WOMEN’S WORK

 

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March 1920 issue of the Delineator magazine, from http://thevintagesite.com/?p=611

A recent post on Apartment Therapy reviews how housework was done a hundred years ago. She describes following a housekeeping manual: “I Tried a 1920s Cleaning Routine for a Week—And It Was Nearly Impossible.” It wasn’t impossible, of course, but it was rigorous, with daily tasks and tasks completed on specific days. Monday was washing day. It was an entertaining read (and illustrated with photographs that do not come from the 1926 book).

“The good housekeeper must bring to her task of housekeeping every one of the qualities that make for a successful executive in the downtown business world.”

Brentnie Daggett, the author of the article, assumes the book was “written for professional housekeepers—teaching them how to take care of their clients’ spaces and manage their businesses at the same time” and that such a housekeeper would have the new gadgets such as an electric washing machine, vacuum cleaner, and dishwasher. She was wrong about all that.

First, the book was written for housewives not professional housekeepers, for married women whose profession was caring for their own home, not for hired staff. The illustrations in the article might depict a maid but should show a housewife wearing her apron, which she would certainly have worn while cleaning house. Most housewives learned their task from older women in their family, but sometimes a book was handy reference for tasks Mother did not explain thoroughly. I have several of these books, some of them quite expansive with chapters on dying cloth and stain-removal, on simple home repairs and pickles. Mrs Beeton’s Book of Household Management comes to mind.

The author of the AT article finds the cleaning process described in the Good Housekeeping book unworkable, even “impossible” yet she only does the morning tasks of breakfast and cleaning. She does try a bit of mending on Mending Day (Tuesday), but she does not mention luncheon, dinner, or entertaining. She also does not mention seasonal tasks such as canning.

Daggett uses an automatic washer and dryer, and I do not blame her for that, but it is very unlikely her great grandmother did. There is no mention of ironing. Untreated cotton wrinkles to a degree few young people would recognize today. In 1929, cotton fabrics were first treated with a solution of urea and formaldehyde, but it would be decades before wrinkle-resistant fabrics became common in American homes. In the 60s, all of our sheets were synthetic because my mother refused to iron sheets. I am 67, old enough to remember ironing my father’s shirts with an electric iron. The task took hours.

Most American homes would not have had anything electric in 1920, no washing machine or dryer, no electric iron, dishwasher, or vacuum. (As late as 1945, the majority of American homes did not have electricity at all.) I recall my step-grandmother doing laundry in a large room, necessarily large because it held multiple tubs of water, mangles and wringers I was warned not to touch. The clean laundry was hung outdoors on the lines strung in front of the vegetable garden.

Cleaning floors between full-on down-on-your-kees weekly scrubbing was accomplished by scattering dampened newspapers on the floor and sweeping them up with clinging dust. Carpets were taken outdoors to be beaten clean with what looked like a massive flyswatter. I had a vacuum cleaner when my children were small, and that took care of the carpets, but I also scrubbed the kitchen floor once a week.

“Clean enough to eat off the floor” was no joke. It was the goal.

Gas or oil lamps had to be cleaned once a week. My mother and her sister did this on Tuesdays during the summers they spent in the house where I now live. It had a wood stove and no electricity or indoor plumbing in the 20s and 30s.

Electric stoves were not in every home, and wood stoves had to be fed with wood that had to be cut and split and stored and carried indoors. The icebox mentioned in the Good Housekeeping book was kept cold with…ICE.

All this non-electric equipment was used every day and had to be kept clean. In the 20s there were no antibiotics and lifespans were lengthening less because of medical science than better nutrition and cleaner homes.

Unmarried people lived in boarding houses for most of the 20th century so that meals and cleaning would be provided and they could go to other jobs. Keeping house was recognized as a full time job and women who stayed home to keep house were on their feet all day, cleaning and cleaning and cooking and caring. And cleaning. 

My great grandmother Rosa [Garcia] Jackson supported her family by opening her home to boarders. She cooked meals and cleaned for pay and that supported her and her children.

My mother was also raised in a single parent household from the mid-30s. Her mother worked full time in a shipping office, but my mother and her sister and their mother all still had the housework to do after work and school. On Saturdays they rushed around to do all the “upstairs” housework in order to be free to attend a Matinee.

Housework was anathema to my mother for the very good reason that her mother never stopped. My grandmother took the bus into the city for her job and then came home to care for her daughters and the four-bedroom home she won in the divorce. She took no alimony and she was paying on time for the furniture her former husband had chosen. My mother avoided canning and embraced every “time-saving” household technique for the rest of her life. Think Campbell’s canned soup and instant mashed potatoes.

In my mother’s childhood winters, laundry was hung in the basement, a chore she hated so much that she used a laundromat throughout my childhood rather than have a washer and dryer in our home. Though she was a stay-at-home-mom throughout my childhood, housekeeping was a full-time job my mother was determined to escape. She was thrilled to return to paying work when my father retired early on disability and my brother hit his teens.

My mother recognized society’s devaluation of women’s work, and she resented it until she died.

 

more CORONA

from The Atlantic:

Wuhan’s coronavirus outbreak sounds scary. But information about its contagiousness requires context.

One oft-cited number in particular helps experts understand how quickly an outbreak could spread. It’s also easily misread.

R0 (pronounced R-nought) describes the average number of people a single affected individual will infect. Researchers estimate that this coronavirus has an R0 of about 2 to 3.

But plenty of external factors—such as how quickly cases are treated—can affect transmission rates. “A bigger R0 doesn’t necessarily mean a worse disease,” our staff writer Ed Yong writes.

One example: the R0 of measles? A whopping 12 to 16.

EAGLE

She was after a crab, though we could not tell this from where we were walking. There are rules about not approaching sea mammals and other wild things so we held back and went about our task gathering trash. In general, we are careful and respect the rules about not disturbing wildlife. We will cut short our walk or take another route rather than spook resting seagulls into the air.

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CORONAVIRUS

I knew about coronavirus only because of vaccinating my dogs back in the day. It often struck with parvovirus, another danger for dogs, and together they could be fatal in the early days. I knew people who lost entire litters. Soon after they appeared (in the 1970s), both canine coronavirus and parvo were added to the vaccinations I administered to my puppies.  Continue reading

LET THEM EAT CAKE

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One of my favorite websites sent out a link to their recipe for confetti cake. It is made with artificial coloring (in the confetti), colorless artificial vanilla (for that true “box cake” flavor), egg white, oil, and cake flour (bleached). My husband and I must be the only people left in the world who have no nostalgia for cake made from boxed cake mixes. Truly, if you want those flavors, it’s easier and much cheaper to go to a (bad) bakery and order your birthday cake.

I worked in a wonderful bakery that made the Danish dough from scratch but used an “apricot” glaze packaged in gallon metal tins and took orders for “bakeoff” pies that  were premade and frozen off site and merely baked in the bakery oven. The ingredients? I could not even begin to say, but by my twenties I knew enough not to eat one.

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and MORE

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Gary loves fruitcake, even the awful gumdrop sort which I would not even use as a doorstop. I like the real thing. I made a traditional wedding cake for our wedding in 1974, a dark, aged cake from a nineteenth century recipe. This is what our family regarded as a wedding cake: fruitcake with white sugar frosting. That one was made with candied fruit from the Seattle Public Market, raisin and half orange peel punched from giant glass jars. It was a rich and aged cake, darkened with cocoa and brushed weekly with rum, but this is his favorite of all time. The Dundee cake is also made with “real” dried fruit, and a lovely golden color. Good luck aging it more than a few hours. I always use all organic ingredients.

Dundee cake

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ENOUGH

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Years ago a friend who was visiting us looked at the shore and thought he was seeing soap suds or another form of pollution. It is, in fact, life. A heavy surf and a plankton bloom combine to make seafoam. There has been a great deal of it onshore this month.

We have been experiencing some “interesting” weather. Temps dropped down and there was snow in the Coast Range. Fortunately our son had already made plans to take vacation days to stay home with his daughter last week. We no longer drive in snow when we can help it.

Here the wind gusted to strong gales and we walked the beach anyway. High surf erodes the shoreline in some places and we find raw agates released by the tide. We get half wet day after day, pick up dozens of plastic water bottles, and the usual plastic bits and bobs—over 60 pounds of trash so far in January.

fullsizeoutput_1179A puffin died. We find dead seabirds on every walk. This one would be opened and the entrails and breast muscle eaten by the following day. It is our first dead puffin and so particularly sad, but seabirds die every day. And there is black oil all over the sand too. Crude oil? Someone illegally emptying bilge at sea? We can’t know.

Last week we watched the helicopters flying south fast to the next beach and we knew this meant something bad. Emergency Fire and Rescue, the EMTs, three sheriff’s cars all with lights and sirens. Two young children drowned near our home. It didn’t seem quite right to mourn a puffin.

When I tried to warn a couple about the tide—they laughed when their dogs ran into the ocean—the man said “we know.” Their dogs don’t know. The next wave swept up a hundred yards over the sand and drove us, dogs too, all into the rocks.

People think they know about sneaker waves and “king tides” but they don’t. We have lived here over forty years and keep an eye on the ocean, move up shore when the surf becomes silent. (The crashing is usually safest—the sound of outgoing and incoming waves meeting. A sneaker wave is quiet and swift.) We spent most of the last week walking on the basalt rocks because even at low tide, waves swept all the way in, higher and higher. We watched waves sweep up over our pathway through the hedge, nearly to our yard. It is fascinated from the safety of our home, but we go out whenever we can. Not so very much glass has shown up, but pumice and plastic, those agates. Drowning. Death.

Lately we’ve walked the “inside” path on roads when waves swallowed sand and basalt rock whole. It’s safer than risking the shore. We often get rained-on during our walks, but we never head out into a heavy downpour. Yes, we have rain gear, and yes, we get caught in drenching showers. We see them coming but do not deliberately head out into a rainstorm. These things just happen.


  • I have set goals for quilting and weaving on Ravelry. At least 16 items for the Hoffman, one completed the other day as a gift. I have chosen yarn for a warp and I did (yes, I did!) cut that narrow warp clean through. I will chain it off my loom today and maybe begin winding the new warp. I wound off the skeins yesterday and chose possible weft. Everything is from my stash plus a huge skein especially ordered from Koigu in December. These blues are not my colors, but for a friend who retires in a month so I need to get cracking on.
  • Zero clothing purchases so far this year (yeah!). I have ordered seven skeins (plus another five mohair/silk skeins that I returned because the color was wrong and I do not have time for that much knitting), tea for Gary, a book.
  • No new writing, but I withdrew work from two journals that failed to respond to queries after holding my piece for months past normal response time—one had a piece for months before shortlisting and since has held it for another year. Yesterday I submitted a revised essay to an unlikely journal with a history of quick responses. So I worked on that and sent it off. I mean to allow my Duotrope folder to go empty. That goal can’t happen for at least another three months. On Submittable, the new submission has already shifted from “Received” to “In Progress.” Two older ones have not.
  • The manuscript, Butterfly Fontanelle, occupies my thoughts on most days, but I have not opened the file in a while. Where does her protein, salt, oil come from? How does she store food? How does she clothe herself? Does she need to create shelter? Does she stay in place or move? Why? The story has become a meditation.