The historical society in our town hosted an event called Childhood Past in one of the town’s restored one room schoolhouses. While the boys stayed home stacking the last remains of firewood, my daughter and I attended the event together. It made our Sunday very special. She got to try writing with a quill and ink and chalk on a slate, and did a recitation for the teacher just like they would have in the past. The museum room held an exhibit of toys, books, games and clothing from 1800-1946. My little one tried a few of the toys and conversed with three of the ladies from the historical society, munching on cookies, while I took some time to make photographs. I listened to her in the other room chatting so comfortably, laughing, asking questions, telling stories. I smiled to myself with a bit of a glisten in my eye. I am so proud of my girl.
My daughter said, “I know why they saved all these things from the past and fixed up this school that was falling down. These are precious things they want to remember.” From the mouths of babes.
Those were simpler times. Not necessarily better. Definitely not easier. People made do with what they had and they made things. The teacher asked, “If you were a student here long ago, what kinds of things would be in your lunch this time of year?” Maybe a peanut butter sandwich on homemade bread, an apple, cheese. The fruit would have to be local and in season. Any strawberry jam would have been preserved. We talked about how to make ink out of crushed walnuts. The light was overcast and low outside, making for a dimly lit room. An older man who went to the school as a boy said it was hard to read the words on the page when it got like that outside. As my daughter scratched away with her quill, I imagined what a school room long ago would have sounded like — a cacophony of chalk on slates and the scratch of quills on paper echoing throughout the room. If you were lucky your desk would have been close to the woodstove during wintertime.
I walked away with the words “People made do with what they had and they made things.” weaving through my thoughts. That is one thing from the past that is precious and should never be forgotten. It is important to make things. And making do with what you have with a feeling of gratitude can turn what you have into enough. I think that is the key to living contentedly.
XO