Lessons from our Fathers

Last April, a flooded basement put one third of our living space out of commission. Like many others in the Chicago area, we were faced with the ordeal of salvaging, cleaning up and rebuilding–again.

As my husband took off for a five-week trip to Asia, I was left to try to reconstruct our sons’ bedroom. On more than one occasion, I was brought to tears wishing that my father was still alive. Dad would have known how to do this. Dad would have come down to help me. Dad could have fixed this.

I recruited friends from church to help me put up drywall. Perhaps I should rephrase that–Greg and John put up drywall, and my son and I helped. Once it was in place, I spent Mother’s Day taping and mudding. Unfortunately, I had never done this before, and the book on drywalling that I had checked out of the library wasn’t as helpful as I had hoped it would be.

Still, I kept at it, and halfway through the room I realized that I begun imitating what I had seen Dad do when patching holes in our plaster walls at home. By using the same kind of  pressure on the drywall knives that Dad had, I was getting smoother walls. Too bad I was working in the closet by this time.

Lessons from our fathers stay with us long after they have left us. What a blessing when we discover a lesson that we didn’t even know had been taught.

In Plank Road Winter, Hans’s father dies in the Chicago Fire. But as writers, and as daughters whose father died six years ago, we know that Hans will continue to learn lessons from his father.

Thanks, Dad, for all you continue to teach me.

The Way of the Road

Last week, I spoke at an adult forum at Epiphany Lutheran Church in Elmhurst, Illinois. I had led a discussion at the church when Plank Road Summer was published; in that book the moral dilemma of whether or not to break the law to help runaway slaves  provided a natural link to a discussion about how we make ethical decisions.

Until I sat down to prepare for this new presentation, I did not see any such obvious connection to faith issues in Plank Road Winter.  I began by considering the scenes involving disaster relief, since that is  a familiar topic to many churches. But as I delved further into the book, I discovered that the entire story is about stewardship, or managing one’s life with respect and regard for the needs of others. Though Hilda and I certainly instilled our own values into the characters and plot, only now do I understand how tightly the idea of serving others is woven into the fabric of the story.

From Papa going back to help the Kreuschers, to the community-wide disaster relief efforts, to a Pullman porter “loaning” money for train tickets home, Plank Road Winter is about using one’s time, resources, and abilities to serve the greater good of society. According to that Pullman porter, this is “Just friends helping friends. It’s the way of the road.” Summer readers will recognize “the way of the road” as the words of Gran Mather, first spoken when she instructed Florence to pull their light wagon off the planks onto the dirt lane to let a heavily-laden wagon go by. According to Gran Mather, “We are to ease the journey of those who are burdened.”

If your reading group or class would like to use “The Way of the Road: Lessons in Serving” or explore other aspects of the Plank Road books, take a look at our page of Resources for Teachers. The free, downloadable materials include a discussion guide on The Way of the Road and an eight-page Teacher’s Guide with discussion questions, classroom activities, and historical notes.  Other curriculum materials include spelling and vocabulary lists for both books and links to websites providing historical background and additional educational activities.

We would love to hear about how readers use these resources to dig deeper into our Plank Road Stories.

“Here We Come a-Wassailing”

On this twelfth day of Christmas I will stir up my last batch of wassail for the season and carry this traditional winter drink to a gathering of friends. Maybe at our hosts’ door I can convince my husband to sing “Here we come a-wassailing” with me as the Banvards did in Plank Road Winter when they arrived at the Mather Inn on Twelfth Night.

Most often my kettle of wassail simmers on the stove at home, a fragrant reminder of this season of hospitality.  I make the first batch for our winter solstice party, and while my family-friendly recipe, a mixture of fruit juices and cinnamon and cloves, is admittedly tamer than those that call for ale or wine as the base, many of our guests top off their wassail cups with something stronger.

You can learn more about the fascinating history of wassailing along with other Cornish winter holiday customs at the Federation of Old Cornwall Societies website.

Original Emancipation Proclamation Manuscript burned in Chicago Fire

The official engrossed document

Tomorrow marks the 150th anniversary of the Emancipation Proclamation–the document  that freed the slaves in the rebelling states and allowed them to join the Union Army. The National Archives invites people to come and see the “original” proclamation. Though you can certainly see the official proclamation, neatly handwritten by the engrosser and signed by President Lincoln on New Year’s Day, 1863, at the National Archives, you will not see the manuscript originally written by Abraham Lincoln.

Alas, that original manuscript burned in the Chicago Fire of 1871. I came across this tidbit of information while researching the fire for  Plank Road Winter, but no one at the Chicago Historical Society seemed able to explain why the Emancipation Proclamation was in Chicago or why no one saved it.

So, having spent more time than necessary for our novel investigating this mystery, I can now tell you more about Lincoln’s final draft of the Emancipation Proclamation than most people.

Lincoln’s final draft of the Emancipation Proclamation, which he finished on Dec. 31, 1862, arrived in Chicago in the fall of 1863. The women of Chicago were having a fair to raise money to help the many horribly wounded soldiers coming back from the war. They asked Abraham Lincoln if he would donate his original draft of the Emanicpation Proclamation, with the understanding that a subscription would to opened to purchase it for the Historical Society of Chicago. This was his reply:

“According to the request made in your behalf, the original draft of the Emancipation Proclamation is herewith inclosed. The formal words at the top and the conclusion, except the signature, you perceive, are not in my handwriting. They were written at the State Department. The printed part was cut from the preliminary Proclamation and pasted on merely to save writing.

I had some desire to retain the paper, but if it shall contribute to the relief or comfort of the soldiers, that will be better.

Your obedient servant,
A. Lincoln”

The final manuscript draft in Lincoln’s handwritng.

After the fair was over and the money raised, the  proclamation was framed and displayed at the Chicago Historical Society, until that fateful October night when a fire started in the O’Leary barn. Samuel Stone, a member and curator of the Society’s collection, was awakened at home at 2 a.m. on Oct. 9, 1871, and told that Chicago was burning. He went to the Historical Society, where he found a number of people bringing boxes and bundles to the Society for safe-keeping. Stone at once took charge of the basement door, refusing to open the door to anymore ignitable items.Soon Stone heard voices calling from outside telling him that he was in danger.  He pushed a trunk against the basement door to secure it, then went up stairs. A blast of wind, fire, and smoke filled the street, and an entire casement window was suddenly ablaze. Stone hastened to the Reception Room to get the Society’s record book and the Emancipation Proclamation. He attempted to break the frame–”but the frame was so stout it was not easily done, and just as I was making the attempt, there came another blast of fire and smoke, filling the whole heavens and frightfully dashing firebrands against the reception room window. … Believing that a minute more in trying to save the Proclamation, would make it too late for my escape, I made for the basement door.”

As the smoke outside was suffocating, Stone found a camel’s hair shawl in one of the now-smouldering bundles in the basement, covered his head and sprang out with great speed. He recalled, “Glancing around, I could see the steps overhead, the sidewalks, front fences, Mr. Girard’s cottage, and every building south, one mass of flames, while firebrands were flying in every direction.”

Later, Stone “mounted a some high stone steps on Erie Street in the rear of the Historical Building, to take a last look of the destruction of our fifteen years’ labor of valuable gatherings. The entire building and everything surrounding it was one mass of flame, the fire burning every brick apparently, as there was no woodwork on that side of the building. It was painful to see it.” As the heat became more intense, he continued his escape past flames 150 feet high.

“There were times when I saw buildings melt down in from three to five minutes. Such sights I never saw before. Had I known the speed and the heat of the coming fire, I could have left my post at the basement door earlier and could have secured the records and the Proclamation, but it was beyond all my experience.”

Now you also know the fate of Lincoln’s Emancipation Proclamation. And should you wonder how I happen to have an image of it here–photographic copies had been made of it back in the 1860s. This image is from the New York State Library–see all the pages on their website: http://www.nysl.nysed.gov/ep/fep.htm

“On the Feast of Stephen”

Whether you think of December 26 as Boxing Day or St. Stephen’s Day or simply the day after Christmas, we hope you enjoy making music and sharing family traditions during the winter holidays. Here’s a timely excerpt from Plank Road Winter:

Good King Wenceslas looked out
On the feast of Stephen,
When the snow lay round about
Deep and crisp and even

Father’s voice in the familiar carol woke Sophie as it did
every year on the second day of Christmas. In her opinion, he
might be one of the finest singers in Yorkville, but the break of
day was hardly the ideal time to share that fact.
She and Linnie groaned and pulled the quilt up over their
heads. But Birdie sat right up in her trundle bed. After Father
boomed out the saintly king’s verse, she chimed right in with
the little page’s response. Sophie and Linnie had no choice but
to swell the chorus:

Page and monarch forth they went
Forth they went together
Through the rude wind’s wild lament
And the bitter weather.

By the time they sang about the little page treading in his
master’s footsteps, John Alton joined them from the next room:

Therefore, Christian men, be sure
Wealth or rank possessing
Ye who now will bless the poor
Shall yourselves find blessing!

Sophie was still humming the carol when she made her way
down the back stairs to the kitchen, where Mother was serving
up breakfast. While Sophie was not fond of many of the
old-timers’ traditions in Yorkville, she thoroughly approved of
the way the Caswells ended the Christmas season. Back in the
plank road days the Cornish settlers would go a-wassailing on
Twelfth Night. All the wassailers came last to the Mather Inn,
where they stayed on for dancing to see Christmas out.

(from Chapter 25: Boxing Day)

Thanksgiving at the Mather Inn

May readers everywhere give thanks with those they love.  In honor of the day, here are two timely excerpts from Plank Road Winter:

(from Chapter 21: At the Smithy)

On the day before Thanksgiving, the aroma of cinnamon
and nutmeg and baking pumpkin wafted through the Mather
Inn.

Sophie looked up from her task of rolling dough.
“The Grand Duke’s latest banquet, you know, featured a
charlotte russe. And it was adorned with spun-sugar eagles and
bears, and the flags of the United States and Russia. I don’t see why we have to serve something as ordinary as pumpkin pie.”

Mother set down the mixing bowl with a thump. “I hope
the Grand Duke’s kitchen crew works harder and complains
less than mine. Go out to the smithy, will ’ee, and tell Father to give his arm a rest.”

“I think we ought to honor the Grand Duke’s visit by cutting little eagles and bears of pastry scraps to decorate the pies.”

“Sophie, go out now.”

Sophie wrapped a shawl over her shoulders and crossed
the yard to the smithy, stepping in time to the ringing of the
hammer as Father and John Alton worked together at the
forge, singing the refrain of one of their favorite songs:

And sing WHOA, my lads, sing WHOA!
Drive on, my lads, I-HO,
And who wouldn’t lead the life
Of a jolly wagoner?

* * * * * *

(from Chapter 22: Thanksgiving)

Though Hans was in no mood for celebration, all of
the McEachron families joined the Caswells at the Inn for
Thanksgiving dinner. The sideboard in the dining room was
covered with pies, and the aroma of roasting turkey wafted
through all the rooms downstairs.

After helping Elsa take her coat off, Hans piled their wraps on the bed in the freshening-up room. In the dining room, benches lined the end of the long table where extra planks had been added to extend the length.

Sophie rolled her eyes. “The benches from the plank road
days appear again. Mother likes to have them out on family
occasions. But, of course, she never has to sit on them.”

“Plenty of folks would be thankful to have a solid bench
and a fine feast like this,” Hans said, but Sophie had already
flounced away.

Elsa climbed onto a bench, and Hans sat down beside her.
Across from them sat Linnie and Birdie. Other cousins jostled
for seats on the benches, the boys elbowing one another and
the girls smoothing their skirts to make room. Billy slid in next to Hans, while Maggie Banvard, home for the holiday, was
given a chair among the grown-ups.

Grandpa and Grandma sat beside Sophie’s grandfather at
the head of the table. Granfer Mather had opened a hotel in
Burlington when the teamsters’ wagons no longer traveled the
plank road during the harvest season. Everyone joined hands
as Granfer Mather gave thanks for the harvest, though for
weeks the McEachrons had been talking of what a poor yield it
was. When Granfer Mather prayed that those who suffer would
be comforted, Hans tilted his head to glance at Mama, whose
shoulders gave a slight heave as she clenched Uncle Amos’s
hand.

Florence’s Fall Bouquet

In my mind, a good book is one that I have read more than once. Some I have read many times, and still enjoy them each time I flip the book open and start reading. I know the character’s lines and what they wear, and what is going to happen next.

We have one faithful fan who has read Plank Road Summer often enough to remember the bouquet that Florence Mather makes.

“On the first day of the fair, Florence stood in the parlor. In her hands she had plumes of goldenrod and a fiery blaze of sumac leaves.She was arranging them in a pitcher, already bright with late Queen Anne’s lace.”

A “Florence Bouquet” at our Plank Road Winter book launch.

Julie K.S. Moyer, who currently lives in the Mather Inn with her husband and children, made beautiful bouquets to place on each window sill of the old Yorkville School for our book launch. We suspect that not many of our other readers recognized the combination of flowers and leaves, but we were quick to notice and appreciate it.

Julie was also the force behind getting Yorkville School #4 on the Wisconsin National Register of Historic Places.  The bright 4-H green paint that covered the railings back when we used the the building for 4-H meetings and music and drama practices has been restored to the original colors, and the hardwood floor refinished. Her attention to detail shows in the beauty of the schoolhouse, and in our bouquets as well. We are honored to have such a great fan and neighbor.

The Great Chicago Fire

One hundred forty-one years ago today, these prophetic words appeared in the Chicago Tribune:

“For days past alarm has followed alarm . . . [and] the
absence of rain for three weeks has left everything in so dry
and inflammable a condition that a spark might set a fire
which would sweep from end to end of the city.”

As Emily and I wrote Plank Road Winter, vivid illustrations and eyewitness accounts from period newspapers and magazines helped us to imagine the struggles of the Hoffman family in Chicago on that October day in 1871:

Fleeing the Chicago Fire, from Frank Leslie’s Illustrated Newspaper, October 28, 1871

From Chapter 7:
A terrified whinny and shouts came from up the street, as
a horse careened around the corner, its wagonload aflame.
Above the constant roar of the crackling fire rose shouts and
cries, along with prayers for God’s mercy.
From behind him, Hans heard a clatter of exploding wood
and breaking glass, followed by a whoosh of warm air. Another
home had collapsed in flames. The crowd gasped as a flaming
plank sailed through the air and lodged in the rooftop of
a house up ahead. Mama’s steps became quicker, and Hans
hurried to keep up.
Now the embers fell like red snow, landing on coats and
bundles. Elsa’s scream pierced the air, as a glowing bit of ash
caught in her fine blonde hair where it sizzled until Mama
smothered it in her kid-gloved hand. As the smoky air swirled
about them, Elsa’s sobs turned into hacking coughs. Between
her coughs came the tearful words: “Mama, I can’t walk
anymore.” (Plank Road Winter, p. 42)

Rush of fugitives through the Potters Field toward Lincoln Park, from Harper’s Weekly, November 4, 1871

If you are interested in viewing an extensive collection of images and reading fascinating accounts of the Chicago fire, we recommend this website: The Chicago Fire and the Web of Memory.

A Portal to the Past

Hilda and Emily Demuth signing copies of Plank Road Winter

Back in the 1970s when Emily and I attended Yorkville 4-H meetings in the old schoolhouse we knew as the Clover Center, we never dreamed that someday we’d be signing books in that very building.

On a glorious Sunday afternoon in September our families and friends and neighbors gathered for the Plank Road Winter launch party.

Dancing at the Plank Road Winter launch party in the Yorkville 4-H Clover Center

The doorway into that 1886 schoolroom was a portal to the past as the musicians played old tunes and the dancers circled and stomped on the sturdy wood floor.

John and Susan Nicholson of Frogwater

Some of those in attendance wore period attire, and these visitors from the nineteenth century mingled easily with our twenty-first century guests.

Our caller, Patricia Lynch of the West Side Soldiers’ Aid Society, taught the figures of each dance.  Members of her Victorian Dancers group ably helped beginners of all ages and also demonstrated several Civil War dances.

Nineteenth century and twenty-first century guests mingling on the dance floor at the 1886 Yorkville schoolhouse

Around three o’clock when the Packer game was about to start, which meant that nobody was in line to have a book signed, Emily and I were able to take a few turns on the dance floor ourselves.

Many thanks to everyone who attended the launch and to all who share our delight in preserving traditions such as old-time dancing, especially in places like that beautiful little Yorkville schoolhouse.

Introducing Plank Road Winter

On Sunday, September 30, 1:00-4:00 pm, Emy and I look forward to welcoming the public along with old friends and neighbors at the Plank Road Winter launch party.  The celebration will be held at the 4-H Clover Center, 17640 Old Yorkville Road, a few miles north of Union Grove,Wisconsin.  This 1885 schoolhouse stands at the very heart of the original Yorkville settlement.

Set almost twenty years after the adventures of Katie and Florence, Plank Road Winter features thirteen-year-old Sophie Caswell, who longs to escape the dull farming community of Yorkville. Sophie’s plans are thwarted when the Chicago Fire leads to the arrival of twelve-year-old Hans Hoffman and his family at the nearby McEachron farm. While Sophie stubbornly pursues her dreams, Hans struggles to adapt to a world very different from his bustling Chicago neighborhood.

In the spirit of nineteenth-century community gatherings, the entertainment at the Plank Road Winter launch party will include traditional music provided by John and Susan Nicholson of the Milwaukee band  Frogwater and old-time dancing called by Patricia Lynch of the West Side Victorian Dancers.

We hope to see you there!