Cooler fall days are the perfect time for inside activities. I've planted spring bulbs, as I do each fall, plus several new roses, and tidied the Memorial Garden. The vegetable garden is another matter. Maybe winter will eliminate the weeds, or the gardening elves. Meanwhile, I've turned my attention to my crammed shelves, bookcases, and wardrobes...
My family saves letters, journals, photographs, scrapbooks, all kinds of memorabilia, from the people who went before us and I'm the recipient of much of this bounty. I'm not even sure what all I've been entrusted with, so am taking stock. One of my favorite finds is a scrapbook, circa 1902-1904, that belonged to my great Aunt Emily, whom I know of but never met in life. She died long before my birth. Dad gave me her scrapbook years ago, but I'd rather forgotten about it until my recent find.
Young Emily filled the now dilapidated pages with magazine clippings, pictures, Valentine and Christmas cards, and keepsakes valuable to a teenage girl at the turn of the 20th century. The scrapbook itself is beyond saving, so I cut out the best of the images she'd pasted in. Emily grew up the cherished daughter (one of three younger sisters and a brother) to loving parents, with a good, comfortable life, her father being a banker. One of the items in her scrapbook is her dance card from what may have been her debutante ball. A tiny pencil hangs at its side to enter the names of the gentlemen requesting a dance. No young men are listed, which puzzled me, as Emily was an attractive, vivacious girl, who boasted in a letter to her papa about daring to ride 'astride' when other genteel ladies rode side saddle, so it's not because she wasn't admired.
Christmas cards (shown above) were different in that era. The Valentine's cards are more familiar. Tastes have changed over the decades, but romantic love isn't out of favor, not entirely anyway, and definitely not with me.
(An assortment of cards and events)
(Valentine Verse)
After immersing myself in Emily's scrapbook, and remembering what Dad told me about her, I feel closer to this distant aunt. Dad said when Emily died it was partly the doctor's fault because he didn't appreciate the seriousness of her condition (kidney disease). She's reported to have said, "I told you I was sick," towards the end. I don't know if Emily could have been saved in that era, before antibiotics, if the doctor had been aware of her deteriorating health, but maybe he would have tried harder. Dad said Emily had developed the reputation of being a hypochondriac, which made the medical community downplay her complaints. I wonder if she truly was a hypochondriac or whether she was discounted as women often were in the past and still are today.
After Emily's death, she was laid out in the formal parlor in the family homeplace where friends and family paid their final respects. Dad remembers his grandfather, Emily's father, seated by her side, begging her to wake up because she appeared to only be sleeping. Dad said how cruel he thought it was that Emily had been made to look so lifelike in death. His grandfather kept Emily's picture on his bedside stand and kissed it every night. He never got over the untimely death of his beloved daughter. So sad.
I don't have Emily's picture as an adult and hope one turns up, but I found this lovely Edwardian lady in her scrapbook. Maybe Emily looked much like her.
I'm touched and inspired by Emily. Dad once told me the years of his youth, and those of his parents' generation, were a gracious time to live, if you could stay alive. There were many illnesses and injuries to carry you off in that era which we have treatments for now. I should add, and if you had money, always a plus.
Even with the risks of that era, I deeply appreciate the graciousness and civility my Virginia ancestors enjoyed. Maybe I'll pack some antibiotic and travel back, as I do in my time travel romances.
Thank you, Beth, for such lovely thoughts. I am sure Aunt Emily is proud. Love, Phyllis
ReplyDeleteThanks Phyllis. Beth
ReplyDeleteWhat a lovely find, Beth. I have so many photos for my family. I thoroughly enjoy them, but there are too many to display--plus the light would damage them. I do enjoy looking through them. Some people I never knew--like you and Emily--but others I can remember from childhood. I do miss the finer manners and civility of times past. As you said--IF you had money. Thank you for sharing the nostalgia and reminding me of my own family.
ReplyDeleteAmen to all of that, Caroline. I am very glad I connected more deeply with Emily. Beth
DeleteWhat a fun trip through Aunt Emily's scrapbook. My parents' second child died of diphtheria in 1941, and she was "laid out" in my grandparents' parlor. People stood outside on the front porch during her funeral service (in December!) because the family was in quarantine. It was long before I was born, but it still makes me sad.
ReplyDeleteThat is very sad, Liz. There are so many of these stories. Diphtheria was a killer. I grew up hearing about an attractive young ancestor, an expert horseman who'd won races, and died of typhoid at nineteen.
Delete