Prescription for Daily Life

FROM WHERE I SIT   Prescription for Daily Life    March 5, 2013 Pat DeKok Spilseth

Has your life improved with the internet, facebook, Ipads and Iphones?  Is life less complicated today with all these time-saving, efficient devices?  Or was life simpler when men and women had distinct roles and daily duties?   In the fifties most women stayed home to take care of the kids, cook, wash, and clean.  Men had jobs like lawn care, repairs, and punishment for kids as well as bringing home a paycheck from their full-time job. 

Many folks today would be aghast, insulted if their lives reverted in a time machine to a past era.  Back then, choices weren’t as available.  Choices can confuse people.  The formula for women in the fifties was specific: it was embroidered on dishtowels and printed in church cookbooks.  Women knew exactly what they should be doing each day of the week:  Monday was wash day; Tuesday was ironing; Wednesday was sewing, and Thursday was market day.  Friday was cleaning, and Saturday was baking.  Sunday was a Day of Rest. 

Life in 2013 is so different than our lives were in 1955.  It’s rare, but some days I actually long for that almost-forgotten formula.  Though I love the advantages of today’s women having good educations and careers, at times I wonder if some of us don’t miss those programmed “duties”.  Today, how many kids learn to sew or balance a checkbook?  How many can cook and bake healthier foods rather than purchasing pricey, sugar & salt-laden, processed foods?  Lives are so busy with long hours at a job that many rarely have time to relax, enjoy cooking a meal for their family, spending time reading to their kids, and putting them to bed.

Though I no longer sew, I do believe it’s important to know how to hem and mend clothing.  I know it’s essential to create and balance a budget and make a tasty, nutritious meal.  I must admit that I didn’t do so well in my eighth grade sewing or cooking classes with Mrs. LaMasters. The threads that gathered my skirt’s waistband always broke, and I blew up the gas stove when the teacher lit the stove I’d turned to ON. Those ovens didn’t work like Mom’s electric oven. 

Looking back at the Fifties formula for women, my favorite day would be Saturday, the baking day.  I love to bake and smell those delicious aromas of sweet cinnamon rolls and mouth-watering chocolate chip cookies coming from the oven.  And I like to iron so Tuesday’s ironing duty is just fine with me.  I enjoy freshly ironed shirts and pillowcases; however, I draw the line at ironing sheets.  My Aunt Jean used a mangle machine to make her bed linens crisp and smooth; they must have felt great when it was time for bed. 

I miss Sundays when that was a Day of Rest.  Those ancient Blue Laws enforced rest for folks wanting to drive to the liquor store on Sundays.  That meant no drinking on Sunday unless you thought ahead.  Grocery stores and all the retail shops were closed on Sundays so people who worked all week could take a day off to go to the lake, hunt, fish, relax, and play with their kids.  But first came Sunday morning church services.  Of course, one of the drawbacks back then had to be that everyone noticed if a certain someone wasn’t in attendance at Sunday services. 

As a kid, I was bored on Sundays.  We couldn’t play cards, go to the movies or have Mom sew a hem on my skirt.  I remember lots of  NO’s on Sunday.  But I’d love it when we piled into Dad’s blue Hudson or his Chevy with the metal trimmed fins of turquoise and white with the big fenders and drove off to visit with friends.  One of my favorite houses to visit was Aunt Sadie and Grandma DeKok’s house in Brooten.  All the cousins were there Sunday afternoon after they’d attended church.  We’d sing at the upright piano in the living room with Cousin Doris playing and play dolls on the porch.  The boys had plenty of trucks to play with that Aunt Sadie had purchased for pennies at garage sale. 

If Dad drove to Starbuck, I could play with cousin Emery who lived on a farm with rolling hills. One winter, Emery Jr. built a speedy snow sled with old skis that didn’t sink into the big drifts of fluffy snow; they glided smoothly over the snow and streaked down the hill with us riding on top.  Our hand knit stocking hats and scarves, made of scrap wool, would fly behind us as our voices laughed and screamed up and down the hills.

Sundays always meant dress up for early church, then a big Sunday dinner served on the good china in the rarely used dining room.  Some Sundays when Dad felt a bit flush with extra cash, he would drive our family to Lowry’s Dahl Café, which featured crispy fried chicken dinners with mounds of mashed potatoes and gravy that swam over the entire plate.  Sitting in the booth, I’d slide my green peas surreptitiously onto the floor.   I hated peas and rice back in those days, but I ate the entire portion of yellow corn kernels.  Cafes back then featured an assortment of homemade baked goodies for dessert in a revolving glass case.  Picking dessert was my favorite part of the dinner.

Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise...that’s the mantra I grew up with back in the fifties and sixties.  We went to bed early, at least by ten, because we had to get up early for work or school, at least by six or seven.  We had daily chores to accomplish.  Today, I find that a daily schedule makes life better for me.  I seem to get more accomplished if I make a list of things to do.  When I can cross items off my list, I feel a sense of accomplishment.  Yes, some days a daily pattern to life seems simpler.  I still like to rise early, eat a noon meal and have supper between 5:30 and 7PM; then its bed and the news around 10PM.  Mrs. Excitement, I’m not, but life is pretty good for me with a simple schedule to my days.