dollars.
6 — I got out the White piece Mrs. Garfield warped the blue, came here & began to draw in the Piece.
7 — I finished drawing in the Piece & wove a yard & a half. Sam Matthews here to-day.
8 — I wove two yards & a quarter.
9 — I wove two yards & a quarter.
10 — Sabbath. I went to church in the A.M. Mamma went in the P.M. she has not been before since she came from Sandwich.
11 —I wove a yard & a half. Parmela Mirick here to see me.
12 — I wove to-day.
13 — Mrs. Brooks here a visiting. I wove.
14 — I got out the Piece in the A.M. Pa carried it to Mr. Deadmans. Miss Eliza Harris here.
15 — I began to spin Linnen spun 21 knots. I went to Mr. Perrys on an errand. Pa went to Mr. Matthews to write his will & some deeds. He has sold Dr. Wilson 20 acres of Land & given Sam a deed of some I believe about 25 acres.
16 — Pa went to Mr. Matthews again. — I spun 21 knots.
17 — Sabbath I went to church all day Mr. Davis Preached Mr. Saunders is sick.
18 — I spun two double skeins of Linnen.
19 — I spun two double skeins.
20—I spun two double skeins. — Ma went to Mrs. Miricks for a visit was sent for home. — Revd. Daniel Fuller of Cape Ann here to see us.
21—Revd. Mr. Fuller went from here this morn. Ma went to Mrs. Miricks again. — I spun two skeins. — Sukey Eveleth & Nabby here to see Nancy.
22 — I spun two double skeins O dear Quadyille has murdered wit, & work will do as bad, for wit is always merry, but work does make me sad.
23 — I spun two skeins. Nathan Perry here. — Ware-ham Hastings at work here.
24 — I went to church. Mr. Thurston Preached. — Mr. Saunders is sick.
25 — Leonard Woods here all this forenoon, brought Hoi-yokes singing Book. Left it here.
26 — Pa went to see Mr. Saunders. I Pricked some tunes out of Holyokes Singing Book.
27 — I spun five skeins of linnen yarn.
28 — I spun five skeins of linnen yarn. Pa went to Sterling.
29 — I Pricked some Tunes out of Holyokes singing Book. I spun some.
30 — I spun four skeins to-day.
1791 May
1 —Sabbath I went to Meeting to-day.
2 — I spun five skeins to-day.
3 — I spun five skeins to-day.
4 — I spun two skeins to-day finished the Warp for this Piece. — Nathan Perry worked here this P.M.
5 — I spun four skeins of tow for the filling to the Piece. I have been spinning, Pa went to Worcester to get the newspaper. Nathan Perry here this eve.
6— I spun four Skeins to-day.
7 — I spun four Skeins to-day.
8 — Sabbath. I went to church A.M. Mr. Thurston preached. Mr. John Rolph & his Lady & Mr. Osburn her Brother & a Miss Anna Strong (a Lady courted by said Osbourn) came here after Meeting and drank Tea.
9 — I spun four skeins. Mr. Thurston here this P.M. a visiting he is an agreeable Man appears much better out of the Pulpit than in.
10— I spun four Skeins to-day.
11 — I spun four skeins.
12 — I spun four skeins. Lucy Matthews here.
13 — I spun four skeins. — Ma is making Soap. Rainy.
14 — I spun four skeins. Ma finished making soap and it is very good.
15 — I went to church A. M. Mr. Thurston Preached he is a ——. — Mr. Rolph drank Tea here.
17 — I spun four skeins to-day.
18 — I spun four skeins of linnen yarn to Make a Harness of. — Ma is a breaking.
19 — I spun two skeins and twisted the harness yarn.
20— Mrs. Garfield came here this Morning to show me how to make a Harness, did not stay but about half an Hour. — Mrs. Perry & Miss Eliza Harris here a visiting.
21 — I went to Mrs. Miricks and warped the Piece.
22 — I went to church in the A.M. Mr. Saunders preached gave us a good sermon his text Romans 6th Chap. 23 verse. For the wages of Sin is Death.
23 — I got in my Piece to-day wove a yard.
24 — Wove two yards & an half.
25 — Election. I wove three Yards to-day. — Mrs. Perry here a few moments.
26 — I wove three Yards to-day. The two Mrs. Matthews here to Day. I liked Sam’s Wife much better than I expected to. — Miss. Eliza Harris here about two Hours.
27 — I wove five Yards to-day.
29 — Pleasant weather. Pa went to Sterling. My Cousin Jacob Kcmbal of Amherst came here to-day.
30 — General Election at Bolton. — Mr. Josiah Eveleth & Wife & Mrs. Garfield here on a visit.
1791 June
1—Moses Harrington carried off Mr. Hastings old shop.
2—Elislia Brooks here to-day.
5—I made myself a Shift. — Mrs. Perry here a visiting. Nathan Perry here this evening.
6—Sabbath. No Meeting in Town. Elisha Brooks here to see if there was a meeting.
7—I made myself a blue worsted Coat.
8—Aaron & Nathan Perry here. — Pamela Mirick here a visiting this afternoon.
9—Mrs. Brooks here a visiting. — I helped Sally make me a blue worsted Gown.
10—I helped Sally make me a brown Woolen Gown.
12—Sally cut out a striped lutestring Gown for me.
13—Sabbath I went to church. Mr. Green Preached.
14—Aaron Perry here.
15—I cut out a striped linnen Gown. — Sally finished my lutestring.
16—Rainy weather. Ma cut out a Coattce for me. —Salmon Houghton breakfasted with us. — Elisha Brooks spent the afternoon here.
17—Ma, Sally & I spent the afternoon at Mrs. Miricks.
18—Cool. Sally finished my Coattee.
19—I finished my striped linnen Gown. Mr. Soloman Davis here. Sabbath.
20—I went to Church, wore my lutestring, Sally wore hers we went to Mr. Richardsons & Dined. —rained at night.
21—Pleasant weather. Mr. Bush here.
22—Capt. Moore here to-day. Put in my dwiant Coat & Sally & I quilted it out before night.
23—Sally put in a Worsted Coat for herself and we quilted it out by the middle of the afternoon. Very pleasant weather.
24—I made myself a Shift.
Source: Francis E. Blake, “Diary Kept by Elizabeth Fuller,” History of the Town of Princeton (Princeton, Massachusetts: Town, 1915)
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Elizabeth Fuller (1775-1856) was 14 years-old, when she started keeping a diary. She made regular entries from October 1790 through December 1792. She lived with her family on a farm in Princeton, Massachusetts.
Unmarried young women in rural New England, often spent their days at home engaged primarily in textile production for both their own family's use & to trade for other items. Elizabeth Fuller washed, carded, & spun wool, while assisting with everyday chores such as making cheese & cooking.
Oct 1790
13 — Mrs. Perry, Miss Eliza Harris, Miss Sally Puffer, and Miss Hannah Haynes, and Wareham, and Rebekah Hastings were baptised by immersion. — I was fifteen to-day.
14 — A hard storm. Mr. Eveleth was buried.
18 — Pa and Ma set out for Sandwich. I am quite sick, don’t sit up but very little.
21 — I was so bad that we sent for Dr. Wilson. When he came he told me I had a settled Fever.
1790 Nov.
5 — Nathan Perry here about an hour this eve. I am a good deal better, have been out of my room two or three times. 8 o’clock Pa and Ma came home, we were over joyed to see them, but had done expecting them.
7 — Sabbath, no preaching in town.
11 —Timmy went to mill.
14 — Sabbath. Mr. Sparhawk preached, came here at night.
19 — Nathan Perry here this evening.
20 — Leonard Woods here this morn. Mrs. Perry here this afternoon a visiting.
21 —Sabbath. Mr. Brown of Winchendon preached.
22 — Revd. Mr. Brown breakfasted with us this morning. He is an agreable pretty man.
23 — Mr. Gregory killed a cow for Pa.
24 — We baked two ovensfull of pyes. — Mr. Nathan Perry here this eve.
25 — Thanksgiving to-day we baked three ovensfull of pyes. There was no preaching so we had nothing to do but eat them. The pyes were a great deal better than they were last Thanksgiving for I made them all myself, and part of them were made of flour which we got of Mr. H. Hastings therefore we had plenty of spice.
26 — Mr. Ephriam Mirick here. Pa went to town meeting.
27 — Mr. Gregory killed our hogs to-day.
28 — There is no preaching in this town. There came a considerable snow last night.
30 — Caty Eveleth was married the 22nd inst.
1790 Dec.
1 - I went to Mr. Perry’s to make a visit this afternoon, had an excellent dish of tea and a shortcake. — Betsey Whitcomb at work there. Had a sociable afternoon.
2 — Silas Perry here to-day before sunrise. Pa is very poorly having a very bad cough. I am a good deal afraid he will go into a consumption. Oh! if my soul was formed for woe how would I vent my sighs My grief it would like rivers flow, from both my
streaming eyes. I am disconsolate to-night.
4 — I minced the Link meat.
6 — Timmy has gone to the singing meeting.
11 —Sabbath. David Perry here to borrow our singing book.
16 — John Brooks here killing our sheep. A severe snow storm.
17 — Very cold. I made sixteen dozen of candles.
19 — Sabbath cold enough to freeze fools but I was so wise I would have gone to meeting had not Ma kept me at home. I had not sense enough to more than balance my folly. Pa went to meeting, got there time enough to hear three hims and the prayer, but it was as much as ever he did. Mr. Lee preached.
21 —James Mirick is here, says Ephraim is gone to Fitzwilliam to bring Mrs. Garfield and her household stuff down.
22 — David Perry here to get Timmy to go to the singing school with him.
24 — I scoured the pewter. Pa went to Fitchburg.
26 — Sabbath. Stormy weather. We all stayed at home. Pretty warm.
28 — Cold and pleasant to-day. Pa sold his mare, is to have eleven dollars and a cow. Pa and Timmy went to Mr. Holden’s in Westminster to drive the cow home. She behaved so bad they did not get her farther than Mr. Dodd’s. Mr. Woods here to borrow some books of Pa.
30 — Very pleasant. Mr. Eveleth’s personal estate vendued. Pa and Tim gone there.
31 — Cloudy and cold, evening. Mr. Nathan Perry herethis evening...
1791 Mar.
1 — Pa went to Mr. Stephen Brighams to write his will. Ma began to spin the wool for Pa’s coat. I card for her & do the household work.
2 — Ma is a spinning.
3 — Ma spun three skeins. — Nathan Perry here. — Pa is gone to Mr. Hastings this eve.
4 — Mrs. Perry here to spend the afternoon.
5 — Ma spun.
6 — Sabbath, no Meeting in Town.
7 — very warm. Anna Perry here visiting. — I made 18 dozen of candles & washed.
8 — Ma spun.
9 — Miss Eunice Mirick here a visiting this afternoon.
10 — Warm and rainy. — Francis Eveleth here to borrow our singing Book. Ma spun.
11 — Rainy weather. Mr. Thomson here to-day after rates. Mr, Parmenter here, bought two calf skins of Pa, gave him ten shillings apiece. — David Perry here. — Timmy went to Mr. Brooks.
12 — David Perry here to-day.
13 — Sabbath no Meeting.
14 — March Meeting Mr. Crafts asked a dismission, had his request granted without the least difficulty, so now we are once more a free people ha ha, he is going to Weymouth to keep shop a going out of Town this week 'tis thought he has not much to carry with him I do not know nor care what he has.
15 — Revd. Mr. Rice & Mr. Isaac Thomson here. Mr. Rice Dined here.
16 — Pa went to Mr. Bangs to-day.
18 — Capt. Clark here this evening.
19 — John Brooks here to-day. — Nathan Perry here for the newspaper. — Ma spun two skeins & an half of filling yarn.
20 — Sabbath. Pa went to church Mr. Saunders Preached, he is one of Stephen Baxters classmates, the going was so bad that none of the rest of our Family went to hear him.
21 —- Cold. Mr. Brooks here.
22 — Pa went to Mr. Bangs.
23 — Pa went to Mr. Rolphs to-day. On the 13th inst. Miss Caty Mirick was Married to Mr. Joshua Eveleth.
24 — Mr. Brooks here to-day to get Pa to write a Deed of Mr. Hastingses Farm for him.
25 — Ma finished spinning her blue Wool to-day.
26 — Ma went to Mrs. Miricks to get a slay Harness. Mrs. Caty Eveleth came home with her.
27—Sabbath very pleasant I went to church. Mr. Rolph Preached. — Esqr. Woolson here to tarry all night.
28 — Esqr. Woolson went from here this morning. A man here to-day that was both deaf and dumb, he is Son to a Merchant in London, he went to sea & the ship was struck with Lightning & which occasioned his being deaf & dumb, he could write wrote a good deal here. He was a good looking young Man, about 25 he wrote his name Joel Smith. I really pitied him. I went to Mrs. Miricks & warped the piece.
29 — Mrs. Garfield came here to show me how to draw in Piece did not stay but about half an hour.
30 — I tyed in the Piece & wove two yards.
31 — Fast. I went to Meeting all day. Mr. Rolph preached half of the day & Mr. Saunders the other half. Mr. Saunders is a very good Preacher & a handsome Man. — David Perry here this evening to sing with us.
1791 April
1 — I wove two yards and three quarters & three inches to-day & I think I did pretty well considering it was April Fool day. Mr. Brooks & Mr. Hastings here to get Pa to do some writing for them.
2 — I wove three yards and a quarter,
3 —Sabbath. I went to church. — an anular eclipse of the sun, it was fair weather. 4— I wove five yards & a quarter. Mr. Cutting here this eve.
5 — I wove four yards. Mrs. Garfield & Mrs. Eveleth who was once Caty Mirick here a visiting. —The real estate of Mr. Josiah Mirick deceased is vendued to-day. (eve) Timmy has got home from the vendue Mr. Cutting has bought the Farm gave 255£ Sam Matthews has bought the part of the Pew gave eight dollars.
6 — I got out the White piece Mrs. Garfield warped the blue, came here & began to draw in the Piece.
7 — I finished drawing in the Piece & wove a yard & a half. Sam Matthews here to-day.
8 — I wove two yards & a quarter.
9 — I wove two yards & a quarter.
10 — Sabbath. I went to church in the A.M. Mamma went in the P.M. she has not been before since she came from Sandwich.
11 —I wove a yard & a half. Parmela Mirick here to see me.
12 — I wove to-day.
13 — Mrs. Brooks here a visiting. I wove.
14 — I got out the Piece in the A.M. Pa carried it to Mr. Deadmans. Miss Eliza Harris here.
15 — I began to spin Linnen spun 21 knots. I went to Mr. Perrys on an errand. Pa went to Mr. Matthews to write his will & some deeds. He has sold Dr. Wilson 20 acres of Land & given Sam a deed of some I believe about 25 acres.
16 — Pa went to Mr. Matthews again. — I spun 21 knots.
17 — Sabbath I went to church all day Mr. Davis Preached Mr. Saunders is sick.
18 — I spun two double skeins of Linnen.
19 — I spun two double skeins.
20—I spun two double skeins. — Ma went to Mrs. Miricks for a visit was sent for home. — Revd. Daniel Fuller of Cape Ann here to see us.
21—Revd. Mr. Fuller went from here this morn. Ma went to Mrs. Miricks again. — I spun two skeins. — Sukey Eveleth & Nabby here to see Nancy.
22 — I spun two double skeins O dear Quadyille has murdered wit, & work will do as bad, for wit is always merry, but work does make me sad.
23 — I spun two skeins. Nathan Perry here. — Ware-ham Hastings at work here.
24 — I went to church. Mr. Thurston Preached. — Mr. Saunders is sick.
25 — Leonard Woods here all this forenoon, brought Hoi-yokes singing Book. Left it here.
26 — Pa went to see Mr. Saunders. I Pricked some tunes out of Holyokes Singing Book.
27 — I spun five skeins of linnen yarn.
28 — I spun five skeins of linnen yarn. Pa went to Sterling.
29 — I Pricked some Tunes out of Holyokes singing Book. I spun some.
30 — I spun four skeins to-day.
1791 May
1 —Sabbath I went to Meeting to-day.
2 — I spun five skeins to-day.
3 — I spun five skeins to-day.
4 — I spun two skeins to-day finished the Warp for this Piece. — Nathan Perry worked here this P.M.
5 — I spun four skeins of tow for the filling to the Piece. I have been spinning, Pa went to Worcester to get the newspaper. Nathan Perry here this eve.
6— I spun four Skeins to-day.
7 — I spun four Skeins to-day.
8 — Sabbath. I went to church A.M. Mr. Thurston preached. Mr. John Rolph & his Lady & Mr. Osburn her Brother & a Miss Anna Strong (a Lady courted by said Osbourn) came here after Meeting and drank Tea.
9 — I spun four skeins. Mr. Thurston here this P.M. a visiting he is an agreeable Man appears much better out of the Pulpit than in.
10— I spun four Skeins to-day.
11 — I spun four skeins.
12 — I spun four skeins. Lucy Matthews here.
13 — I spun four skeins. — Ma is making Soap. Rainy.
14 — I spun four skeins. Ma finished making soap and it is very good.
15 — I went to church A. M. Mr. Thurston Preached he is a ——. — Mr. Rolph drank Tea here.
17 — I spun four skeins to-day.
18 — I spun four skeins of linnen yarn to Make a Harness of. — Ma is a breaking.
19 — I spun two skeins and twisted the harness yarn.
20— Mrs. Garfield came here this Morning to show me how to make a Harness, did not stay but about half an Hour. — Mrs. Perry & Miss Eliza Harris here a visiting.
21 — I went to Mrs. Miricks and warped the Piece.
22 — I went to church in the A.M. Mr. Saunders preached gave us a good sermon his text Romans 6th Chap. 23 verse. For the wages of Sin is Death.
23 — I got in my Piece to-day wove a yard.
24 — Wove two yards & an half.
25 — Election. I wove three Yards to-day. — Mrs. Perry here a few moments.
26 — I wove three Yards to-day. The two Mrs. Matthews here to Day. I liked Sam’s Wife much better than I expected to. — Miss. Eliza Harris here about two Hours.
27 — I wove five Yards to-day.
29 — Pleasant weather. Pa went to Sterling. My Cousin Jacob Kcmbal of Amherst came here to-day.
30 — General Election at Bolton. — Mr. Josiah Eveleth & Wife & Mrs. Garfield here on a visit.
1791 June
1—Moses Harrington carried off Mr. Hastings old shop.
2—Elislia Brooks here to-day.
5—I made myself a Shift. — Mrs. Perry here a visiting. Nathan Perry here this evening.
6—Sabbath. No Meeting in Town. Elisha Brooks here to see if there was a meeting.
7—I made myself a blue worsted Coat.
8—Aaron & Nathan Perry here. — Pamela Mirick here a visiting this afternoon.
9—Mrs. Brooks here a visiting. — I helped Sally make me a blue worsted Gown.
10—I helped Sally make me a brown Woolen Gown.
12—Sally cut out a striped lutestring Gown for me.
13—Sabbath I went to church. Mr. Green Preached.
14—Aaron Perry here.
15—I cut out a striped linnen Gown. — Sally finished my lutestring.
16—Rainy weather. Ma cut out a Coattce for me. —Salmon Houghton breakfasted with us. — Elisha Brooks spent the afternoon here.
17—Ma, Sally & I spent the afternoon at Mrs. Miricks.
18—Cool. Sally finished my Coattee.
19—I finished my striped linnen Gown. Mr. Soloman Davis here. Sabbath.
20—I went to Church, wore my lutestring, Sally wore hers we went to Mr. Richardsons & Dined. —rained at night.
21—Pleasant weather. Mr. Bush here.
22—Capt. Moore here to-day. Put in my dwiant Coat & Sally & I quilted it out before night.
23—Sally put in a Worsted Coat for herself and we quilted it out by the middle of the afternoon. Very pleasant weather.
24—I made myself a Shift.
Source: Francis E. Blake, “Diary Kept by Elizabeth Fuller,” History of the Town of Princeton (Princeton, Massachusetts: Town, 1915)
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Indentured Servants Coming to Pennsylvania in 1750s
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From Gottlieb Mittelberger's Journey to Pennsylvania in the Year 1750 and Return to Germany in the Year 1754 (Philadelphia, 1898).
Gottlieb Mittelberger traveled to Pennsylvania from Germany in 1750, on a ship primarily filled with poorer immigrants who would become indentured servants upon arriving in Philadelphia. Mittelberger was not a servant, and worked as a school master and organist for three years before returning to Germany in 1754.
In the 17th & 18th centuries, many immigrants to the British American colonies entered as indentured servants bound to serve a term of service before receiving freedom. Between 1749 & 1754 over 30,000 Germans came to Pennsylvania, about 1/3 of the colony's population. Mittelberger arrived in Philadelphia in late 1750 aboard the ship Osgood, in the company of 500 of his fellow countrymen, mostly under indenture.
Both in Rotterdam and in Amsterdam the people are packed densely, like herrings so to say, in the large sea-vessels. One person receives a place of scarcely 2 feet width and 6 feet length in the bedstead, while many a ship carries four to six hundred souls; not to mention the innumerable implements, tools, provisions, water-barrels and other things which likewise occupy such space.
On account of contrary winds it takes the ships sometimes 2, 3, and 4 weeks to make the trip from Holland to . . . England. But when the wind is good, they get there in 8 days or even sooner. Everything is examined there and the custom-duties paid, whence it comes that the ships ride there 8, 10 or 14 days and even longer at anchor, till they have taken in their full cargoes. During that time every one is compelled to spend his last remaining money and to consume his little stock of provisions which had been reserved for the sea; so that most passengers, finding themselves on the ocean where they would be in greater need of them, must greatly suffer from hunger and want. Many suffer want already on the water between Holland and Old England.
When the ships have for the last time weighed their anchors near the city of Kaupp [Cowes] in Old England, the real misery begins with the long voyage. For from there the ships, unless they have good wind, must often sail 8, 9, 10 to 12 weeks before they reach Philadelphia. But even with the best wind the voyage lasts 7 weeks.
But during the voyage there is on board these ships terrible misery, stench, fumes, horror, vomiting, many kinds of sea-sickness, fever, dysentery, headache, heat, constipation, boils, scurvy, cancer, mouth rot, and the like, all of which come from old and sharply salted food and meat, also from very bad and foul water, so that many die miserably.
Add to this want of provisions, hunger, thirst, frost, heat, dampness, anxiety, want, afflictions and lamentations, together with other trouble, as . . . the lice abound so frightfully, especially on sick people, that they can be scraped off the body. The misery reaches the climax when a gale rages for 2 or 3 nights and days, so that every one believes that the ship will go to the bottom with all human beings on board. In such a visitation the people cry and pray most piteously.
Children from 1 to 7 years rarely survive the voyage. I witnessed . . . misery in no less than 32 children in our ship, all of whom were thrown into the sea. The parents grieve all the more since their children find no resting-place in the earth, but are devoured by the monsters of the sea.
That most of the people get sick is not surprising, because, in addition to all other trials and hardships, warm food is served only three times a week, the rations being very poor and very little. Such meals can hardly be eaten, on account of being so unclean. The water which is served out of the ships is often very black, thick and full of worms, so that one cannot drink it without loathing, even with the greatest thirst. Toward the end we were compelled to eat the ship's biscuit which had been spoiled long ago; though in a whole biscuit there was scarcely a piece the size of a dollar that had not been full of red worms and spiders' nests. . .
At length, when, after a long and tedious voyage, the ships come in sight of land, so that the promontories can be seen, which the people were so eager and anxious to see, all creep from below on deck to see the land from afar, and they weep for joy, and pray and sing, thanking and praising God. The sight of the land makes the people on board the ship, especially the sick and the half dead, alive again, so that their hearts leap within them; they shout and rejoice, and are content to bear their misery in patience, in the hope that they may soon reach the land in safety. But alas!
When the ships have landed at Philadelphia after their long voyage, no one is permitted to leave them except those who pay for their passage or can give good security; the others, who cannot pay, must remain on board the ships till they are purchased, and are released from the ships by their purchasers. The sick always fare the worst, for the healthy are naturally preferred and purchased first; and so the sick and wretched must often remain on board in front of the city for 2 or 3 weeks, and frequently die, whereas many a one, if he could pay his debt and were permitted to leave the ship immediately, might recover and remain alive.
The sale of human beings in the market on board the ship is carried out thus: Every day Englishmen, Dutchmen and High-German people come from the city of Philadelphia and other places, in part from a great distance, say 20, 30, or 40 hours away, and go on board the newly arrived ship that has brought and offers for sale passengers from Europe, and select among the healthy persons such as they deem suitable for their business, and bargain with them how long they will serve for their passage money, which most of them are still in debt for. When they have come to an agreement, it happens that adult persons bind themselves in writing to serve 3, 4, 5 or 6 years for the amount due by them, according to their age and strength. But very young people, from 10 to 15 years, must serve till they are 21 years old.
Many parents must sell and trade away their children like so many head of cattle; for if their children take the debt upon themselves, the parents can leave the ship free and unrestrained; but as the parents often do not know where and to what people their children are going, it often happens that such parents and children, after leaving the ship, do not see each other again for many years, perhaps no more in all their lives. . . .
It often happens that whole families, husband, wife and children, are separated by being sold to different purchasers, especially when they have not paid any part of their passage money.
When a husband or wife has died a sea, when the ship has made more than half of her trip, the survivor must pay or serve not only for himself or herself but also for the deceased.
When both parents have died over half-way at sea, their children, especially when they are young and have nothing to pawn or pay, must stand for their own and their parents' passage, and serve till they are 21 years old. When one has served his or her term, he or she is entitled to a new suit of clothes at parting; and if it has been so stipulated, a man gets in addition a horse, a woman, a cow. When a serf has an opportunity to marry in this country, he or she must pay for each year which he or she would have yet to serve, 5 or 6 pounds.
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From Gottlieb Mittelberger's Journey to Pennsylvania in the Year 1750 and Return to Germany in the Year 1754 (Philadelphia, 1898).
Gottlieb Mittelberger traveled to Pennsylvania from Germany in 1750, on a ship primarily filled with poorer immigrants who would become indentured servants upon arriving in Philadelphia. Mittelberger was not a servant, and worked as a school master and organist for three years before returning to Germany in 1754.
In the 17th & 18th centuries, many immigrants to the British American colonies entered as indentured servants bound to serve a term of service before receiving freedom. Between 1749 & 1754 over 30,000 Germans came to Pennsylvania, about 1/3 of the colony's population. Mittelberger arrived in Philadelphia in late 1750 aboard the ship Osgood, in the company of 500 of his fellow countrymen, mostly under indenture.
Both in Rotterdam and in Amsterdam the people are packed densely, like herrings so to say, in the large sea-vessels. One person receives a place of scarcely 2 feet width and 6 feet length in the bedstead, while many a ship carries four to six hundred souls; not to mention the innumerable implements, tools, provisions, water-barrels and other things which likewise occupy such space.
On account of contrary winds it takes the ships sometimes 2, 3, and 4 weeks to make the trip from Holland to . . . England. But when the wind is good, they get there in 8 days or even sooner. Everything is examined there and the custom-duties paid, whence it comes that the ships ride there 8, 10 or 14 days and even longer at anchor, till they have taken in their full cargoes. During that time every one is compelled to spend his last remaining money and to consume his little stock of provisions which had been reserved for the sea; so that most passengers, finding themselves on the ocean where they would be in greater need of them, must greatly suffer from hunger and want. Many suffer want already on the water between Holland and Old England.
When the ships have for the last time weighed their anchors near the city of Kaupp [Cowes] in Old England, the real misery begins with the long voyage. For from there the ships, unless they have good wind, must often sail 8, 9, 10 to 12 weeks before they reach Philadelphia. But even with the best wind the voyage lasts 7 weeks.
But during the voyage there is on board these ships terrible misery, stench, fumes, horror, vomiting, many kinds of sea-sickness, fever, dysentery, headache, heat, constipation, boils, scurvy, cancer, mouth rot, and the like, all of which come from old and sharply salted food and meat, also from very bad and foul water, so that many die miserably.
Add to this want of provisions, hunger, thirst, frost, heat, dampness, anxiety, want, afflictions and lamentations, together with other trouble, as . . . the lice abound so frightfully, especially on sick people, that they can be scraped off the body. The misery reaches the climax when a gale rages for 2 or 3 nights and days, so that every one believes that the ship will go to the bottom with all human beings on board. In such a visitation the people cry and pray most piteously.
Children from 1 to 7 years rarely survive the voyage. I witnessed . . . misery in no less than 32 children in our ship, all of whom were thrown into the sea. The parents grieve all the more since their children find no resting-place in the earth, but are devoured by the monsters of the sea.
That most of the people get sick is not surprising, because, in addition to all other trials and hardships, warm food is served only three times a week, the rations being very poor and very little. Such meals can hardly be eaten, on account of being so unclean. The water which is served out of the ships is often very black, thick and full of worms, so that one cannot drink it without loathing, even with the greatest thirst. Toward the end we were compelled to eat the ship's biscuit which had been spoiled long ago; though in a whole biscuit there was scarcely a piece the size of a dollar that had not been full of red worms and spiders' nests. . .
At length, when, after a long and tedious voyage, the ships come in sight of land, so that the promontories can be seen, which the people were so eager and anxious to see, all creep from below on deck to see the land from afar, and they weep for joy, and pray and sing, thanking and praising God. The sight of the land makes the people on board the ship, especially the sick and the half dead, alive again, so that their hearts leap within them; they shout and rejoice, and are content to bear their misery in patience, in the hope that they may soon reach the land in safety. But alas!
When the ships have landed at Philadelphia after their long voyage, no one is permitted to leave them except those who pay for their passage or can give good security; the others, who cannot pay, must remain on board the ships till they are purchased, and are released from the ships by their purchasers. The sick always fare the worst, for the healthy are naturally preferred and purchased first; and so the sick and wretched must often remain on board in front of the city for 2 or 3 weeks, and frequently die, whereas many a one, if he could pay his debt and were permitted to leave the ship immediately, might recover and remain alive.
The sale of human beings in the market on board the ship is carried out thus: Every day Englishmen, Dutchmen and High-German people come from the city of Philadelphia and other places, in part from a great distance, say 20, 30, or 40 hours away, and go on board the newly arrived ship that has brought and offers for sale passengers from Europe, and select among the healthy persons such as they deem suitable for their business, and bargain with them how long they will serve for their passage money, which most of them are still in debt for. When they have come to an agreement, it happens that adult persons bind themselves in writing to serve 3, 4, 5 or 6 years for the amount due by them, according to their age and strength. But very young people, from 10 to 15 years, must serve till they are 21 years old.
Many parents must sell and trade away their children like so many head of cattle; for if their children take the debt upon themselves, the parents can leave the ship free and unrestrained; but as the parents often do not know where and to what people their children are going, it often happens that such parents and children, after leaving the ship, do not see each other again for many years, perhaps no more in all their lives. . . .
It often happens that whole families, husband, wife and children, are separated by being sold to different purchasers, especially when they have not paid any part of their passage money.
When a husband or wife has died a sea, when the ship has made more than half of her trip, the survivor must pay or serve not only for himself or herself but also for the deceased.
When both parents have died over half-way at sea, their children, especially when they are young and have nothing to pawn or pay, must stand for their own and their parents' passage, and serve till they are 21 years old. When one has served his or her term, he or she is entitled to a new suit of clothes at parting; and if it has been so stipulated, a man gets in addition a horse, a woman, a cow. When a serf has an opportunity to marry in this country, he or she must pay for each year which he or she would have yet to serve, 5 or 6 pounds.
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Mary Jemison, Indian Captive 1750s
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Mary Jemison (Deh-he-wä-mis) (1743–1833) was probably about 15 years old, when she was captured & adopted by Seneca Indians during the French and Indian War. Jemison was 80 years old, when she told her story to James Seaver who wrote the narrative of the young English woman who chose to remain within the Indian culture which had adopted her.
The night was spent in gloomy forebodings. What the result of our captivity would be, it was out of our power to determine, or even imagine. At times, we could almost realize the approach of our masters to butcher and scalp us; again, we could nearly see the pile of wood kindled on which we were to be roasted; and then we would imagine ourselves at liberty, alone and defenseless in the forest, surrounded by wild beasts that were ready to devour us. The anxiety of our minds drove sleep from our eyelids; and it was with a dreadful hope and painful impatience that we waited for the morning to determine our fate.
The morning at length arrived, and our masters came early and let us out of the house, and gave the young man and boy to the French, who immediately took them away. Their fate I never learned, as I have not seen nor heard of them since.
I was now left alone in the fort, deprived of my former companions, and of every thing that was near or dear to me but life. But it was not long before I was in some measure relieved by the appearance of two pleasant looking squaws, of the Seneca tribe, who came and examined me attentively for a short time, and then went out. After a few minutes' absence, they returned in company with my former masters, who gave me to the squaws to dispose of as they pleased.
The Indians by whom I was taken were a party of Shawnees,* if I remember right, that lived, when at home, a long distance down the Ohio.
My former Indian masters and the two squaws were soon ready to leave the fort, and accordingly embarked -- the Indians in a large canoe, and the two squaws and myself in a small one-and went down the Ohio. When we set off, an Indian in the forward canoe took the scalps of my former friends, strung them on a pole that he placed upon his shoulder, and in that manner carried them, standing in the stern of the canoe directly before us, as we sailed down the river, to the town where the two squaws resided.
On the way we passed a Shawnee town, where I saw a number of heads, arms, legs, and other fragments of the bodies of some white people who had just been burned. The parts that remained were hanging on a pole, which was supported at each end by a crotch stuck in the ground, and were roasted or burnt black as a coal. The fire was yet burning; and the whole appearance afforded a spectacle so shocking that even to this day the blood almost curdles in my veins when I think of them.
At night we arrived at a small Seneca Indian town, at the mouth of a small river that was called by the Indians, in the Seneca language, She-nan-jee, about eighty miles by water from the fort, where the two squaws to whom I belonged resided. There we landed, and the Indians went on; which was the last I ever saw of them.
Having made fast to the shore, the squaws left me in the canoe while they went to their wigwam or house in the town, and returned with a suit of Indian clothing, all new, and very clean and nice. My clothes, though whole and good when I was taken, were now torn in pieces, so that I was almost naked. They first undressed me, and threw my rags into the river; then washed me clean and dressed me in the new suit they had just brought, in complete Indian style; and then led me home and seated me in the center of their wigwam.
I had been in that situation but a few minutes before all the squaws in the town came in to see me. I was soon surrounded by them, and they immediately set up a most dismal howling, crying bitterly, and wringing their hands in all the agonies of grief for a deceased relative.
Their tears flowed freely, and they exhibited all the signs of real mourning. At the commencement of this scene, one of their number began, in a voice somewhat between speaking and singing, to recite some words to the following purport, and continued the recitation till the ceremony was ended; the company at the same time varying the appearance of their countenances, gestures, and tone of voice, so as to correspond with the sentiments expressed by their leader.
"Oh, our brother! alas! he is dead-he has gone; he will never return! Friendless he died on the field of the slain, where his bones are yet lying unburied! Oh! who will not mourn his sad fate? No tears dropped around him: oh, no! No tears of his sisters were there! He fell in his prime, when his arm was most needed to keep us from danger! Alas! he has gone, and left us in sorrow, his loss to bewail! Oh, where is his spirit? His spirit went naked, and hungry it wanders, and thirsty and wounded, it groans to return! Oh, helpless and wretched, our brother has gone! No blanket nor food to nourish and warm him; nor candles to light him, nor weapons of war! Oh, none of those comforts had he! But well we remember his deeds! The deer he could take on the chase! The panther shrunk back at the sight of his strength! His enemies fell at his feet! He was brave and courageous in war! As the fawn, he was harmless; his friendship was ardent; his temper was gentle; his pity was great! Oh! our friend, our companion, is dead! Our brother, our brother! alas, he is gone! But why do we grieve for his loss? In the strength of a warrior, undaunted he left us, to fight by the side of the chiefs! His warwhoop was shrill! His rifle well aimed laid his enemies low: his tomahawk drank of their blood: and his knife flayed their scalps while yet covered with gore! And why do we mourn? Though he fell on the field of the slain, with glory he fell; and his spirit went up to the land of his fathers in war! They why do we mourn? With transports of joy, they received him, and fed him, and clothed him, and welcomed him there! Oh, friends, he is happy; then dry up your tears! His spirit has seen our distress, and sent us a helper whom with pleasure we greet. Deh-hew5-mis has come: then let us receive her with joy!-she is handsome and pleasant! Oh! she is our sister, and gladly we welcome her here. In the place of our brother she stands in our tribe. With care we will guard her from trouble; and may she be happy till her spirit shall leave us."
In the course of that ceremony, from mourning they became serene,-joy sparkled in their countenances, and they seemed to rejoice over me as over a long-lost child. I was made welcome among them as a sister to the two squaws before mentioned, and was called Deh-hew5-mis; which, being interpreted, signifies a pretty girl, a handsome girl, or a pleasant, good thing. That is the name by which I have ever since been called by the Indians.
I afterward learned that the ceremony I at that time passed through was that of adoption. The two squaws had lost a brother in Washington's war, sometime in the year before, and in consequence of his death went up to Fort Du Quesne on the day on which I arrived there, in order to receive a prisoner, or an enemy's scalp, to supply their loss. It is a custom of the Indians, when one of their number is slain or taken prisoner in battle, to give to the nearest relative of the dead or absent a prisoner, if they have chanced to take one; and if not, to give him the scalp of an enemy. On the return of the Indians from the conquest, which is always announced by peculiar shoutings, demonstrations of joy, and the exhibition of some trophy of victory, the mourners come forward and make their claims. If they receive a prisoner, it is at their option either to satiate their vengeance by taking his life in the most cruel manner they can conceive of, or to receive and adopt him into the family, in the place of him whom they have lost. All the prisoners that are taken in battle and carried to the encampment or town by the Indians are given to the bereaved families, till their number is good. And unless the mourners have but just received the news of their bereavement, and are under the operation of a paroxysm of grief, anger, or revenge; or, unless the prisoner is very old, sickly, or homely, they generally save them, and treat them kindly. But if their mental wound is fresh, their loss so great that they deem it irreparable, or if their prisoner or prisoners do not meet their approbation, no torture, let it be ever so cruel, seems sufficient to make them satisfaction. It is family and not national sacrifices among the Indians, that has given them an indelible stamp as barbarians, and identified their character with the idea which is generally formed of unfeeling ferocity and the most barbarous cruelty.
It was my happy lot to be accepted for adoption. At the time of the ceremony I was received by the two squaws to supply the place of their brother in the family; and I was ever considered and treated by them as a real sister, the same as though I had been born of their mother.
During the ceremony of my adoption, I sat motionless, nearly terrified to death at the appearance and actions of the company, expecting every moment to feel their vengeance, and suffer death on the spot. I was, however, happily disappointed; when at the close of the ceremony the company retired, and my sisters commenced employing every means for my consolation and comfort.
Being now settled and provided with a home, I was employed in nursing the children, and doing light work about the house. Occasionally, I was sent out with the Indian hunters, when they went but a short distance, to help them carry their game. My situation was easy; I had no particular hardships to endure. But still, the recollection of my parents, my brothers and sisters, my home, and my own captivity, destroyed my happiness, and made me constantly solitary, lonesome, and gloomy.
My sisters would not allow me to speak English in their hearing; but remembering the charge that my dear mother gave me at the time I left her, whenever I chanced to be alone I made a business of repeating my prayer, catechism, or something I had learned, in order that I might not forget my own language. By practicing in that way, I retained it till I came to Genesee flats, where I soon became acquainted with English people, with whom I have been almost daily in the habit of conversing.
My sisters were very diligent in teaching me their language; and to their great satisfaction, I soon learned so that I could understand it readily, and speak it fluently. I was very fortunate in falling into their hands; for they were kind, good-natured women; peaceable and mild in their dispositions; temperate and decent in their habits, and very tender and gentle toward me. I have great reason to respect them, though they have been dead a great number of years...
After the conclusion of the French war, our tribe had nothing to do till the commencement of the American Revolution. For twelve or fifteen years, the use of the implements of war was not known, nor the warwhoop heard, save on days of festivity, when the achievements of former times were commemorated in a kind of mimic warfare, in which the chiefs, and warriors displayed their prowess, and illustrated their former adroitness, by laying the ambuscade, surprising their enemies, and performing many accurate maneuvers with the tomahawk and scalping knife; thereby preserving, and banding to their children, the theory of Indian warfare. During that period they also pertinaciously observed the religious rites of their progenitors, by attending with the most scrupulous exactness, and a great degree of enthusiasm, to the sacrifices, at particular times, to appease the anger of the Evil Deity; or to excite the commiseration of the Great Good Spirit, whom they adored with reverence, as the author, governor, supporter, and disposer of every good thing of which they participated.
They also practiced in various athletic games, such as running, wrestling, leaping, and playing ball, with a view that their bodies might be more supple -- or, rather, that they might not become enervated, and that they might be enabled to make a proper selection of chiefs for the councils of the nation, and leaders for war.
While the Indians were thus engaged in their round of traditionary performances, with the addition of hunting, their women attended to agriculture, their families, and a few domestic concerns of small consequence and attended with but little labor.
No people can live more happy than the Indians did in times of peace, before the introduction of spiritous liquors among them. Their lives were a continual round of pleasures. Their wants were few, and easily satisfied, and their cares were only for to-day -- the bounds of their calculation for future comfort not extending to the incalculable uncertainties of to-morrow. If peace ever dwelt with men, it was in former times, in the recess from war, among what are now termed barbarians. The moral character of the Indians was (if I may be allowed the expression) uncontaminated. Their fidelity was perfect, and became proverbial. They were strictly honest; they despised deception and falsehood; and chastity was held in high 'veneration, and a violation of it was considered sacrilege. They were temperate in their desires, moderate in their passions, and candid and honorable in the expression of their sentiments, on every subject of importance.
Thus, at peace among themselves and with the neighboring whites -though there were none at that time very near- our Indians lived quietly and peaceably at home, till a little before the breaking out of the Revolutionary War...
Soon after the close of the Revolutionary War, my Indian brother, Kau-jises-tau-ge-au, (which being interpreted signifies Black Coals,) offered me my liberty, and told me that if it was my choice I might go to my friends.
My son Thomas was anxious that I should go; and offered to go with me, and assist me on the journey, by taking care of the younger children, and providing food as we traveled through the wilderness. But the chiefs of our tribe, suspecting, from his appearance, actions, and a few warlike exploits, that Thomas would be a great warrior, or a good counselor, refused to let him leave them on any account whatever.
To go myself, and leave him, was more than I felt able to do; for he had been kind to me, and was one on whom I placed great dependence. The chiefs refusing to let him go was one reason for my resolving to stay; but another, more powerful if possible, was, that I had got a large family of Indian children that I must take with me; and that, if I should be so fortunate as to find my relatives, they would despise them, if not myself, and treat us as enemies, or, at least, with a degree of cold indifference, which I thought I could not endure.
Accordingly, after I had duly considered the matter, I told my brother that it was my choice to stay and spend the remainder of my days with my Indian friends, and live with my family as I hitherto had done. He appeared well pleased with my resolution, and informed me that, as that was my choice, I should have a piece of land that I could call my own, where I could live unmolested, and have something at my decease to leave for the benefit of my children.
Source: James E. Seaver, The Life of Mary Jemison: The White Woman of the Genesee. 1824. New York.
.
Mary Jemison (Deh-he-wä-mis) (1743–1833) was probably about 15 years old, when she was captured & adopted by Seneca Indians during the French and Indian War. Jemison was 80 years old, when she told her story to James Seaver who wrote the narrative of the young English woman who chose to remain within the Indian culture which had adopted her.
The night was spent in gloomy forebodings. What the result of our captivity would be, it was out of our power to determine, or even imagine. At times, we could almost realize the approach of our masters to butcher and scalp us; again, we could nearly see the pile of wood kindled on which we were to be roasted; and then we would imagine ourselves at liberty, alone and defenseless in the forest, surrounded by wild beasts that were ready to devour us. The anxiety of our minds drove sleep from our eyelids; and it was with a dreadful hope and painful impatience that we waited for the morning to determine our fate.
The morning at length arrived, and our masters came early and let us out of the house, and gave the young man and boy to the French, who immediately took them away. Their fate I never learned, as I have not seen nor heard of them since.
I was now left alone in the fort, deprived of my former companions, and of every thing that was near or dear to me but life. But it was not long before I was in some measure relieved by the appearance of two pleasant looking squaws, of the Seneca tribe, who came and examined me attentively for a short time, and then went out. After a few minutes' absence, they returned in company with my former masters, who gave me to the squaws to dispose of as they pleased.
The Indians by whom I was taken were a party of Shawnees,* if I remember right, that lived, when at home, a long distance down the Ohio.
My former Indian masters and the two squaws were soon ready to leave the fort, and accordingly embarked -- the Indians in a large canoe, and the two squaws and myself in a small one-and went down the Ohio. When we set off, an Indian in the forward canoe took the scalps of my former friends, strung them on a pole that he placed upon his shoulder, and in that manner carried them, standing in the stern of the canoe directly before us, as we sailed down the river, to the town where the two squaws resided.
On the way we passed a Shawnee town, where I saw a number of heads, arms, legs, and other fragments of the bodies of some white people who had just been burned. The parts that remained were hanging on a pole, which was supported at each end by a crotch stuck in the ground, and were roasted or burnt black as a coal. The fire was yet burning; and the whole appearance afforded a spectacle so shocking that even to this day the blood almost curdles in my veins when I think of them.
At night we arrived at a small Seneca Indian town, at the mouth of a small river that was called by the Indians, in the Seneca language, She-nan-jee, about eighty miles by water from the fort, where the two squaws to whom I belonged resided. There we landed, and the Indians went on; which was the last I ever saw of them.
Having made fast to the shore, the squaws left me in the canoe while they went to their wigwam or house in the town, and returned with a suit of Indian clothing, all new, and very clean and nice. My clothes, though whole and good when I was taken, were now torn in pieces, so that I was almost naked. They first undressed me, and threw my rags into the river; then washed me clean and dressed me in the new suit they had just brought, in complete Indian style; and then led me home and seated me in the center of their wigwam.
I had been in that situation but a few minutes before all the squaws in the town came in to see me. I was soon surrounded by them, and they immediately set up a most dismal howling, crying bitterly, and wringing their hands in all the agonies of grief for a deceased relative.
Their tears flowed freely, and they exhibited all the signs of real mourning. At the commencement of this scene, one of their number began, in a voice somewhat between speaking and singing, to recite some words to the following purport, and continued the recitation till the ceremony was ended; the company at the same time varying the appearance of their countenances, gestures, and tone of voice, so as to correspond with the sentiments expressed by their leader.
"Oh, our brother! alas! he is dead-he has gone; he will never return! Friendless he died on the field of the slain, where his bones are yet lying unburied! Oh! who will not mourn his sad fate? No tears dropped around him: oh, no! No tears of his sisters were there! He fell in his prime, when his arm was most needed to keep us from danger! Alas! he has gone, and left us in sorrow, his loss to bewail! Oh, where is his spirit? His spirit went naked, and hungry it wanders, and thirsty and wounded, it groans to return! Oh, helpless and wretched, our brother has gone! No blanket nor food to nourish and warm him; nor candles to light him, nor weapons of war! Oh, none of those comforts had he! But well we remember his deeds! The deer he could take on the chase! The panther shrunk back at the sight of his strength! His enemies fell at his feet! He was brave and courageous in war! As the fawn, he was harmless; his friendship was ardent; his temper was gentle; his pity was great! Oh! our friend, our companion, is dead! Our brother, our brother! alas, he is gone! But why do we grieve for his loss? In the strength of a warrior, undaunted he left us, to fight by the side of the chiefs! His warwhoop was shrill! His rifle well aimed laid his enemies low: his tomahawk drank of their blood: and his knife flayed their scalps while yet covered with gore! And why do we mourn? Though he fell on the field of the slain, with glory he fell; and his spirit went up to the land of his fathers in war! They why do we mourn? With transports of joy, they received him, and fed him, and clothed him, and welcomed him there! Oh, friends, he is happy; then dry up your tears! His spirit has seen our distress, and sent us a helper whom with pleasure we greet. Deh-hew5-mis has come: then let us receive her with joy!-she is handsome and pleasant! Oh! she is our sister, and gladly we welcome her here. In the place of our brother she stands in our tribe. With care we will guard her from trouble; and may she be happy till her spirit shall leave us."
In the course of that ceremony, from mourning they became serene,-joy sparkled in their countenances, and they seemed to rejoice over me as over a long-lost child. I was made welcome among them as a sister to the two squaws before mentioned, and was called Deh-hew5-mis; which, being interpreted, signifies a pretty girl, a handsome girl, or a pleasant, good thing. That is the name by which I have ever since been called by the Indians.
I afterward learned that the ceremony I at that time passed through was that of adoption. The two squaws had lost a brother in Washington's war, sometime in the year before, and in consequence of his death went up to Fort Du Quesne on the day on which I arrived there, in order to receive a prisoner, or an enemy's scalp, to supply their loss. It is a custom of the Indians, when one of their number is slain or taken prisoner in battle, to give to the nearest relative of the dead or absent a prisoner, if they have chanced to take one; and if not, to give him the scalp of an enemy. On the return of the Indians from the conquest, which is always announced by peculiar shoutings, demonstrations of joy, and the exhibition of some trophy of victory, the mourners come forward and make their claims. If they receive a prisoner, it is at their option either to satiate their vengeance by taking his life in the most cruel manner they can conceive of, or to receive and adopt him into the family, in the place of him whom they have lost. All the prisoners that are taken in battle and carried to the encampment or town by the Indians are given to the bereaved families, till their number is good. And unless the mourners have but just received the news of their bereavement, and are under the operation of a paroxysm of grief, anger, or revenge; or, unless the prisoner is very old, sickly, or homely, they generally save them, and treat them kindly. But if their mental wound is fresh, their loss so great that they deem it irreparable, or if their prisoner or prisoners do not meet their approbation, no torture, let it be ever so cruel, seems sufficient to make them satisfaction. It is family and not national sacrifices among the Indians, that has given them an indelible stamp as barbarians, and identified their character with the idea which is generally formed of unfeeling ferocity and the most barbarous cruelty.
It was my happy lot to be accepted for adoption. At the time of the ceremony I was received by the two squaws to supply the place of their brother in the family; and I was ever considered and treated by them as a real sister, the same as though I had been born of their mother.
During the ceremony of my adoption, I sat motionless, nearly terrified to death at the appearance and actions of the company, expecting every moment to feel their vengeance, and suffer death on the spot. I was, however, happily disappointed; when at the close of the ceremony the company retired, and my sisters commenced employing every means for my consolation and comfort.
Being now settled and provided with a home, I was employed in nursing the children, and doing light work about the house. Occasionally, I was sent out with the Indian hunters, when they went but a short distance, to help them carry their game. My situation was easy; I had no particular hardships to endure. But still, the recollection of my parents, my brothers and sisters, my home, and my own captivity, destroyed my happiness, and made me constantly solitary, lonesome, and gloomy.
My sisters would not allow me to speak English in their hearing; but remembering the charge that my dear mother gave me at the time I left her, whenever I chanced to be alone I made a business of repeating my prayer, catechism, or something I had learned, in order that I might not forget my own language. By practicing in that way, I retained it till I came to Genesee flats, where I soon became acquainted with English people, with whom I have been almost daily in the habit of conversing.
My sisters were very diligent in teaching me their language; and to their great satisfaction, I soon learned so that I could understand it readily, and speak it fluently. I was very fortunate in falling into their hands; for they were kind, good-natured women; peaceable and mild in their dispositions; temperate and decent in their habits, and very tender and gentle toward me. I have great reason to respect them, though they have been dead a great number of years...
After the conclusion of the French war, our tribe had nothing to do till the commencement of the American Revolution. For twelve or fifteen years, the use of the implements of war was not known, nor the warwhoop heard, save on days of festivity, when the achievements of former times were commemorated in a kind of mimic warfare, in which the chiefs, and warriors displayed their prowess, and illustrated their former adroitness, by laying the ambuscade, surprising their enemies, and performing many accurate maneuvers with the tomahawk and scalping knife; thereby preserving, and banding to their children, the theory of Indian warfare. During that period they also pertinaciously observed the religious rites of their progenitors, by attending with the most scrupulous exactness, and a great degree of enthusiasm, to the sacrifices, at particular times, to appease the anger of the Evil Deity; or to excite the commiseration of the Great Good Spirit, whom they adored with reverence, as the author, governor, supporter, and disposer of every good thing of which they participated.
They also practiced in various athletic games, such as running, wrestling, leaping, and playing ball, with a view that their bodies might be more supple -- or, rather, that they might not become enervated, and that they might be enabled to make a proper selection of chiefs for the councils of the nation, and leaders for war.
While the Indians were thus engaged in their round of traditionary performances, with the addition of hunting, their women attended to agriculture, their families, and a few domestic concerns of small consequence and attended with but little labor.
No people can live more happy than the Indians did in times of peace, before the introduction of spiritous liquors among them. Their lives were a continual round of pleasures. Their wants were few, and easily satisfied, and their cares were only for to-day -- the bounds of their calculation for future comfort not extending to the incalculable uncertainties of to-morrow. If peace ever dwelt with men, it was in former times, in the recess from war, among what are now termed barbarians. The moral character of the Indians was (if I may be allowed the expression) uncontaminated. Their fidelity was perfect, and became proverbial. They were strictly honest; they despised deception and falsehood; and chastity was held in high 'veneration, and a violation of it was considered sacrilege. They were temperate in their desires, moderate in their passions, and candid and honorable in the expression of their sentiments, on every subject of importance.
Thus, at peace among themselves and with the neighboring whites -though there were none at that time very near- our Indians lived quietly and peaceably at home, till a little before the breaking out of the Revolutionary War...
Soon after the close of the Revolutionary War, my Indian brother, Kau-jises-tau-ge-au, (which being interpreted signifies Black Coals,) offered me my liberty, and told me that if it was my choice I might go to my friends.
My son Thomas was anxious that I should go; and offered to go with me, and assist me on the journey, by taking care of the younger children, and providing food as we traveled through the wilderness. But the chiefs of our tribe, suspecting, from his appearance, actions, and a few warlike exploits, that Thomas would be a great warrior, or a good counselor, refused to let him leave them on any account whatever.
To go myself, and leave him, was more than I felt able to do; for he had been kind to me, and was one on whom I placed great dependence. The chiefs refusing to let him go was one reason for my resolving to stay; but another, more powerful if possible, was, that I had got a large family of Indian children that I must take with me; and that, if I should be so fortunate as to find my relatives, they would despise them, if not myself, and treat us as enemies, or, at least, with a degree of cold indifference, which I thought I could not endure.
Accordingly, after I had duly considered the matter, I told my brother that it was my choice to stay and spend the remainder of my days with my Indian friends, and live with my family as I hitherto had done. He appeared well pleased with my resolution, and informed me that, as that was my choice, I should have a piece of land that I could call my own, where I could live unmolested, and have something at my decease to leave for the benefit of my children.
Source: James E. Seaver, The Life of Mary Jemison: The White Woman of the Genesee. 1824. New York.
.
Steak Um Fun
“You know how you’re always telling me that it would be nice if I made dinner for a change?” Tom asked as he came through the front door. I noticed he was holding a grocery bag.
“Yes,” I said. “Don’t tell me. You’re going to make frozen pizza?”
Sometimes Tom will tell me that he’s going to make dinner and then he’ll open the freezer and hold a Digorno box over his head. “Dinner!” he’ll bellow. And don’t get me wrong, I like frozen pizza but sometimes I wish he’d actually cook for me. As in, follow a recipe.
“Nope,” Tom said proudly. He waved the bag at me. “I’m making Steak Ums!”
I frowned. “What did you call me?”
Tom shook his head. “No. Steak Ums is what I’m making.”
“Is that some secret word that they used in the Avatar movie that you saw?” I asked tiredly. It had been a long day.
“No. Steak Ums!” Tom pulled a red box from the bag. Sure enough the words Steak Ums were scrawled across the front. So he didn’t make the word up.
“How do you make them?” I wondered.
Tom’s eyebrows furrowed. “You know…I’m not sure.” Then he turned the box around and tapped it. “Ahh. Here we go. You just stick the steak strips in the oven.”
“The steak strips?” I repeated.
“That’s what they are. Steak strips.”
“Then what?”
“You make a sandwich! I’m going to make us a kick ass Steak Um sandwich.”
Then Tom marched determinedly into the kitchen. I could hear the rustle of the bag as he took everything out.
I was tempted to ask if he needed help. But then I changed my mind. Does he help me when I’m in the kitchen? Not much. Plus, I deserved to rest. So I leaned back against the couch and closed my eyes.
“What’s for dinner?” Tommy said, shaking my arm.
“Steak Ums,” I answered without opening my eyes.
“What’s that?” Tommy sounded absolutely horrified.
“Steak strips. Apparently.”
“I’m not sure if I’ll like that.”
“Me either. But Daddy is trying so let’s be thankful.”
“Amber? Where is the pan?” Tom called out. “I wanted to cook some onions too but I can’t find the pan. I see a big pan and I see a small pan. Don’t we have a medium pan?”
Ugh. This is what stinks when Tom decides to venture into the kitchen. He asks me a billion questions so I can’t even rest.
“It’s with all the other pans, Tom!”
“I don’t see it. I see a big pan, I see a small pan but I don’t see—”
“ It’s with the other pans, Tom!”
“Okay! Geez. I thought one of your resolutions was to be nicer to me!”
“Ahh yes, but I put a stipulation with that. I’d be nicer to you if you didn’t aggravate me. Right now you’re aggravating me.”
“I just needed to know where the—wait, nevermind, I found it.”
Hallelujah.
A few minutes later went by and I decided to read.
“Are these onions cut up small enough?” Tom yelled.
Oh for—
“I trust your judgment!” I said.
“Okay...well...do you know what pan I should put these steak strips on?”
I snapped the book shut. “No, I don’t. I’ve never made Steak Ums before, Tom.”
“Me either! My Mom would make them and I can’t remember what she did!”
“Well Tom, you’re an educated man in the Air Force. I imagine you can figure it out.” I opened my book again.
I could hear the rumble of Tom opening the oven drawer. I imagine he was peering inside, trying to figure out what pan he should use for the strips.
“I just thought of something,” Tom said.
I assumed he meant that he figured out what pan to use so I went, “Fantastic!” as I continued to read.
“Do we have bread?”
Bread?
“No?” I called back, confused.
“I just realized that I forgot the bread. Do we have any kind of bread?”
“Moldy bread in the cabinet, I think,” I responded. I really need to clean out the cabinets.
“How can we not have bread? Every family has bread! Don’t the kids want sandwiches for lunch?” Tom was absolutely in shock that we didn’t have bread.
“Not our kids. Our kids are weird. Tommy says sandwiches tastes like armpits and Natalie just takes hers apart and smears it all over the place. So to be on the safe side, I don’t bother making sandwiches. You’ll be lucky if the kids eat your Steak Um sandwiches,” I said and shut my book again. It’s nearly impossible to read in this house when everyone is awake. I usually have to do it when everyone is asleep.
“If there’s no bread, there’s no Steak Ums,” Tom fumed. “I’m not going back to that store. There were old people galore in there who walk like 2 miles per hour. I nearly picked up this old man and moved him to the side.” Tom walked out and sat down next to me on the couch with a sigh. “So now what do we eat?” He looked at me pointedly.
Oh great. So now it was my job again.
“I’m not cooking!” I said firmly. “You said you were cooking and I got used to the idea.”
Tom glanced at the clock. “Amber, I said I’d cook like fifteen minutes ago. How can you already be used to the idea? I’ll cook another day. When we have bread.”
“I’m not cooking.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “And we aren’t buying anything either,” I added when I saw Tom’s eyes brighten. He’ll use any excuse to go out.
Tom stood back up. “Fine!” He held his hands up, surrender style. “I’ll cook....how does frozen pizza sound to you?”
“Yes,” I said. “Don’t tell me. You’re going to make frozen pizza?”
Sometimes Tom will tell me that he’s going to make dinner and then he’ll open the freezer and hold a Digorno box over his head. “Dinner!” he’ll bellow. And don’t get me wrong, I like frozen pizza but sometimes I wish he’d actually cook for me. As in, follow a recipe.
“Nope,” Tom said proudly. He waved the bag at me. “I’m making Steak Ums!”
I frowned. “What did you call me?”
Tom shook his head. “No. Steak Ums is what I’m making.”
“Is that some secret word that they used in the Avatar movie that you saw?” I asked tiredly. It had been a long day.
“No. Steak Ums!” Tom pulled a red box from the bag. Sure enough the words Steak Ums were scrawled across the front. So he didn’t make the word up.
“How do you make them?” I wondered.
Tom’s eyebrows furrowed. “You know…I’m not sure.” Then he turned the box around and tapped it. “Ahh. Here we go. You just stick the steak strips in the oven.”
“The steak strips?” I repeated.
“That’s what they are. Steak strips.”
“Then what?”
“You make a sandwich! I’m going to make us a kick ass Steak Um sandwich.”
Then Tom marched determinedly into the kitchen. I could hear the rustle of the bag as he took everything out.
I was tempted to ask if he needed help. But then I changed my mind. Does he help me when I’m in the kitchen? Not much. Plus, I deserved to rest. So I leaned back against the couch and closed my eyes.
“What’s for dinner?” Tommy said, shaking my arm.
“Steak Ums,” I answered without opening my eyes.
“What’s that?” Tommy sounded absolutely horrified.
“Steak strips. Apparently.”
“I’m not sure if I’ll like that.”
“Me either. But Daddy is trying so let’s be thankful.”
“Amber? Where is the pan?” Tom called out. “I wanted to cook some onions too but I can’t find the pan. I see a big pan and I see a small pan. Don’t we have a medium pan?”
Ugh. This is what stinks when Tom decides to venture into the kitchen. He asks me a billion questions so I can’t even rest.
“It’s with all the other pans, Tom!”
“I don’t see it. I see a big pan, I see a small pan but I don’t see—”
“ It’s with the other pans, Tom!”
“Okay! Geez. I thought one of your resolutions was to be nicer to me!”
“Ahh yes, but I put a stipulation with that. I’d be nicer to you if you didn’t aggravate me. Right now you’re aggravating me.”
“I just needed to know where the—wait, nevermind, I found it.”
Hallelujah.
A few minutes later went by and I decided to read.
“Are these onions cut up small enough?” Tom yelled.
Oh for—
“I trust your judgment!” I said.
“Okay...well...do you know what pan I should put these steak strips on?”
I snapped the book shut. “No, I don’t. I’ve never made Steak Ums before, Tom.”
“Me either! My Mom would make them and I can’t remember what she did!”
“Well Tom, you’re an educated man in the Air Force. I imagine you can figure it out.” I opened my book again.
I could hear the rumble of Tom opening the oven drawer. I imagine he was peering inside, trying to figure out what pan he should use for the strips.
“I just thought of something,” Tom said.
I assumed he meant that he figured out what pan to use so I went, “Fantastic!” as I continued to read.
“Do we have bread?”
Bread?
“No?” I called back, confused.
“I just realized that I forgot the bread. Do we have any kind of bread?”
“Moldy bread in the cabinet, I think,” I responded. I really need to clean out the cabinets.
“How can we not have bread? Every family has bread! Don’t the kids want sandwiches for lunch?” Tom was absolutely in shock that we didn’t have bread.
“Not our kids. Our kids are weird. Tommy says sandwiches tastes like armpits and Natalie just takes hers apart and smears it all over the place. So to be on the safe side, I don’t bother making sandwiches. You’ll be lucky if the kids eat your Steak Um sandwiches,” I said and shut my book again. It’s nearly impossible to read in this house when everyone is awake. I usually have to do it when everyone is asleep.
“If there’s no bread, there’s no Steak Ums,” Tom fumed. “I’m not going back to that store. There were old people galore in there who walk like 2 miles per hour. I nearly picked up this old man and moved him to the side.” Tom walked out and sat down next to me on the couch with a sigh. “So now what do we eat?” He looked at me pointedly.
Oh great. So now it was my job again.
“I’m not cooking!” I said firmly. “You said you were cooking and I got used to the idea.”
Tom glanced at the clock. “Amber, I said I’d cook like fifteen minutes ago. How can you already be used to the idea? I’ll cook another day. When we have bread.”
“I’m not cooking.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “And we aren’t buying anything either,” I added when I saw Tom’s eyes brighten. He’ll use any excuse to go out.
Tom stood back up. “Fine!” He held his hands up, surrender style. “I’ll cook....how does frozen pizza sound to you?”
Dealing with Dementia
Today's post is kind of sad. We saw my mom last night and although it was a good visit, there was an element of sadness in it. She called me three times yesterday to come and see her. Frank and I went after he got home...why did she want us to come? She remember that some time ago...I told her when she quit working at Adams she could come and live with us....so I guess she was through working....because she had her stuff packed and was ready to go home with us last night. I did what I always do...dropped back and punted. I told her it was too cold and I was too sick. She bought it...but, added that I could come get her tomorrow. We have come full circle. We have come from trying to escape, to trying to get out to go on errands, to trying to quit work and move in with me. She told me she could not live alone...her house was too big. Elements of reality were evident in this conversation....then she asked if I knew where my father was...and reality vaporized before me. Ah the lot of a child with parent who suffers from dementia. Dementia rules my life now. I dream about it, research it, spend most waking moments thinking about it. I have never had to deal with it....until my mother. I have discovered in my searching for answers that dementia is the loss of mental functions -- such as thinking, memory, and reasoning -- that it can be severe enough to interfere with a person's daily functioning (like taking a bath). Dementia is not a disease itself, but rather a group of symptoms that are caused by various diseases or conditions. Symptoms can also include changes in personality, mood, and behavior. Dementia develops when the parts of the brain that are involved with learning, memory, decision-making, and language are affected by one or more of a variety of infections or diseases. So, with all this researching....I am finding....that dementia does not make any more sense than it did in the beginning. It is such a portrait of confusion. There should be tons of support groups out there...but there isn't. Our town has one....it meets for lunch...I teach school and have a lunch 22 minutes. That is not long enough to go out there and ask questions...I have discovered there are several of us on campus in various stages of dealing with parents who are aging....we talk at the water fountain, the copy room, the teacher mail room...anywhere we can hang out a shingle that says..."The Doctor is In." Yet, these are just people stuggling with the same disease I am struggling with...none of us have answers....but we do have hugs. Today will be one of those days...sigh,...Hello my name is Karen, and my mom has dementia.
Monday, January 11, 2010
No Skulls At Dinner
“Remember to smile, Tom.” I even put a smile on my face and twisted my fingers in the corners of my cheeks for emphasis.
“Why?” Tom grumbled.
“Because when you stand there looking pissed off, you scare people!” I lectured. Seriously, people have come up to me and whispered, “Why does your husband look so upset? He’s scary!” My husband isn’t scary. He really is harmless, he just tends to look pissed off half the time. I think that’s just the way he looks. Who knows?
“I’ll smile if want,” Tom said.
“Do you want to scare off all my friends?” I asked. We were going to dinner at my friend Amanda’s house.
“I won’t scare anyone off!” Tom insisted.
I frowned at his shirt. “Is that what you’re wearing?”
Tom peered down at his shirt with a skull on it. “Yeah. Why?”
“It has a skull on the front. Suppose she thinks we’re crazy?”
Tom was confused. “Why would she think I was crazy for wearing a skull? There’s nothing wrong with this skull.”
I sighed. “Couldn’t you wear a nice polo or something?”
Tom made a face. “Hell no. You know I hate wearing polos!”
This is true. I have no idea why. He claims polos are too preppy for his liking. And he refuses to wear sweaters too. Most of his shirts have sayings on the front. (My favorite? The one that says Save The Trees! Wipe Your Ass With An Owl!) But still, he’s getting older, therefore he should wear more appropriate shirts. But he refuses.
“You can’t wear a shirt with a skull on it,” I said.
“Fine! I won’t!” Then Tom thundered up the stairs. When he came back down, he was wearing his Chuck Norris t-shirt.
“Tom,” I said, groaning. “Do you have to wear that?”
Tom was genuinely surprised. “What’s wrong with Chuck Norris? Chuck Norris rocks. Every man loves Chuck Norris.”
“Not every man, Tom,” I said. “Not every man loves Chuck Norris.”
Tom pointed at me sharply. “You take that back.”
I sighed. Tom was giving me a headache. “Fine. Wear Chuck Norris.”
Tom was pleased. “Thanks.”
“I’m going to shower.”
“Why?” Tom asked.
“Uh, so I smell nice.”
“Who cares what you smell like? It’s a casual dinner.” He lifted up his arm and sniffed his pit. “Ahhh. I smell like a man.”
Ew.
“Just…put on some deodorant,” I insisted before going upstairs.
After my shower, I popped my head into Tommy’s room. “Remember to be on your best behavior. I know she doesn’t have kids your age but just remember to be nice. Okay?”
Tommy nodded. “I will.”
“And don’t do that thing where you chew on your clothes,” I added.
For some reason, Tommy has started to chew on his clothes. And if it’s not his clothes, it’s a rolled up piece of paper. It’s disgusting, really.
“I won’t,” Tommy said, annoyed.
“And…no talking about farts and butts and boogers,” I said.
Tommy giggled. “Mommy! I won’t!”
As I was brushing Natalie’s hair, I reminded her to be good.
“I be good,” she promised.
“I’ve heard that promise before,” I said. She’s told me she’ll be good and the second I step into a store, she’s acting like a wild animal that desperately needs to be caged.
“If you don’t like what she makes, eat it anyway,” I warned Tom on the drive over. Tom is one of the pickiest eaters around. He doesn’t like pot roast. What guy doesn’t like pot roast? It’s a delicious hunk of meat (as is John Krasinski. Sorry. Had to throw that in there.)
“I’m not going to eat something I don’t like, Amber,” Tom said, rolling his eyes.
“Yes, you will. I won’t have you insulting her,” I said sternly.
Thankfully Tom liked what Amanda made. So did I. She made this chicken sandwich thing that was delicious. Plus pasta salad, which Tom just loved.
“Why can’t you make stuff like this?” Tom joked as he took a bite.
I kicked him lightly under the table. “Why can’t you make stuff like this? Why should I do all the cooking anyway?”
The kids also behaved, thank goodness. And someday I’ll probably have her family over for dessert. Not for dinner because A) I don’t know what to make that would feed that many people and B) I don’t want to poison them.
“Why?” Tom grumbled.
“Because when you stand there looking pissed off, you scare people!” I lectured. Seriously, people have come up to me and whispered, “Why does your husband look so upset? He’s scary!” My husband isn’t scary. He really is harmless, he just tends to look pissed off half the time. I think that’s just the way he looks. Who knows?
“I’ll smile if want,” Tom said.
“Do you want to scare off all my friends?” I asked. We were going to dinner at my friend Amanda’s house.
“I won’t scare anyone off!” Tom insisted.
I frowned at his shirt. “Is that what you’re wearing?”
Tom peered down at his shirt with a skull on it. “Yeah. Why?”
“It has a skull on the front. Suppose she thinks we’re crazy?”
Tom was confused. “Why would she think I was crazy for wearing a skull? There’s nothing wrong with this skull.”
I sighed. “Couldn’t you wear a nice polo or something?”
Tom made a face. “Hell no. You know I hate wearing polos!”
This is true. I have no idea why. He claims polos are too preppy for his liking. And he refuses to wear sweaters too. Most of his shirts have sayings on the front. (My favorite? The one that says Save The Trees! Wipe Your Ass With An Owl!) But still, he’s getting older, therefore he should wear more appropriate shirts. But he refuses.
“You can’t wear a shirt with a skull on it,” I said.
“Fine! I won’t!” Then Tom thundered up the stairs. When he came back down, he was wearing his Chuck Norris t-shirt.
“Tom,” I said, groaning. “Do you have to wear that?”
Tom was genuinely surprised. “What’s wrong with Chuck Norris? Chuck Norris rocks. Every man loves Chuck Norris.”
“Not every man, Tom,” I said. “Not every man loves Chuck Norris.”
Tom pointed at me sharply. “You take that back.”
I sighed. Tom was giving me a headache. “Fine. Wear Chuck Norris.”
Tom was pleased. “Thanks.”
“I’m going to shower.”
“Why?” Tom asked.
“Uh, so I smell nice.”
“Who cares what you smell like? It’s a casual dinner.” He lifted up his arm and sniffed his pit. “Ahhh. I smell like a man.”
Ew.
“Just…put on some deodorant,” I insisted before going upstairs.
After my shower, I popped my head into Tommy’s room. “Remember to be on your best behavior. I know she doesn’t have kids your age but just remember to be nice. Okay?”
Tommy nodded. “I will.”
“And don’t do that thing where you chew on your clothes,” I added.
For some reason, Tommy has started to chew on his clothes. And if it’s not his clothes, it’s a rolled up piece of paper. It’s disgusting, really.
“I won’t,” Tommy said, annoyed.
“And…no talking about farts and butts and boogers,” I said.
Tommy giggled. “Mommy! I won’t!”
As I was brushing Natalie’s hair, I reminded her to be good.
“I be good,” she promised.
“I’ve heard that promise before,” I said. She’s told me she’ll be good and the second I step into a store, she’s acting like a wild animal that desperately needs to be caged.
“If you don’t like what she makes, eat it anyway,” I warned Tom on the drive over. Tom is one of the pickiest eaters around. He doesn’t like pot roast. What guy doesn’t like pot roast? It’s a delicious hunk of meat (as is John Krasinski. Sorry. Had to throw that in there.)
“I’m not going to eat something I don’t like, Amber,” Tom said, rolling his eyes.
“Yes, you will. I won’t have you insulting her,” I said sternly.
Thankfully Tom liked what Amanda made. So did I. She made this chicken sandwich thing that was delicious. Plus pasta salad, which Tom just loved.
“Why can’t you make stuff like this?” Tom joked as he took a bite.
I kicked him lightly under the table. “Why can’t you make stuff like this? Why should I do all the cooking anyway?”
The kids also behaved, thank goodness. And someday I’ll probably have her family over for dessert. Not for dinner because A) I don’t know what to make that would feed that many people and B) I don’t want to poison them.
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