"Big storm brought memories of winters in her earlier days" from the February 9, 1978 Door County Advocate
By GRACE SAMUELSON
Big storm brought memories of winters in her earlier days
By GRACE SAMUELSON
Just as we, begin to think maybe the back of the winter has been broken along comes a blizzard to show us we're wrong. Old Man Weather holds a trump card. Weather's a great leveler. No matter who you are you're still at the mercy of those howling winds and the pelting snow.
Luckily here we didn't have to undergo the hardships the folks in Michigan, Ohio, and Indiana did. Even so it wasn't easy. There was tragedy and heroism; complaining and compliments; schools, places of employment and the bridge closed. Then the storm spent itself out when it was good and ready, and the cleanup began. There is beauty in the drifted landscape and the bare branches tipped with diamond sparkles, but the cost is tremendous.
Our activities during a blizzard depend upon where we are when the blizzard hits, and our immediate needs. To some it meant the effort of getting back home to family; to others, worry and concern for those out in the storm, or whether fuel and power would hold out, if telephone calls would go through; and if people dear to us were experiencing the same violent weather. We compare stories of other blizzards we'd heard of, or experienced, and go about our business of waiting it out.
We recall hearing of the Great Blizzard of 1870, when pioneers endured terrible suffering and loss of life, and realize that even with the crippling effects to whole regions our modern snow removal is a godsend.
Memories of blizzards I've experienced stand out. During grade and high school days whether or not children attempted to go to school was left to the judgment of the parents. No radio then to inform us of road conditions.
When I was in the lower grades we didn't have a telephone to let us know if Papa got over the bridge safely. If the storm was bad when we got up we didn't go to school, even though we would have loved to run down to Schmidt's Bakery during the noon hour for the special treats — bakery rolls and filled doughnuts.
By the next day the horse-drawn wooden plow had cleared the sidewalks and we were happy to get out after being confined in the house. Those who lived farther out — the Knutson girls and the Pinneys didn't usually get to school for a couple of days after a storm, although sometimes one or two of them would stay overnight at our house or other friends if the weather got real bad while we were in school. (I'm sure that Martha Pinney must have believed that we lived on Johnny Cake since Mama always got the urge to bake that, when it stormed.) We four girls loved having overnight guests. It always meant special privileges. (And help with the dishes.)
In 1924 there was a blizzard I long remembered. I was going to Milwaukee Normal and in March our class was sent out to various schools in Milwaukee and surrounding counties. But a blizzard changed everyone's plans; no street cars or trains were running. Several days later when I tried to reach Washington School where I was to practice teach I got as far as Wanderer's Rest cemetery. The conductor on the street car told me I couldn't possibly get through so I had to go back to my cousin's, Myrt Stoneman, where I boarded.
I made another attempt on Monday. This time I walked up Lisbon Road and a kind older couple gave me a ride in a cutter through drifts that reached almost as high as the telephone lines. Both that year and the next when I taught at the school where I had done my practice teaching the drifts were mountainous and the storms seemed continuous.
I remember blizzards too out at Carlsville and Sunny Point schools but I boarded closer to the schools and getting back and forth wasn't the hardship for me that it was for the pupils. (They were taken to and from school by covered bobsled, in winter weather.) The thing I recall most about coming home during blizzards while teaching was the welcome smell of fresh bread, roast beef or pork, and custard puddings or apple pie — just like the aromas of home.
February is the shortest month, the month of famous birthdays and observances. The sun is a little higher; winter sunrises are gorgeous, the days are longer and the sunsets lovely, too. Even if the groundhog can see his shadow we know that Wisconsin winter has more snow and cold in store for us. And people who can't pack up and go to warmer climes can be reconciled with the lengthening days and the assurance of staying cozy and warm outside, with conveniences we may never have had as children. Perhaps we'll find time now for the chores arid hobbies we've been meaning to get at for so long.
Easter comes early in 1978 — (on March 26) , so Ash Wednesday comes Feb. 8. In many places the custom of using up all household fat on the day before — Shrove Tuesday — still continues, to assure an end to so-called "luxury" meals. In England and Kansas groups of women compete in a Pancake Day race. And in Pennsylvania Shrove Tuesday is called "Fastnachts" Day. The Dutch people there believe that if you don't make yeast- raised doughnuts on Fastnacht Day your house roof will blow off before the year is up!
Fastnacht Day was called "Lazy Doughnut" Day in Bethlehem and the year I taught out there I was amused when the last girl down to breakfast at the Women's College was called "Lazy Doughnut" and wore a "doughnut cap" all the rest of the day. The Pennsylvania Dutch are wonderful cooks and bakers — the Moravian sugar cake, Shoe-fly-pie, soft pretzels and Crumb Kuchen are superb.
Hot Cross buns seem to start Ash Wednesday off right. It used to be the custom for bakeries to make them every Wednesday and Friday during Lent. But now you can buy them — or make them — any time during that season.
Mama's hot cross buns were made much like her spice bread and with lots of currants. They smelled so spicy and wonderful while baking. She used to cut a cross on the top of each bun when she shaped them. And we'd stand to watch her fill the baked cross with powdered sugar frosting. Now I draw a line of sugar frosting across the tops of the baked buns in one direction, turn the pan and zip on another line. The crosses are made all at once.
When we went to school Lincoln's and Washington's birthdays were events for programs, poetry reading and patriotic speeches. Friday afternoon "Literary Society" was a grand opportunity to show off your power of memorization. We did a lot of memorizing in those days and it is surprising how often we find ourselves quoting poems we learned back in the grades.
Our reading books gave us quite a variety of poets and subjects and our manner of recitation ran the gamut of stumbling words and impassioned elocution. Declamatory contests were very popular and debating teams covered many subjects and much territory. We 'learned a lot of Longfellow. Now who knows him?
Scrapbooks were seen in almost every home, some commonplace, some beautifully decorated. Mama loved poetry and clipped the poems from Christian Herald and other periodicals. She never got around to pasting them all in scrapbooks but kept the poems where she could reread them often and often recited poetry to us. One of her favorites was "Still sits the schoolhouse by the road; a ragged beggar sunning."
Her brother Sam had had a beautifully organized and interesting scrapbook. Lois Birmingham brought me two huge scrapbooks, compiled by Lee's and my great-great aunt, Mary Tollerton Bagnall Thorpe; clippings from periodicals in the late 1890's. They were pasted into what was originally a tailor's sample book, the stories, poems and illustrations typical of the times — a whole winter's reading there. And a fascinating treasure is Mama's grandfather's "Reader" — a composite of subjects ranging from science, history, geography, weather conditions, etc. to poetry — all English, Scottish, or Irish. It was dated 1867, in Quebec. He was a teacher.
We reveled in the birthday celebrations for February — a good excuse for a party. The whole month found us with drawings of log cabins, rail fences, hearts, cherry trees and hatchets. We would hunt up party suggestions from the old "Needlecraft" and "Country Gentleman" — ideas for games and refreshments. We had backward-parties, hard-time parties, and masquerades. This sort of social activities carried over into the Depression years. Then our family celebrations didn't stress special meals, but we made suitable center-pieces, favors, and other decorations, and we didn't feel disadvantaged.
The highlight of the month, naturally, was Valentine's Day. Red paper, lace doilies and baby-ribbon scattered all over the dining room table between meals. Home-made valentines — "Roses are Red" — home-folded envelopes, once in awhile a "penny dreadful" would show up, and, weren't you lucky if you got two or three fancy "bought" valentines? Perhaps you had managed to save enough pennies and nickels to buy a beauty for "YOU KNOW WHO."
Mama made treats we enjoyed in the cold months — oatmeal or graham gems, fragrant, crusty loaves of bread, custardy-bread pudding, rice custard with raisins. Cottage puddings, cornmeal molasses bread, to go with Saturday night's baked beans.
We loved the date bars, moist and dusted all over with powdered sugar, date cake, and dates stuffed with fondant. When Mama was short on eggs she sometimes made cornstarch pudding. We didn't rate that one of our favorites: "sort of 'slim' ", as Mama used to say.
She kept eggs in water glass in the cellar, for winter baking, and Marian often remarks about how she hated to be asked to go down and bring up some, having to stick her hand down in "that icky stuff in the crock." But the eggs kept. Memories of snow and cold; of fun, and smells of good food. Home Sweet Home.
Courtesy of the Door County Library Newspaper Archive
["Dutch" refers to the Pennsylvania Dutch.]
Articles by Grace Samuelson:
https://doorcounty.substack.com/t/grace-samuelson