Woodchuck

1880s, Waupun WI



This is a story Aunt Lois (Parsons) McWhorter, Fond du Lac [1877-1966+], wrote of her childhood in Waupun:



A family lived in our block back in Waupun about five down from us. The head of the household was a retired farmer who kept a cow, and a few neighbors were his customers, we one of them, and our families were forever playing jokes on the other, and our neighbor was one of them. He was forever bragging about being such a good shot.



The woodchuck was given to us kids to play with, which we did by hiding it and the other children looking for it. Then my mother [Martha Newton Parsons, 1855-1923] got into it. She told one of the children to go down to Mr. Ray's home and tell him to come to our lot, as there was a woodchuck under our barn. He came all right and took a shot at the stuffed woodchuck, which he didn't hit, and he was all ready to shoot for the second time when mother and several neighbors called out, "April Fool." Our milk man didn't know which way to turn. He took his rifle and got out of there in a hurry and was called Woodchuck as long as he lived. On the way out he mumbled that he never would live that down.

Father's hats

(1951 September 21)

After I wrote you last night, I looked over a New Yorker, reading parts of it to Daddy until he went upstairs, presently calling down, "Hey - what am I supposed to do with all these hats on my bed?" Hastily quitting the New Yorker, I rushed up, explaining it was a gathering of all his hats, and he was to decide which to keep and which to abandon, if any. Thereupon I waited for the grousing, but to my amazement, he turned on the dresser lights and tried them on one by one in various positions, mugging the while until my one wish was you could have been there as weak as I with laughing. The upshot of it was he threw out one which I think was the one BQ [the dry cleaner] stretched so it kept blowing off his head as we sat in the court at Frontenac [Quebec] admiring the view.

Weeds

(1994 Winter)

I do recall pulling weeds, and Skip made me a tool by driving a nail in the end of a stout stick and filing the end to a sharp vicious point. This worked very well, and I must say the yard looked much tidier.

Laundry list

(1951 October 4)

Got your laundry off today at last. Daddy and I started out figuring one night just for fun and figured I handled each shirt 1/2 hour, not counting washing time.

Opening [mailing] case, sorting, & putting in machine - 2 minutes.
Untangling and carrying to line - 2 minutes.
Hanging up - 1 minute.
Taking down - 1 minute.
Sprinkling - 2 minutes.
Making starch & starching - 5 minutes.
Ironing - 15 minutes.
Hanging up and taking down on rack - 1 minute.
Folding & pinning - 2 minutes.
Putting in [laundry mailing] case - 1 minute.
TOTAL - 32 minutes. Mending or soaking for spots extra.

[A classified ad clipped from a local paper is enclosed]:
NOTICE - I will launder men's shirts for 25 cents a piece.
[Polly added her own telephone number.]

Never done

(1951 September 19)

I have been washing and ironing almost constantly for two days - have nearly all the clothes out of the basement now. Have been doing one load at night ready for hanging in morning. Saves 1/2 hour. Also did load of overalls after supper and hung in basement. But tomorrow is Wednesday, and Mrs. Weeden will come, and we will change beds, and your laundry will come [by mail] and the basement will be full again! Took me one hour to iron your gold bedspread alone. Washed the pad, etc. Will Fall houseclean the room tomorrow. Dust on the bedsprings is thick.

Finish it yourself

(1951 July 17)

By the way, I asked Daddy if he would like to finish wearing your brown suit. He tried on the coat and said, "What the hell is the matter with it?" I explained you had the Double Breasted Bug, whereupon he grabbed up the Crimson [Ripon college annual] and all through lunch, page by page, would cry, "There's single breasted suit! There's another! There's another! Here's two in Vieth's window! [a Ripon men's store]. Here's another!" He ended up by saying that you look better in a single-breasted anyway, that he will buy no more until that one is worn out. So there--. I said if the sleeves were let down he could finish it, but he flatly refused, although he admitted it was better than any suit of his.

Whatsup

(1994 July 15)

What news here? Well - this will knock your socks off! We all packed in the elevator and went downstairs where the piano is and sang for about an hour from songbooks. There was a fire bell but we did not go out. Why? When we came up the elevator, we sat around the lounge until someone took the hint and brought us snacks. She pushed a little cart bearing coffee, cream and sugar, several kinds of juice and oatmeal cookies, and passed all around. When mine was gone, I came back to my cold room and crocheted more on Tina's baby blanket and turned on radio. My TV is not so good as radio because I have to look at my work. This baby blanket has wide streaks of pink, white, blue - all in pale colors. The balls are in a big paper bag in which I pop the blanket and hook when I am through for a while.

Poetry

(1995 Summer)

Here suddenly a group of us in the foyer waiting for dinner started reciting bits of poetry. "The Village Blacksmith" etc. One lady kept repeating she "had them all in a book."

The bulletin board

(1993 Summer)

Did you see by the Richland Center paper the parade of antique cars? Many went, but I knew nothing about its coming. Someone said, "It was on the bulletin board." Maybe, but along with useless information.

Lifestyles

(1951 July 20)

[A doctor's wife] enjoyed the medical convention at Atlantic City. She said just wonderful - she had been able to watch three operations on color TV and you could even see the blood dripping! I said how marvelous. She is so different from Eve - she is one for living and let the chips fall where they may. Eve is more for order and beauty and strict adherence to working schedules.

Bingo

(1994 June 14)

I am eating a candy called "Hugs" - very good. ... An announcement repeated 3X: "Bingo will be played tonight in the Westview dining room. Shall I go and win some candy? There is no skill on earth that will help you in that game. And yet outside of writing this to you and crocheting your hat, I have no occupation for the evening.

Snippy Skip

(1951 July 6)

In reading your letter, lover, do I detect a snippy flavor, or is that my motherly imagination? How do I read, "Well, does that answer your letter in sufficient detail?" Because I still love you warmly and think you are 99/100% darling, I have placed the emphasis on this word and that, but still it comes out like a duchess looking at bugs.

Modern art

(1952 June 28)

I was quite concerned when Daddy told me the bank called him to say your account was overdrawn, especially since you told me two weeks ago you had over a hundred dollars. The only thing you mentioned buying was Modern Art for your room, and I do hope you have not let yourself be carried away and spent all you had on some freakish ears sticking through an old handle of a wringer or so. You must bear in mind, as I think you usually do, that you have a long hard way to go and that you must save.

Hints

(1994 August 19)

I have received a few hints about time to have my hair cut, so think I shall have to respond. Though I don't go telling people they need baths or haircuts.

Gun control

(1994 June 15)


Abed with radio on - discussion of violence. Sez - our country was founded on violence and we should be allowed to have arms in our homes to put under our pillows and carry on the street. One night in our beds we heard our dog bark. "What would you do?" I asked Lorin. "I have only my voice," he said, and I knew that was very powerful. Only a rabbit made her bark then.

Here comes the bride

(1952 June 21)

Evenings LL and I sit in the living room around 9 p.m. and one will say to the other, "Well, shall we have a tune?" The other will say, "Do you feel up to it?" If so, we get out the flashlight and our spectacles and see if we can figure out the machine [a drop automatic]. If we are feeling sharp and can get it to go, we often listen to something fairly entertaining.

One night I said, "If you will carry out that bouquet of peonies which are falling off, we shall be able to get to our records in the window seat and play something from there. Just as he picked it up, a record fell down and started to play "Here - Comes - the Bride" and he, on his feet, with bouquet - you can imagine the clowning rest.

* * * * *
I thoroughly cleaned window seat. 3 records broken, "Way out West in Kansas," another I forget, and "The Pear Tree" I gave Daddy for Xmas. I removed all my stuff - nothing but records now. Note and remember: all record books are now placed with titles on top so they may be read. Therefore remember to hold each book on the left as you lift it out or records will roll out.

Step by step

(1994 August 19)

I am glad Sally is finding enough to do this vacation, including painting the cellar steps. I think I used to paint every other one so I could get back up. Maybe it is better when there is a fire in the house to dry faster. Or a back door to get out.

Yard Boy

(1951 June 20)

NZ [a teenager] tried to help me Saturday and is more awkward than you are. He started out by cutting the grass until he put the mower out of commission! Then more time spent trying to fix it (for which I paid). Is this fair? Should I? Finished with hand mower. Then he spaded up the spot a bush came out of - I had to have him do it over - all roots and weeds. Finally we were rained out. Oh my.

Strawberries

(1951 June 20)



I wish you were here to enjoy Kalmon's berries, which are wonderful. We have big fat red ones, so pretty with a bright green top. This damp weather is good for them, brings out their color and flavor. Delicious. I canned 2 pints today, hoping Daddy will enjoy them this winter.

Gooseberries

(1950 July 24, Sunday)

Well, after MM got wet in the pool we came on home and I did the day's dishes and started again on gooseberries, which MM and I and Maridee had picked Saturday, 2 pounds, about a honeypailful. And then came the payoff - both the stem and blossom end had to be removed, taking about one full minute per berry - oi - I set about it with embroidery scissors at last. Bought a scales to weigh them. Picking the gooseberries took about one hour, then I pruned the bushes. But preparing the fruit for the kettle took about 3-4 hours - just trouble - a good job for convicts. Finally I got it made, 3 pints. It has an exotic flavor which I hope you will enjoy and remember, for I believe this will be your one and only opportunity.

This afternoon Daddy went up on the hill with the sickle and cut grass so he could pick the berries, a task he dearly loves. After a bit he comes down, proud as Punch, showing all he has in his pail. Me, I'm almost under the table from picking out the horrid little bugs and worms from those he picked Saturday but manage a word of approval anyway.

Two-pagers

(1950 July 12)

I counted my new paper and as I have 80 sheets and 40 envelopes, so I will have to take the second sheet whether I have anything to say or not.

Letter writing

(1950 July 24)

I read your last letter.... It certainly sounded to me like a letter a Scout had to write home on Sunday. But you filled up the page, didn't you? I know it is hard to write interestingly when one leads a life of same thing day in day out.... But you can always tell me about the characters you meet.

Time flies

(1950 May 25)

Little Miss Bogart already has seen a three-foot snake under my clothes line. The garden is still unplowed. The storm windows are still on. The grass hasn't been cut, the housecleaning is but started.

Nicht wahr?

(1990 May, after Mother's Day)

[Sherry,] I think the sentence I wrote baffled you because I was making fun of the German language. Using that, you can write, or say, a very long statement and then put nicht (not) at the end and negate the whole thing. Always gives me a jolt. I was thinking Skip would be reading the letter out loud and explaining that to you, if I thought at all.

Mixup

(1994 May 17)

At our last art class this year my teacher copied a picture for me from a post card to show me how it was done. She showed me how to mix my colors. "Blue + yellow = green," she said. "I learned that in grade school," I said. "Yes, but one forgets," she said. I thought I had said enough, so said no more.

Mother's Day

(1992+ early May)


A maid told me her husband was getting her a couch for Mother's Day. "It is going to come from Meadows' [furniture store]! None of that cheap stuff," she told me.

Our table

(1994 May)

There are four at our table, but one is now ill and eats in his room. Ava, 96, is at the end, proud of being from Chicago. And next, Avis, from a farm, and her conversation reflects it as at the table she tells us of butchering pigs, etc. And says, "No matter what happens I am glad to be here. Remember that."

The tub room

(1994 May)

The pace around here is what you might call slow. Slow and steady. The day starts with a girl knocking at my door, saying, "Good morning, Polly." I think some rooms have showers but mine does not. Wednesday nights I am collected by a matron and taken to The Tub Room, luckily across the hall from my room. Here I step out of my blue robe and into black slippers and shower cap in case of a slip, and into a tub with lots of water nice and warm. D does the back and I do the front, and soon I am back in bed reading.

The front office

(1995 Summer)

Today Will and I were asked to step in our Pres. office while a biography of me was read aloud. What kind of person I was, how I read aloud in Readers' Group and to children. Sometimes I rode in a chair long distances down the hall (only or especially if someone comes with a chair).

I also do other things, as today I went to the Pres.'s office and told how both the approaches or porches needed scrubbing off with pail and broom for birds "sitting" on them. Said I would do it myself if materials were provided. Man who will fall heir to this is fixed up to be a dandy - black hair, long, black eyebrows, long mustache drooping. But he looks strong and I will keep an eye on him.

Curtains

(1951 July 6)

Our views may be admired without obstruction tonight because all the curtains have been taken down and sent to be laundered. The room looks naked, but as I said, plenty of views. ... This afternoon ... I and MM took curtains and basket in the taxi and the driver took them up to the curtain laundry above the R & O [newspaper]. Was glad it wasn't up to me to do it. I thought the cab would never get here in the first place. Later found when almost here it ran out of gas and another came after Shell Oil rescued the first.

The auction

(1994 October)

Jen and I drove by the Grove Street house and yard full of people [for auction of Polly's household goods]. She quickly drove me "home" just in time for supper and no time for tears.