Daisy and Mabel

 

No this isn't a Thelma and Louise type story.

Daisy Hodges and Mabel Fairclough were two women who lived on Grove Street in Reading, Massachusetts from the 1920s until the 1960s in their same homes. They married, bought a house and made it a home until they died. A house was a home, not an investment.

I suspect I'm the only person on the planet who remembers them. Very few people who ever lived on the planet are remembered once their families and friends die and are also are forgotten.

Both women were typical of their time and social class: Republicans, Daughters of the American Revolution, professional housewives, "good" Christians, prohibitionists, proper and most importantly wives and mothers. 

Daisy's house was on a slope. I would never have called her Daisy. All my grandmother's friends were called Mrs. (Fill in the blank) . If I ever used their first name it was preceded by "aunt" even without a drop of DNA between us. No one knew about DNA then.

Daisy Hodges was fat at a time when very few people were: chubby yes, well padded yes - but not fat. She had huge breasts. Is my memory clouded by time, but was she able to stick pins in her left breast? As a little girl I tried to avoid being too near her, for she always seemed to be one day too late for a bath.  

Ben Hodges, Daisy's husband, was a thin man who loved photography. He came to my house to take my picture. He sat me on our piano bench covered with an itchy multi-colored throw. He put my legs on the bench so it wasn't a full-on photo, rare for the day. I was four. I still have the photo.

The Faircloughs lived on top of a pine-tree covered hill where Grove Street crossed with Forest Street.

They had one daughter whose framed wedding picture was proudly displayed in the living room. The same living room had window sills covered with wooden planks. Nails stuck out to prevent the cat from jumping up. Outside sills had planks with nails too to prevent birds from landing.

Mabel was in a terrible car accident and fought back to recover when no one thought she would. Many years later she died in another car accident.

My grandmother did not spend a lot of time with them although, they belonged to the same groups. When they met at meetings, they would wear hats and gloves. 

My grandmother was happy to be at home most of the time. Another professional housewife she had much to do keeping her home in top order and her family well fed. In her free time there were books to read and my brother and I to love and play with. 

Sometimes Mabel would visit as a solo drop in. I don't remember Daisy in our house at all. My memories are of being at her house, but I can't think why.

When I think back to these women from my childhood, it is almost like watching a period film or TV show, an Agatha Christie set in Massachusetts rather than the UK and without a murder. 

A sociologist would notice the details of their lives, how they were like other middle class women of their time.They make up the history of the period but without fame.