Daddy's girl

Jeannette, middle back and Doris in front

Most of the conveniences and things that gave us pleasure at home were the result of Dad's inventiveness and efforts. Each new brainstorm he came up with was reason for excitement. I thrived on excitement and changes in routine. Perhaps I tried subconsciously to be Dad's 'boy.' I helped plant potatoes, weed the gardens, stored wood for the fireplaces, painted our playhouse furniture, helped fell and carry the Christmas tree found along the railroad sidings (Dad said they would grow too big and be taken down anyway), climbed trees to pick cherries and gathered eggs and helped clean the hen house.

At Easter Dad taught me to color eggs with grasses, onion skin and beet juice in the Swiss method. I also read lots of books with subjects much beyond my years because Dad liked to read them too and seemed pleased at my reading ability. I learned much later that he had only finished fourth grade and was learning through my books. (ed note: Dan may have quit and restarted school, but in 1910, when he was 15, he was still a student at Orenco School)

Sister Doris spent all her time with Mother in the house, playing with her many dolls, changing their clothes, bathing them and putting them to bed with a lullaby. She helped bake cookies and helped with the bread making and canning and listened to Mother's “soaps” on the radio. Mother did not sew, knit, crochet, read (except Ladies Home Journal and Redbook), garden, or have hobbies of anything that was of interest to me. {ed: this must have changed in later years because Everilde did most of those things at some point.}

She was however an excellent cook and her white laundry sparkled with the aid of generous amounts of bluing. She starched our dresses stiff and ironed for hours, included towels and sheets. I felt she was mostly unhappy; she hardly ever laughed. Dad was always busy with his projects, she received little attention and I soon caught on to her little successes in getting it.

She often feigned being 'bilious' and went without dinner amid sighs and tears, after I had seen her in the kitchen “tasting”amounts of food equivalent to a full meal. She loved to put beautiful cakes out on Sundays and occasional teas (she had me decorate them with swirls and flowers and rosebuds of rich frosting) and gained much sympathy while guests gorged on them and she refrained, saying rich foods did not agree with her. She often wrote long letters to friends and relatives describing her very hard plight in life.