It is 1922. It is Summer.

And they are at a lake in Wisconsin. There are a lot of lakes in Wisconsin.

They are best friends. And have been since they were pigtailed girls.

Sarah on the left. Mary Elizabeth on the right.

Just out of high school and moving on to college. Both of them.

Three parents not pleased. One supportive and happy.

One a teacher, one a writer. They would become.

A young man took this picture. On the boat going nowhere.

Sarah mildly amused. Mary E. preparing a snack.

Bread and cheese. They would share with the young man.

Who one would marry years later. After college and careers were started.

One set off to see the world. One raised babies that would set off to see the world.

Because they had an “Aunt.” Who lived everywhere.

Traveling girl would return to her friend. And they would pick up where they left off.

Reminiscing about the days on the lake in Wisconsin. They laughed.

They shared the world stories. As if they were both traveling.

One never feeling tied down. And one feeling she had roots.

They gave each other the best. Of each life they had.

Written by Julia Roberts, Kidneys and Eyes

Meet Elijah and Lillian with their father, John. It was a sunny day in the Midwest and the kids’ Grandmother, Alice, asked to take this picture. Truth is that she forced it to be taken.

Alice loved to see those children and she didn’t care that little Lillian was crying in this photo; she treasured it. She carried it around so often to show her friends the bottom of it was bent and torn. When she watched her son-in-law tenderly talk to Lillian as she snapped this photo she felt like an intruder prying into a private moment. Back in the day it wasn’t often that men were considered the gentle caregiver, especially when forced.

Alice didn’t see her grandchildren very often and while she hoped that would change some day soon she could never be sure, especially now that her daughter was gone. She was after all, just the mother of the mother who had died as she gave birth to her second child, a beautiful and much wanted baby girl.

Alice lived more than half a day’s trip away and was scared that the distance meant that she would see less of them, not more. Her son-in-law had preferred to handle the situation on his own, insisting that he and the children get back to a normal routine as soon as possible. That plan had served him well.

The women from John’s church had stepped in to help care for the children but he was very hands on insisting to eat dinner with them and put them to bed himself each evening. Young mothers from the church and community had nursed baby Lillian almost around the clock in those first months so that she could feel the touch of a mother during that early pain of separation, missing the mother she would never know.

John had mentioned to Alice more than once he’d be interested in moving closer to her and his parents, because let’s face it, a man raising two young children on his own? It’s unusual and John needed the support of people who knew and loved him, the children and most certainly his late wife.

Alice wouldn’t know for another year that John had devised a plan. He would work months towards planning the move that would bring him near the people that that loved the woman he did with the same energy. Alice would learn that John’s wish was to be near her with his children so they would grow up knowing their mother through the stories of the people that could tell them with veracity.

Written by Julia Roberts, Kidneys and Eyes

I love this picture of me and my brother. We lived so carefree back then and so loved to play in our backyard. We especially loved those bunnies. So did our dog, LuLu. See her in the top corner of the photo? If the bunnies were in the yard pen we had to be with them for their own safety. The bunnies also had safer pens in the garage but we tried to get them out to play in the grass a little bit each day as they were first growing.

The momma bunny Stark (as in white), was our first rabbit. Three weeks after we got her as an Easter gift from our father she had 10 babies. Our father was not happy about this development in our collective pet career. As soon as we could find homes my father insisted we start giving those bunnies away. Gone first were Benny, Tippy, Tiny, Sunny, then gone were Peter and the rest over time.

Not long after her babies were gone my brother started training Stark. That bunny was very smart and eventually we could call her to the door of her cage when we wanted to her to play. For reasons our mother never understood, my brother trained Stark to hold still on command like she was a stuffed rabbit. She wouldn’t do it for long but long enough for my mother to say, “Oh, you two stop that! Why would you want to make it look like she was dead?” We would belly laugh and she would wave us away with her right hand while her left hand rested on her hip and she hid a laugh to boot!

Stark lived for 6 more years and didn’t have any other babies, not that mother and father would let us have another rabbit well, after that 10 baby bunny fiasco or as my father would say, “A regrettable purchase.” The hours I played with my brother on those summer days and school afternoons with our animals are the sweetest memories I have from my childhood.

He became the same kind of grown up person as he was as my young brother; kind. What was the way I repaid him for his kindness to me in our childhood? Last Easter I gave his kids a perfectly beautiful white rabbit named George, except for one tiny little secret. George was pregnant.

Written by Julia Roberts, Kidneys and Eyes

Meet Cora, the matriarch of a farming family in the late 1800s. Husband-less, due to her husband’s unfortunate choice to drink liquor and hunt – at the same time – Cora became the rock of her family. Left to care for three children, one of whom had a child and her sister-in-law, Louisa. Louisa, also husband-less, proper and intelligent, was a local teacher for kids age 5 through age 13.

Seeing as how Louisa wasn’t married, she was the responsibility of her brother, a poor shot when he drank, so the responsibility fell to Cora. Cora didn’t mind having Louisa around as she was helpful, taught the children how to read and write and that was more than she knew how to do to any great degree. Cora could barely read and write at a 3rd grade level, but she was a smart woman who navigated farming just fine when her husband, a poor shot when he drank, went dying on her.

Cora’s children, a daughter, Mabel, with a daughter, Alma and Cora’s two sons, Hubert and Willard all at some point in their lives or all their lives worked on the family farm. Small in comparison to the farms around their land, they only had 5 acres but the land was profitable enough to support the family with a modest income.

Mabel, whose husband was in the Army, had been sent to fight a “little Spanish war” and she’d been left to raise Alma on her own. Mabel and Alma lived in a small shack on the land and they spent much of their time at Cora’s house.

Hubert and Willard were done with school thank goodness and could help plant and harvest so Cora wasn’t forced to hire wanderers off the train that ran right through their property. Hubert, “the slow one,” as people used to say, was a happy and willing fellow. Willard, the middle of the three, was a hard worker but easily distracted.

When Willard wasn’t helping on the farm, which was all or part of 7 days a week, he could be found calling on a local girl he was sweet on named Miriam. Miriam was also sweet on Willard but they would wait years before they held hands or kissed, married and went on to have a house full of children.

Mabel’s husband returned from the war after two years and he and Mabel had fallen ill with yellow fever. Both died when Alma was just six. Cora raised Alma with the help of  Louisa. During Alma’s 16th year when she was independent Louisa would move a day’s trip away to teach at a school. Cora missed Louisa’s presence more than she cared to admit as Louisa had become a confidant and friend.

Hubert never married but his niece Alma, having seen the example of how Cora cared for family members, would carry on the tradition. She would keep Uncle Hubert in her home, giving him a blessed quality life for over 40 years; a place to belong.

Over the years in the family home Alma raised 6 children. Four born out of her body but all she called her own. Three of her brood spent their lives on the farm raising babies and taking care of Alma. Alma had appropriately passed the torch of matriarch to another willing and able woman in the long line of generationally strong women.

Since Cora’s husband, a poor shot when he drank, had died, the women in the family took charge and would be in charge for generations to come.

Written by Julia Roberts, Kidneys and Eyes

Aletha would spend her life traveling with a performance group, otherwise known as her family. Her big, thunderously loud family. Her heavy European accent came through heavily and about her every 5th word was understandable English.

She’d been born to a (thunderously loud) traveling family. The family had never put roots down anywhere and so Aletha didn’t know any different. She was by all accounts a sad girl who did what she was told; sometimes it was performing and sometimes it was working the crowd and sometimes it would be both.

Her family brought all of their possessions with them including performance needs like tents, stage, costumes and souvenirs to sell. Aletha had been allowed one small suitcase of personal items. It held a few special books, a mirror, hairbrush, a change of clothes and two pieces of artisan jewelry.

The jewelry had been given to her by her father. She treasured the pieces that she’d been told came from at least 3 generations back. She had wondered many times as she tried on the pieces – a necklace and bracelet, not matching – what relative wore them years ago. She used her little hand mirror to see how they looked and each time she imagined she lived somewhere else except nowhere.

She imagined that in another time she was a girl with a stable family with roots.

A home not on wheels and a kitchen with a fire not on the ground. She wished for more possessions and a wardrobe chest in which to keep them. She longed to have a friend her age with interests outside her own. Oh, the number of times she wished for a friend her age to talk to about books and boys and anything but where their next performance was and how many nights they would stay.

Then one day she overheard her mother talking about her childhood and it sounded very much like her own. She never truly connected her and her mother’s experience before that day. She learned her mother had the same desire for stability for a time but later in life she realized that the world was her home. The gift that each town gave her was acceptance and a new beginning.

Aletha learned her mother, at each performance, played any person she wanted to be and eventually she settled on the woman she became. A loving, caring, vivacious, wife and mother who was also an artist and performer with a sense of humor. She had a passion for learning about other people and about the world. Her mother provided Aletha a great gift.

The world was her home and provided her roots.

Written by Julia Roberts, Kidneys and Eyes

Dear Mother and Father,

I hope this letter finds you well. Please write and tell me Aunt Gracie is feeling better. I am delighted you were able to travel to be with her while she was ill. Won’t you tell her hello for me when you go again for a visit?

I apologize for the delay in writing and mailing this letter as I have been very busy making arrangements for housing. I was able to find a roommate. She is another secretary at the college and so we are together quite a lot actually. Our hours are the same and she works near my department. Her name is Clara.

I started work last week for Professor Kaplan and I am pleased. The work is interesting and easy. The work doesn’t keep me too busy and I am able to have a social life through the church where Clara and I attend at every chance.

I am genuinely surprised at the number of young women attending college here and I might check into taking classes in the future myself, so when you have a moment will you send me my high school records?

I am going to a church social after church with Clara so I must leave now but please know that I love you and miss you,

With loving affection always,

Your Violet

——————————-

Lillian,

I cannot wait to tell you about what is happening since I moved, dear sister! I have been enjoying myself and am so happy to have moved.

My job is enjoyable and it is a dream to be around all of the young people. It makes me want to be a part of  academia. There are women here studying. Many women in fact and I want to be a part of it. I was thinking I could become a teacher or a nurse.

I have been going to clubs with my roommate Clara and we are dancing until all hours each Friday and Saturday evening. I have learned the Charleston and Shag. I am not very good but I am trying. We have met a few gentlemen and I’ve been kissed a few times! It is truly scandalous! Do not tell Mother and Father but it is quite a lot of fun to be social with men my age. There are so many more options than back home. I do have a bit of a crush on the Professor I work for but he is uninterested and sadly he is married. He is very nice to me and respectful and dare I say that is boring.

I have also been visiting a little book store that has poetry readings and there is alcohol and smoking and laughing! Clara writes some poetry and so she read one of her poems last week and it was well received.

When you can you visit? It would make my heart happy to have you here as my guest and I know you and Clara would get along splendidly. You would love to go dancing with us working girls to meet some fellows! You never know, there might be some kissing!

Loving you always sis,

Violet

Written by Julia Roberts, Kidneys and Eyes

Emily and Victoria were the only girls in their family of 5 children. They are standing in front of the house their maternal Granddaddy, Floyd,  built with his hands and the hands of  his brothers and their sons. Floyd chose the wood himself, oversaw each and every building detail, and had an entire hand on every plank of wood.

The girls loved the house and everything around the house. The way the brick walkway was like a maze that lead to the back and the long winding road that welcomed visitors. They liked to play under the house in the back where they could fit when they were little. They loved to pull each other in a wagon Granddaddy made for them on the porch. They loved the sounds the floors made when people walked.

The girls spent hours running in and out of the two front doors. The door to the left entered into the parlor. The entrance to the parlor was built specifically so men, who used the parlor frequently, could sneak in and out to smoke cigars on the porch. The door facing the steps was the official front door and there were exactly 64 steps between the official front door and the back door, unless it was 43. It all depended on if the girls were running, skipping or walking little quiet baby steps so they could sneak up on their Mama.

The house had a 2nd story and the steps started to the right as you entered the official front door. The girls used to count the steps; the wide, loud steps. Trying to match the rhyme they counted the steps. There were 2 sets of 20 with a landing. The landing always served as a resting stop while the girls caught their breath through their giggles, then they would go again..

One, two,

Buckle my shoe;

Three, four,

Knock at the door;

Five, six,

Pick up sticks;

Seven, eight,

Lay them straight:

Nine, ten,

A big fat hen;

Eleven, twelve,

Dig and delve;

Thirteen, fourteen,

Maids a-courting;

Fifteen, sixteen,

Maids in the kitchen;

Seventeen, eighteen,

Maids a-waiting

Nineteen, twenty,

My plate’s empty.

They would always add their own little rhyme like Granddaddy taught them when they hit the landing or the top…

Twenty-one, twenty-two,

I love you!

Written by Julia Roberts, Kidneys and Eyes

As with any annual gathering of William’s family, a photo around a family gravestone marked another year. This year, 1915, is just 6 years past Good Ole Billy’s death. Reunions were held on the third Saturday every August and involved manual labor as well as an evening of quilting for the ladies and cards and liquor for the men folk.

The morning of the gatherings family members who lived near would converge on the land their ancestors were born and raised on and buried in and they would prepare it for over 200 visitors. On the day this picture was taken it was overcast with patches of sun to keep the air just warm enough to be comfortable.

On the left, crouched down is young Walter, cousin to Pearl, sitting. Pearl and Walter were very close and spent nearly every waking hour together even though she was 2 years younger. They’d formed a special bond when Pearl’s mother died and Walter’s mother helped raise the only child of her sister. During her formative years Pearl spent an enormous amount of time with Walter’s family, especially during harvesting seasons. They were “close as siblings without the fighting,” as Walter’s mother said.

Summers involved days wandering around the land chasing butterflies and frogs and visits to a nearby store for a piece of candy as a treat once a week. Treats were a luxury bought by the pennies Pearl’s Daddy, Claude – the harvesting farmer – would provide. “Guilt Pennies,” as Pearl and Walter used to call the money that fell into their little waiting hands from Claude, who eagerly gave them coins.

On particularly profitable weeks when Claude was feeling generous – and particularly absent – Walter and Pearl would each get a nickle.  They would buy a Coca-Cola and a candy bar and split equally never worrying about germs. They would chant, joking with each other, “Circle, circle, dot, dot, now you have your cootie shot!”

There were days that they spent reading the tombstones in the family plot and retelling stories of dead relatives they’d heard from the women in the family while making quilts. The quilts were made for marrying couples in the family and one day both Walter and Pearl would receive one, but not because they married each other. While there were a few stories of kissing cousins, Walter and Pearl never thought of each other that way.

Except maybe that one summer when Walter saved Pearl’s life because then Pearl really did love him more. Walter and Pearl, then 9 and 7, were playing down river soaking wet as most water adventures ended up and Pearl fell. Walter was at least four horse lengths ahead of her and she fell so quickly and quietly that Walter didn’t know what happened and when he turned around she was gone. Walter saw the splashing of water and he raised each leg in the water as high as he could to get to her. When he pulled her up she was gasping for air as he noticed a trail of blood in the water as it moved away from her body.

Not wanting to alarm his cousin he remained calm but was panicking on the inside. His was breathing heavy and his heart was racing. At least a mile from home and her leg bleeding from an open wound he moved fast. He whisked her out of the water and held pressure on her leg, all the while she was screaming. He removed his suspenders to tie his shirt around her leg and he picked her up leaving the boots she was holding in her right hand before she went under.

Walter talked to Pearl the entire way home to help distract her from the pain of the wound and her fear of the blood. He walked with a determined swiftness while he carried Pearl home to his mother. His mother took Pearl from Walter’s arms and he ran to collect Claude from the fields instinctively knowing Pearl would want her Daddy around her at a time like this.

It was a long recovery but eventually Pearl’s leg healed. Pearl had a long bumpy scar to remember how Walter had carried and protected her that day. She never thought about the scar as ugly or looked at it and thought about the pain. She thought about what the scar meant; she’d survived because of Walter.

Through the years, well into adulthood Pearl and Walter remained close. “One Mile,” she used to say to him as he passed her at family reunions on the family plot, “I had to carry you, you had no boots!” Walter would say to her each time, knowing that on that summer day he’d done something very, very good.

Written by Julia Roberts, Kidneys and Eyes

It was 1895 in the Yukon peninsula, and the Alaskan Gold Rush was established.  Thousands of men from all along the west coast of the United States and the Canadian provinces set out to make their fortunes in the riches that saturated the earth of northern Alaska. Just getting to the Klondike was arduous, and a man had to bring with him enough goods to last the year, usually a ton or more. Edmonton, Alberta, Canada was far from the gold fields, but was the “Gateway to the North” for the prospectors.

Edmonton is where we find our Kate, who emigrated from Walsall, Staffordshire, England, to help in the large and prosperous dry goods store owned by her brother. H. S. Eades, a renowned photographer, took this picture just before she left England.

Kate was a spinster, with little hope of finding a husband in England, and while Canada didn’t offer much more promise, she had nothing better to do, so she made the long journey.  Working for her brother in the store, as well as keeping house for him, left Kate little time or energy for socializing.  But when the local church hosted a farewell dance for the would-be miners, Kate and her brother loaded up a barrel of cider and joined the festivities.

Waiting patiently for his ration of apple brew, a middle-aged man named Horace Templeton saw what no man had ever seen before.  His eyes and Kate’s met, and in an instant, he recognized her for the modest, clever, honest, sweet woman she was.  He saw past her stout figure, her age, her working hands, her apparent unworthiness as a mate.  Horace loved the sweet cadence of her Staffordshire accent, her lovely blue eyes, the graceful efficiency of her movements.  Horace was smitten.  And Horace was not a timid man.

When the party began to break up, Kate was startled when Horace introduced himself, and asked for the privilege of walking her home.  She had felt his eyes upon her, and wondered at his direct, kind gaze.  Kate’s brother, though protective, had recognized the look in Horace’s eye, so he gave her a nod, and said, “I’ll wait at home for you, sister.”

“I want to know everything about you, Kate,” said Horace.  And, meeting his eyes with her clear and humble grace, Kate saw, too, that this chance meeting was to have great portent.  Their walk home was as slow and purposeful as any walk ever was. Dreams were revealed, hearts opened, plans made.  Horace would go on and make his prospecting run in two days’ time, but gave Kate his promise of returning for her in a year, two at the most.

During their tearful goodbyes, Kate slipped the photograph into Horace’s coat pocket, and he left for the Yukon a happy man.  And Kate began waiting, as only a woman can wait.

Written by Leslie Modena, Mangopunch’s Blog

Meet Rose. Born late in the year in 1900 she was the 7th child in a long line of kids. Ten. This stroller had been around the acre a few times by the time it got to Rose. In fact Rose’s eldest brother had fashioned it with with an arm on the front so she could be pulled by the animals on the farm. Kept her content for hours.

Rose didn’t smile a lot. It wasn’t because she wasn’t happy. It was because she needed to concentrate on eating food when it was in front of her and that house was very loud and staying upright around the hustle and bustle of a family of twelve took a lot of thinking and effort. If you add in a grandparent or two and an old aunt who lived in the house too at any given time, well, then, there was a lot hustle and bustle.

A typical day for Rose would be playing with one or 6 of her siblings. When she was older she attended school, but only until 8th grade when most of her siblings finished, especially the boys, so they could run the family farm. It was a good life on the farm. When you are 7th in the family you get used to being carried or rolled around unless someone in the family decided to drag you around, which turned out to be quite frequently.

Rose went on to marry a fine young man from the town next to hers and have a few kids of her own, but 10 was never a goal. Early in her marriage she’d heard about counting days in an effort to not become with child and she was able to encourage her husband have a few sips of the alcohol on those nights, helping him lull to sleep without touching her. Those months, confirmed not pregnant, made her glad she paid attention to the math lessons and the nurse that was explaining the counting method to her sister.

When Rose was older she found this picture and she thought to herself that she wished she hadn’t been wearing a sheet dress, or sleepwear on the day this picture was taken. But she didn’t think that anymore. Rose appreciated her mother like she never had since she became a mother. With just three kids, she came to completely understand why her mother might dress her that way. Actually, she was impressed she had on any clothes as all.

Written by Julia Roberts, Kidneys and Eyes