by Roseanna White | Apr 30, 2014 | 17th-19th Centuries, Remember When Wednesdays
On Monday, I took my kids on a field trip to the local one-room schoolhouse. (And didn’t realize until evening that I’d forgotten to blog my Word of the Week before I left–oops!)
I hadn’t even realized we had a local one-room schoolhouse, but there we go. 😉 It’s now run by the Allegany County Historical Society, and they do regular tours and programs there. Just looking around was so much fun. Built in 1901, this schoolhouse at first served only three families–and before it was built, school moved around to accommodate where the children were clustered. This, it seems, was the first permanent structure.
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Our guide for the day was Ms. Amber, staff member
at the Historical Society. She did a fabulous job! |
Based on letters from the schoolmarm that the Society also has, Cumberland’s school was under the instruction of a young woman from Frostburg’s teaching college (Frostburg is just a few miles up the mountain). Though accustomed to the strict propriety of city life, the schoolmarm soon discovered that we have a more laid-back way of life in Cumberland. She reported in her letter that no one cared if her hair wasn’t in so neat a bun…for that matter, no one cared if her hair were in a bun at all.
One of the Historical Society ladies walked us through what a day would look like, beginning with the students lining up upon her ringing of the bell. Girls would be in one line, youngest to oldest, and boys in another. (In our group, my little Rowyn was the only boy, LOL.) Two girls would go to the neighbor’s well to fetch a bucket of water, and one of the boys would be responsible for bringing the firewood from home–and if he failed to bring enough, his punishment was to sit in the seat farthest from the stove!
Upon entering, we could look in and see the two different cloak rooms–one for girls, one for boys–were bonnets and coats and overshoes and lunch pails would have been left. From there, the students took their seats.
The kids got to look at the original primers the children would have used; on the board were actual math problems from the day. Our guide pointed out that they all related math to things like farming and land, as this would be what the children needed to learn it for. Some of the wording was odd for our modern mathematicians, LOL, but the kids had great fun doing their sums on slates.
And even more fun when it came time for the penmanship lesson, and they were all given quills, ink, and paper. I do believe I had the only kindergartener who already knew how to use one, LOL.
The indoor portion of the day was wrapped up with one of the fun activities the schoolmarm would have reserved for Fridays. First, she said, the teacher would have read to them–one week from a book the girls would favor, the next from one for the boys. Then they would do something active, like a spelling bee. Xoe didn’t win, but she did manage to get right a word that had knocked out four students before her, and for that, she earned a reward of merit. Paper was far more valuable back then, so this, our guide said, would have been special indeed. (This was actually a copy of an original one from this schoolhouse!)
We then went outside for lunch and recess. Lunch would have, of course, been brought in a pail.
Our students on Monday received a roll, apple pieces, some jerky, and water. Then it was on to the fun and games. Hoops, anyone?
Or perhaps you prefer graces–in this game, you put the small hoop on the end of your stick and toss it to your partners, who tries to catch it on the end of her stick. They also played tug-of-war, which was a big hit, and did a sack race.
Overall, we all had a blast. I, of course, love learning about this history. And the kids were so enamored with it that on the way home they decided that we need to build a one-room schoolhouse in our yard, complete with chalk boards, slates, and quills. Interestingly, their father didn’t say no, exactly… 😉
by Roseanna White | Apr 24, 2014 | Thoughtful Thursdays, Uncategorized
This is a repost of a guest blog I had up on a friend’s blog at the beginning of the month, but in case you didn’t make it over there to read it…
Free Indeed
“You have prayed for forgiveness
from your sins. Have you prayed for freedom from their bonds? . . . Never once
in the bible does God speak either for or against physical slavery. But
spiritual slavery—that is a topic He addresses time and again. Over and over
Paul pleads with the early church to embrace the freedom of the soul that
Christ offers. You must do that, Mari. You must cling, not just to cleansing,
but to freedom.” ~ Barbara Gregory in Cirlce
of Spies
This was a line in my latest book that
I really loved—so I was beyond thrilled when the very first review of the novel
quoted this line. But it has an interesting history in my little mind.
As I was writing Circle of Spies, our president was about to be inaugurated for the
second time. And as my husband was flipping through the TV channels as he’s
wont to do of an evening, he landed for a minute on one of those commentators
on a news channel that I usually ignore. Especially on this particular channel
(no names mentioned, LOL). He was saying, loudly and with great condemnation,
how ridiculous it was to expect the president to take his oath with his hand on
a Bible.
Insert me narrowing my eyes and
thinking, Oh, this should be good!
The guy held up a typical-looking
dollar store Bible. “Not once,” he said, “does this book condemn slavery—an
institution that held the President’s ancestors in bonds. Not once. I looked!”
My first thought was Yeah, sure, an internet search is really
going to show you everything, dude. But then I thought about it (because I
try to do that, LOL). I’d read the Bible through several times. And had I too not
been struck by this?
He was right. The Bible doesn’t condemn
slavery. Ever. It gives instructions on how to treat slaves from among the
Israelites (namely, they’re not to be held in perpetual slavery, but more as
indentured servants). But in the New Testament, all we ever hear is that slaves
ought to obey their masters.
Yeah, I could kinda see where this guy
took offense on behalf of the once-slaves. But it was also clear he hadn’t read
this Book, not really. If he had, he would realize that especially in the New
Testament, God doesn’t address society. He doesn’t tell a nation what laws it
should make. He tells individuals how they should act in the society. And the Bible does
talk about the importance of freedom. A LOT. But as my Barbara points out
above, it’s just that God isn’t so concerned with physical slavery or freedom.
He’s concerned with whether our souls are free of the bonds of sin.
I did a lot of thinking and praying on this as I wrote my
novel. I had a few characters who were slaves, yes, and one of them in
particular chafed against those bonds. But she was free. Because she had embraced salvation, she was far freer than
her mistress, who had been long held captive by her sins.
There were men and women of great faith on both sides of the
Civil War. Many people today assume that any real, true Christian must have
been against slavery…but the fact is, they weren’t. They lived by different
standards, with different assumptions. We assume God judged them if they held
slaves…but did He? I think, more likely, He judges on what we let hold us captive. He sees the chains on our
spirit, not on our wrists.
And so I would challenge that commentator, and my readers,
to ask the real question. Because today, every American is free in body. But
how many are free in spirit and soul?
by Roseanna White | Apr 23, 2014 | Remember When Wednesdays
Tired of me blogging about this yet? 😉
Well, I’m a big fan of not posting twice in a day, LOL, so for your historical entertainment on this fair Wednesday, another installment of the history behind AMC’s Turn and Ring of Secrets.
On Friday, I’m the guest speaker at a local historical house that does a tea on the fourth Friday of every month. I’ll be talking about my Culper Ring Series and a bit about my other books, and will be sure to take lots of pictures for next week’s Remember When! And I’ll be in costume. Not Colonial, but…well…Edwardian’s what I have, LOL. And hey, it ties in with my new series! How perfect is that. 😉
by Roseanna White | Apr 21, 2014 | Word of the Week
I’ve watched a lot of historical shows and movies (shocker, right?). And I’ve also studied enough historical dialect that I can tell when they get something wrong (well, a lot of the time). And in so, so many, I’ve heard one character demand of another, “Shut up!”
Perfectly reasonable, right? I mean, why wouldn’t it be? Is there any better way to interrupt somebody mid-argument? LOL.
Last night I was watching Turn with my hubby, and there was an intense showdown between Tallmadge and a few would-be deserters. And in the midst of their arguing, one of said deserters shouts, “Shut up!”
I held my tongue until the commercial. Then had to say, grin in place, “That wasn’t actually in use until the 1840s.” I knew. I’d looked it up at least once for every book I’ve written, LOL, just
waiting for it to be usable! It certainly wasn’t in
Ring of Secrets, which shares that setting with
Turn.
Insert my hubby laughing at me. 😉
But it’s true. While shut one’s mouth has been around as an expression that refers to the cessation of speaking since the 14th century, shut up has, er, NOT. In face, it didn’t even start to trickle its way into English until 1814. And even then, it wasn’t a command, but rather a reference. As in, “The loud noise shut up the speaker.” The sense in which we use it didn’t come around until 1840.
So unfortunately, Tallmadge probably wouldn’t have had a clue what that command meant. 😉 But that’s okay–it was a fun episode, and I love knowing random trivia like that, LOL.
by Roseanna White | Apr 17, 2014 | Thoughtful Thursdays, Uncategorized
So I’m working now on the rewrite of the book I wrote at age 12-13. And as I’m writing, I pause (as I do at some point in every book) and wonder to whom I’ll dedicate it. But with this one, it wasn’t much of a question.
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| Photo by Bangin |
When I was 13, still working on that first draft, my grandfather was diagnosed with cancer. This was the first time cancer really invaded my life, and I remember pretty well the feelings that swamped me. There was denial that it could really happen, that it would be more than just something he beats. There was the startling realization that though I loved this man, my Pappap, intensely, I didn’t often show it–for some reason, I was bashful about giving him hugs. Maybe because it was my sister who was Pappap’s girl. There was the painful reality that while my parents and sister cried, I couldn’t.
I could only go back to my room, close my door, and pull out a notebook. Words were my tears.
Though we had the diagnosis–though we knew it was in the bone already and inoperable–Pappap wasn’t sick yet. It was easy for me to tuck it away that 8th grade year. Still. When I finished my book in the spring, I thought, I want to dedicate this. And so I wrote on the first page:
To Pappap
CWM
His name was Charles William Mulligan, though he went by Bud. And my pappap was probably one of the funniest people I’ve ever known. He always had a joke. He always played a joke. He would tell us, when we were little, that we had better trim out toenails, so the toenail fairy would come…and then go plant quarters in our pillows while we laughed. A down-payment, he said. He would tell some jokes so many times that they became part of our family, and we still occasionally break out in old punchlines.
And he loved stuff. He yard saled, he upgraded, he personalized. And on every single thing he kept, he would put his initials. His truck had CWM on it. So did his toaster. And the beer stein he never once used. And his other toaster. And his VCR. And his other other toaster. Another family joke, that. And so I knew, when I decided to dedicate the book to Pappap, that it would have to bear his initials too.
I’m not sure I understood, then, what it really meant to put his name on my book. It was a nice thing to do. And when I considered this step–dedicating my first-ever novel–I just knew it was the right thing.
Then 9th grade came, and Pappap got sick. We got to know the hospital very well. We watched this strong man fail. Tears finally blurred my eyes when I saw him fumble to get a mouthpiece for a breathing treatment into his mouth–and when he couldn’t remember anyone’s phone number but ours and called my mom in a panic one day when he couldn’t find my nanny (who was hanging laundry outside).
I learned, that year, what heartbreak is. I learned what it means to lose someone who was so integral to your life you thought you couldn’t. I learned how to trust in God for a miracle…and then to trust Him even when you don’t get the one you ask for. That’s the year I started reading my Bible on my own, every day, instead of just when I had to in church.
That’s the year I learned how to laugh to keep from falling apart, to find
Joy in the smallest thing–because that’s what Pappap wanted. And it’s the year I learned to hug all I can, while I can. Because no one lives forever.
I’d rewritten my book the summer before he died. This summer, with that loss still fresh, I tore up that first-first page. And I typed out a new one.
In loving memory of Pappap
CWM
Looking back now, I see how his life, his death shaped me. I see where it forced me deeper–into faith, into my heart, into my family. I see that, if he hadn’t taught me how to laugh at everything, I could so easily have been too serious. I see that, if I hadn’t known the pain of losing him…
I don’t even know. I don’t know who I’d be without all the reflection that forced upon me. I don’t know what I’d feel. I don’t know how I’d relate to this world where death plays such a part.
So as I made a new first page on this new version of this old, old book, no. It wasn’t a question of to whom I would dedicate it. It was just a question of the right words to use. Because the book wouldn’t be worth redoing without what I learned from him. I wouldn’t be capable of rewriting it without the lessons his life and death taught me.
The ache of missing him has faded, but the memories haven’t. I still talk to my kids about my pappap (that’s what they now call my dad), and earn their giggles with the tales. I still occasionally look at his picture on the family shelves and hear his laughter. And I know that of all my dedications in all my books, this one is perhaps the truest.
It’s a week to think about life and death, of sin and consequences, of victory over the grave. And it’s a book that made me do the same, thanks to him. This is what my first page now reads (though it may yet get a tweaking, who knows.)
“To Pappap” was my dedication when I
first penned this novel at age 13.
After I had rewritten it at 14,
it said, “In loving memory of Pappap.”
Your life taught me to laugh in every possible moment,
your death taught me trust Him with all my might.
You helped make me who I am,
and I’ll always love you.
CWM
Roseanna M. White is a bestselling, Christy Award winning author who has long claimed that words are the air she breathes. When not writing fiction, she’s homeschooling her two kids, editing, designing book covers, and pretending her house will clean itself. Roseanna is the author of a slew of historical novels that span several continents and thousands of years. Spies and war and mayhem always seem to find their way into her books…to offset her real life, which is blessedly ordinary.