19 September 1955 “ News, Canning, and Biking, ”

FARM INCOMES will be boosted and surplus products cut back, if Agriculture Secretary Benson can persuade Congress to okay a mammoth new crop-control program that may cost as much as $500 million a year. Benson wants to buttress present flexible price supports by paying farmers $10 to $12 an acre yearly to grow grass, cover crops and trees on their land, thus cut down on overall farm output by taking 40 million acres out of food production. ( I am not sure who watched the video on Monsanto, but here you can see it is beginning, paying farmers to stay out of food production, slowly this leads to our sad state today with so much being imported that could come from local farmers)

U.S. RAILROADS will have to spend $20 billion for capital improvements in the next decade to meet growing transportation needs, says Pennsylvania Railroad President James Symes. His forecast for 1965 rail business: 850 billion ton-miles, 53% above 1954's total. (Sadly, we will see a decline in the railroads as well, as multiple cars and highways replace shared and cheaper forms of transportation.)

STATION WAGONS are fast becoming one of the most popular auto models. As the all-purpose family car, station wagons are now selling at the rate of 500,000 yearly (v. 29,600 in 1946).(I love my station wagon, that is for sure!)

Canning before the 1950’s was without question necessary. This poster from WWI shows its urgency during war time. Certainly, during the WWII it was also important as food was becoming scarce and one needed to conserve what they could from their Victory Gardens.I love the look of these happy people in their root cellar properly stocked with canned goods and fruit to last. This house actually has an old root cellar, reached from the outside through a bulkhead whose walls are made up of great stones set into place. I will show photos, once I get my shelves up. I am afraid this winter, though, it will not be this stocked, but we shall see what can be yielded next summer in my new garden.

By 1955 the new young wives and mothers would find in their cookbooks and magazines of the day Freezing to be the new food conservation. Certainly, they learned some canning at mothers knee but many younger women would be excited to fill their new ‘deep freeze’ with food. But, being my age in 55 I believe canning would still very much be a part of my life. And indeed, in my current state of 1955 with the knowledge of modern needs to not waste electricity nor overspend, canning certainly wins out. To me it makes more sense to preserve food I can store for free, than to pay for the upkeep and electricity to run a large freezer.

Yesterday I made Blackberry Jam. It turned out lovely.   It was fun and as with many of the skills I am learning this year, it takes something that seems impossible or unfathomable and opens it up to that “Oh, that’s it?” moment. It also, as has other things this year, made me see how much more of what we use/consume can very easily, cheaply and so much more healthy be hand made.

I am sure there are many canners out there. For me, this is the first time really. Here is how simply my jam was.

5 cups crushed blackberries

7 cups sugar

one 1.75 oz. package of Pectin

5 16 oz jars and lids

Boil the fruit and while stirring, slowly add the pectin. Then having measured the sugar int0 a bowl, add all at once stirring constantly until rolling boil returns. Then boil for one minute, scoop into clean dry hot jars (so they don’t crack from the hot liquid) seal and place in canning pot of hot water. Make sure 2 inches of water covers jar tops and bring to a boil. Hard boil for 10 minutes, take out and set upright on a towel and in 12 hours you have jam.

So easy so yummy. Hubby and I have almost polished off the first jar, it is so good.

For those who would like to know, and I just learned, according to my 1950s Boston cooking school book the following is the difference between jams, conserves or gumbo, preserves, and fruit butters.

Jam or Marmalade. Fruit cut in small pieces, cooked with sugar until sirup is jellylike.

Conserve or Gumbo. Thick, rich mixture of fruit cooked with sugar, usually with nuts added.

Fruit Butter or Honey. Thick, smooth sauce made of fruit cooked with sugar and strained. Seasonings are often added.

Preserves. Fruit canned in a sugar sirup, thinner than for jam. The fruit is usually left whole or in fairly large pieces.

There are so many ways and means to conserve and can fruit and jam. I also have a pressure cooker I have never used and would some day like to use it for veg and meat.

There is even a recipe to make your own pectin and I am sure very far back, one couldn’t or maybe could not afford to buy pectin for canning. I can post that recipe if anyone is interested.

My next canning is going to be some orange marmalade, which I adore, and I want to try some Grapefruit marmalade.

There are many variations of Apple Jelly ( I am not sure if they call it Jelly in UK as I know their Jelly is our Jello and what many of us call Jelly is their Jam, I know here it is Jam if it contains the fruit and Jelly if it is made clear with only the fruit juice, any UK or Aussies want to clarify that for me?) Anyway, I thought this sounded lovely as a variation of Apple Jelly (again it is made with apple juice and any other juice half and half and 2/3 cup sugar for each cup of juice and cooked to the jelly stage. It is:

Rose Geranium. Place a rose geranium or pineapple leaf in each glass and fill with apple jelly. Do not cover with paraffin until jelly is almost firm and left leaf so that it is suspended in the jelly. (wouldn’t that be a wonderful housewarming gift? So pretty)

Well, enough on canning for now.

This lovely cool brisk late summer New England day was enjoyed on my bicycle. Here she is in all her vintage glory.She is actually a bit small for me, but I don’t mind. Much like many things I have come to use this year, we seem to work it out and work with one another’s foibles.

I hoped I looked much like this lovely lady todayas I rode happily along with my hubby. We live close to a nice path that meanders along the Cape Cod Canal. We get to it through a long wooded path that connects to our back yard. There is a wide ‘road’ through the wood of mown grass and either side rise up wonder brambles, trees and in spring Mock Orange and in the fall lovely bittersweet (great for New England autumnal decorations). The feeling I got today on this bike riding over the bumpy grass was amazing. I felt, in that moment, what it must have been that first time a woman, most likely back in the beginning of the century, rode astride her first bike. The very freedom of it. The soft pleasure as the trees glide by and you bounce gaily along. And, belive you me, with my vintage Raleigh, you get a could cushiony bounce with that wide comfortable seat with it's dual springs.

As we rode along, the sun shone. It was one of those cool late summer mornings where the promise of heat is there, but the coolness of the previous night still hangs upon you. It is a mantle of comfort when riding briskly along. That lovely smell of ocean water and the sound of the gull…ah, I have to say that is my favorite sound. To hear that while on a boat and to sleep snuggled in the forward berth of our sailboat is the closet to heaven I have found. But, I digress, the smell of the ocean, the deep child-like cry of the gull, the dive of the cormorant, it was all lovely.

As we were casually biking along, we would occasionally be passed by other Saturday morning strollers or bikers. A few ‘grandma’s’ on similar bikes to mine, but newer versions pedaled on happily. Then, every so often, my skirt would swirl up and my get tossed in my eyes by a passing cyclist bearing down on me with incredible speed, stretched to the hilt in spandex.

I once belonged to these ranks. In fact, in the 90’s at university, I even mountain biked. Clad in spandex and packing power bars, bright colored plastic water bottles, I was ready for the battle of the hill or the road. Now I see this  and it seems strange to me. There is something about rambling along on a bike with no gears and the only brakes are engaged when you feel the need to pedal backwards. I realized I was not wearing a helmet and then hubby and I laughed about this. At the speed we were traveling we would have had ample time to stop without a fatal fall.

The world suddenly, there on the back of my simple little bike, seemed a little lighter. There was no time to beat or counting of miles I needed to get in . I was not in the process of trying to do anything TO THE EXTREME, no need to slam a power bar or replenish my electrolytes, whatever they may be. Simply, a sunny morning pedaling along the water, talking, laughing and enjoying the scenery. Another vintage moment given my as a little hidden jewel.

I found myself looking forward, at the end of our jaunt, to my doing this more often. I know pictured the ease and joy of pedaling to the local farmers market on Tuesday morning, filling my little basket with my wares. A ride into the local tea shop for an afternoon of cakes, a cuppa and a good read.

So, here 1955 have shown me, much like the swish of the petticoat or the simple thrill of white gloves and a hat, doing things with a bit of style and measured time makes the moments of living more real. Odd, again, that it takes time-travel out of my time to feel more in my present. When I do things with a quiet stylish determination, take that extra minute at the dressing table with my lipstick, decide which hat and gloves, decide to take a slower trip upon the bouncy seat of my vintage bike, I feel more NOW. I don’t feel I am rushing to get this or that done or running behind and trying to hurry to this or that. I don’t know how realistic this sort of time is for modern people, but maybe we need to look at what we have replaced our time with? Even for those busy with jobs, are there other things that could be done early or set aside to take your time with more personal things to make your day more yours? Up an extra half an hour to get your hair just right or to take time to sit down to a real breakfast of bacon and eggs on nice matching china? Maybe miss one of your ‘shows’ or tivo it for later so you can take the time to sit at a real table like a grown up and eat off nice dishes and talk about things with your family or read that book you have been meaning to get to? I don’t know. I do know that taking my time and doing things with a measured style seems to be changing my life in ways I never thought it would.

17 September 1955 “Home Sweet Home”

Well, these images of the house were meant to be shared yesterday, but part of the unpacking process has been playing the game, “where is it”. So, though I had my camera, I did not have the cable that allowed me to share these images digitally. Silly, really. I guess the ease of technology sometimes makes it easy to lose the small elements that make it possible in the first place. I wonder if the first transistors (which are becoming a new thing this year, check an earlier post) elicited such responses as, “Well, if they get any smaller, we’ll never be able to find them!” I am sure to those in 1955 (even with transistor radios just appearing ) the concept of MP3 players would be unimaginable.  Not only that, I am sure they would also wonder, “Why on earth would you NEED so much music all of the time?” Another cultural divide opens.

It makes me wonder, how much did music play in the life of the typical 1955 homemaker? I know my music listening has more than been cut in half. At first I noticed it, but now I really don’t. I have a good record collection at this point and my record player is unpacked, but I often find myself not listening to music as often as I once did. I think when I return to painting (pictures not walls)I will listen more, but I am not sure. Is it bad? Good? Not sure it is neither I suppose, just a different view.

I have cd’s of music and radio shows that are in an ‘old radio’ in my kitchen, but even then, I don’t always listen. Although, I do know that many people say the radio was on often back in those days, but I don’t think we were bombarded with noise and music and sound as much as we are today. I am sure the homemaker in my age group in 55 with kids probably wanted to destroy the television and the noise it would hail with the children returning from school. A parent in 1955 must have looked down at the child splayed in front of  ‘the set’ glassy eyed and motionless and wondered, “When I was his age I would have been…” And he would have been, too! Only, think how much that has changed. We are so many generations into TV now that the concept of “when I was young” may come up, but honestly most parents today probably spent as much time in front of the TV as kids today, I don’t know. 

I remember a few scenes in movies of the 1950s with parents being annoyed by their enraptured children. In “The Man in the Grey Flannel Suit” (which won’t be made into a movie until next year 1956) there is a scene where the father has to haul his children from in front of the TV, commenting about the western that is on. “Is this the only program on,” he comments only to be sucked into it himself while drying and re-drying the same dish he was helping his wife clean moments before. It does lure one in and I wonder why? Well, that was a big digression, on with some photos and news.

Here are some shots of my little antique home: In this first one you can see my orange sofa I rather like. It has made my color scheme here the rich oranges and reds of wood tones. While I worked on a concept in the old house for a color scheme for the house, here my furniture just seemed to tell me where it wanted to live and suddenly the disparate parts of my previous home came together and said, “Ta-da,  here is your color scheme’.

The deep red of the dining room melds into the oranges and warm tones of the wood floors and ceiling held in check by the pale blue walls. In this same picture on the old door (they are original if you can believe it and they have the old latch system that predates ‘doorknobs’) next the sofa is a hand painted sign that reads “bathroom”. This was for my mother when she lived here as with her Alzheimer's she needed help sometimes. I haven’t the heart to remove it, so it stays. Speaking of my mother, I call this shot ‘mum’s corner’.The chair was my mother’s chair while she lived here and this was a favorite spot of hers. On the antique table sits a photo of my hubby and his mother when he is a boy on their sailboat. You can just see the old picket fence out front that meanders crookedly along the sidewalk out front. The neighbors beautiful red maple is visible. It is nice to know I can just stroll out the front door and walk to a local eatery or ride my bike into ‘town’. Here you can see the wall color better and the old yellow upholstery of the chair, which was destined to be recovered, is now going to stay. It fits with the tones of the house and I rather like its aged shabby velvet.

Next to mum’s corner sits the piano.There is much love and frustration in this old thing. It was my husbands piano growing up. He studied classical piano and had at one point been set for Juilliard. The piano has followed us around. We have moved it six times. And one does not move it by themselves, so we have got to know the piano movers fairly well. It is a sight to see them move it. The legs come off and its elegant long beauty becomes odd and disjuncted as it is set on end and wrapped in moving blankets and wedged through doors by sweating men.

What is interesting about the piano now is our last move put it in this house when we had my parents here. They were nice enough to allow us to put it here and when we moved back to the cape to the other house, we had to leave it. That meant it was suffered to various tenants, but we did not want to move it again. Somehow we must have known we were coming back, for there it sat waiting for us. I remember when we finally got back in here that first day not even two weeks ago, after the tenants had left. I was unpacking in the kitchen and the sound suddenly filled the little house. It was so good to hear it sing again at the hands of my hubby.

The bust on it once sat as the mascot for my flower shop. She, too, has moved often with us. She always gets the place of honor, in the front seat of my car when the move.  Maybe I am afraid she will come to life and walk off to live with another less nomadic family. Though, I think now she may stay put.

In this same room is the living room fireplace.At one point in our living here years ago I had wanted to paint the wall and ceilings. Though, it most likely would have been done as the colonial period progressed, the work and detail of the exposed wood is too beautiful to cover with paint and it shall remain as it is. At least my wood paneling is the real thing so somehow I love it. The little chair on the hearth was mine as a small child and I can remember rocking in it for hours in my favorite red nightgown. Leaning there on the right (it will get hung on that wall when I get the right hooks) is an antique cranberry rake that I found one day in the back of an old shops basement when they were having a sale. Cranberries have a big history with the cape. The wood and hand bent metal match the patina of the house’s wood perfectly. Again, it is as if the things I have loved and collected have been waiting for this house. Even the old brass compass/sexton on the mantel has been hid away in it’s old box in storage, now it sits proudly waiting for the Whaling captain to return.

Now, in the dining room I have a lovely deep cranberry red. Another color I will not repaint. It looks a little more blood red than it is in the photo here but my hubby’s old pre-civil war map of New England looks wonderful against the color and even  “Hereford” my stuffed pheasant, seems happy here. This demi-lune side table works great as a bar and extra linen storage in the dining room. You can see the whiskey decanter is rather low, sometimes we need a little nip to help us get through the unpacking process.

In this same room is a built in corner cabinet. I think readers who have followed me for awhile will remember that I had an antique corner cabinet I put in the dining room redo I did at my other house. The funny thing is, that cabinet, had I left it in its original red color, would have gone perfectly in this room, but alas, it is now being enjoyed by the new tenants. But, this dining room has its own built in corner cabinet.The interior is painted a soft yellow and I was going to paint it the soft blue of the walls to go with my good china, which is rimmed in that color, but I rather like the warm yellow behind the blue and it ties into the kitchen , which is off this room, in the same yellow with red and blue accents. (I’ll show those pictures later).

So, that is the house thus far. The pictures really don’t do it justice, but you can see how simply old things live here with me. Any modern 1950’s items are either in the kitchen or will end up in my studio. I am happy with it. Normally, when I move into a new place, I immediately want to change everything, while here it feels right. The combination of memories of happy and even sad times with my family and friends mixed with the mellow tones and odd angles and slopes of the floor (if you stand in the living room you can drop a marble and it will roll towards the dining room, rather like being on a ship) just seem to fit me somehow. I mean, here we are,the pair of us, anachronistic to the core. We both look ‘of another time’, yet plopped down into the modern world. We will simply shine in our antiquity and let others either enjoy or disregard us, but we both feel very grounded in time. There is a sort of solidity to attaching oneself to a time that has gone by. You can feel a certainty that is not available to you in the unknown future. It gives you a rock upon which to stand as the deluge of life and its uncertain current rushes by. Perhaps, it is indulgent or unrealistic, but it does help one to have a strong base upon which to view the world.

Now, today I am making some blackberry jam and an apple and blackberry pie. Recipes and results will follow tomorrow.

15 September 1955 “Back to the Grind”

 

Well, here I am settled into my ‘new’ home. It has been seven years since my hubby and I lived in this house, though we had my parents here for two years and that resulted in being guests at Christmas and other holidays. They were good times for the most part, though they ended on a rather sad note. In that ending, the house sat, unloved and infrequently used by various bad tenants. We have returned and I am glad.

Somehow, now, it feels as if I have been working to this end for sometime without my knowledge. I certainly was not planning on the sudden removal of my family nor the dramatic way that played out, but as I have been settling my furnishings and various items these past two weeks it is as if I have been buying and collecting with the eye for this house the whole time. There, that old metal dishtowel rack bought and forgot and stored, now just fits that part of the kitchen. That chair, bought in the city for that apartment then stored away looks and feels right in that spot. The chair my darling mother sat in, which was hauled and used in my makeshift sitting room at the last house, has returned to its rightful place and looks so perfect with that old side table of my hubbies family.

Where the other house and places I have lived have immediately received my paint brush and hammer, the main part of this house just feels right. I think, ‘ Hmmm, that shade of blue I painted the walls four years ago for my family just still fits’.

 

  to show that not all 1955 living rooms looked like this Not that the second is bad and in fact, most likely due to my inundation with mid-century magazines and design books, there is much I Do love about this second modern room, but in an antique Cape built in 1718, I think it would look rather amiss, don’t you? I wanted to show that traditional as well as the ‘new’ “Early American” style was as prevalant as modern. The white trimmed built-ins, colonial inspired wallpaper and the ‘sandwich glass’ and tin lamps look much as they would today. Although I do have some victorian pieces, the Victorian ladies chair in the first picture is lovely, but I prefer my Wing chairs and of course my french inspired side chair.

Actually, there is much that I could write about this ‘Early American’ movement in decorating that really gets ignored today. Many people think that the 1950’s deco (much as they think the mindset and ideals) are all set in one pattern in the mid-century. I find the Early American probably really took hold in the war years. There is much ‘colonial’ inspired interiors in my 1940’s magazines as opposed to my 1950’s. I think it was a way to hearken back to the ‘good ole days’ the pre-war modern world and certainly had a good breeding ground in 1940’s America.

The picture I ‘borrowed’ for the above image of the ‘colonial’ home was from the same Flickr stream as the one below. I do hope that whomever’s site it is does not mind my using the image. It certainly is only done with the utmost respect and perhaps a sort of sad longing of these pictured. This one could easily be my hubby. Replace the cigarette with a pipe and that is basically his wardrobe today, maybe he’d have his straw porkpie hat on, since it is summer.  This one below was simply titled Summer 1955. It hit a note with me as it could easily be my yard now with hubby and I and a friend. In fact, I want to build a stone wall around our terrace here, much like they have done in the pictures, and frame it in my roses. I love the casual blue dress with the down turned pocket. The woman in front looks smart in her white piped blue pedal pushers. Relaxed yet put together. There is SO much in the 1950’s style that could be so adaptable to the modern world and in a way that allows us to have control by making it ourselves. There are no tags or labels or odds screen printed logos that are ‘must haves’ here thus making one not able to reproduce a style. When clothes are fashionable but individual and not mass marketed it gives a thrift, style and personal power back to the wearers. One can look through a magazine for inspiration and then buy a simple pattern and the sky is the limit.

I have been having trouble getting myself back into using the computer again. Being somewhat unconnected and preoccupied with arranging my home, I felt almost as if I was sleeping deeper into 1955. Today, to aid my ability to still hold onto the present so I can return to my blog posts, I went to some large modern stores. This ties in with what I was just saying about clothes.

I was in town and decided to pop into Old Navy, a store I am not that happy with normally, but now it was horrible. In the past which was conversely the future, when I would go to Old Navy to ‘just look’ I would never leave without some “great deal”. Their low prices (of course fueled by cheap product mass produced by low paid child labor) were often irresistible, even though most of these items would end up in drawers and closets unworn. I kid you not, as I was packing to move here I found clothes with tags on unworn, not good.

Today, however, my disgust was filled with sadness. The racks and racks of sweat pant styled pants, everything was soft jersey, shapeless and uninspiring to see rows and rows of them. I thought, maybe I could find some 1950s inspired skirt I could mix in with my wardrobe, I could not find one skirt that was not a short 1980’s ruffled mess that I would not even have worn in the actual 1980s. I have to say I left fired to get a sewing space cleared out soon.

Now, back to the house. I have just been so busy and into setting up house, that I have barely touched my computer. One can see how a homemaker of the past would not be bored, it is as if WITH the modern computer and TV, we become bored as we can think of nothing except these two tasks to fill our free time. But, I am slowly easing my way back into a sense of the modern world. I cannot, after all, live in 1955 forever. I could certainly try, but I really feel an almost calling to bring modern and mid-century to some interesting mix in the coming year. That means eventually with a website and also with my art. Perhaps, then, I will also finally feel ready to do a podcast to include, as the idea of talking, “radio program style”, about various topics does seem enticing. Although I could easily drift away into my safe 1955 world, I would miss all of you and all the potential people I have yet to get to know and meet out there.

Well, tomorrow I will get some pictures of various vignettes of the ‘new’ house, maybe a recipe or two and some more discussion about what it might mean to emerge, come January 1, from my cocoon of 1955.  The vintage chrysalis am I.

10 September 1955 “So Sorry”

I really am sorry that my posts are so few and far between of late, but we just literally got into the main house yesterday. I am in a sea of boxes and trying to throw together dinners with what I can find in which box. I am very happy to be back and I DO promise a proper post soon, so do bear with me. This move is all encompassing.

To tide you over here are some videos.

This is Jimmy Durante from this year.

What I notice is that just starting now, 1955, music is moving more towards teens and the need to be really attractive. Obviously stars looked good but you could be a performer based on your star power or talent not some homogenious hollywood ideal of beauty.

This looks like an interesting movie, anyone seen it? I love the hopefulness mixed with foreboding warning that 50’s sci-fi always brings. I suppose so close to two world wars the future could seem wondrous and bright but filled with the fear of repeating histories mistakes. We need to adapt this fear again and look to the past.

I thought this interesting, the moonwalk pre-Michael.

So I’ll close with this: A great performer, great song, and wonderful wonderful dress. How could you not feel amazing in that outfit?

So, until I find a few minutes, lets keep our apron revolution on track.

6 September 1955 “A Holiday in my own Town, some News, and Happy Home Movies.”

 

Hi everyone, a quick check in. I am still in our little cottage and waiting for the chance to move into the 'big house'. I have decided that 'waiting' makes the heart grow fonder, as having spent a week here on my property, but as a 'guest' of sorts, has made me even more covetous of the house and grounds. During the day, amongst our various furniture and boxes piled on the little porch (those that did not fit in the cottage or my two story barn/studio), I sip my coffee and peruse my various magazines, dreaming of setting up house again.

Today, Gussie and I spent a lovely ‘tourist day’ in our own town. We started out walking to our little breakfast place with hubby. I found the food good but longed to get back to the kitchen and make breakfast again. I realize how much this ritual has come to mean to me by not being really able to do it properly for a week. The act of rising before the alarm, padding quietly down to the kitchen with my dogs at my heals and beginning breakfast. The smell of the coffee brewing. The sizzle of the bacon and the crack of the egg. I had eggs Benedict and found the sauce okay, but longed for my homemade version and the hash was much too salty compared to my own home-made variety. It was nice to be waited on and to have a nice stroll to and from breakfast.

Next, Gussie and I were off to town. We walked to one of my new favorite antique shops to browse and dream. We wandered to an herb shop for Gussie was in search of dried hollyhocks. Then we stopped at one of our local historic houses, The Hoxie House. This salt box was built in the late 1690’s so it is older than ours, but not by much. Our home was built in 1718. The interior beams and floor were very similar (though our floors have of course been redone and glazed, but the flat head nails are still in tact.)Here is a shot of the keeping room of the house where the cooking fire place is. It was very interesting and I met some new people in my own town.   You know how sometimes you do have to play tourist where you live to appreciate what you have. Our being unable to unpack and really move completely into our property afforded us the opportunity to play tourist today and we thoroughly enjoyed it.

I will definitely show pics of various parts of the house as things get done and added and changed etc.

I was struck by the fact the the Hoxie house has only been owned by two families during its existence. The last direct descendent Hoxie died in the 1950’s and the house went to the town. She lived in it in its rough state of no electricity, though the floors were covered with linoleum from the early 1900’s (thank god as it preserved the wonderful floors) I felt a little kindred there. Here she was, in the 1950’s, where I am suppose to be, huddled up in this three hundred year old house with some make shift stoves and living. It wasn’t all stainless steel and fake wood paneling in the 1950s. If I had the house I will now have in 1955, I am certain I would have kept many antique ideas and items, but of course had a ‘new’ range and ‘ice box’, which I shall do.

I have mentioned the movie Picnic before, but found this old clipping artwork that I might see now here in my local paper as it played at one of the local drive-ins or theatres here on the Cape in 1955. Very racy, non?

On August 28, 1955, this young 14 year old African American boy (or ‘colored boy’ as he would have been known then) was brutally murdered for whistling at a white woman. It is suppose to be the act the lead to the American civil rights movement. I think this coupled with Rosa Parks act on the bus (which will not occur until December 1st of this year) did lead to that change of ideas.

This boys murder was brutal and savage. The main suspects were acquitted, but later admitted to the murder. Till's mother insisted on a public funeral service, with an open casket so as to show the world the brutality of the killing: Till had been beaten and an eye gouged out, before he was shot through the head and thrown into the Tallahatchie River with a 70-pound cotton gin fan tied to his body with barbed wire. His body was in the river for three days before it was discovered and retrieved by two fishermen. Here he is with his mother When a face is put on such a crime it hits home more. There are actual photos of his ‘after’ attack that I refrained from putting on here as they are graphic, but if you want to see them search his name. They really hit home when one thinks of a young boy and what it must have meant for his mother to see him thus.

Many people today see the 1950s as a racially bad time, but I see it as the time when we were, as a nation, realizing (perhaps after two world wars) that violence and hatred towards others would not be tolerated. These are things happening in the Mid 1950’s. I again feel the need to defend the decade. It was BECAUSE of the very mindset of the time that we were able to begin to look at freedom for all Americans. I feel, now, however that we seem to be unfair to all of us in our inability to have personal accountability for our actions and to not want to SEE how much of our products (food and dry goods) are being made outside our country and not supporting our own farmers, businesses, manufacturers and labor. Maybe we need our own form of American Rights movement against the corporate class.

Well, on a happier note, I found this home movie made this year here on Cape Cod and thought it was a fun way to end the post. It was nice to see the casual clothes and relaxed attitude that I would have had this year in 1955, though going out to dinner etc would have of course been hat, gloves, and stockings. It shows the water, the architecture, the attitude of the Cape. Enjoy.

3 Spet 1955 "Camping out amongst the Boxes"

Though we are not roughing quite as much as these happy 1950's campers, we are roughing it. We have managed to set up my computer in the corner of the little cottage and two beds fill the small living room. Myself, hubby, the two dogs, two fish and Gussie are sharing this one room with a narrow path between boxes to the little cottage kitchen. The one bedroom is filled with boxes of items awaiting their freedom.

We managed, last night, to sweep off the little porch (my last tenent here had dogs and the smell was horrid) and arrange some furniture and throw together a small dinner and a fire in the metal firepit. It was still an exhausting day. Four days left until the tenents are out of the main house and we and all our 'things' can be liberated. Even my last four chickens (those that did not get sold, I couldn't give up fresh eggs come fall!) are huddled in their antique wooden chicken crate/carrier awaiting my throwing together a sort of 'chicken playpen' for them to scratch and enjoy some grass until their new home can be built. It is all an adventure for sure.

Today I am off with the dogs to my mother in laws house here for a nice hot shower, and room to stretch and swim (she lives on the water). Then it is back to work here. I will attempt tomorrow to try a good old fashioned post. These are the days that SPAM were made for, right? Though, Gussie did just scour and clean out the little cottage kitchen here (our previous nights attempts at dinner resulted in the little cottage filling with smoke and our running out cursing then laughing at our folly), but perhaps a dinner in a skillet over the fire might be fun tonight, we shall see.

Maybe some fun stories from you about various camping or rustic cottage adventures. Often when one is so stripped of the usual 'convienances' we begin to see the very basic things we really need and enjoy and what is just pretense or more work. Let's find out, share away:

29 August 1955 “Quick Check In, What is your ideal?”

Well, I am still busy wrapping china that will only be unwrapped a few days from now. I am trying, like this lovely lady, to do so with a smile. Perhaps she is doing as I have been, dreaming of where her new things will go and how she will arrange her new home.

I haven’t time to do an actual in depth post, but I thought, following the last blog, we could continue with the neighborhood idea. Some of you have told me what your own neighborhoods are like in summer, now let’s talk about what our ‘dream’ or ‘ideal’ neighborhood would be?   Would there be milk at the door and daily tradesmen peddling wares? Where would it be? Would it be full of neighbors or would you be more isolated? A city perhaps with a strong community spirit. While I pack and dream away, let’s discuss it.

26 August 1955 “Some New, Some songs, and a town through visitors eyes.”

1st color telecast (NBC) of a tennis match, the Davis Cup.

1st airplane to exceed 1800 mph (2897 kph)-HA Hanes, Palmdale, California

The movie “Pete Kelly's Blues” is from this year. It takes place in the 1920s. It is interesting to see how they ‘represent’ the 20’s in a movie shot in 1950’s. I have notice that up until the late 70’s movies set in the ‘past’ often rely heavily on modern takes on the past. Today, I am frustrated if they do not do an accurate job of recreating a time period. I wonder then, if it didn’t seem to matter as much, because their own present style was often rather good, so one thought little of it. When you look at the styles of 1955, I wouldn’t want to completely lose their look just to recreate the 1920s, today, however, go ahead and get every detail down, because I don’t want to see any printed t-shirts with ‘23 skad00’ printed on them!

This version of “he need’s me” by Peggy Lee is one of my favorite and I have to admit I listen to it often as it is on one of my ‘radio station cd’s’ and on an album of mine as well. I now find out this rendition is from this movie.

And here she is this year doing the same song, I think to promote the movie possibly.

Well, I just wanted to put up something today. The packing continues.

After I settle in I will take pictures of my ‘new town’ that our home is in. It is very idyllic and nice. Today a friend was in from Austin TX visiting. We took a break and went to our favorite tea shop and had tea on the porch of the old building. It is on one of the shady tree lined streets of Sandwich and the ocean breeze blew our skirts. We relaxed and visited and the cool sounds of late summer surrounded us. My visiting friend turned to me and said, “You don’t realize how beautiful it is here. You know much of the rest of the U.S. doesn’t look like this. All the greens, the big trees, old churches and buildings”

I already appreciated our little town here on Cape, but seeing it through a visitors eyes made me love it all the more. As we left and strolled down the street, I heard bagpipes in the distance. There was a corp practicing at the local town school. I realized one of the reasons I love this little town is it is very New England. And, in being so, is much as I often fantasize about old England. Of course I have been to Old England and love it and would live there in a heartbeat, but it is very hard to emigrate to that country. Funny, when I think my relatives started out there, but then again, they left and said Phooey to the monarchy, so maybe there is still a little grudge there. Anyway, I was glad to see my ‘new’ town through my friends eyes. It makes all the stress and sweat of the move worth it.

I hope all of you are enjoying summer and get a few moments to sit on a porch, drinking tea or lemonade or G&T’s what have you, and enjoy or lovely summer. I would love to hear what some of your towns or areas are like in the summer.

24 August 1955 “Art and a Movie”

Here is Jasper John’s 1955 work ‘Target’. I had not thought about this work for a long time. Having studied Art History at University, I was subjected to so much visual imagery, it all began to blur and meld. Now, looking at this piece as a new piece, maybe I would even have a chance to travel to New York and see it, how would it speak to me. I definitely know how it speaks to me now.

This really makes me think, if an artist does his ‘job’ (and yes I do BELIEVE has a job to do other than just exist for itself) it can almost be a sort of time machine. Certainly, it should and is often a mirror of it’s present society, but too, as I think in this case, it is a glimpse into our future.

There it is, that big target, the masses; US. The faces, the consumers. The underpinnings of the ads and newspaper hidden but slightly visible. I think if I were to make this piece today, I would put a row of hands coming out of the bottom. In a way, we have been made targets, but we have asked for it and we continue to. We are becoming homogenized in a way.

Peggy Guggenheim asked, “Does economic capital drive cultural capital?” and I think, today, we have the answer: YES.

Well not sure how it would fit into the idea of it. There is a way to go about it for sure but not certain. There is a fixed point in time when it becomes apparent who we are and then we move both forward and backward from that point creating our reality. That point is immutable and immovable unless we let it slip.

Here you can see two images of young women in very mannish and strong poses. Most certainly Rockwell was referencing or adapting Michelangelo's Cybil in his representation. In fact, Michelangelo actually used men as models for these women.

It is interesting the difference from this girl and her 1955 counter part here.

Yet, here even the man himself has an almost effeminate quality. The work of strength and war is gone and the office worker and homemaker of the suburbs is the ideal. The western world is moving from the physical to the mental.

Now, I fear, we are moving from the mental to the stimulant. The incessant need to be plugged in, tuned on, and passively entertained. What would Norman Rockwell paint of us today? Would there be a middle class nuclear family stretched out on the sofa, watching TV? No, actually it would have to be a canvas separated into four parts, each representing a room in the house. There is mother on the computer, piles of books on organizing strewn at her feet, unopened packages from the ‘packing store’ amongst the piles. Her face, cast in the glow of the computer, has an odd glare and transfixed smile. There is sonny, at the TV, video game plugged in. He is dressed sloppily, as is mother, and stretched out along the arm of the sofa, empty soda cans and chip bags and the tiniest hint of his rotund flesh sticking out from under his printed t-shirt. There is father, in another room with another TV, half-asleep in a recliner while some reality show is on, he half awake gaze is lit by the glow of the large flat screen TV balanced on some boxes, there in the corner stands, unopened, the mounting equipment for the TV. He can’t be bothered, his hand in a bag of chips and a half full bottle of beer. But, wait, where is sis? Oh, she is not in front of the TV nor the computer, but what is that? Oh, there she is tattooed, pierced and wearing her false anger as a badge representing nothing. There is nothing left to rebel against, her grandmother and mothers generation already did that. She sits, slumped upon her bed, various macabre posters blazoned on her wall as she types furiously upon her cell phone. There is a glimmer of a smile as the small green box-shaped light cast from her phone sends an eerie glow upon her eyes. And, perhaps there is a fifth part to this painting. The kitchen in the center. It sits piled with dishes. There are empty boxes of various prepared food boxes sitting about. The latest most expensive stainless steel appliances and stone countertops sit oddly sparkling, as if just removed from their box, almost untouched, but wait the microwave is a map of handprints and last minute attempts at heating food. The modern family, 21st century. Sort of bleak, I know, but that is what I would paint if I were Rockwell today and who would want a calendar of that?

Well, enough of that. While I am on the subject of passive entertainment, I thought I would at least send something good to watch in such a state. Unfortunately you have to go through Hulu to watch it (NO, I am not getting paid to advertise them but it is a good source for some old shows/movies) The movie is from 1954 and it’s called A Woman's World. Here is the movie poster. It deals with corporate America and has an interesting message, of course unheeded today, but it is a good movie none-the-less. Maybe make a 1950’s movie date with popcorn and your hubby to watch it.

http://www.hulu.com/watch/80727/womans-world

22 August 1955 “A Post-rant, Proud American, Cookies, Scones, and dreaming of Utility Space”

 

I don’t want any of you to despair when I go off on one of my tangents or rants. Surely, my being disgusted and upset with the modern world can BE a positive. For me it only ignites the fire under me to pursue more and more the ways of yesterday. To delve deeper into my own accountability and my own ABILITY to make and create more my own.
I know we, we few quiet homemakers, cannot as such change the government, but in our own ways we can affect things by how we live and shop. If we do not support those very places that are not responsible for their actions, who care more about how cheap their product is than rather or not it is using child labor or hurting small business, then they begin to weaken. Yes, some things can cost more when you try to live this way, but what I am finding out is that I can still spend the same amount but that I actually NEED less.

Think about it. IF you are in a big store where there are savings, great you are buying for less, but now they have EVERYTHING in there, so Oh you stop by an end cap display showing some cutesy plastic item to organize your things, I better get one they are only  X dollars and then Oh, what is that, what a darling thing and so cheap, so in the end you are still actually spending more, and buying things you DO NOT NEED and then going out and buying more Books on how to organize it all and the out to buy more containers to put all that you bought but didn’t need to store and make it orderly. It is a viscous wheel and I want off.

So, please don’t let my little rants make anyone think I am not happy to be American. I, in many ways, feel very American. I always joke that my ancestors came over and ‘created’ the us by taking it from my other ancestors and then married them. SO, I feel I am as American as they come, but I get upset when I see big business taking what I feel those in the 1950s wanted their new war free country to be and ruining it. But, we homemakers, we can change it. We do the shopping. We MAKE the home. We raise the children and can teach them from the beginning to be accountable. We can change the world an apron string at a time. So, do feel that I don’t feel there is nothing we can do, but quite the opposite. I really feel the more we can learn and recreate the skills of the past homemakers the better our lives will be and a better generation will be made. Many people, including those from our won sex, discount the import of a stay at home mother and homemaker, when it is probably THE most important job around. If the world collapsed and even medicine were gone we would still need to go on and raise up the next generations. It is the first and best job around. So, lets use our knowledge and ability to look around us and be aware of how the world REALLY is and then take that as a cue to change it for the better.

Well, I will get off my soapbox now and down to some practical things.

First off, I found the BEST Molasses cookie recipe on the back of one of my magazines. I love that the ad has a cookie for mummy and daughter to make. Isn’t it darling that you can cut out the recipe and put it on a card for your recipe card box? I think you could copy this image and print it out and cut it out for your own use. I would never cut the original (and thank goodness who owned it first did not) but now I can make a copy and cut it out.

Though I have been so very busy packing and moving things (that’s the advantage of having access to where I am moving while still living here!) I am still sticking to my housework schedule. And of course, though it is hot, I still find time to bake. In fact my husband has another ‘request’ that I do some baked goods for work again. This time I have learned ‘no cakes in the hot of summer’. So, a tray of cookies. I am going to do these cookies as well as some great peanut butter chocolate chip that I tried yesterday. And I am not sure what I am going to do for the third cookie.

I also made a great meal of Lamb A’ la Marseilles the other night. I had got a good pair of lamb chops and wanted to try something new. Here is the recipe, I forgot to take a picture of the finished product, but it was delicious.

Lam A’ la Marseilles

Pan broil on one side. Place in baking dish, cooked side up. Cover with hot Mushroom Sauce. Bake 8 minutes at 450 degrees.

Brown Mushroom Sauce

3 TBS butter

Few drops onion juice ( I fried onions in butter and used that)

3 TBS flour

1cup cream

1/2 pound mushrooms, sliced

1 TSP beef extract (I used bouillon)

salt and paprika

Brown butter slightly. Add onion jice and flour and stir and cook until brown. Pour on cream gradually while stirring constantly. Add mushrooms, cooked in butter. Season with beef extract, salt and paprika.

It was delicious. This is from my 50’s Boston Cooking School book.

I also made some wonderful scones the other day. I may have shared this recipe before, but here it is again. It is also from my Boston Cooking School Book. I have noticed, for whatever reason, that we Americans seems to serve scones in triangular form while I have mostly seem them in the UK in our American ‘Biscuit’ form. I had always thought this was a new idea yet when I made these from this 1950’s book, it does indeed tell me to cut into triangles. Do any of you readers know if scones are ever triangular in the uk? I notice, which is not unusual, that we make our scones here much sweeter. Even I put in Ghirardelli chips to make them sweet. I also notices our American pronunciation of  Scone (SKOH-OWN) seems to be Irish or working class british, has anyone else noticed that as opposed to (SCAH-NN)? Just curious.

This leads me to a moment yesterday that I was rather proud of myself. As I have said (way too often most like) I have been inundated with packing, so my days seem to have a little chaos thrown in. Well, yesterday I suddenly had a craving for something sweet and I hadn’t anything made. My first impulse (I still get those 2009 impulses) was to just pop down to the store and ‘grab something’. Then I thought, “Why on earth would I go buy something when I have a pantry full of ingredients?”

The old me would have thought to make something myself would have been too much work. The 1955 me, who does it every day, things no big deal. In fact, I would be willing to bet if I added in the time of summer traffic and lines at the market, I probably whipped up those peanut butter cookies faster than I could have gone out and bought some. Then I was able to try out a recipe before I made some for my hubby’s work and the leftover dough went into the freezer for the future and the cookie jar was filled to the brim AND my sweet tooth satisfied.

It is really amazing how the more you do yourself, the more you make part of your routine, the less daunting it seems; score one for 1955!

Since dismantling my home to be moved to a new one, I have really begun to think more intently about my future house work. It is very exciting to think of that I have used this place, in a way, as a lab to experiment on the ways I want to clean and keep a home. I have many plans for the future dwelling, but I know many of them may only be dreams at first until things can be added. But, I had to share this image from my 1950 Womans Home Companion Household Book. They even have a floor polisher. I am not sure if such machines were only for linoleum, but I have a lot of nice wide pumpkin pine floors in the ‘new’ house and would love to see them shine. I think, however, that will involve more of the good ole’ fashioned hands and knees approach.

I am glad I did not go to crazy with my own changes here in this house (though I did quite a bit) but have allowed myself to work more than half a year as a homemaker and to see what is important in the kitchen, mudroom, pantry etc. Where last year it would have been simply based on esthetics, now my ‘makeovers’ will be Function and Form hand in had. Functional Beauty and the Beauty of Function will be the rule of the day for my future plans.

Speaking of remodeling and building, I am glad to see in many of my magazines of the time that women and men work happily side by side on such projects.

I love that this shows the husband and wife working together. I see so much of this in my woman’s magazines. The concept that the 1950s housewife was delicate with pearls and puffy dresses and didn’t want to break a nail is Hollywood for sure. I know I can build and paint with the best of them AND I still like to clean up in petticoats and pearls and go have tea with the girls.

We should, as women, embrace the duality of our power. We now feel that if you are pretty and dressed up you are a particular kind of girly girl, that is phooey. Women  are the BEST at multi-tasking. We can talk on the phone, cook, and hem a skirt all at the same time, so why can’t we build an addition, paint the house, clean and still look nice when we go marketing? And it is not a case of “Oh, we have to do that” it is more “YEAH, we GET to do that”. To dress up and feel pretty is important to women, I feel. Who has ever been nicely dressed with your hair just so and then thought, “Boy, I feel lousy!”. We can be both of these women.