Category: parenting

Tracking Cora, Howard, and Fred: The Intriguing Tale of a 1911 Postcard

Post author By mshipstory
Post date August 23, 2024
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To: Miss Cora Scott From: Howard. 1911

Fred writes she has telephoned you twice & again but doesn’t get you. Think of me out in the wild west.

Howard

I don’t know why, but 1909-1915 is my favorite era of postcard. The front’s are always colorful, the script on the back is beautiful, and the postcards always seem to strive for real connection over the many miles that separate the senders. By September of 1911, the New York Public Library was opened, the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire had killed 129 people (mostly women), and the RMS Titanic was in the final stages of being built.

By 1911, there was also roughly one phone for every 11 people. So, although telephones were gaining popularity, it must have been fairly frustrating — or concerning — that “fred” wasn’t able to reach Cora.

In fact, it feels as though Howard is chiding Cora a little bit when he says “she has telephoned you twice & again but doesn’t get you.” I have to wonder if he would have sent Cora a card if not for the letter he received from “Fred”. “Fred” being Winnifred, or maybe Freda? Was our ellusive Fred concerned or annoyed when she wrote to Howard? In turn, was Howard also concerned, or was the letter more of a paternalistic scolding?

It seems the entire point of the message is to let Cora know that Fred is trying to get in touch, and honestly a postcard is bit of a roundabout way of doing so. What was everyone’s relationship to each other? Family, friends, or something more?

Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to easily find Cora Scott. It seems there were quite a few living in Buffalo, New York around the turn of the century. I was able to weed some of them out based on age (too young or too old), but I couldn’t be certain about any of the others. There’s a small penciled in note at the top of the card that says “Ann”. Based on the style of writing, it was obviously added much later in time. I had hoped that “Ann” might be a sort of bread crumb that I could use to track Cora. Alas, no luck. I couldn’t find any Cora’s with a sister or daughter named Ann. Such is the way of things sometimes.

As for Howard and Fred, without last names there’s not much I can do. We know that in 1911 Howard was in Minnesota, but that’s all we know. I’m not really sure Minnesota qualified as the “Wild West”. I mean, yes, it’s in the midwest. But…the American frontier officially “closed” in 1890. By then, most of the people in the Western territories lived in growing cities. There were still many rural, small towns, but Duluth? 78,000 people. More like an urban jungle not the O.K. Corral.

That doesn’t mean Howard wasn’t on his way further West. These cards made their way to a California estate sale, so who knows where Cora, Howard, and Fred all ended up. They remain inextricably tied to one another 123 years later, thier memories of their connection captured in the postcard.

Tags Education, History, Photography, Postcards, Teaching, Vintage, Writing Community

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1919 Surprise Party: Social Change and Post-WWI Celebrations

Post author By mshipstory
Post date August 22, 2024
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From: Ella Bettinque To: Mr. and Mrs P. Madson. 1919

Dear Friends,

I am going to have a surprise party for Hilmer(?) Wed. Eve the 30th and would like to have you folks come. Will you please let Ges. and Pete Allan(?) know about it too?

As ever,

Ella Bettinque(?)

The guns of war had ended by 1919, but that didn’t stop violence. I’ve talked about the Red Summer of 1919 on the blog before, but since this postcard has a picture of Chicago, I felt I should touch on the violence again. WWI provided an opportunity for Black men and women to move out of the rural South and into the North where factories needed workers. However, as the war ended and white servicemen came home, tensions increased. This hit a fever pitch in the summer of 1919. Riots and massacres broke out all across the United States, resulting in loss of life as well as loss of property.

1919 in fact marked a great shift in social change. As Black Americans were fighting for their civil rights, women had just won the vote, and prohibition was about to take effect. The Treaty of Versailles was signed — an event which would lead to the second World War. The winds of change swept away stagnant customs, leaving the world on the brink of social revolution.

And Ella had decided to throw a surprise party. There’s something so wholesome about this postcard. Although telephones were gaining traction by 1919 (roughly 1/3 of homes had a telephone by 1920), they still weren’t the norm. That left communication by postcard, which seems like a fairly easy way to keep a secret. However, I do wonder about Ella’s hosting skills since for whatever reason she couldn’t (or wouldn’t?) let Ges and Pete know about the party herself.

Who were these lovely people? Unfortunately, I didn’t have enough information to be sure I’ve found any of them. There was a Paul Madson in Wisconsin that seemed promising, but without a first name it’s just a guessing game. As for Ella, I’m very unclear on her last name. It could be Brettingles, Bettinque, Brettinque, or any other combination of two “t’s” a g or q and maybe an s at the end. If you have any other thoughts, please let me know and I’ll see if I can find her.

What’s even more frustrating is that I’m not sure what season the party fell on. We know the card was postmarked the 28th, and we know that the party was on 30th (which seems like a quick turn around Ella! People need to plan!), but the month isn’t listed or wasn’t stamped well enough. Was it a summer party? A winter party? Perhaps a close to Halloween party? I don’t know. I want to think that it was a fall party. A day where the sun set early, so everyone gathered close around a table with a low light. Maybe they drank the last bit of alcohol they had before Prohibition really took hold, maybe they played cards, ate cake, and reveled in the coming ease of the roaring 20’s.

No matter what, I hope people came and laughed and enjoyed themselves. Especially since Ella gave two days notice and basically said “spread the word.” Bad planning, or perfect surprise? You be the judge.

Front of Postcard. Image of Residence Street, Chicago

Tags Education, History, Photography, Poems, Postcards, Vintage, Writing Community

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The Summer of 1948: Olympics, Cold War, and a Health Crisis

Post author By mshipstory
Post date July 31, 2024
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To: Mrs. Lydia Mandel. From: Marion 1948

Sammy, has been very ill but is coming along O.K. Gall stone attack.

Marion

*Alternatively, it could say “Sorry have been very ill”, however the following “but is coming along O.K.” changes tense and thus feels incongruous. Therefore, my best guess is that the first word is a name (Sammy, or perhaps Avery).

This may be one of the “later” cards I’ve blogged about, though it’s certainly not the oldest in my collection. However, it was serendipity that I chose this card today.

On July 29, 1948, the Summer Olympics opened in London. This was the first Summer Olympics held since the 1936 games held in Berlin. The fact that the games were held, and in London of all places, indicates that nations were beginning to heal after the devastation of World War II.

Despite the world uniting in sportsmanship, tensions between the United States and Russia were heating up. On July 22, President Truman issued a peacetime draft, and ten communist leaders were arrested under the Alien Registration Act. In fact, the second Red Scare had begun

It’s amidst these conflicting events (sportsmanship and fear mongering) that Sammy (or Avery, or Marion) had a gall attack. Now, I don’t know if you’ve ever had a gall attack, but if you haven’t — they are awful. I call them the “stabbies” because it’s like a sharp pain entering the space just above your stomach. Nothing helps but time. I’m lucky enough that I’ve only had two or three in my lifetime. I also have the benefit of modern medicine if they get too bad. In 1948, there’s not much to do but wait, and I imagine that time probably crept by at a snail’s pace for the poor patient.

I have no evidence of this, but I imagine that Sammy is a child, Marion the mother, and Lydia the grandmother…or perhaps sister to Marion. Again, there’s nothing that indicates any sort of relationship barring the existing postcard, but in my mind…it’s a multi-generational connection.

I did find a “Lydia Mandel”, who was a Russian artist. However, everything I see indicates she was active in France, so I find it difficult to believe thats our Lydia. The address on the postcard still exists — it’s a quaint apartment in the Bronx. For us, Sammy and Marion and Lydia’s story must therefore end with this card. However, the fifties hadn’t yet begun, and the sixties were a decade away. The coming decades were a time of great inner change and turmoil in the United States.

I guess it was sort of like a gall stone attack in that respect.

Front of Postcard: “Old St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, built 1707, Wickford R.I.

Tags Education, History, Micro-history, Photography, Postcards, Teaching, Vintage, Writing Community

Flash Fiction parenting Poems Poetry writing

Forgetting

I fear the forgetting as much as being forgotten

Memories that slip away, intangible as a morning mist.

Faces that drift in and out with names that evade me.

And so, dear child. I write the most mundane things.

Your mercurial moods. Your sunshining smiles. Your stomachaches and heartbreaks.

That is how you’ll know I love you.

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Mornings

Whispering tissue

Wonderment strewn on their face

Echoes of childhood

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40 under 40

I woke up today and realized that I will never be a 40 under 40.

By 25 I was knee deep in diapers, raising three kids under three.

My ex, by the way, was living with another woman, having left me to lead the fun and fancy free life of a 20 something male who realized at an early age that he can make his own way off the emotional and physical labor of women he’s discarded.

By 30 I was going back to school to finish an undergraduate degree I’d started at 18.

By 35 I was in grad school where the rest of my cohorts were a decade younger, and none with children. That’s where I was told I couldn’t use commas.

By 37 I had two degrees. I also obtained my first job that broke the poverty barrier.

Now, I’m 41 and I’ve just begun to create a retirement account. My kids are grown or almost grown.

I wanted to be a writer, an author of books that will remain after my death, but increasingly time slips away from me.

I wanted to be a professor, a reader, an academic whose job was to think. But my ex stole that from me.

I have achieved so much. I understand this.

But I will never be a 40 under 40. And that is a hard pill for the dreamer within me to swallow.

Although.

I can’t swallow pills anyway (true story).

So I guess there’s still time for dreaming.