Where To Stay In Pepin?

In what must have been a cloud of immense grief on the discovery that the Historic Anderson Inn was closed, I just realized to my surprise that I have neglected to secure lodging in Pepin next month. I’ve been on Google Maps trying to make a selection for a place to stay. Have any of Beyond Little House’s readers stayed in Pepin? What lodging would you recommend?

If it helps, I’ll be with my two kids, aged 7 and 4.

(Lest I lead anyone astray, I feel obligated to point out that the Anderson Inn is in Wabasha, Minnesota–not Pepin, Wisconsin. However, it’s a perfectly reasonable drive to Pepin, just over the Mississippi.)

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Summer Giveaway

Ten years ago I followed the footsteps of Rose Wilder Lane in San Francisco. This summer, to mark the anniversary of that trip, I am giving away ten copies of my book Rose Wilder Lane’s San Francisco! Approximately every other week I will post a topic and those who post a comment regarding that topic will be entered into the drawing. I will let the computer at random.org decide who wins. Feel free to enter the drawing, even if you already have a copy of the book. Win one for a friend or for your local library. Most of all have fun! I will post the first topic some time this week so please keep checking back. (For more information on Rose Wilder Lane’s San Francisco visit PrairieMania.com.)

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Thoughts from a Farmer’s Granddaughter

I said I was going to write a review of Amy Mattson Lauters’ latest book, More Than a Farmer’s Wife.  But I’m not going to do that after all.  You see, the book resonated with me so much that something so formal as a review seems too cold and distant. So instead, I give you a response, and suggest that you just read the book for yourself. (Hint: If you don’t like to purchase books without knowing for sure you’ll like them, try asking your local library to purchase it. They nearly always will buy what their patrons request!)

The subtitle of this book is “Voices of American Farm Women, 1910-1960.” My grandmother was raised on a farm in eastern Kentucky during the 1930s and early 40s, making her, and more specifically her mother, among the subjects of this book, by default.

I grew up entertained by stories of her early days on the farm, and nothing was more exciting than accompanying her on a visit back to the farm, which was sure to happen at least once or twice a summer. I still love that old farm and though I’ve never lived on it, it feels like home. And as a young Little House fan, I loved nothing better than to compare Laura’s stories to my grandmother’s — despite the time difference, they lived their lives so similarly, and I believe that connection between Laura and my grandmother was one reason I loved the Little House books so much.

Reading through More Than a Farmer’s Wife, I found myself nodding time and time again as descriptions were given of the farm woman’s role throughout these decades, and the farm women themselves spoke out via interviews and articles. (Little House fans will be glad to know that Laura Ingalls Wilder is featured heavily in Chapter 5.) Lauters is reporting on research; I was pleased to see that research backed up my grandmother’s anecdotal remembrances.

But something else struck me as I read through this book. You see, I am not an “academic” and have no desire to be. I appreciate the work that academics provide us with, and I enjoy reading it and thinking about their theories and claims, but I’m no expert in such matters. However, Lauters broached the subject of the political shift toward conservatism in the latter part of the 20th century, offering a possible connection with her study on the role of American farm women during the earlier half of the 20th century, and the principles and beliefs that they taught their children. These children grew up and many left the farms for city life, but took with them the values learned on the farm, and handed those same values down to their children after them.

I didn’t need to stop and consider the possibility of a connection here. You see, I’d already considered it without really realizing it, after reading Anita Clair Fellman’s Little House, Long Shadow, last year. An excerpt from my discussion of this book on the Frontier Girl Message Board at that time that pertains to Lauters’ theory follows.

“When I examined in myself….why I was so eager to pass the books down to my niece, it’s simple: 1) they’ve brought a lot of joy into my life and I want her to share that too; and 2) the books teach the values that I already believe in and therefore would want her to learn. But I don’t believe in those values because I read the books as a child; my values were taught to me and are shared by the vast majority of people in my family, most of whom have never read a Little House book. Those values were handed down to us by the previous generation, and handed down to them by the generation previous to that. Laura grew up during a time period when such values were far more widespread among Americans than they are today; those of us with strong family ties are still being handed down that value system from those previous generations.”

Now Lauters’ book has me thinking: is it that such values were more widespread in an earlier time period, as I conjectured, or could it be that both Laura and my grandparents were raised on farms, and those values being handed down to me — those same values present throughout the Little House books — are farm values?

It’s food for thought. And I’d love to hear your discussion on the subject. Any takers?

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Distinctly “Little House” Phrases

Yesterday as I was cooking dinner in the kitchen (lemon pasta with shrimp, if it helps the setting), my daughter wandered in. “Mom,” she said, “what’s ‘Jiminy Crickets’?”

Admittedly, my first thought was Pinocchio. Isn’t it Pinocchio who has Jiminy Cricket as a buddy? But I answered in the context of something she’d understand: “It’s like ‘Leapin’ lizards,’” I told her, invoking Orphan Annie’s favorite exclamation. Both my kids have seen the movie Annie – both versions — on the order of fifty times, and my daughter has seen the musical live one and a half times.

“Oh,” she said. “Pa always says ‘Jiminy Crickets.’”

I nearly dropped the shrimp. She meant “Jerusalem crickets,” of course. My daughter was speaking Little House to me!

Let me update you. Those who might have followed along at home know that my daughter, who will turn seven next month, has a bit of an independent streak. Combined with her love of reading, this means that I dare not act as if I really, truly want her to read a particular book; that only results in fierce determination to avoid said book at all costs. This was certainly the case with Little House books. I gently suggested, and she ignored. In the end I decided to keep my mouth shut. I figured her time would come.

However, next month we will be going to Wisconsin. And Minnesota. And South Dakota. She’ll be seeing all the places mentioned in the books. Not only do I want her to experience them for all they’re worth, I know my daughter. If she goes to these places and finds out after the fact that she could have read all about Plum Creek and De Smet and Silver Lake before she went on the trip, she will be furious with me. (It won’t matter that I encouraged her. It won’t matter that it was her choice. That’s just how these things go. It is always Mom’s fault.)

On the advice of Beyond Little House’s own Rebecca, I made a suggestion to my daughter that I read On the Banks of Plum Creek to her aloud. To my surprise, she loved this idea. I squashed my cheers of joy and calmly started reading two chapters a night to her.

Then it happened, as I’d known it would. She began reading ahead on her own. The past few days she’s been speeding through, and now she’s only got four or five chapters left.

It was in the midst of this reading session that she decided to ask me about “Jiminy Crickets.” Funny, but when I think about the wonderful, delicious little phrases that say “Little House” unequivocally, “Jerusalem crickets” isn’t the first thing that comes to mind. What is?

The width of a gnat’s eyebrow.
Don’t give your work a lick and a promise.
There’s no great loss without some small gain.
It won’t be noticed on a trotting horse.
Marry in black, you’ll wish yourself back.
(And, for that matter, something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue – though that connection has become diluted over the years as I realized just how widespread the phrase is).

Of course, rather like the temporary amnesia that sets in when one enters a video store and can’t recall what on earth she’d like to rent, now that I’m listing these quintissentially-Little House phrases, my mind is … blank.

Heck, my favorite phrases aren’t important. The real question is, what are yours? What phrases distinctly say “Little House” to you?

And of those, what are your favorites?

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Reflections on Cheese, From a True Wisconsinite

Ah, cheese. Until those silly California cows started their “happy” dance of cheese-making, Wisconsin served as the number-one source of good cheese in the United States.

But as a Wisconsin native, I can tell you without a shadow of a doubt that we take our cheese much more seriously than anyone in California.

Take our elementary education, which surrounds a cheese culture. We read, in great detail, the description of cheese-making in Little House in the Big Woods. (Did you know that you can follow those directions fairly precisely and end up with good cheese? Now you do.) The need for clean comes through very precisely in that description, and the process of aging and ripening farmer’s cheese also is accurately depicted.

The “green” cheese that Laura writes about serves as a hot commodity in some cheese houses across the state, and we all know very precisely how squeaky fresh cheese curds should be. Stop in at any cheese house, grocery store or gas station in Wisconsin, and you can buy those curds by the bag, ready for snacking on the road. Add some fresh locally produced summer sausage or beef sticks, and you’ve got lunch.

In fourth grade, all elementary students learn about the history of their state, and we all learn specifically about the many varieties of cheese made in the state. In my fourth grade classroom, each student was assigned a variety of cheese to bring to class on “Cheese-Tasting Day.” I believe I brought a blue cheese. We all tasted every variety brought by each member of each class in my school, some 60 different kinds of cheese, and we learned about the differences in aging, texture, and production that made each cheese distinct.

I don’t know if they do that anymore, but I do know that cheese remains an integral part of Wisconsin culture. Just look at our football team: The Green Bay Packers (named for the meatpacking industry there), the only publicly owned football team in the NFL, have embraced the symbol of the foam wedge of cheese, selling them at Lambeau Field and elsewhere, offering us all a form of solidarity.

And yes, I own a “cheesehead.” I would venture to say, despite my transplanting to Minnesota, I remain a cheesehead.

When we read the Little House books, sometimes we think about how accurately each might portray the culture in which Laura lived at the time.

Have no doubt. When in Wisconsin, you make cheese.

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A Soft Answer…

Mrs. A. was angry. Her eyes snapped, her voice was shrill and a red flag of rage was flying upon each cheek. She expected opposition, and anger at the things she said but her remarks were answered in a soft voice; her angry eyes were met by smiling ones and her attack was smothered in the softness of courtesy, consideration and compromise.

I feel sure Mrs. A had intended to create a disturbance but she might as well have tried to break a feather pillow by beating as to have any effect with her angry voice and manner on the perfect kindness and good manners which met her. She only made herself ridiculous and in self defense was obliged to change her attitude.

Since then I have been wondering if it always is so, if shafts of malice aimed in anger forever fall harmless against the armor of a smile, kind words and gentle manners. I believe they do. And I have gained a fuller understanding of the words, “A soft answer turneth away wrath.” Until this incident I had found no more in the words than the idea that a soft answer might cool the wrath of an aggressor, but I saw wrath turned away as an arrow deflected from its mark and came to understand that a soft answer and a courteous manner are an actual protection.

Nothing is ever gained by allowing anger to have sway. While under its influence we lose the ability to think clearly and the forceful power that is in calmness.

Anger is a destructive force; its purpose is to hurt and destroy, and being a blind passion its does its evil work, not only upon whatever arouses it, but also upon the person who harbors it. Even physically it injures him, impeding the action of the heart and circulation, affecting the respiration and creating an actual poison in the blood. Persons with weak hearts have been know to drop dead from it and always there is a feeling of illness after indulging in a fit of temper.

Anger is a destroying force. What all the world needs is its opposite, an uplifting power.

“As a Farm Woman Thinks,” by Laura Ingalls Wilder. Published in the Missouri Ruralist, November 1, 1921
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Why Do You Love Little House?

Why do you love Little House? It’s a simple question, but I doubt there is a simple answer. So many of us come to our fandom through different channels. If someone asked you, would you be able to answer readily?

Today I had the opportunity to address a topic, albeit informally, of women I look up to. Laura was of course at the top of the list (along with, incidentally, Annie Sullivan and Helen Keller, the latter of whom was portrayed by — say it with me — Melissa Gilbert, in what was pretty much my favorite TV movie of all time). And because I learned to love Laura as a child, I thought about what it was that drew me to her. I wasn’t required to read the books in school, and I had no peers who were fans. What was it that made me the only Laura Ingalls Wilder fan I knew?

It’s not necessarily what one would expect. I don’t know that there’s an “average” Laura fan, but if there is, I’m not it. I have a weakness for heavy metal music. Specifically Metallica. Sometimes I cuss too much. I don’t sew or quilt or knit — though lately I’m thinking I’d love to learn — and I didn’t learn to cook until I was married. I have no desire to wear a pinafore or a sunbonnet and am skeptical I ever will (though all bets are off if my daughter asks me). I’m not a history person. Pioneering life doesn’t interest me except as it relates directly to Laura. I’ve never longed to travel in a covered wagon or live on the prairie. (Visit? yes. Live? No.) As a child I had only one living grandparent, a Polish immigrant who had nothing to do with the American frontier. And despite my eventual marriage to an actual farmer — whom I didn’t come across until I was almost 30 — farming never held any appeal to me beyond the confines of the Little House pages.

So what was it?

For me, it was family. I wanted Laura’s Ma and Pa. I even wanted snobby sister Mary. I wanted to wake up in a house where everyone saying “Good morning!” made the morning good. I wanted to have a wise, gentle mother whose face and voice rarely betrayed emotion and who could control me by merely saying my name. I wished for a father who tickled me with his beard and played mad-dog and twinkled his eyes at me. (I have to admit, for a long time, lack of facial hair notwithstanding, Michael Landon fit the bill.)

It was also nature. Or more specifically, Laura’s outdoors. I wanted to see that circle of wolves. And although the covered wagon didn’t appeal to me, I coveted the view. I wanted to be in that circle’s exact middle. I dreamed of eating outside, listening to dickissels and lunching on food cooked in a spider. I wanted to be under the stars and able to follow the moonpath on a frozen lake. I wished I could pause on a summer evening with my hand over the chicks, sharing confidences with my mother. I wanted to know what it was like to glide over snow (isn’t “cutter” the coziest word?) in below-zero weather.

This, I see now, is why Laura wrote. Or at least, why she wrote for me. She wanted to share her family and her outdoor memories, because she knew they were worth it. She knew someone like me would read it and be thankful she committed her memories to paper.

You’re welcome, Laura says to me. You’re welcome.

So … why do you love Little House?

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Legacy Documentaries: Characters from History

Dean Butler, who played Almanzo Wilder on the Little House on the Prairie television show, has asked us to share the following announcement and request. Visit Dean’s website at http://www.legacydocumentaries.com

I wanted to thank all of you for your support of ALMANZO WILDER: LIFE BEFORE LAURA. Thanks to all those who have purchased it. For those who haven’t, but would like to, the DVD is available at the Wilder Homestead in Burke, NY. You can order the DVD on-line at www.almanzowilderfarm.com.

Beyond Little House, American history has always been something that interests me, so I’m pleased to announce that I’m going to be producing other documentaries that feature American heroes and patriots. The idea is to make these stories come alive for young people in particular and hopefully inspire them to make a difference in the world and in our country. I’m also more than pleased to tell you that I’m working on a production paradigm that would deliver these “slice of history” DVDs to school children for about the cost of a Happy Meal or a paperback book!

Some of you out there are teachers and parents and you certainly have an interest in the education of children… I would love to hear from you. Which of the following titles do you think would have the most appeal to 3rd, 4th, and 5th grade students and teachers? Here are some of the ones under consideration:

Tom Savage – early Colonial period – a young boy from England who, at 13, stowed away on a vessel leaving London for the Virginia colonies. He was traded to the Powhatan Tribe in exchange for a Native American boy. Tom provided valuable information about Native American culture (as well as information about the likelihood of attacks) to the colonists.

Benjamin Banneker – Revolutionary War era – a Revolutionary War patriot and an African American freeman who aided in the design of the Capitol. A man of great accomplishment, Banneker wrote a famous letter to Thomas Jefferson, advocating the abolition of slavery. A child prodigy, Banneker was also an astronomer and published an almanac.

Sybil Ludington – Revolutionary War era – At the tender age of 16, Sybil Ludington, daughter of an American military leader, took a midnight ride longer and more dangerous than Paul Revere’s famous ride, to warn the colonists that the British had invaded Danbury.

Spy Kids of the American Revolution – Revolutionary Era – Dicey Langston and John Darragh are only two of the young people who were used as spies and messengers during the American Revolution. The fact that they were mere children meant they were often overlooked by adults and therefore were valuable messengers… though it was dangerous work. John Darragh, 14, would listen in on the British officers who took over a room in his parents’ house. His mother would sew information into his coat buttons so he could deliver “intelligence” to George Washington’s army. Dicey Langston, 15, often overheard neighbors and loyalists talking about troop movements. When she heard that the British were planning to attack her brother’s militia, she ran to warn them, swimming though the Tyger River in the middle of the night to do it.

Elizabeth Blackwell – Pre Civil War – the first woman doctor in America. After being rejected by over 20 medical schools, Elizabeth was finally admitted to Geneva Medical College as a prank. But she stuck it out and graduated first in her class in 1849, despite the fact that she was forbidden to attend certain anatomy classes which were deemed improper for a lady to attend.

Maggie Walker – Post Civil War -A community leader and civil rights advocate born in 1867, Maggie was the first woman (and an African American) to start a bank in the United States. Despite the recent economic downturn, the bank she started in still in existence today.

Other titles under consideration are the more familiar ones: Betsey Ross, Martha Washington, Pocahontas.

So this is your chance to help design the future of my venture into American History! Write to me and let me know which titles interest you the most. Feel free to suggest other names as well. Please respond to [email protected]

Best to all…

Dean

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Upcoming Events

A few upcoming Little House related events to add to your calendars…

Laura Ingalls Wilder: Journey of a Pioneer Family at Los Rios Rancho in Oak Glen, California. May 30-31, 10 am – 4 pm. Features an exhibit on loan from the Laura Ingalls Wilder Home and Museum in Mansfield, Missouri, as well as wagon rides, butter churning, and pioneer crafts and games.

Prairie Days at the Little House on the Prairie homesite in Wayside, Kansas.  June 13, 10 am – 3 pm. Music, food, wagon rides, exhibitors, and more.

Laura Ingalls Wilder Days at the Laura Ingalls Wilder Park and Museum in Burr Oak, Iowa. June 27,-28.

Laura Ingalls Wilder Days at Old World Wisconsin in Eagle, Wisconsin. July 25-26, 10 am – 5 pm. Watch this video for more details.

If you plan to attend any of these events and would like to write up your experience afterward for this blog, please contact us at beyondlittlehouse @ gmail.com. Thank you!

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Of Remembrance…

Laura said it far better than I could, so I decided to let her words stand yesterday, for Memorial Day. But I could not help but reflect yesterday about those no longer with us.

The threads of this post may seem scattered as I go, but I hope to weave them together in the end. Remembering always takes on a tangled character, as strands of different memories intersect, interact, and diverge through consciousness. As I think of one person, others follow.

For example, I spent a great deal of time yesterday remembering my grandma Elsie. She was an amazing woman, whose peers included a number of the Ingalls family in northern Wisconsin. She married at 16 in 1932, had the first of her six sons at 17 in the thick of the Great Depression, and raised them all in partnership with her spouse, Harvey, on a dairy farm that provided for most of their needs. Harvey worked as an auctioneer as a sideline; Elsie, in her middle age, worked as a nursing assistant in a nearby hospital. (She was on strike when I was born in 1972, and both of my grandparents were outside the hospital when I was born. It happened to be my grandfather’s birthday, and my own dad walked out with a cigar to say, “Happy Birthday, Dad! It’s a girl!”)

I dedicated my latest book to Grandma Elsie, because from her I learned all things are possible; women need to take care of themselves; and education turns the key to all locks. She also provided the unconditional love and support that made my dreams possible.

I miss her.

I thought, too, of those in my family who served or continue to serve in the military: Grandpa Tom, my mother’s father, who served in World War II; Uncle Jim, my father’s oldest brother, who served in Korea; Uncle Dave, another of my father’s brothers, who served during Vietnam; my cousin Nicole, who served in the 1990s; my brother, Andy, who serves today. Though he hasn’t been deployed to Iraq, it’s always a worry that he might be sent.

Those brave men and women served–and continue to serve–their country well. And their family sacrifices their presence, and strives to maintain a unified whole in their absence.

But it isn’t easy. It never is.

I read today Caroline Quiner Ingalls’ letter to her sister, Martha Carpenter, catching her up on the family news during the Civil War. Not yet “Ma”, Caroline wrote about the rest of the family, the illness that had nearly taken their mother and two of their nieces and nephews, the crops, and, briefly, the war. Her brother Joseph would leave to serve in two weeks.

A second letter, from Joseph’s wife, Nancy, reveals the worry and heartbreak that go along with being the family at home, the sacrifice and struggle, and the overwhelming fear.

Nancy’s fear was justified; she could not have known that Joseph died, from wounds sustained at the Battle of Shiloh, two days after her letter was written.

And so, yesterday, we remembered.

But today, we should continue to do so. Our past is prologue. And what we remember today will affect our tomorrows.

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