Writing Adventure 1: Portrait of my grandma at age 14 (very loosely based on her)
Well, I'm stubborn about a few things. One is, I'll never be a farmer's wife. Your life gets eaten away in pieces with a life like that - up at five, chores to do, breakfast to cook, more chores, more cooking, more chores, cooking, sleeping, starting over again. I couldn't do it with a cheerful attitude. Ma does. I don't know how.
Inez has no problem whatsoever following in Ma's footsteps. And she should - somebody should, might as well be someone who wants it bad. Inez has dreamy eyes, though. Maybe, just dreamy enough to see a nice future in cow dung. My eyes ain't dreamy enough, I mean aren't. My eyes are sharper and they peer through things and they can't lie and put a lacy film over what's unpleasant. They're the kind of eyes a teacher needs to have - not short-sighted and not blind to fooling. Kids (mostly boys) like to try to pull the wool over a teacher's eyes, but mine are wool-proof.
Inez has a square face - the kind of face that looks buckled in a harness. I don't mean a horse-face, of course, though that's how it sounded. I mean, a face that is ready for work - pitchfork work, baling work, children work. I got the square face too, but Mama's side of the family softens it. Ma's a Burvee, strong Dutch stock with Scotland in the pride of her brow and the glint of her eye. Mama got a good face.
I like flirting but it doesn't get under my skin. I can talk good talk with the boys, but that's all there is. I suspect Inez is sweet on someone. Well, she usually is, though, there's no particular wisdom in figuring that out.
Yesterday we were playing the piano with some new tunes Maude sent over from Fargo. Inez and I both like to play when we get a chance. Our teacher moved away last year, got married, farm wife HA. But I figured I've learned as much as a teacher can possibly teach me anyway. I can find the notes. I have a decent sense of rhythm. I know the flats and sharps just fine. I could play dance hall music at least as well as Sophie Schumann. Get this, she even has a great composer's name and I can beat her at it.
Charles was up last week, but he's restless and makes me nervous, to tell the truth. He feels restless I think and you can't sit in the same room reading a book, you feel jumpy and itchy just like him. He sits a minute, then gets up and goes over to the window to look out, like he forgot he can't see out anymore. Sits down again, crosses one leg, crosses the other. "Ma here?" he asks. "She's in town," I say, as if to say, "so what about your kid sister, huh?" And he says, "Guess I'll go check on that feed," and he's off to the barn, where Pop probably is.
He's thinking, "What am I doing here, after all?" but he just can't say it. People often say anything but the underlying thread of what they're thinking. Maybe they don't know what it is. Maybe they do but feel as if to reveal it is a weakness. I wonder. I can guess Inez's must be, "Oh who will build a home with me?" Bertie's - "Gee, where's the fun at?" Pop - "How much money can we bring in for as little as possible?", Mama's - "Which of my kids needs me most and what can I do?" The rest I can't guess. Wish I could know Maude's. I want to be something akin to Maude, just don't want to work for the IRS. But I value her brains and know-how. I feel cultured like a real woman of independence when I stay with her in town - a city girl. We put our hair up in curls and I take notes about fashion and try to wear my clothes just right.
I could go to school up in Fargo if I want, Ma says, if Maude will keep me. I'm fourteen after all and not much trouble to have around. I'm trying hard to keep my figure so don't eat much either. Sure the city brings better teachers than the town. I want to go further in history and literature. Wouldn't it be something to get a city education and come back here all la-di-da? Wear clothes the farm wives envy, that'd be something for a laugh.
I've been working on the farm lots to help Ma and Pop but I take breaks. Sometimes I get ornery and slip off to the slough with a book. Bertie's the only one who's on to me yet and so far he hasn't told, but still he knows where to find me.
I think the best thing is reading and maybe I didn't say it yet but I want to be a teacher, and it doesn't matter, maybe here, maybe Fargo, maybe Minneapolis even. Who knows where life could take me?
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