I was raised too close in blood to pioneers (on both sides of my family) to see the past through rose-colored glasses. The song about pioneer children who "walked and walked and walked" struck me as an excellent indicator of why I was happy with modern life. And the song doesn't even mention frostbite and lack of antibiotics. (As my dad stated in response to the survey, "I would visit the nineteenth century--if I could take my doctor!")
Even without fully comprehending the darker aspects of life without modern plumbing, I still had no desire to emulate my ancestors. Thank you for sacrificing for me so I don't have to.
To be honest, my disinterest was likely motivated by fear of boredom. Laura had so few books to read! That is, I didn't as a child actively question the idea--common outside my home--that once upon a time, America was a nicer, better, kinder, freer time. Getting older and reading history cured me of those assumptions. As a child, however, I simply took the series at face value.
In sum, the nineteenth century was never a place the child-me wanted to go, not due to a thorough understanding of the time period but due to my creature comforts and advantages. I was happy with the life I had.
They still weren't what I expected.
I don't think they ever could be. As one respondent to the survey stated, "Truthfully, not much could come close to
what I felt and imagined while reading the books as a child."
Responses to the survey indicate how often the books give rise to specific memories. Despite my residual disappointment that the cakes weren't exactly what I expected, I clearly remember waiting for them to emerge from the stove. It's one of those images seared into my brain--a memory that might have no context at all if I didn't link it to the series.
In response to the survey, both my parents remembered aspects of their past, my father particularly:
Orderville. My mom would go around barefoot and when the road got too hot, she would take off her bonnet and stand on it. When I visited as a child, Aunt Maggie and Aunt Kezia would tell me to wear a hat. There was no paved road except the highway. Everybody knew each other. The high school for my mom was only [for] 2 years. If students wanted more, they had to go to Cedar City. Mom did. She got her senior year in Logan. My father met her then. She was only 16. (They didn't get married till much later.) At Aunt Maggie's, I would carry a candle upstairs. Eventually a cousin set up a generator but only ran it at night.
Other people in my family remembered specific parts of the book as well as our parents' reactions to the books.
Also, as a young boy, my favorite story from the books was that told in Farmer Boy of the teacher using a whip to subdue the school bully who
threatened the teacher and the class. I would imagine that taking place
in my school - if only!!
Mom discovered the series when us older kids were young and became a huge fan. Curiously, she told me that even though they were originally published in the 1930s, when she was young and probably would have liked them, she has no memory of their existence. On one of our family trips West...we (Mom, Beth and I--the guys did something else) toured the Wilder home in Missouri. This was before the TV show...
Other respondents delivered precise memories, including the time and place of exposure
I read [the series] nightly to my grammar school age children, boy and girl, when we lived in Missouri for two years. My husband was getting his Master's degree at U of Mo. I had a lap baby and a skirt baby at the same time as we were reading these books. The local librarian suggested I might like them and I did and the kids did. Fifty years later they still remark about when we read "Little House of the Prairie" books together.
My childhood in rural Maine in the 1950's had some similar events: frigid farmhouse in the winter, haying, gardening chores, stores a long way away, loving parents who worked very hard physically to keep us warm and fed. They cut their own firewood each winter, had a garden, a few chickens, a cow and a pig most of these years. I wrote about my childhood and a young neighbor paid me a compliment by saying to me, "Reading it was like 'Little House on the Prairie' books."
The series appears to achieve that ineffable (and coveted) goal of writers: the ability to capture a time period yet also capture the relatable human experience.
The series also appears to fall into the category of "memoir." In a course I took many years ago, the students and professor discussed the problem of story versus history. In a memoir, the story or personal viewpoint takes priority--even if it messes with the "facts."
As an amateur historian, I am a fan of accurate history. As a devotee of popular culture, I can't help but wonder, What lasts? Is it enough that the story lasts? The memory? The hint of someone who otherwise would have entirely disappeared?
Sure, Paul Revere wasn't the only rider on the road to Concord and Lexington--but isn't it good we at least remember Paul Revere?
And is it inevitable that history, like our memories, will be cropped and rearranged and retold and re-imagined in any case?
1 comment:
Quality of life is largely based on perspective and comparison. Few reading today of the preindustrial era can comprehend living without a central furnace, refrigeration and indoor plumbing. So we read of those living without those things and acknowledge it as true and undesirable, but we have no actual feeling about it. And those living in those conditions just accepted it as the way it was. They had no comparison to judge differently.
Perspective is also a a significant factor in historical narrative. In the case of the Little House series most of the story is told of events that occurred while the observer was a child. Childhood memories can be powerful and greatly influence how the child frames his/her family experience.
However, childhood is extremely short and the experiences we have as children can be more anecdotal and situational than life defining. For example, the interactions children have with adults can be memorable, but how defining of the adults are those interactions?
Think of your school teachers and ponder how much you really knew them. I think what I remember about my school teachers - the ones I do remember - is a characterature. And if not that than I remember those teachers as a composite of all the teachers I had.
My understanding is the Little House books incorporate both stereotypes and composites for characters and places. These embellishments enhance the story without ruining it's credibility. And we do the same when we tell our histories.
When I tell people how cold the winters were in New York I can share factual experiences of my wet hair freezing as I walked to the bus stop. But if I really want to impress I can tell stories about the snow and our snowbanks and snow sports. However, reality is most of the snow experiences were limited to a few years in the late 1970s when we had an unusual amount of snow. Fact is, we had winters with very little snow. But the memorable ones. The ones that make better stories, are the years with big snow.
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