Legacy of Mrs. Peckham (reposted)

Legacy of Mrs. Peckham  (reposted)

 (I am reposting this particularly for the new group, herstory, and for other of my people who may not have seen it before. You nice people who have already read it please forgive me, and skip to something else. It is one of the articles I had completely deleted from Gather)  

When I was born in 1922, my father managed a large farm in Wilton, Connecticut that was dedicated to raising prize-winning Jersey cattle. Mother managed our home and children and kept up friendships with other women in similar circumstances.

One of her friends was Delores Peckham, a newly married young woman from Pasadena, California, where she had met her future husband, Charles Peckham Jr. After he had courted her and won her consent to be his wife, he returned to Wilton and contracted to build a house as a surprise for his wife to be. It was a multilevel stone house with a fireplace and a cathedral window in the living room, two bedrooms and a bath off the living room and another bedroom and a bath upstairs. The dining area was down a few steps and the kitchen a level lower. There was no central heating. The fireplace was expected to heat the whole house.

Delores was surprised, but even more was Charles when he came to realize she thought the kitchen and dining area wondrously inconvenient, and the whole house was always too cold. The big window faced north and added no heat, and in the colder months the heat from the fireplace seldom reached 65 degrees, which Charles considered the ideal temperature. If people  were cold, they added sweaters.

An even greater surprise for Delores was that her mother-in-law, Mrs. Gertrude Peckham, would be living with them indefinitely. Mrs. Peckham was a rigidly religious woman who never wore makeup and her steel gray hair was pulled tightly into a bun on top of her head. She was sure no woman had ever been born who would be good enough for her tall, dark, handsome son, Charles, but as a good Christian woman she was willing to tolerate Delores even though she was from California. I don’t know anything about her early life, but I think Mrs. Peckham. was from Pennsylvania. When we met her she was a widow, about 60 years old, and had just one child, Charles. 

Charles loved horses and kept two horses for fox hunting, and he kept a few goats to keep them company. Delores was to feed them and clean their stalls, since Charles left before dawn on the train to New York and returned after dark. Delores had no experience with animals, but her mother-in-law was glad to instruct her in all things relating to the house or barn. They spent a lot of time chasing the goats that were talented at escaping from their pen.

Charles also loved children, and that is where I came in. When Mother visited the Peckhams she usually brought me. Charles would saddle a horse, put me in front of him on the saddle, and take me for a ride. He taught me to post, the up and down thing you do on a horse to keep from bouncing off. He even made the horse gallop with me along. He taught me to love horses more than anything else in the world when I was just four years old.

After a few years it became apparent that Delores couldn’t bear children. She was told it was because she was a twin. In spite of her disappointment, she loved Charles desperately, but he gradually drifted into a relationship with his secretary. Delores was unhappy and the mother-in-law situation only added to her misery. Mother thought she might lighten Delores’ burden by having Mrs. Peckham visit us several months a year. So that is what happened.

By this time my father had bought a farm forty miles away in Bethel, CT, where he continued to raise prize-winning Jersey cows, and also had a dairy with customers to whom about 400 bottles of milk were delivered daily before dawn. We had a regular milkman to make deliveries, but when we had a blizzard, my father and I would deliver half the route. It wasn’t easy carrying a caddy of six glass quart bottles of milk up icy steps before dawn. But warming up in a friendly coffee shop later was fun.

We had three or four hired men who lived with us depending on the season. We needed more help in the summer. My father eventually engaged a hired girl, but for a long time Mother had to cook three meals a day, clean, make beds and do laundry for everyone, including the hired men. She had a weekly schedule, washing on Monday, ironing on Tuesday, baking bread, pies and cakes another day, etc.  My sister Jane was a big help, and always saw what needed to be done before she was asked to do it. But I, at three years younger, was such a horse-loving tomboy I was of little use to anyone. Mother did all the office work, sending out the monthly bills to the customers and driving to their houses later to collect. She also kept a flock of chickens and peddled eggs as well as the  cottage cheese she that made on our kitchen stove. Oh yes! She also took piano lessons that she paid for with eggs and cottage cheese money. She practiced her lessons before dawn right after my father went out to the barn to feed the cows so that he wouldn’t find out. All this she did and I never saw her not fully dressed for the day and with her makeup on. She was always pretty and presentable until she died at aged 90. 

Having Mrs. Peckham live with us was not only a respite for Delores, it was a help for Mother. Mrs. Peckham was a willing worker in the kitchen and spent much time caring for me. She told me stories about New England pioneers and the Indians they fought. For some reason I always sided with the Indians. She would accompany me to the nearby woods and sit on a stone wall knitting, while I played imaginary games. I remember one time I pretended to be two Indian tribes fighting each other and scared myself so badly I went running back to her. She taught me the names of all the trees and flowers we found on our walks, and told exciting stories about wild animals. She had a wide knowledge of things to interest a hoydenish small girl, and I always looked forward to her visits.

I think I also acquired indirectly whatever religion I have from her. She never preached but somehow she imparted Christian ideals. I also picked up a lot of religious beliefs from the Indian stories I read as a child. Other people call Him God but I feel more affinity with the Great Spirit. What’s the difference? It is the same Power that directs us all if we just pay attention. My father had renounced religion and wouldn’t allow Mother to take us to church, only weakening once in a while when she pleaded with him. I have always been rather grateful not to be exposed at an early age to conventional religion a. It allowed me to study the subject and make up my own mind when I became curious at about aged 15 and got myself baptized at the Congregational church in our small town..

Delores Peckham’s marriage finally ended in divorce when Charles secretary became pregnant, and he wanted to marry her. Delores was devastated, but gave up willingly for Charles sake. She never stopped loving him, and they remained friends all their lives. She even became good friends with Mrs. Peckham in later years.

I had hoped to emulate Mrs. Peckham in my old age, teaching my grandchildren about nature, but it was not to be. I live at a horse camp on a rock-strewn Indian reservation with some rescued dogs and cats. And, quite often, especially on weekends, I get to watch the beautiful horses that campers in big rigs bring to ride in the nearby wilderness. I think it might be the heaven as imagined by the ten-year old tomboy I once was. I think Mrs. Peckham would approve.