Is Returning to the Gilded Age Worth It?

Gilded Age: A period of gross materialism and blatant political corruption in U.S. history during the 1870s that gave rise to important novels of social and political criticism. The period takes its name from the earliest of these, The Gilded Age (1873), written by Mark Twain in collaboration with Charles Dudley Warner. The novel gives a vivid and accurate description of Washington, D.C., and is peopled with caricatures of many leading figures of the day, including greedy industrialists and corrupt politicians.—From Encyclopedia Britannica

That guy in office seems to think he is part of this movement, when he is just a buffoon acting out for television. He envisions himself as a savior, and sadly enough, people still believe in him. They believe he will bring about a new Industrial Revolution, but he is lacking in the ability to understand that he is no President McKinley (who, by the way was assassinated in office). This belief in the robber barons won’t solve our problems. And his billionaire friends don’t want to bring back industry to the U.S. because they don’t want to re-invest their money or pay a decent wage to their workers. They simply want to stay separate from the rest of the world, and look down from their ivory castles. There is no thought to the dignity of others, especially immigrants and their current foreign employees.

And as for all those red states in the south and the mid-west who are farmers and craftsman, I ask you: “How does it feel now?” He is turning on you as well. When will you figure this out that he is not for the little guys who toil in the sun and soil. He has never had to work. I am sad to see that you still don’t get it.

We gardeners are all getting out in force and making little places in our back yards to feed ourselves. Wouldn’t it be lovely to see local small farms and CSAs thrive this summer? Wouldn’t it be lovely to see that we can work together to provide food for everyone, one neighborhood at a time? Something to think about.

Finally, it is a sad thing when over 60% of the military, police and fire voted for that guy in office. I was proud to be a part of law enforcement back in the day, as well as being a proud democrat. Now, I am having a hard time sympathizing with them. The federal cuts to programs and services, and especially veterans’ services should be a wake-up call. What did you guys think was going to happen? I feel for all of those who did their duty, and are now in need of protection and services, but somehow it is a dilemma that could have been fixed if you voted a different way. The Biden administration increased services to help veterans, as well as give money to programs to aid law enforcement and fire departments, and these were promptly slashed within this new administration.

So I am calling for everyone to listen to what Senator Elissa Slotkin said when she asked us to not TUNE OUT. In her speech, she said, “It’s easy to be exhausted, but America needs you now more than ever….If previous generations had not fought for democracy, where would we be today?”— Michigan Senator Elissa Slotkin

I am asking that you all read more about our triumphs and failures and learn from the past. Support those who will listen to the people, and do the right thing. Keep demanding town meetings. Keep working towards a better voter turnout. Keep educating the new voters so they are better informed. Have conversations with your local mayors about what else we can do in our little towns. Question those representatives who are being ridiculous. Tell them how you feel about what they are saying. Tell them that they are spreading lies about what is really happening. Somehow the truth will rise up and maybe the cult can be broken.

I send out love to all tonight in hopes for a better tomorrow.

Two More Things

1.         Today, friends and media asked us to participate in a NO-SPEND DAY to protest the shenanigans happening in you know, where. See the USA article posted today on the Economic Blackout-Boycott
We were asked to boycott all the big corporations, but… here’s the thing: “When asked which presidential candidate would have the greatest impact on the small business sector, 54% of small-business owners named Trump, while only 22% chose Harris, according to BizBuySell’s quarterly Insight Report, released at the end of October.” This is from an  article posted a few months ago titled: “Small-Business Owners Voted for Trump. They Won’t Get Everything On Their Wish List.”

Soooo…. They voted for that guy in office, and now they are facing the consequences due to tariffs, etc. Was this reasoning because they didn’t want to pay for things like … let’s say…decent wages and healthcare for their employees? Hmmm….so I’m not shopping at anyone’s place of business today. (Come on people! Why did you think this guy would help you?) … JUST SAYIN’.

2.         I want to repeat what I said last night about instructing your children and yourselves about government. Please read Dr. Lindsey Cormack’s book How to Raise a Citizen. She encourages you to have those difficult conversations in a contentious time. She stated that “As I often tell my students, politics is going to happen to us whether we like it or not, so we might as well understand how the system works.” WOW!

So lots to think about today. I will try and get back to you later on a more positive note! Now I am back to never-neverland writing my book! I send love out to all of you, no matter who you are!

Going Back to Work

Today I was offered a job to go back to work part-time. Three days a week and they work around my schedule and pay me well. Not bad. So, since my brain has been in overload, I decided to do it for the next few months. It’s nice to get a call from the HR people who know me. I can fill in until they get a new person. And I’ve worked in all of their computer systems, and I know how to deal with telephone calls and people, so I should still be able to do it. Sometimes you just have to get out of your daily routine comfort and take the plunge. We can save the money for expenses that are coming up and maybe even go out and have a nice dinner once in a while. I love my little city and the people in it. Thank you all for allowing me to continue doing what I do best.

Remember that being a senior doesn’t mean you have to just sit and quit. You can stay active and learn new things every day. Learn from the young people working around you, bake them cookies, and knit them scarves!

And if you hurt a little more, try and take a little break in between assignments so you can take a walk. Our downtown is wonderful, and walking to the park and back is both good for the head and the body.

Listen to some good music like Tom Jones, The Animals, Buffalo Springfield, The Foundations, Four Tops, and even 3 Doors Down.

Sing oldies but goodies, with your wonderful choir, to the ones in Memory Care.

Tomorrow will be another day in towards our future. We have to release the negative for a little while and do what we can when we can. And if we get a little money for it, that’s okay, too! Save a little, pass on what you can to help others, and smile. So, For Once in My Life, Build Me Up Buttercup, and Help [Your]self, Sugar Pie, Honey Bunch!

I love you all tonight and hope we can all just breathe it out.

Creating the Story of Your Life

Today I was thinking about all the people who tell me: “Here is an idea for a book!” or “Here’s a great title for a book!” I smile politely (sometimes through gritted teeth) and say to them: “Thank you, but I have more ideas than I can possibly write about in my lifetime. I encourage you to write about your ideas!” And: “I am looking forward to seeing your book that you’ve written with this title!” Amazing…. So, if you are in the mood to give advice to authors, please think before you speak. The art of creating is not as easy as you think it is, and dedication to finishing any project is a life-long endeavor.

Here are some of my weird beginnings of late. So many ideas for so many tales that haven’t been told. I’d love to hear how your story goes with these beginnings!

  • These contributions to the dangerous and fascinating subject of ….
  • With the door shut…..
  • As a junkie craves a fix, ….
  • Walking around the rooms differ so completely, like growing up in a fairy tale. One room has a southwestern theme, so many Indian prints, and southwestern woven fabrics on the futon. One room has leather couches and Japanese calligraphy. And of course there is the baby’s room with Winnie the Pooh. This house won’t make Decorations Quarterly, but it is very lived in and full of love. (Walking around the house one day when Kiddo was little)….
  • Flies do indeed have internal clocks….
  • It happened one day, almost by accident….
  • In the ways only cats were given….
  • I’d had a series of unfortunate jobs….
  • The walls of my memory divide the thorns from the roses….
  • You realize, of course, he’s going to turn 14 someday and rebel against all of your religious patter….

We all have stories to tell and we desire to be heard. Stories don’t have to be tragic or angry diatribes. They can be magical; tales we told our children. They can be mysterious, scientific or science fiction. They can be soulful. They can be beautiful memories that might seem common to the individual. But to the people who read them, they can inspire a new generation of storytellers.

There are only so many days to put it out there in our lifetimes. Wouldn’t it be great if we wrote these beautiful thoughts down every day that we live to pass on for generations?

I love you all on this beautiful day and hope you write about your wonderful dreams of how we should live in the world.

Overcoming Frustration and Riding the Peace Train

Frustration: a deep chronic state of insecurity and dissatisfaction arising from unresolved problems or unfulfilled needs; the feeling of being upset or annoyed, especially because of inability to change or achieve something.

People like me are task masters and goal seekers. We always have lists, spreadsheets, lots of articles and books to read when we set out to learn something or try to solve a problem at hand. The frustration comes in when we cannot achieve a multitude of tasks that we give ourselves or have been given by someone else. We become frustrated because there are others involved in the equation and we are stymied into inaction. We can’t do anything about it because others are doing something completely different or nothing at all about it. We have to wait and see what’s next. We feel helpless because we don’t seem to be heard, or people aren’t doing the things we think they should do. We sometimes get angry at the person who we are trying to help or the person who is trying to help us.

In an article published in 2023 by Harvard Macy Institute at Harvard Medical School, the author talked about what to do if you have “…too much on your plate.” It stated that we begin to feel like victims and that “…we feel like there are so many things we have to do or are forced to do. The first step is to remember that you are the one driving. Anything on your schedule or to-do list is there by your choice, which means you get to choose whether to keep it on there in the long term, or whether to phase it off.”

The article stated that the first step is to assess just what you really need to do to get through the day or week. Second, it is important to see what is causing the overwhelming feelings. Assess what is the 20% that is causing 80% of the stress (the 80:20 rule). “If you can identify the main sources of the stress, then you can home in on ways to de-stress, minimize, complete, or step away from them. If it is not something you want to cancel, think about how you could delegate parts of it.”

The third step is to find ways to get through the next week, and the weeks after that. Maybe it’s just taking a day to get out of the house, thus out of your head. For more information go to their website:
https://harvardmacy.org/blog/too-much-on-my-plate

In my case, it was literally removing items from my work desk to focus on one task at a time. I moved the 20% stacks to the back desk so I could focus on finishing the book. Everything else could wait. And, the second thing was to stick to the morning cleanup, then writing until I went to work out. The first of my week was a bit of a clusterf*^$k, but the rest of the week went better. I refuse to let that feeling of helplessness overcome my thinking. My levels of stress will continue to be high, as the lists will always be there, whether written or just in my head, but I’m going back to the one thing at a time rule. I can only do the things I can do for now, and put off bigger life-changing decisions until later. I can’t let the anger of the world invade the space I need to solve daily problems.

There will always be some things that I can’t change right now, and I can’t quite let it go, but I can wait until I get some help on larger matters. I feel that we, as human beings, right now, on this planet need to take a collective breath, and turn off all the noise for now. We can only support each other and justify that our actions will bring about change in the world. Hope for the good things to come and try and ride the peace train for now. Love to all on this cold night.

Excerpt from PEACE TRAIN, Cat Stevens

Something good has begun
I’ve been smiling lately
Dreaming about the world as one
And I believe it could be
Something good’s bound to come…

I’ve been crying lately
Thinking about the world as it is
Why must we go on hating?
Why can’t we live in bliss?…

For out on the edge of darkness
There rides the peace train
Peace train take this country
Come take me home again….
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M9cJRqsKZKo

Pause and Breathe and Schedule Worry Time

Today seemed more stressful than others because I have a lot on my plate right now. So, of course I went searching on the web and found a bazillion articles on this subject. I found so many similarities of what to do but, this Calm website focused it a little for me. I don’t agree with everything, and decided to analyze what they were saying.
https://blog.calm.com/blog/what-to-do-when-you-feel-overwhelmed

Every self-help article has the classic how-to list regarding how to feel less overwhelmed. I feel I have embraced most of them and yet there are just those days. Here are a few of those listed from this website:

The first of the 12 on their list was to just pause and breathe. I tell this to people all the time and yet it is a hard step for me.

These articles always talk about talking to other people. I am good at that, but it doesn’t always solve the immediate problem. So I usually end up helping others solve their problem.

Meditation is another one that’s listed. I have a friend who runs a meditation class but my brain doesn’t shut off. It’s a practice, I know. So the main problem is how to schedule this time for the practice, right?

Journaling is always listed. I journal each day and try to let go of the day, but sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t. It just brings all the thoughts into more focus.

And of course every article tells you to get some sleep. Well, I can tell you I am like the woman on the show High Potential and sleep never happens easily. Neither of us know how to shut down our brains. I am so enamored of people who can actually sleep 8 hours a day. I have never been able to do that. And pills make me crazy the next day so I gave up on that!

There is always the Focus on What You Can Control. When did that ever work?

Get moving! I definitely know how to exercise and that has helped. And once the weather gears toward spring, I’ll be out in my garden. That is the best for me!

Break larger tasks into smaller steps. Trust me, I am the queen of spreadsheets and that still doesn’t help. You still have to do all of those things you have broken down so how does that help?

And finally, this was a laughable one: Schedule Worry Time. The article said, “Set aside a specific time to think about your worries. Outside of this time, try to keep your focus on the present.” Unfortunately, the worries are the focus in every present moment so I didn’t get that one. Who can do that?

So, I know baking, knitting, gardening, and walks in nature help me. I can bake, knit, and walk inside right now. I know we are in a time of chaos, and the status will eventually reach equilibrium. If we can be vigilant with our thoughts and actions we can get through the day without being overwhelmed. That’s what I am working on and hope the sun will come out soon. I love you all and feel the intensity of the world right now. Hang in there!

https://www.gettyimages.com/photos/cat-hanging-in-there

Vietnam Memorial and Obscure Words of Joy

I want to suggest an incredible story for all of us women who were employed in government or the military service who just understand:
The Women by Kristin Hannah. It’s about the women nurses on the front lines in Vietnam who came back to chaos and everyone denying that there were any women in the war. The author’s research was phenomenal and the tale was heart rendering and so well written. I remember so many of my high school classmates never coming back. I remember no one wanting to talk about the war and how it affected us, both home and away. I remember vividly my visit to the Vietnam Veterans War Memorial wall in the 1980s when I went to Washington to speak about juvenile delinquency. The wall was something those veterans needed and it took a private group to honor them. It was both sad and empowering to look upon the 50,000 men and women’s names on the wall. There were flowers, pictures and mementos left by their families. The Vietnam Women’s Memorial wasn’t created and installed until 1993 after a decade of grassroots organizing and activism. 

I laughed and cried during this storytelling and was glad someone wrote about it. We all need to remember our past and how all people of that war (and its subsequent toll) were treated and how things are going right now sixty-plus years later.

On a lighter note, here are some wonderful obscure words to enjoy joy:
Continued… Brown Daily Herald, published in 2023 from the Dictionary of Obscure Joy. https://www.browndailyherald.com/post-magazine/article/2023/04/joys-ford

Glamhautadj. elegant, feminine, opulent; walking in high heels which click-clack on the ground beneath you while your chin is high because their eyes are on you and they’re seeing exactly what you want them to see: your sculpted collarbone, jaw that could cut glass, and your eyes, which do not so much as deign to look down on them. From glamor + French haut, as in “haute couture,” meaning high fashion, or “haut talons” meaning high heels. Pronounced “glahm-awt.”
Infinite – adj. feeling your hair fly above your ears because your head is poking out of the sunroof of a car flying down the highway, as if the only sounds in the world are the bass pounding at the seat beneath your feet and the wind whipping past your ears, as if you could scream as loud as you could imagine, but the sound would be left behind as soon as it flew out of your mouth, already in the past. As referenced in The Perks of Being a Wallflower.
Irid n. the ballooning relief of having shed a secret. Perhaps the secret was dark and looming or perhaps it was festering and starting to rot, but it was a secret which has weighed heavily upon you like a great rhinoceros on your chest, and now it is gone. It has slipped away and you feel you might start floating upwards with the sudden lack of it. Ancient Greek ίριδα, irida, goddess of the rainbow + rid, to make oneself free of something troublesome. Pronounced “eye-rid.” 
Jigsortv. to set the last piece of a puzzle into its proper place. From jigsaw + German Ort, place + to sort.
Klargleen. the unbelievably pleasant sensation of clean legs against crisp sheets after a long day. German klar, clean + glee, great delight. Pronounced “klahr-glee.”
Limerencen. love for a person who doesn’t exist; a precious, private, fantastical kind of love which can live, sparkling and immaculate, in your mind, unburdened with the ties that bind real-life love to the cold and unforgiving earth. From the work of psychologist Dorothy Tennov, meaning ‘obsessive infatuation with someone, sometimes accompanied by delusions.’ Pronounced “lihm-ur-ehns.”
Ludustn. the small-smile feeling evoked by memories of your very first love who has long since turned to dust in your mind, though you still remember them when you hear a certain song, or smell apple pie. Greek ludus, playful, young, puppy-dog love + past + dust + lust. Pronounced “luh-duhst.”
Macnall Taleadj. delight in your own harmless lies, a kinder synonym for absolute and utter bullshit; a “likely story,” as your mother would say, her voice dripping with sarcasm, or if you asked your father, you’re “full of it.” Gaelic macnas, playfulness + tall tale.
Magpiancen. the delight in a collection of objects you have amassed—perhaps a small assortment of clocks or pebbles or other eclectic trinkets. From magpie, a small black bird famous for its love of collecting. Pronounced “mag-pie-ants.”
Mellifluxn. a state of artistic ‘flow’ wherein one’s hands seem to move of their own accord, wild and graceful, as if your artwork and your hands are working with one mind, talking back and forth to each other in a language your mind does not speak, so you must watch with delight from above as they commune. From mellifluous, sweet sounding and smooth + flux, steady and continuous stream.
Irreadv. to read a piece of writing and recognize yourself reflected back, to feel seen and known by an author long dead. From mirrored + read + myriad. Pronounced “meer-eed.”
Piggle – v. when you laugh so hard and so hysterically that you pee a little. From pee + giggle.
Plasconder – v. to long for spaces that speak to the spirit, spaces that hide the hider themselves (these are places that are small and snug and well-tucked in, secret and quiet and almost intangible, places that are unobservable, yet from which one can observe perfectly well). From place, a portion of space, a home + Spanish esconder, to hide. Pronounced “play-skon-der.”
Punleasuren. delight in a particularly clever bit of word-play. From pun + pleasure.
Quilian. a particular care for somebody you love when they are asleep, their face so uncreased and childlike that you want to tuck them in and gently brush their hair back from an impossibly smooth forehead. From quilt + Greek ϕιλία, (philia), familial love.
Sensukian. a feeling of yearning which inexplicably brings us closer to that place where joy and sorrow meet; the feeling after you wish on an eyelash, or in the middle of a game of “she loves me, she loves me not.” .rom German sehnsucht, yearning; wistful longing. Pronounced “sehn-sue-kee-ah.”
Sollevato Vocen. the feeling that, while you sing, your voice is rising and lifted by the voices around you, and you are lifting them in turn. Italian sollevato, lifted + voce, voice. Pronounced “soll-eh-vah-toe / voe-chay.”
Suistalgia – n. the realization often experienced while looking at your own reflection in the mirror who seems somehow older than you did just yesterday—of what your younger self would think of you now; specifically, that they would fall on the floor in awe of who you have become, that they would be jaw-droppingly stunned by your clothes and your hair and just how grown-up you look, even though you still share the same smile. Latin prefix sui, meaning self + nostalgia. Pronounced “soo-ee-stahl-gee-ah.”
Terrarificn. delight in being covered in dirt. Latin terra, earth + terrific.
Unwelshn. the feeling of being weightless, almost nihilistic, as if you’ve taken a bra off after a day which felt particularly happy and are naked in your bedroom with the windows open. German Weltschmerz, world-weariness, + unleash, pronounced “uhn-wehlsh.”
Vêtemotsn. a kind word, said by a passerby, about something you’re wearing—the article of clothing, of course, will be forever endowed with the power of that compliment and will therefore become something more than it was before. I’ll never wear that scarf again without thinking of that seven year old on the T who told me I looked like her favorite doll. French vêtements, clothes + French mots, words.
Wynnsomeadj. bouncing, childlike, or perhaps puppylike in one’s bright excitement, joyful like a chanted nursery-rhyme while jump-roping in overalls over steaming blacktop. From Old English Wynn, delight or joy, + winsome, pleasing and engaging often because of a childlike charm and innocence. Pronounced “wihn-suhm.”

As a final note, here is an incredible article geared toward a senior bucket list. Have fun with it and I send my love out to all of you.
https://www.browndailyherald.com/post-magazine/article/2023/04/farewell-marshan

The Power of Journaling: Leaving Your Mark

I just finished reading an incredible book called The Frozen River by Ariel Lawhon. The heroine, Martha Ballard, (based on a real person in history) is a midwife in the late 1700s and her trials and tribulations make me thankful that I am a woman of a certain age with personal rights and powers in this century (so far). One of the things Martha performed in this story was recording all of her activities each day (with quill and ink no less!) in her journal. In one chapter, she praised her husband for teaching her to read and write (women weren’t allowed or encouraged to do these things in her day). He helped her create a world that opened up so many possibilities. He bought her journals, and created pens for her. She asks herself why the daily writing was so important to her. Martha’s answer to herself was because her “…markings will one day be the only proof that I have existed in this world. That I have lived and breathed…It is not that I want to be remembered, per se. I have done nothing remarkable. Not by the standards of history, at least. But I am here. And these words are the mark I will leave behind.”

WOW! WOW! WOW! 5-star reviews all the way!
Lawhon’s writing inspired me to keep doing what I do. She does her research, and gives amazing details that add to the story. She is a crusader for all women! And she unpacks her story at the end of the book like I do, giving explanations and facts about how the story came to her and how she drafted the book. And, what a record to have uncovered from the past. How cool is that?

So, to me, writing is not just a daily brain exercise, but a way to leave your mark on society. And, yes, we don’t have to write with quills, or even pens and paper, but computers allow us to journal every day, and help us leave a small mark of our existence in a world of unknowns. Daily journalling (or blogging) of any kind can help ease our tortured souls and send questions out to the universe. Even if they don’t get answered, we have aired our frustrations out loud. We have voiced our thoughts on any subject that comes to mind. Sometimes we are way off the mark, but other times we are spot on. It’s this discourse that is needed to have a sane and logical existence for all of us. Writing shouldn’t be about hate, anger, or craziness, just interesting ideas, and history to cogitate on, and maybe words that change our opinions of ourselves and others, and our interactions with others.

So maybe I’ve not taken a lot of paths that I should have taken, but I have found peace in this valley of the Foothills, describing daily life lessons in my little blog. My life is peaceful at the moment and I intend to keep it that way. I have a little piece of paradise, even though it’s really cold outside.

Today I hope you reflect on your life lessons and maybe write a few of them down. (There’s still time to take my Valentine’s Day questionnaire and get back to me!)
https://drutieben.com/2025/01/15/valentines-day-questionnaire/

There’s still time to get on board the love train and make your own noise (or journal them) and make your own mark in the world. Love reigns tonight and I praise you efforts!

Grocery Store Madness and Impatient People

Okay folks, I know it’s the holidays, and I chose to embark into the dark waters of grocery store shopping on a Friday night (hey, I couldn’t help it – 4X fuel points and gas is expensive). It was sooooo incredibly crazy out there today. There were two lanes open in the regular checkout, so it was bad, bad, bad. Holy Moly! I want to tell you one thing – old folks pushing old folks, invading my old folk space, to try and get out faster, that just does not work for me (and yes, I am one of the old folks who got pushed). I can’t move any faster to give you more time. You are just invading my personal space. And yes, I still have to check out in front of the credit card reader, just like everyone else.

And I am not going to go into how the drivers in the parking lot are trying to run over people in a walker, for goodness sakes! A whole lot of angst is going on right now! Really, it’s not the Zombie apocalypse so slow down folks! We will all get to where we need to go in time. These were definitely David Sedaris or Amy Sedaris moments. (Look them up. They are very funny.)

Quick facts:
Grocery shopping can induce anxiety because of overstimulation. Grocery stores are often busy, with bright lights, loud noises, and many people. This sensory overload can be overwhelming. Most researchers believe that it is caused by a mismatch or conflict between the various parts of the brain’s balance system, similar to motion sickness. Others believe that it happens when a vestibular problem causes the brain to rely too much on visual signals for balance (visual dependency).

I might have all that! I know my vision isn’t the best and the lights are harsh in a grocery store. And, I may be a little slower because I have what’s called Supermarket Syndrome. It’s the real thing! Sometimes I just have to sort through my list and coupons. I try to get out of the way of others. But sometimes there’s just no getting out of the way when it’s crowded. I also get a little dizzy and have to go slow and that’s apparently a thing, too! See the article listed below:
https://vestibular.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/11/Visually-Induced-Dizziness-Supermarket-Syndrome_112.pdf

So all I gotta say to everyone. Behave! That’s not what your mamas taught you. I will do my part to be kind and helpful and try and get out of the way as fast as possible, but you gotta do your part, too!

I still send you good vibes and love, but I just want to say to everyone: Slow Down and PAY ATTENTION! Pay attention to your surroundings and your corresponding old person who is standing right there, in front of you, not moving for a reason, yet trying to move! Be patient and love the time you have at that very moment in your life. Hugs!

The Dollhouse: A Place of Imagination and Adventure

My folks tore down our playhouse years ago. I hadn’t thought about it in a long time. We called it the Dollhouse and it was home to so many of our adventures. Years ago, when I visited my mother’s home one last time, I was sad to see that it was gone, the imprint of the building in the red dirt, concreted rocks in the corners that were the only foundation, and two small impressions that used to be the flowerbeds, one on each side of the door.

My father and grandfather built the Dollhouse for us when I was young. It was tall enough for us to stand up inside and there were exposed rafters from which to hang stuff. There were just the two of us back then, my older sister and me. The outside was framed and sided with old barnwood shiplap. The roof was made of tin, material taken from some other barn project. The inside consisted of bare stud walls with shelving, old green vinyl flooring left over from a long-ago kitchen remodel and remnants of some pieces of tin and wallpaper from another old home project. I divided my side into a kitchen, den, and bedroom. I remember that for some reason, the doll bed was made of metal. The place was tiny, but I made room for my dolls and other paraphernalia. I dreamed I was a fantastic cook, and filled various small jars collected all over the neighborhood with various grasses, sand, red and black dirt. I pretended those were spice jars. I had a little stove and small pots and pans and made masterpieces that consisted of slabs of wood for steaks, brown rocks for bread, various greens from the big garden for salad, and rocks for potatoes. (Yes, my mother taught us about healthy food, most of it grown in our own garden.) I remember my sister had other cool furniture on her side, such as a table and chairs, and a highchair. Her dolls always seemed more sophisticated than mine, but that is another story. Mine were a ragtag bunch, like what my friends would become in the future.

The men in the family would get together in the spring of each year and paint all the corrugated tin roofs – the barns, my grandmother’s house, and the Dollhouse. We wanted to help but it was so hot on the roof and my dad was afraid we’d fall off, so we played in the dirt below, the silver paint dripping on us. My mother would yell at us to come away and we would run back into the woods, avoiding baths as long as we could.

The roof of the Dollhouse always seemed to get rust spots earlier than most of the other buildings. I suppose it was because we were under a stand of trees. The pine trees appeared to be especially corrosive to the metal. My father would repair each spot that he saw, and then they would paint another layer of silver paint over them. It was only a matter of time before the roof would completely deteriorate in the Georgia humidity and rain and fall into the house.

My father and grandfather situated the Dollhouse behind the workshop/barn/carport that they built when my parents were first married. I noticed on many occasions when I visited, that both the barn and the Dollhouse were sagging and leaned a little to the right – as was expected after all those years of standing.

The tractors and mowers, covered in tarps, were still parked behind the barn. They looked like they hadn’t been used in a long time. In the past, my dad and mom mowed about ten of the forty-five acres we owned as homage to the new spring growth. The clothesline’s T-shaped wooden poles were still standing, also leaning a little but to the left (pun intended). Three galvanized steel cables comprised the lines where we hung the washing. The lines were not there anymore. We didn’t have a dryer in those days. In my family’s way of thinking, why would we want one when we had three girls to take care of that task? We probably just couldn’t afford one. And, when winter came, clothes froze on the line. (And that is another story.)

When my younger sister came along, my dad built wooden rails to divide the small space into three rooms that created three homes within one. The youngest got the smallest section that had no window. Each of us had small doll furniture including doll beds, tables and chairs, dishes, and pans. We each had what my mother called pallets (The origin of this word is French. It means a narrow hard bed or straw-filled mattress. The name was a chiefly southern word meaning a temporary bed made from bedding that consisted of old quilts, arranged on the floor, especially for a child.) We spent many hot and humid days inside on these pallets, reading, drawing, or coloring or making our dolls talk to us about their adventures.

The Dollhouse was a place where we would retreat from the chores, the sun or my mother’s incessant nagging (a trait I unfortunately inherited and must remind myself to hold in check when things aren’t completed as fast as I think they should). We could read, play, or go anywhere that our imaginations would take us. When we were inside, we lived as neighbors, not bickering, and it was mostly peaceful.

It was a safe place for us kids to stay on the land and think about the world we lived in. I worried a lot about who I would become in those days, and never sorted it out until much later. My mother told me I would ride in the police car with my grandfather at an incredibly early age, standing on the front seat right next to him, his arm around me and the other on the huge driving wheel. We didn’t have baby seats or seatbelts, and it was a wonder I survived my first year!

When I was older, I would later ride with a cousin who was also a police officer in another town. Little did I know I would follow their path for most of my adult life.

I would love to hear of your childhood adventures in your own dollhouses. Stay tuned for Part II tomorrow!