Hair

(1980 memoirs)
Her hair, brown and long, was attractively wound into a bun on the top of her head.  She was never without glasses, very likely with no rims.

Shoes

(1980 memoirs)
Her shoes were always black and I think never low in cut.

Skirts

(1980 memoirs)
Her skirts were ample, cut often in four gore fashion, and covered her shoe tops.  Skirts were plain solid dark colors; shirtwaists were usually striped, plaid, ornamented often with braid.

Shirtwaists

(1980 memoirs)
The shirtwaists always had collars, usually the stand-up kind, long sleeves, often with cuffs, buttoned down the front.  There were calico ones for morning work and dressy ones for afternoon and evening.

How Frankie looked

(1980 memoirs)
Before leaving my dear cousin, I must tell you how she dressed, how she looked.  She was rather a large boned woman, bigger than I, dressed always out of style, always the same.  It was as if in her girlhood she found skirts and shirtwaists suited her, never wore them out and never replaced them.

The privy

(1980 memoirs)
Are you wondering why she kept the privy?  Well, why not?  What if the inside toilet broke some day? or the water froze or was turned off?  Where should we be then?  It was a little house, scrubbed clean and unused, just kept in readiness.  And one early November day when we had an early mean biting stinging snowfall, here my dear cousin was  --  on top of the outhouse, nailing down a few new shingles she had been meaning to get at all summer long.

Shortcake!

(1980 memoirs)
We were going to have Shortcake!  And so we did.  Here in the middle of the table was a wonderful strawberry short cake, and at our places we each had a small plate, fork and spoon.  Nothing else at all.  I think I just ate one big piece, but they kept on, piece after piece, until it was all all gone!  The crust was warm and brown and crunchy on the outside, a good crumb within.  And the berries, sweet of themselves, were also sugared and so delicious!  I have never seen a meal more enjoyed, bite for bite  --  right to the last berry.

Menu

(1980 memoirs)
There was one meal [at Cousin Frankie's] I have never in my life forgotten which was different from all the others.  For some reason Lucretia was gone, Henry alone, and Frankie invited him for supper.  It was June; and beaming, she told me the menu  --  shortcake.  She was going to town to get the berries that very morning.  I said, "Fine.  And what else?"  -- why nothing else.  We were going to have Shortcake!

Tabletalk

(1980 memoirs)
Supper [with Frankie] was always laid out in the dining room properly.  And how well I remember our discussions!  We talked about all our family members, the family tree, New England, Floridy, Ripon, the College years ago, the professors, which ones were ministers of the Gospel and often held the services in the Congregational Church, which was part of Ripon College; we talked about Russia, a lot about religion and beliefs, customs, manners, the neighbors, the "creatures," and of course ourselves.

Handy

(1980 memoirs)
So these two meals [breakfast & lunch] were usually eaten on a shelf that pulled down or out from the pass-thru cupboard. A neat white linen towel served as tablecloth, and the service was laid out as neatly and fine as if it were in the dining room.  Everything was indeed very close and very handy!

T-days

(1980 memoirs)
And where did we eat?  Breakfasts were hasty because I mustn't be late, and lunch was in a hurry too, especially on "T Days," Tuesdays and Thursdays, when I had an early afternoon class....

An excellent cook

(1980 memoirs)
And Frankie was unexpectedly an excellent cook.  Her pie crusts were always thin and flakey.  The beef steak was never burned.  The mashed potatoes were never lumpy.

Cleanliness

(1980 memoirs)
I want to make it clear, that tho Frankie's kitchen was old fashioned, all the work was carried out with utmost cleanliness.  The rolled edges of pans were not only scoured, but traced with a toothpick in case a trace of food remained there.  A kettle was kept boiling on a low burner to provide water to pour over every dish every time.

Kitchen stuff

(1980 memoirs)
Necessary arrangements included a pump for soft water to wash the hands, with wash basin beneath; a gas stove; a sturdy work table used to roll out pie crusts, mix puddings, peel vegetables and finally, with two large pans, one for soapy water and one for hot clear water, to wash the dishes.

Cages

(1980 memoirs)
Now on this plant table or perhaps another by the woodbox near the back door were various cages for the butterflies and moths.  These held the branches they were found on and also more of the same vegetation to munch away the hours on (providing it was fall and it was about to spin its chrysalis, of course).

Avacado

(1980 memoirs)
Once Frankie had coaxed an avacado pit to come out of its shell and sprout to a distance of five feet!  Then it gave up and died.  I think a date followed the same history.

Begonias and geraniums

(1980 memoirs)
Against the window [in Frankie's kitchen] wasa long sturdy unvarnished table bearing up well under a variety of old worn out plants such as geraniums and begonias.  But who could bear to throw them out?

Kitchen

(1980 memoirs)
No matter how clean and straight and impersonal a living room and dining room may be kept, it is often the kitchen that breaks this formality and reveals the true soul of the owner.  And so it was in Miss Clapp's domain.

Parrot

(1980 memoirs)
Once Lorin gave me a lamp with a parrot on it  --  for Polly  --  and that was somewhere about [my bedroom].  The chairs were handwoven cane seated and nobody thought twice about it.  And of course a mirror hung on the wall  --  for me.

Maid service

(1980 memoirs)
Frankie would also bring fresh towels for my wash stand, probably dust the huge massive chest of drawers with little glove and handkerchief drawers on each side of the top, run the carpet sweeper too.

Change-the-bed day

(1980 memoirs)
Ordinary every-day days, I should pull the feather bed straight to make the bed; or if I were late, just pile out and not make it at all.  But on Change-the-Bed Day, Cousin Frankie, the darling, would come up, shake the whole thing up fluffy and high and make it all up for me!  How could I have let her do so much for me and do so little in return?  I cannot answer this except to say I was very busy and she was Kindness itself.

My bed

(1980 memoirs)
Now I will tell you about my bed.  It was a single walnut bed with a medium sized, quite usual, head and foot; and a usual mattress.  But on this mattress now and for the only time in my whole life was a wonderful feather bed!  Oh, the luxury of it.

Oppportunity

(1980 memoirs)
And one night after a gala weekend in Madison with Lorin, then at the University, I was in a bus leaving town, when in a triangular store window I saw a whole wonderful set of Fode Blue, just like hers.  O!  How I wanted to call out!  Stop the bus!  Know the name of the store so I could write!  But on we went.  --And I?  I sank back in the seat knowing it was gone forever.  It was, too.  I never in my whole life saw any pieces like it any more.

Fode blue

(1980 memoirs)
My room has its window facing the street, a thin carpet on the floor, and a large closet on the left.  One time I brought my mother's Fode Blue wedding china with me, what was left of it, thinking to be very collegiate and have tea in my room some day.  But alas!  The shelf came down, smashing all the cups and saucers, leaving me only a few eight-sided plates.  I felt very bad about that.