Mom's Birthday

I was thinking about Mom and Grandma Anderson all day yesterday, but was away from the ‘puter so couldn’t blog about it. Here is my idyllic, pastoral fantasy about it:

Today, in 1918, Mom would be one day old and Grandma would be recovering. I picture 15 year old Aunt Julia cuddling her new baby sister while Grandma gets some well-earned rest. I don’t know if they had electricity yet; if they did, I picture an oscillating table fan blowing across a block of ice, moving the thick air around in Grandma’s room. If not, Julia may have soaked some white bedsheets and hung them in the open windows to catch whatever breeze there was and help provide some relief from the heat.

Virgil and Milton, ages 5 and 10 are probably out sweating in the field with Grandpa, maybe mowing hay with the horse drawn mower and the draft team I’ve seen pictures of. At sunset, they come in to the meal Julia fixed of roasted or fried meat, potatoes, cucumbers and tomatoes from the garden and a cold drink of fresh milk. Afterwards, they sit on the porch and try to cool off, hoping the night will bring cooler temps. Maybe Grandpa looks in on Grandma and sits with her and holds his new daughter for a while cooing to her in Swedish.

Across the Atlantic, WW I is approaching its bloody conclusion while negotiations for the Treaty of Versaille is setting the stage for WW II. There has never been a time in Virgil’s 5-year life span at this point when the “War to end all Wars” has not been raging. Meanwhile, the one day old baby girl who will someday raise six children of her own, sleeps peacefully, surrounded by her family.