Telephone

(1980 memoirs)
And to get up there [on the stairs to my room] you pass the telephone, sitting on the steps, so when you answer it all you do is close the door and you are as private as in any kiosk and you are sitting down besides.

Square hall

(1980 memoirs)
Just a minute!  I have forgotten a very important little vestibule-like hall between the living room and dining room.  This four feet by four feet space had four doors; if you are coming from the living room, there is the living room door behind you, the dining room door ahead of you, and on the right the door to the renter's apartment and on the left -- ah, that is the door to the stairs.  And up the stairs is my room.

Bare fawcett

(1980 memoirs)
that about all [about the dining room], except I do think there was a faucett, a bare fawcett, with a pail underneath for drinking water.

Pass-thru cupboard

(1980 memoirs)
I already mentioned the sideboard Frankie made, but I haven't told about the cupboard somewhat behind the stove  --  this was a pass-thru arrangement, but we rarely used it for that because all the dishes were arranged to be reached from the kitchen.

Sash curtains

(1980 memoirs)
All the windows [of Frankie's dining room] had sash curtains, white, gathered on small rods, covering the lower half of the glass only.

Trap door

(1980 memoirs)
The floor [of Frankie's dining room] was of wide painted boards, that shade of tan with a dash of orange in it so often seen.  To the left there was a large square cut as for a trap door, with an iron ring to lift it up.  Underneath was sort of a cistern to store rainwater, and I saw it once or twice -- rather spooky.

Dining room

(1980 memoirs)
But you want to know more about Cousin Frankie's house, don't you?  Well, come on then, we'll go into the dining room.  This is a square room with windows on opposite walls.  There is a good sized dining table and chairs in the center, and behind, or beyond, a range to cook on.  We had this going in bitter winter weather when we ate our suppers here.

Frankie's bedroom

(1980 memoirs)
Still on this wall, now is the door to her room, open unless she was washing or dressing.  It wasn't like a real bedroom at all.  She slept on sort of a cot and this was always covered with a dark woven spread of some kind; no pillows ever seen.  The wash stand was off to one side, away from the door, and a cane bottom straight chair or two.  That was about all.  The clothes were always in the deep closet.  On both rooms the floor had a thick dark rug.

Starfish and crab

(1980 memoirs)
What does it matter about the train trip [to Florida] or the town decided on?  The big thing was that they were right on the ocean; and so Frankie could study the marine life and gather shells.  And how she loved getting out the spiny starfish and bottled fiddler crab and telling Lorin all about them!  She rarely had an audience, and he never had such an ardent lecture!  None of his relatives with the exception of Auntie Mabel ever could care enough to bring such treasures home.  And Mabel wasn't an animal lover.

Floridy

(1980 memoirs)
Before leaving this wall [with a bookcase] I must say that under this bookcase were shelves which held other treasures.  One time a doctor had told Henry [Clapp] that "if he wanted to make a good recovery" from whatever it was he had, he had to go "to Floridy" where it was warm.  As it was not advisable for him to go off alone, sick, and Frankie was the only one not needed at home, it was decided she should accompany him.

Alone again

(1980 memoirs)
So Lorin studied and I taught school and at last we were married.  I never wanted to do one thing in my life except to be where he was and share in his life, and now that I am alone again, the time is so dull and so long.

Five years too long

(1980 Memoirs )
Imagine if you can the tears and parting, the letters back and forth, the presents, the few visits, the planning, the heart breaking misunderstandings --  five years is too long.  But you see, at that time [late 1920s] a man didn't marry unless he could support his wife and maintain a home and provide for his children.  And it takes a long spell for a lawyer to go thru school and be good enough to hang out his shingle.

Engagement

(1980 memoirs)
Lorin and I had just had a couple of dates that fall, gone to a Hallowe'en movie, came home and were sitting on that very sofa I described, when he asked me to marry him.  I liked him so much I said yes and we were engaged and got acquainted later.  This was the first night of a five year engagement, unheard of to-day.

What Lorin thought

(1980 memoirs)
Looking back on it all, I try to think what Lorin thought about Frankie, about her house and all  --  And I have an idea he was really enchanted.  When you know he loved A Kiss for Cinderella, Peter Pan, Snow White and the Seven Dorfs (that's the way Skip said it) you can guess what he thot of when stepped in the door.  Charming, whimsical, amusing, a seeker of truth and of love, he cared about me.

Mormans

(1980 memoirs)
Now for the last wall [of Frankie's living room], opposite the organ.  Here was the built-in bookcase, and next to it near the couch hung the striking clock.  The bookcase held very few books, some dreary ones of religious tracts; and the one most frequently taken down was the one about the Mormons, about which she often discoursed; it reveals their wickedness.  The leaders often went out at night and murdered the men who were against them and buried them too; so no one ever knew what had become of them!  And then they had so many wives and of course children.  This single conduct would set dear cousin Frankie all a quiver with righteous wrath and her glasses all a tremble on her pious nose.  Dear dear cousin, I am glad you never knew how wicked the world really is.  It would break your heart.

Coal stove

(1980 memoirs)
In this part of the [Clapp] living room was a four-sided coal stove, and we loved to see the fire thru the isenglass.  Every night Frankie hoisted up a hod of hard coal and poured it in the top, adjusting the drafts.  In the morning, drafts were opened, ashes poked down, heat enjoyed.  Not once did she ever let me do one thing about the stove; I neither brought in the coal nor took the ashes out.  I did offer at first, but was turned down.  Once Lorin took the bucket of coal from her and poured it in the top, and she was quite surprised that he could do it well.  Oh, that stove!  Old fashioned and out of style, but how glowing it stood with the nickle trim gleaming and the black outlining its true shape.

To read & doze

(1980 memoirs)
Here [on Frankie's couch] she would sit to read because the light was good until sleep overcame her, afternoon or evening, and then she would doze off covered with a shawl, mouth open, not a pretty sight, no - but rather amusing and endearing.

Back side yard

(1980 memoirs)
In the wall behind [the couch] was a window that looked out upon the side yard onto a clothes reel, round, with wooden side walk leading to the privy (no longer used) and woodshed.

Velvet couch

(1980 memoirs)
Next to the desk [in Frankie's living room] was a very old green velvet tufted couch the likes of which I have never seen since.  It would seat two when the arms at each end were pulled up.  It was not very well padded and you could always feel the springs.

Polly's desk

(1980 memoirs)
Now [in my description of Frankie's living room] comes the wall opposite the front door.  This had an ordinary closing door, which led directly into the dining room.  Then came a small desk, which was mine to study at.

Unused organ

(1980 memoirs)
Next [in Frankie's living room] came the organ, which I don't believe she ever mastered.  [It was to be the one heirloom that her grand-nephew wanted.]

Coat tree

(Memoirs 1980)
Then [in Frankie's living room] was a brass "tree" for hanging your hat and coat.  I frequently hung my red slicker there, and Cousin Frankie said one day, "Whenever I see that, I am reminded of a big red pepper."  Lorin sometimes hung his yellow slicker there too, but it always looked out of place with its black slogans and college guff.

China cupboard

(1980 memoirs)
In Frankie's dining room stood a large china cupboard lined with a pleasant red calico and filled with dishes I loved.  The sauce dishes were rectangular in shape, about 2 1/2 X 6, and I have never seen any like them since.  Cup hooks were evenly spaced, everything thought out and beautifully constructed.  The outside had some hand carving but was not too ornate.  The whole was probably walnut.  And this dear soul sawed every board, pounded in every nail, everything all by herself!  It was amazing to me then and more so now.

Pie table

(Memoirs 1980)
Now I'll go on about Frankie's house.  As you came over the porch, level with the street, you entered directly into the living room.  At your right was one of those small ornamental tables.  A Pie Table?  I forget.  But the whole top turned about, in the top of which was a triangular pie-shaped piece on small brass hinges that could open up.  A few inches, probably four, down, was a divided section, exactly the dimensions of the top revolving piece, so that you could open the aperature and spin the top around to the compartment you wished, to get out your cloves or whatever you had put in it.