Winter's Job: Typing Great-Grandma's Handwritten Memoir!

Intriguing clips from GG's life:

There are three kinds of marriage: The prize, the surprise, and the consolation prize.

Rockabye baby, please go to sleep. Momma’s a monster & daddy’s a creep. (...Weird...)

There was something almost chemical in my actions and decisions. Now was my kiddoes year to begin to store up fond memories. I had no intention of having examples set and telling them No. It is not wrong for them to follow the lead of curiosity. No! No! makes them less free about reaching out and learning than those raised where No is kept to the necessary minimum.

There is enough grounds for divorce in one cup of her coffee. (Hahaha)

I was a moveable object around which a kitchen was designed.

She galloped past the old maid doom, leaned over backwards in the other direction of double cursedness, and married the first confused young man who looked into her eyes and said, “You remind me of my sister! Be my bride!” The shortage of marriage-minded males for her type made her feel obligated to grab fast and hang on tight, letting the years drop where they may.

One advantage of being married is that I couldn’t make a fool out of myself without knowing it.

“This was not a great union. I’d lost all that made sense in life but the children and acquired a fine bleeding heart for a hoodlum,” all of a sudden a vocabulary of common sense told me in adjectives and emotions all unfavorable.

The height of creation is having a family and helping them develop according to their various talents, after all it isn’t when children grow up to explore an interesting object that mother should worry. It’s when they are afraid to reach out to touch objects that excite their curiosity that we should start worrying.

The fire was out with C and I, but there was enough warmth in the kids to keep us together.

I determined to make my society a touch of privilege, not a burden.

Mayme’s bed of whom I had supplanted was no bed of roses, but an abundance of experience, which no one would either seek or desire. There is nothing more baffling in human relationship than silence. The dark loom of doubt, and ? unexpressed. Only the shell remained.

Kentucky land is the footprints of our past and the hope of our future, even though the truck growled up and hauled us back to the city.

No matter how you slice him, he spelled nature’s blunder, always in debt throughout life and in pawn to the future.

The Emmicks were never friendly to me. They were constantly digging my grave, but I never came to the funeral. And most of them have had to eat their shovels, and I am still chewing up my talent. Fighting to the last ditch for a satisfactory later life.

Her record indicates she does not know much about choosing a mate for keeps. She invents a cure for which there is no disease. Bob Connor, #1, living by his wit, ignorant, shy and brazen almost to the point of blankness, struck one as though he had been bruised by life. Drawing petals around him only strengthened one’s impression. Dismayed false assurance. Seldom said the wrong thing. Seldom did the right thing. Moved around like a sleepwalker. She was very happy with her model husband, until she looked up model in the dictionary and found it meant imitation of the real thing. Then she tried the I’ll show ‘em outlet for her nobly repressed resentment. Divorce opened the way for Bob Connor. Their matrimonial route tilted for taller timber and bowled over completely.

She knew nothing about him and there was nothing to know.