Curtis, part ten

Frankly, all Leta wanted to do was lie down. Over the past twenty-four hours, she had gotten married, enjoyed a celebration dinner with her new husband followed by an evening of imbibing, collapsed into her marriage bed in a house she had never seen, wakened to a disaster of filth and deterioration, done more farm chores than she had in years, and scrubbed dishes with her favorite lace handkerchief. Now her husband was telling her that if she wanted meat for supper she would have to kill and clean one of the 200 laying hens he kept in a dilapidated coop out back.

Throughout the morning, she had been making a list of necessary items they would need to purchase at the market, including soap, ammonia, toilet tissue, sugar, coffee, bread and a pork steak or some other meat. She had eggs for breakfast and lunch and wasn’t about to eat them again for supper.

Her husband Curtis had other ideas to occupy the rest of their afternoon, however, and he strongly objected to traveling to the market.

“Leta, there is so much to do around here this afternoon,” Curtis said. “Besides, we have plenty to eat right here on the farm—eggs, milk, more peas, some turnips and carrots ready for the picking, and I can give you a hen for supper.”

“But Curtis, that’s not all we need around here,” she protested. “I couldn’t even find soap.”

“Soap? Really?” he questioned. “It’s right there near the sink.”

“Where?” she asked, as she rose from the table and shuffled some of the dirty dishes in and around the kitchen sink.

“Lordy,” he grumbled, getting up himself and joining her. He moved a few soup bowls and flipped over a serving bowl to reveal a glob of dirty goop. “Right here! Soap.”

The stench nearly made Leta heave, and she stepped back. Then she glared at her husband. She was not going to use the semi-congealed puddle of slime to clean anything.

“Problem solved,” he continued. “Soap, chicken, veggies in the garden. No need to go to the store.”

If she could drive, she would have gone herself, but she needed him to take her.

“Now while you do up these dishes, I’m going to check on the fields and fetch you a chicken. Unless you want to pick the berries first.”

“Wait a minute,” Leta instructed. She was flustered and stalling. Her head was pounding and a rage was building inside her. At first, all she heard was “chicken,” but as she caught up to her husband’s words, she had an idea. “All I’m saying is that if you want that berry pie, I’m going to need flour and lard.”

“Woman,” he said definitively, as if his assertion of her gender would halt all further communication. In this instance, however, it was a call of defeat. He had been tense, but softened. “All right,” he agreed. “For pie.” But in order to remind her of the seriousness of this decision, he added, “But I’m telling you, yesterday about broke me. I only have a couple of dollars… for flour and lard.”

“I’ll pay,” she said.

To be continued.

Men's Work/Women's Work

My stepfather Jerry Snider grew up on a farm in Central Ohio. He was the eighth child of ten (nine surviving) children born to Oscar Snider and Nellie Butler. In birth order, these children were Charles Robert (called Dutch), Oscar, Jr. (who passed away as a small child), Mary Jean, Donald Richard (called Bud), Doyle Vern, Helen Lucille, Peggy Lou, Jerry Lee (ironically, the same first and middle name as me), Danny Ray and Barry Joe. While Jerry has no nieces or nephews older than he, he has two that are approximately the same age.

The farm had cash crops, of course, such as corn, wheat, alfalfa and oats. Several of these crops were also important in feeding and keeping the livestock. On the Snider farm, the animals included chickens, milk cows, hogs and steer. The family also maintained an extensive garden. Much of the food went to feed the family, and throughout the year, Nellie was responsible for preserving, canning and cooking all of the food the family needed throughout the year.

This was women’s work. On a farm, the duties were strictly divided.

Oscar was responsible for the fields, steer, hogs, cows and all facilities upkeep and repairs. He was also responsible for making sure that there was enough wood in the house to feed the stove, which provided all of the heat in the house and where all of their food was prepared. He also held a paid job. The boys assisted him on the farm, and were assigned various chores, particularly in the feeding and care of the livestock. While the butchering was performed as men’s work, the women were right there with them. The smoking and canning of the meat was the responsibility of Nellie with the assistance of the girls.

While she did not make all their clothes, Nellie made sure that they lasted as long as they could through mends and patches. She made their soap and bread, maintained the house (assisted by the girls), did all of the cooking and dishes, made the family’s large intake of bread (multiple loaves were consumed at every meal), was responsible for the large garden (with the assistance of all of the children in various ways) and milked the cows twice a day (early in the morning and in the early evening).

In fact, everyone had morning chores before breakfast. Oscar and Nellie rose early, and while he stoked the wood stove, Nellie milked the cows. Nellie was also responsible for the chickens—feeding, raising and gathering the eggs. Depending on the situation, either she or the boys would kill the chickens that the family ate. She made all the family’s bread, several dozen loaves per week, using yeast that they purchased in large cakes, and portioning out the required amount for the dough. She and the girls also made butter and used the leftover liquid buttermilk (combined with oats) to slop—feed—the hogs. The milk the family didn’t need was kept in large metal canisters as cool as they could until the collector from the dairy arrived, and these were emptied into his large truck. Butter, eggs and cream were taken into town and sold.

Doing laundry required boiling gallons of water and scrubbing each item on a wood and metal washboard. During fair weather, this all-day task took place outside, and the wash was hung to dry on clotheslines. During the winter months, the wash was still hung outside and freeze-dried.

They worked from sun-up to sundown. This was necessary for survival. It was hard, physical labor.

“Basically, she was a slave,” my stepfather remarked.

Curtis, part nine

Before Leta could fully grasp how the time had passed, she was in the kitchen mid-Saturday afternoon, frying eggs and boiling peas. As she and her new husband ate scrambled eggs for breakfast, she had hoped for something different for lunch, but this was all they had. For supper, she decided, they would have something different. Cleaning the filthy, food encrusted skittle had been a chore, but she managed. And they had fresh butter that she had churned from the milk they had retrieved from Curtis’s two cows first thing that morning.

This was not how she anticipated spending the first full day of her marriage to Curtis, but he was a chicken farmer, and working with livestock was a twenty-four-hour-a-day responsibility. After celebrating their marriage long into the night at a nearby bar, she was still not at her best. The morning coffee helped, and as she thought about it, the exertion she and her husband had done all morning, probably helped, also. But she was fairly tired and hungry.

That’s why she didn’t object to having eggs for lunch as well as breakfast. After all, Curtis raised chickens, and they had not been to the market yet. And they had gathered nearly 150 eggs that morning. This and a dozen other farm chores occupied their entire morning and early afternoon. Not only did they milk the cows, gather eggs and feed the 200 hens, but also while they were feeding the hens, the rooster escaped and it took them nearly an hour together to corner the bird and get it back. Curtis had received several scratches and bites on his arm that Leta washed at the outdoor well and dressed with the cleanest pillow case she could find in the linen closet. They also separated the cream from the milk and churned a batch of butter.

There was such a paternal quality in how he showed her how to milk the cows and operate the butter churn that Leta didn’t have the heart to tell him that she was experienced in such activities. After all, she had grown up with several uncles as farmers and a very handy mother. He seemed impressed that she learned the chores so quickly.

Much of their time was spent repairing a section of the wire around the coop. Leta handed him tools and held parts in place while secured them. During this hard work, he talked about his dreams for the farm, now that he had her, how they would build another coop to double their number of hens, add another cow and sell their milk and butter, perhaps add a few goats and then make cheese. He liked cheese. By the end of the summer, he was certain he could have electricity installed in the house.

If Leta had any say, however, they would have electricity by the end of the month followed by indoor plumbing. She had no intention of fighting the elements several times a day to use the outhouse. Living rustically was fine for a single man, but not a woman as elegant as she was. Besides, she wanted to bring her grandchildren for a visit, and neither Don nor his cousin Connie would be comfortable in such a coarse environment.

The sun was high in the sky when they finished with the fence, and Curtis announced that he was famished.

“How’s about some eggs and peas?” he asked.

“Peas?”

“They’re about ready to be picked, and my Madeline used to cook ‘em with fresh buttermilk. Delicious.”

So there she was, cooking their lunch while Curtis rested on the back stoop with a large glass of water.

Once their lunch was ready, she called him to the table, and he joined her.

At first there was silence. Both were quite hungry after their morning exertion, and just as she was about to speak, Curtis shared his plans for the afternoon:

“I figured that I could show you were some of the wild berry bushes were, and you could get us some berries and make a pie for supper,” he said. “While you were doing that, I’d lay out the plot for the new coop. A’ course the garden needs some tending, and as you could see yerself, there’s more peas ready to be picked, as well as carrots and turnips.”

“But, Curtis,” she said, “first, we need to go to the market.”

To be continued.

Curtis, part eight

Leta's new husband Curtis gestured to the bar of the Stony Ridge Inn, where they were celebrating their nuptials after dinner. His focus was on a woman who was flirting with several men.

"It just ain’t right,” Curtis said, “a woman pushing herself at men like that. It’s disgraceful is what it is, her drinking and carrying on like that. A woman by herself in a place like this just shouldn’t be allowed. It just goes to show that the morals of our country are being truly tested. That floozy is making a spectacle of herself. Just look at her, Mrs. Curtis. Look at her.”

Leta had been observing the woman for some time and wanted to return her focus to her new husband.

“But we met in a bar like this,” she noted.

“By God!” he exclaimed suddenly. “Did you just see that? She put her hand on that fellow’s arm. The audacity. Wait a minute, I know that fellow. He’s Chuck Draper’s boy, his oldest. Mike I think’s his name. I’m going to have a little talk with that boy’s father. I’m sure that Draper will be none too pleased to know that his boy is chasing after a trollop like that.”

Then he turned his attention back to his wife.

“Did you say something?”

“I said, we met in a bar like this,” Leta repeated with a little irritation in her voice, but Curtis didn’t seem to notice.

“Yeah, Mrs. Curtis, that’s true, but you at least had some decency,” he responded, “and, besides, I could tell you weren’t comfortable. That’s why we never went to a bar while we were courting.”

“Of course,” Leta seemed to agree.

“Anyway, now that we’re married we’re done with all that kind of stuff,” he said finally.

Just then their new acquaintance returned with the drinks he offered to purchase for them in honor of their new marriage. Since he was treating, Leta chose not to remark that instead of bringing the bourbon she requested, he brought her a gin and tonic, the drink her husband ordered for her.

“To the newlyweds!” the man toasted, and she raised her glass. “May you be happy, productive and successful!”

Leta gulped down her drink, she couldn’t say why, other than she was suddenly incredibly thirsty. It was her fourth of the evening, and she would have four more before she and Curtis left for home.

At the start of the day, she dressed for a romantic evening, purchasing new lingerie and nightgown, but by the time they reached Curtis’s dark house in the middle of the night, all she could think of was crawling into bed and sleeping. Her husband appeared to be in a similar state. While he only had three or four beers over the course of the night, he could not hold his liquor the way she did hers. His driving was slightly erratic. But they made it home, climbed some rickety stairs and collapsed into bed.

To be continued.

Curtis, part seven

Leta had married Curtis on Friday afternoon. As they planned, she quit her job three days earlier and subsequently made all the arrangements. Curtis owned a chicken farm, and finished his work by noon. Then he picked her up at her boarding house in East Toledo where she had been living. She had packed her three suitcases, which they loaded into the trunk of the car, and then drove to the Wood County courthouse.

By six that evening, they were celebrating their nuptials at the Stony Ride Inn in Millbury, Leta’s hometown. They enjoyed a nice dinner in the restaurant and then moved to the bar, where they sat at a corner table and sipped complimentary beer (him) and bourbon (her) long into the night. Leta suggested champagne—and one of the other bar patrons even agreed to purchase one for them—but Curtis refused, claiming that the sparkling wine disturbed his digestion.

Curtis was never much of a talker, unlike most of her previous husbands, but on this evening, he was full of compliments, as if he was marveling at his good fortunate.

“Today is a great day for me,” he said. “Now that I’m married to you, Mrs. Curtis, my life can only get better. With you I’m now a complete man. We are going to have a good life together.”

He repeated these sentiments and others like them continually throughout the evening.  Leta would blush and smile.

It was long after ten when she noticed the woman sitting at the bar. The establishment was fairly packed with people by then. With each new customer the atmosphere grew in boisterousness. Curtis was chatting with a fellow at the table beside theirs about the Farmer’s Almanac weather predictions for the summer. Leta had been absentmindedly paying attention, more interested in the cadence of the men’s voices than what they were actually saying. The woman’s loud, high pitch squeal captured her attention, and through the haze, Leta’s eyes located her. She was dressed in a satin dress with ruffles on the cuffs. Although it was dark in the bar, Leta figured the dress was a deep navy, with some other blue highlights. The bodice was pulled snugly across the woman’s torso, and a low neckline was decorated with sequins and beads that occasionally reflected the light. Leta doubted if any of the men noticed the beads, as the woman’s ample bosom was on flagrant display.

Leta knew that it didn’t much matter what a woman in a place like this wore or even what she looked like; it was how she behaved that drew the men to her. This woman was holding a cigarette that she occasionally put to her lips. She batted her overly made-up eyes and smiled broadly, several times throwing her head back. She was at the bar, leaning into two men that held beer bottles in their hands, rough-looking men, farmers Leta presumed. Before the night was over, the woman would leave with one of them, or perhaps another fellow that was sitting at the other end of the bar, also watching the woman.

He turned a moment and met Leta’s eyes. She blushed and turned away immediately, but then instinctively nodded toward Curtis. She wanted it to be very clear that she was with her husband, and unlike the bar fly, uninterested in securing a fellow for the evening. She already had one.

Leta turned her attention back to Curtis. He was now talking with another fellow about the escalating price of grain.  As if he sensed Leta’s sudden attention, Curtis stretched out his arm to draw her into the conversation.

“This is my new bride,” he said to the fellow. “We were just married today.”

“Congratulations,” the pleasantly plump fellow said and smiled. Leta smiled back.

“Thank y—“

“—Yep, I’m going to have a great life with Leta here beside me,” Curtis interrupted.

The gentleman smiled and pointed to her empty glass.

“How about I get you both a refill?” he suggested. “A little wedding present for the newlyweds?”

“Thank y—“ Leta started, but again Curtis interrupted.

“—That’s very neighborly of you, neighbor,” Curtis said. “I’m drinking beer, as you can see, and the misses has whiskey.”

“Bourbon,” Leta corrected, “with a little ice.”

“Be right back, lovebirds,” the gentleman smiled and left to retrieve their drinks.

Curtis relaxed his arm and turned to Leta momentarily.

“Did you see that floozy at the bar?” he inquired.

To be continued.