Holiday Happiness Begins

My sister, Alice, is having quite the fandango this holiday season. I hear tell there will be more than one turkey served up for dinner, so many folks will be in attendance. Relations are coming from all parts of the county to eat some vittles and chew the fat.

I hear tell a distant relation will be joining us from the Old States. That's quite a journey just to give thanks for one day and lose to Cousin Lura at Whist.

Alice and her husband, George, are quite generous with their spirits. Pa might clean my plow if I get too soaked and start spilling the family secrets, most of which are of my own doing.

Keep it Clean

Dearest Mabel,

I'm beside myself. My youngest spilled grape juice all over my best white table cloth. What's the best way to get the stains out?

Tabled in Tulsa


Hello Dearie!

I don't know how you figure that I'm a domestic, but I don't know beans about cleaning. Don't get your bonnet in a bunch. You might want to refer to Mrs. Penrod's Best Cleaning Methods published in 1908 or the Ladies Home Journal. Otherwise, I suggest you put that child on water and buy a new linens.

Prairie Tales

While living in the Dakota Territory, Father filed a claim near part of the Breene farm. We had to drive the cattle from the train station in Potter County to the claim. Day and night we herded those critters to keep them from straying. I'd rather spend a whole week in the shirtwaist factory than have to drive cattle ever again.

We stopped in Aberdeen and our horses got sick. A veterinary came and shot all but one. Father, not one to give up so quick, bought an ox team and proceeded to the claim.

Water was scarce on our land, so we drove our cattle to the McGinity place. About five miles out, their hooves were sore from so much travel, so we hauled 20 barrels of water a day. Father attempted to dig a well. At 90 feet, the well started to cave in. Alice and William pulled him out, but the pick and shovel are still there to this day.

Advice for Family Functions

Dear Aunt Mabel,
My cousin is always late to family functions. How do I go about telling her that it's rude to make us wait to carve the Thanksgiving turkey? Cussin' Cousin

Hello Dearie,
Honesty is the best policy. Gently take your cousin aside and tell her that if she wants to be a part of the family frolics, she needs to be more respectful to her relations. No one wants cold belly timber if they can help it.

A Mother of a Story

I'd like to share a bit of the story of Mother. She was born back East to a well to do family that owned several general mercantile stores. Raised as a proper lady, she longed to break free of the bonds of etiquette. At just this moment, she met Father. An immigrant from Europe and a veteran of the War between the States, his valor and exotic ways called to Mother's sense of adventure.

Once they married, they were off to settle the West. Father swept Mother off to Wisconsin, then back to Iowa where I was born. The story goes that I was born down the street from where Custer was getting ready to raid the Indians, however, it's probably all balderdash.

After a brief stop in the Dakota territory and some flat dry desert regions before we crossed the huge mountains, Father, Mother and the six of us children arrived in California, one of the newer states in the Union. When the gold didn't pan out, Father wanted to uproot us all to the Alaska Territory where it was said an even larger fortune was to be had for the men who dared to retrieve it.

Mother would have none of it. She'd already followed her heart across the continent and was not about to journey any further. She was weary and in need of a place to rest. A divorce was had and Father left us to go find his fortune in the North.

Since Mother was always one to make hay while the sun shines, not long after Father skedaddled, she caught the eye of a local blacksmith who was very well to do and without a wife to care for his four young children.

A Card Party and Some Gossip

September 16, 1905

A jolly crowd gathered at the Jeske house for a card party yesterday. No one could beat me at Whist! I had two books before Harry Griffith even had one trick. Frank Vail and new bride Bessie honored the folks with a dance while Dewey Dreblow played the banjo.

Beulah Alexander got it into her head that a bonfire would be fine fun. Pshaw! I warrant it was her beau, that old rusty guts, Harvey Cross, who put that notion in her head, so they could slip away without notice. Of course, no one would let old Harvey near a match if they valued their skin!

Floyd Johnson wasn't there on account of his muskrat hunting trip to Silver Lake. Never had you seen more disappointed ladies when it was learned he was out of the county.

Hello Again, Dearies!

My dear niece, MsChick74, and I decided that since I have many stories to tell and even some advice to dispense, it might be better if I have my own place on the interwebs. Voila! We have Mabel's Musings...Stories and Advice from a Turn of the Century Gal

So break out that bottle of Jameson and enjoy the randomness that comes with being 115 years old or so.