Haunted by the Junk Drawer

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There is absolutely no denying it. We all have one. And more times than we will ever admit, we have wondered where something was only to remember that it (whatever it is) is in the junk drawer and in the junk drawer is where it will stay, because who really has the time or inclination to go searching through the junk drawer? If you’re anything like me (and I’m pretty sure you are), you have duplicates of things simply because you’d rather not waste valuable time ‘cleaning’ the junk drawer… Am I right or am I right? Junk drawers come in all shapes and sizes, but for me and my dead people, it is Ancestry’s shoe box and the yellow spiral notebook. If I am out ‘in the field’ any questionable tidbits or I want to look into this further things get jotted down in the yellow spiral notebook and if I am browsing through Ancestry’s bazillion records and I come across a this might be so and so document it gets tossed into the shoe box. There’s no shame in my game and I will readily admit that once something goes in, it almost NEVER comes back out- no matter how good my good intentions may be.

Clearly, my junk drawers could use some love, affection and attention. I keep telling myself that one of these days I need to make it my weekend project- especially now that winter is upon us and I won’t be doing a whole lot of outdoor exploring any time soon. Except, I always find something else to do…

That’s when my dead people came to the rescue. Or rather they became extremely bothersome, like they don’t know what it’s like to have things to do or something. Anywho… My dead people have been extremely quiet as of late- I think they were offended by something I said- and I had nearly given up hope that I would ever hear from them again, until about two or three weeks ago.

Are you familiar with the Freedman’s Bureau? (I really, really hope so, otherwise I am not entirely sure I want us to continue in this friendship…) I was checking my email (read deleting all the junk mail) when I came across an email from what I thought was The Freedman’s Bureau. I started shaking from excitement. (I know this particular bureau is no longer in existence and has been disbanded for quite sometime. I get it. However, remember brain injury. And that sometimes makes me read things that words don’t actually say.) I didn’t even open it. I was very diligent in continuing with the task at hand and getting rid of all those pesky emails. Then I sat down to see what kind of interesting documents or clues or what have you there would be. I opened the email. I didn’t understand what was happening. Why was the Freedman’s Bureau sending me information on debt? Was one of my ancestors in debt and they (I can’t even begin to tell you who I thought they were) had found these debtor records? I clicked out of the email. Reread the sender information. Freedman’s Bureau. I clicked back into  the email. Now my brain decided to slowly start working again… Freedom Debt Relief. Umm, what? I really thought this was my sister’s idea of a sick joke or something, so I clicked out of the email again. Ohhhh. Can you just imagine the look of disappointment on my face as realization dawned that I had misread things? Yeah, I wish I could have seen it too. Once my dismay ebbed. I determined that it was the dead people back from where ever and they had been talking to me again. Okay I need to search the Freedman’s Bureau of records. But for who? It would have been to much like right for them to give me a name along with their hint, you know? But, I was in the middle of things and so I just scribbled a quick note in- you guessed it- the yellow spiral notebook.

Days later, my dead people upped the ante. I was asleep and I dreamed that a Union Civil War Soldier was staring at me through the sliding glass door. This dream was so intense, I woke up and was terrified that someone was looking through the blind covered glass doors. It was so real, I could almost make out the name or whatever those scratch marks on the side of his Union cap said. Almost. Alright this was confirmation that my dead people weren’t mad at me anymore. Again, I made a quick note in the infamous yellow spiral notebook. After all, I had a pleasant little nap to get back to…

Later that same night, I had another dream. This time a baby was playing on my back while I slept in the dream. Again, it felt real, extremely real. So real that I woke up calling my daughter’s name to ask her why she had put the baby on my back while I was asleep. Her name became stuck on the tip of my tongue, as I realized that the baby was actually in his crib and sound asleep. Again in it went into the yellow spiral notebook, to keep the others before it company.

If you’re keeping track, this is the run down of things thus far- I need to go to the Freeman’s Bureau and see what that will turn up, I needed to look more closely at any male relatives that served in the Civil War and someone had a baby that didn’t live, I assume.

Then last night came the incessant tapping at my widow. It was nerve wracking. It was terrible, really. Because unless someone was playing a truly fantastic game of ‘Knock, Knock Ginger’ (I didn’t grow up calling it Ginger, but I am grown up now and Ginger sounds so much nicer), then there was no one there. And then my toilet flushed- all by itself. That’s when I called the girl-child’s daddy.

I get it. My dead people missed me and they are wanting me to find them. In the junk drawer… oh boy.

Anyway, I am rambling all over the place, when really all I needed to have said was “check your junk drawer people”- but that would have been boring and there is already enough of that in the world, don’t you think? Well, that’s what I will be doing ALL DAY on Saturday and Sunday too- if I can sneak away. You should join me! I know you have a junk drawer- but have you gone through it recently? What kind of things did you turn up? I am eager to hear your success stories (and your failures- if you must). Leave me your comments and don’t forget to like and share!

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It’s Rag Time!

A few weeks ago, I underwent a woman’s surgery, the result of which was supposed to at best relieve me of all my womanly duties and at worst make my monthly contributions to womanhood minimal and virtually pain free. At this moment, I think I have excellent cause to NOT disburse any money to anyone involved in this process.

So, here I sit at 3 of the clock in the morning, wide awake. On the plus side, my mind has had ample time to wander. And of course it veers in the direction of the dead…

I got to thinking about how being a woman in America’s early years really worked. I should warn you- it is not a pretty sight and/or thought.

How does a handful of dirt or mulch feel? What about rabbit fur, sheep wool or cotton? Yep. They used all of tthat. Those things would be fashioned into something like what today’s pads look like and some women, who were good with herbs and plants would mix different things into the dirt or wood chips to detract from the smell of things and then when the need arose to change this makeshift monthly aid, they would just toss them into the back of the fire. Can you imagine what that made the room being heated smelled like? And what did they do if it was summer and no fire was needed? The  things that make me go hmm. I am not sure how these primitive pads were used, as the common under garments we know of  today were unheard of in young America back then.  I am certain that’s not the worst of it.

I don’t know where I came up with the notion, but I always believed that woman, well white woman anyway, took to their beds for the duration called to entertain their monthly friend. However, in the little research I did on the topic, I learned that women carried on as normal, entertaining and everything- some of them with their friend grabbing tightly to their legs and some with old rags bundled and held some how in their most womanly places. That sounds like so much fun, doesn’t it?

Oh, but it gets better. And by better, I mean worse. Much worse. If you were living a life of servitude or enslaved and you were the washer woman, you were responsible for washing these rags. And let me just remind you that there was no modern washing machine. And you generally had to wash these delicates repeatedly as it was modern superstition that using a rag that had not been cleaned allowed the devil to come into you.

I have said it before and I will say it again. I am so very thankful to have been born in the time that I have been. They would have had to let me take leave to my chambers, wherever they were for no less than 48 hours before my visitor arrived to 48 hours after he had left or killed me on the spot for my indignant attitude.

And then 1888 happened. Kotex happened upon the scene with their disposable products made from wood pulp or Cellucotton. (Wikipedia) You would think this to be a joyous and happy occasion for  women all across America. It wasn’t. Apparently, women carried on with their make shift beds for those overnight guests- if they allowed their guests to even rest in a bed at all. Truthfully, Kotex was to expensive and the average woman could not afford it.

Somewhere along the lines, a sanitary belt came into play, but from what I’ve read, you could take it or leave it. In the 1970s (thank the good Lord, above) maxi pads with adhesive strips came along. There was even a brief show of something called a menstrual cup (the name alone scared me so, I couldn’t even bare the thought of looking this little gem up). But things didn’t really evolve into what they are now until the mid to late 80s. Which, if you ask me is a scary thought. We could put men on the moon, but we couldn’t provide comfort to ladies and their private display of the essence of a woman? But anyway, I am glad someone got the good sense to make some changes when they did, because in the coming decade, I would begin entertaining. And we already know where I stand on that issue, don’t we?

I guess, maybe I will send those people some money after all. They didn’t really deliver on what they said, but they did give me a great reason and way for my brain to wander… Eh… The jury is still out on that one.

I hope you enjoyed reading my little commentary on this, a woman’s best friend. I would love to hear your thoughts, ideas and whatever else you would like to share! Leave me a comment and don’t forget to like and share!

 

For this one, I did have to do a little investigating. So here are all the sites I made my way to or through.

http://www.bustle.com/article/46404-i-wore-an-old-fashioned-sanitary-belt-for-my-entire-period-and-here-are-the-gory-details

en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/sanitary_napkin

http://www.femmeinternational.org/the-blog/the-history-of-the-sanitary-pad