December 7, 1912

From 8-year old Hilda’s diary:

Christmas is just a little more than two weeks away and I must make a list of all the people I want to give presents to: Brownie and Sherry and Grandfather and Grandmother, and Tom and Jerry because I miss them and I know they are homesick and maybe Uncle Milton will take me to the farm they are on so that I can see them again. And Alma and Aunt Tillie and Uncle Milton and Ito and Gladys and Sing. Sing is the nice Chinese laundry man who gave me the pretty egg. And then there are Grandma Uri and Louie and Aunt Josie and Uncle Julius and Uncle Albert and Aunt Hazel and Helen Violet and my father. That is just twenty. I have almost three dollars in my piggy bank because Winter is just the best flea season. The fleas are cold and they like to jump into Brownie’s warm fur.

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Just a reminder — Tom and Jerry were Uncle Milton’s Airedales who had to live elsewhere when he came to live with his parents and Hilda after his wife died.

Note: Hilda did not write an entry on December 8 and will return on December 9.

December 6, 1912

From 8-year old Hilda’s diary:

We went to school this morning and got our promotion certificates. I got just a plain white one because of arithmetic. Grandfather said it didn’t make any difference, he loved me just the same and I told Grandmother that now maybe some man would really marry me because I could tell him I’m not too smart. She said maybe. In the afternoon I went to see Mission Dolores. It’s all right but I guess it would be more fun to see the Indians and see the Padres working or teaching.

December 5, 1912

Note: Today we would find 8-year old Hilda’s characterization of Native Americans problematic. Rather than censor her work, I am choosing to present it in full with the understanding that she is reminding herself of the facts as they were presented to her by her teachers and the adults around her. When she offers an interpretation, she does so based on the experience of a child her age.

From 8-year old Hilda’s diary:

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Tomorrow is the last day of school and Miss Cashen is taking us to see the Mission Dolores here in San Francisco, so today she read us all about it…

A long time ago California belonged to Spain but besides the Spanish people here, there were a lot of Indians. The Indians lived in tents that they called “Wigwams” and they didn’t keep them very clean but I guess it was pretty hard to because the floors were the ground and they ran in and out all day from hunting and working in the fields. Then Spain sent over the “Spanish Fathers” from the church to help them. They were very good men who came to teach the Indians about God and Jesus Christ and how to make bricks and learn to weave cloth and how to wash themselves. The Indians were very lazy except when they were having a war. They loved war. They were always having a war with a different Indian tribe. Then they would paint their faces with designs and stick feathers in their hair and put animal horns on their heads too, and they had war dances and they fought with bows and arrows and spears. The Indian women worked very hard and their husbands weren’t at all polite to them. None of the Indians had pretty table manners. They cooked everything all mixed up in a pot that hung over a fire and at dinner time all the Indians sat around it and just pulled out the food with their hands.

When I told Grandfather that, he said “Maybe Liebchen, they had finger bowls with pansies floating in them.” I know that he was just teasing me, but anyhow… 

The Indians learned a lot from the Fathers. After they learned to make bricks, the Fathers taught them to make the California Missions. There are twenty-one Missions altogether and each is about a day’s walk on foot from the other, but I think you would have to get up very early in the morning and then maybe you would arrive at the other in time for dinner. The most beautiful Mission is called the “Mission of San Juan Capistrano.” It is in Southern California and it has such a lovely garden that every Winter the swallows from northern California, where it becomes cold and snowy, come to it to make their nests. They know that they will have a beautiful place to stay in the sunshine until it is time to go home again, and by that time their babies are old enough to fly.

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The California elementary school curriculum didn’t change much throughout the 20th century. When I was in 4th grade, we learned about the missions. My mother drove us to visit many of them, and she was eager to see the swallows at San Juan Capistrano. If I recall, she was disappointed because there weren’t a lot of birds the day we visited.

Photo courtesy of OpenSFHistory

December 4, 1912

From 8-year old Hilda’s diary:

Miss Cashen asked us if we knew what Scotland was famous for. Wesley said that he knew, that they were famous for stingy people. Miss Cashen was angry and said that they were not stingy, they were thrifty and there is a big difference. She said that the soil in Scotland is hard and rocky and the weather is nearly always nasty and they don’t have a lot of tender grass to give the cows and that the cows can’t give quantities of milk and all is in short supply. The people have to work hard for every single thing and therefore they know how important it is not to spend their money for silly things like candy and toys. She asked if there was a single child in the room who ever earned their money. I raised my hand and said that I had and I told them about how I caught the fleas and bugs and told them how I was going to buy my own Christmas presents with the money I earned. Wesley said that he gets twenty-five cents a week for watering the garden and Will says that he gets twenty-five cents a week for keeping everyone’s shoes polished and Antoinette said that she doesn’t get a salary but that she gets five cents every time she runs an errand. Miss Cashen said that she must apologize to us because we were much more industrious than she imagined.

Then she said that she wanted to tell us more about Scotland. Margaret said that she knew a lot about Scotland and she told us that the people wore plaid skirts and other plaid clothes and that they ate scones which were delicious cakes served with thick cream and jam and that Robert Louis Stevenson was born in Scotland. Miss Cashen said that she was so pleased that Margaret remembered about Robert Louis Stevenson, and then she scowled at Wesley and said why didn’t he think of him instead of stingy people. She told us that there was another Robert who wrote beautiful poetry who also came from Scotland and his name is Robert Burns. She said that there is a beautiful poem about a field mouse and she knew that we would all love it very much. Would we like her to read it to us? We all said, “Please, please,” so she did and it was truly a beautiful poem…

Robert Burns tells the mouse he is sorry that he disturbed her nest, he did it accidentally, he didn’t mean to. It sounds as if he is really petting and kissing the poor little mouse. It makes you want to cry.

I guess Ireland is also nice and that is where we went next, but we didn’t stay there very long because school was dismissed early. All we learned about it is that the Irish people believe in fairies. An Irish fairy is called a leprechaun. They also have a wonderful saint and his name is St. Patrick and he is famous because he killed a lot of snakes. The Irish people have a funny way of talking, more like singing the language and they dance to the tune of a Jig. I saw some children dance it when I went to Lizzie’s church party. The Irish people have red hair, not all of them, but a lot of them and the red-haired people have bad tempers. They all love the color green and they wear it often and the four-leaf clover is their good luck charm. They call their country “The Emerald Isle” because it is so fresh and green and beautiful.

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Click on the link to hear the poem “To A Mouse” read by Sir William "Billy" Connolly.

December 3, 1912

From 8-year old Hilda’s diary:

There are no lessons in school this week. We just talk. Today we talked about England. England is famous for all its dead Kings and Queens and for all its dead writers. Miss Cashen asked us if anyone knew the name of England’s greatest writer. I said Beatrix Potter. Miss Cashen said no, although Beatrix Potters’ stories would make children happy for ever and ever. And then she went to the blackboard and wrote the name of England’s greatest writer in great big letters and she made us copy it into our notebooks. The name of England’s greatest writer is WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. She said that we are too young now but when we are older we must read every single word that he wrote. And we all promised that we would. Then she told us about England’s most famous Queen, Queen Elizabeth. She was just as smart as a man. She picked out all kinds of bright people to help her rule all over England and they always knew when to make a war and when not to. In those days Spain was a terrible nuisance on the sea. Her sailors were always sailing around stealing other people’s islands and other things. Her very favorite sailor was Sir Walter Raleigh, and he explored for her and went to America and discovered tobacco and potatoes. All of England’s famous people are buried in a big church in London that’s called Westminster Abbey. The very rich ones have statues of themselves right over their graves, and there are still others under the floor, but their names are on top of the places so you can always know who you are walking on. Queen Victoria was also a very smart Queen. She did many smart things besides pour tea into her saucer. She built the Suez Canal. Tomorrow we are going to talk about Ireland and Scotland. They sit right up on top of England.

December 2, 1912

From 8-year old Hilda’s diary:

This is the last week of school before the Christmas holidays. We got our report cards this morning and I had an “E” in everything but arithmetic. In arithmetic I had an “F” and an “F” means fair which isn’t terribly good so this time I guess that I will get just an ordinary white certificate. But I really don’t care. It isn’t as if the certificates are pretty pictures that you could frame. I finished my sampler though and it will be framed. Grandmother already took it to a framer and when I get it I will hang it over my bed. It is very pretty and I only made one mistake with the peacock. His tail is not spread out evenly all around but I love him anyhow. I think I love animals better when there is something wrong with them, like Brownie and his yellow ribbon.

December 1, 1912

From 8-year old Hilda’s diary:

In Sunday school this morning, Miss Meadows said that now we have learned all of the ten commandments. Who could tell her what God wants us to do? I raised my hand and said that I don’t think God wants us to do anything, he only wants us not to do things. She said well all right, let’s talk a little while about what he doesn’t want us to do. So we did. I said that if God doesn’t want us to kill, he must mean that he doesn’t want us to kill animals either. So then we shouldn’t kill cows and chickens and lambs and eat them. Then Albert asked her that if eating an egg was the same as killing a chicken. Most of us didn’t think that an egg was a chicken yet and besides an egg can’t really feel anything. Then we talked about the other commandments. We said that we shouldn’t tell lies about our neighbors or even about other people and we shouldn’t make statues of other people or animals and worship them and when we become adults we shouldn’t commit adultery, and we shouldn’t want anything that doesn’t belong to us, no matter how beautiful the things are. I would really like to have a little ermine muff with black tails like the one Maxine wore when we met her downtown that day. Of course I don’t want her muff, I just want one just like it, so maybe that isn’t coveting. We talked on and on about all kinds of things and then we went home for lunch.

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I do not know the date the photo of Hilda was taken. Brownie appears in the photo so it must have been after April 5, 1912 when she told us Brownie arrived in her life. Perhaps Hilda received the muff she holds as a present later this month or for her birthday in January 1913.

November 30, 1912

From 8-year old Hilda’s diary:

I wish I could go to the St. Francis to dinner every night, I loved it so much. The dining room is so big and beautiful and there are wonderful big paintings of fairy tales all up and down the walls and the chandeliers are just like great big bouquets of diamonds. All the waiters are so very handsome. One especially nice and very tall one carved up our chickens for us at a little table right beside the one where we were seated and when he gave me mine, he asked me if it was all right, just as if I were a grown lady. He was so kind. I kept thinking that if he had a little girl she must love him to tuck her into bed at night. I guess I looked as if I was thinking that because Mr. Lewis said to me, “What are you dreaming of, Hilda? I see a dream in your eyes.” But of course I couldn’t tell him. Then he asked me if I would like the orchestra to play something special just for me and I said, “Yes, please ask them to play the Merry Widow Waltz.” And then Mr. Lewis said that he thought they would know that piece and he asked the waiter to find out if they could. The orchestra leader was so kind, too. He announced that the little girl with the pink hair ribbon asked him to have the orchestra play the Merry Widow Waltz and so they were going to play it just for her. It was so beautiful, so beautiful. At the end of the dinner even the finger bowls were beautiful. They had pansies floating around in them and I remembered to use just the tips of my fingers, I just dipped them in and didn’t splash once. When we came home everyone said that they were very proud of me and Aunt Tillie said that I behaved just like a perfect lady.

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February 1910 photo courtesy of SAN FRANCISCO HISTORY CENTER, SAN FRANCISCO PUBLIC LIBRARY

November 29, 1912

From 8-year old Hilda’s diary:

Mr. and Mrs. Lewis and Mr. and Mrs. Redding are the people who were here and they invited Grandmother, Grandfather and Aunt Tillie and me for dinner at the St. Francis tonight. I am allowed to go if I take a long nap this afternoon. I am to wear my new pink dress with the pink rosebud sash and a matching rosebud bow in my hair. And I must remember to use my finger bowl nicely, like a lady, not splash it around like I did when Aunt Josie invited Grandmother and me to tea at the Palace.

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Photo courtesy of OpenSFHistory

November 28, 1912

From 8-year old Hilda’s diary:

This is Thanksgiving Day. It is always the last Thursday in November because that is when the Pilgrims ate their first Thanksgiving dinner in America…

The pilgrims were people who ran away from England because in England they weren’t allowed to go to their own church. They landed on a rock. The name of the rock was Plymouth Rock because it was in a place called Plymouth, Massachusetts. The boat they came over in was called “The Mayflower.” They were all very happy to be here in America. At first it was hard for them because America was brand new then and it didn’t have any pretty little cottages and gardens that they were accustomed to have in England. The women were very lonely. They couldn’t take their baskets to market and talk to other women who shopped because there weren’t any markets. And of course not everyone in their family could come over on the “Mayflower.” Grandfather said that if they brought everyone in their whole family with them the “Mayflower” would have sunk. The men were busy all day long. They had to chop down trees and build houses and a church and barns and pens and horse troughs and a school and dog houses and a store and all kinds of things. They didn’t have to build a theater because they didn’t like theaters. The Indians that were here liked the Pilgrims and helped them plant corn and other vegetables. The first November that the Pilgrims were here they harvested their crops. They thought they should thank God for everything, especially for the friendly Indians. So they did celebrate and had a great big picnic and invited the Indians too. All the women were happy and cooked weeks in advance. They had such good things to eat, and everything grew right outside their new houses, like cranberry jelly and applesauce and all kinds of pies. They loved pumpkin pies. They had never seen pumpkins in England. And they had beautiful roasted turkeys and wild geese and wild rice and feasted and they said their prayers too.

Our Thanksgiving was almost like that, only we didn’t have any prayers or Indians but we did have Tante Esther and Uncle Felix. We had turkey, no geese, and only one kind of pie, mince. We also had four other people, but I don’t remember their names. They are from New York and someone wrote Grandmother that they were coming, and so Grandmother said, “We must remember the strangers within our gates.” But they aren’t within our gates, they are staying at the St. Francis Hotel. I asked Grandmother if we shouldn’t have some strange dogs for dinner as there were some outside on the street. I didn’t mean that we should invite them to our table, just in the backyard with Brownie. Grandmother said that I should stop driving her crazy. So we didn’t have them.

November 27, 1912

From 8-year old Hilda’s diary:

This was another day that I had to call on Tante Esther. Grandmother sent me there with Alma while she went downtown shopping. But Alma couldn’t wait because she promised to call on Lizzie and so she left me there all alone with Tante Esther and her maid and I had to wait until Grandmother came later. Tante Esther wanted to be very polite and entertain me, but she said that she had nothing for a little girl to play with but would I like to see her shroud? I didn’t know what a shroud was but I said yes of course, I’d love to see it. So she told the maid to open the bottom drawer of her wardrobe and bring it out so that I could see it. It looked just like a very ugly nightgown with a high neck and long sleeves and I didn’t know why she would call it by another name. I didn’t know what to say so I just asked her for another gumdrop. She said I could have the gumdrop but first she wanted to tell me something solemn. She said she supposed that I thought that I was looking at a nightgown but it wasn’t. It was a dress that she was going to be buried in some day. I asked when did she think that was going to be. She said that she didn’t know and she seemed a little angry, and she said that it would be a long while yet, at least she hoped so, but whenever God was ready for her, she was ready to go to Him. I thought that if I were God I would be very anxious for Tante Esther to be there in heaven, just to be certain that everything was clean and there was not a speck of dust anywhere, but I didn’t say anything. I did ask her if Uncle Samuel wore something like a shroud when he died and she said that he did, that he wore exactly the same thing. I said that it must be odd for him to be in a dress and I would have thought he would have a shroud that had pants. Then she got mad at me and said, “Child! You should speak more respectfully of the dead.” I didn’t know that I didn’t and I don’t think it’s disrespectful for a man to wear pants. I didn’t answer her and she fished around the table and found the bowl of gumdrops and gave me two and then Grandmother came and we had tea and Grandmother talked about her shopping and was excited about tomorrow because it is a big feast day and reminded Tante Esther to come early for dinner.

November 26, 1912

From 8-year old Hilda’s diary:

Something so nice happened. That horrible Mr. Kirby that I always hated so much has been sent to prison. Alma and Gladys were talking about him in the kitchen this morning. They had just read it in the morning paper. The paper said that he had hidden something in automobile tires and sneaked it into San Francisco from Honolulu. I am so happy that he is in prison and I hope he stays there a very long time so he can’t come here for dinner. Alma says that now he will have to live in a dreadful stone cell and eat bread and water and wear a horrible red and white striped suit and he can only see Mrs. Kirby once a month. Of course I don’t think he will mind it so much, I mean not seeing Mrs. Kirby.

November 25, 1912

From 8-year old Hilda’s diary:

Grandfather and Brownie called for me at school this afternoon and we went for a long walk in Golden Gate Park. We saw swans and the bears and then we went to the Coffee House for chocolate cake. I asked Grandfather how he felt about his neighbor. Would he like his neighbor’s ox or ass or child or something. Grandfather asked me which neighbor did I have in mind. I said I didn’t think it made any difference, we weren’t supposed to want anything belonging to any neighbor. Grandfather said, “Let me see. I wouldn’t want Mrs. Bohn, not at all, because hadn’t Grandmother told us that she starves her husband. And I wouldn’t want Mrs. Lawrence because she does nothing but sit on the stairs all day with that ugly little hairless dog of hers and Grandmother says that she lets her house get very dirty. I certainly wouldn’t want any of my neighbor’s children. Who would want that cornet-playing imp of Mrs. Lawrence or that horrid boy of Mrs. Bohn, the one who is always butting people in the street and yelling ‘Baa-baa-aa-aa just like a goat.” Well Grandfather said that none of his neighbors had oxen or asses and they really didn’t have anything he would want and that for the moment he doesn’t want anything belonging to anybody.

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I never knew there was once a bear in Golden Gate Park! Apparently Hilda and her Grandfather visited a grizzly bear named Monarch. An article telling Monarch’s sad story says that he died in 1911, but OpenSF includes photos dated several years later. Perhaps he was so popular that they substituted a younger bear. Now, the only evidence is an area called “Monarch Bear Grove”.

They may have had their cake at the coffee house that can be seen in a file at the Online Archive of California.

Photo courtesy of OpenSFHistory

Photo courtesy of OpenSFHistory

November 24, 1912

From 8-year old Hilda’s diary:

Uncle Milton and Brownie came home so late last night that I wasn’t allowed to wait up for them. When I came downstairs this morning Uncle Milton said that he had something very sad to tell me. I was so frightened, I thought something happened to Brownie but it wasn’t sad at all, it was just that he didn’t win the silver cup or a blue ribbon. He got a yellow ribbon and Uncle Milton said that it meant that he got the third prize and it is a disgrace. I said that I didn’t think it was a disgrace at all and besides a yellow ribbon is much prettier on a dark brown dog than a blue one and after all he didn’t come in fourth or fifth or sixth and third prize is something important too. Then I called Brownie to come upstairs with me and I think I love him more because he didn’t get an important first prize and I told him so. Then I went to Sunday school and learned the tenth commandment. It is “Thou Shalt Not Covet.” To Covet is to want things other people have. God says you shouldn’t want your neighbor’s ox or his wife or his ass or his children or anything at all.

November 23, 1912

From 8-year old Hilda’s diary:

This is the day of the Dog Show but I have a bad cold so I couldn’t go. Early this morning, Uncle Milton gave Brownie a bath and combed and brushed him ‘till he was fluffy and beautiful Then he surprised him with a nice new green collar and leash. He promised to bring him home as soon as he got his prize. I can hardly wait.

November 22, 1912

From 8-year old Hilda’s diary:

Miss Cashen said today we would go to England but first had any of us remembered to find out about Rembrandt? None of us had and she said that we were very. Lazy children and she was disappointed because she wanted to hear about him. I wanted to say that if she wanted to hear about him why didn’t she find out about him herself, but I am trying to be good so I didn’t say anything. Then she said that she thought that maybe she would find a book about him down in the library and if we would excuse her for a minute she might find it. She did find one…

It was a story called “Night Watch” and that is the name of Rembrandt’s most famous painting. Rembrandt lived in Amsterdam. It was a very beautiful and rich city and full of beautiful things to paint but Rembrandt didn’t like to paint beautiful things, he liked to paint ordinary ones that nobody else looked at and tried to avoid, like poor people in ugly torn clothes and once he even painted a horrid bloody piece of meat hanging in a butcher shop. Of course he didn’t sell many paintings because no one wants pictures of poor people or bloody meat. But one day some very rich men came to see him. They wanted their portraits painted, but not singly, they wanted a group picture because they thought it would be cheaper that way. Rembrandt said that he would do it. They thought it would be nice if he would paint them sitting around a beautiful dinner table or all in a row on a marble bench in the park with tulips around them. But Rembrandt said that he wanted to paint them at their work when it was their turn to stay up all night and see to it that the fires in the city were controlled and that it was kept safe from burning. There were no fire engines in those days. So they said all right and every day for a long time they came and posed for him. He worked hard on the picture and he was very pleased and told them it was going to be a fine one but he wouldn’t let them see it until it was finished because he wanted it to be a surprise. Well one day it was finished. He thought he would give a party and he invited all of them to his house. There was a big curtain hanging in front of the picture, just like at the Orpheum, I guess. Rembrandt gave them all front seats. Then he pulled the curtain aside. He thought they would all jump up and clap their hands and hug his shoulders and tell him just how much they all liked the picture and their special portraits but they didn’t. They just sat there and made faces at it. They were really as mad as hornets and they began to make noises. The picture was very dark, just as dark as it really is at night. There was a light in just one tiny part of it so some of the men’s faces were clear and shiny but the others were sort of brownish and shadowy and some of them couldn’t even find themselves. They began to fight with each other because the ones in the dark part of the picture thought they shouldn’t pay as much as the ones in the light part. And all of them were furious at Rembrandt for not painting them the way they had told him to do it in the first place. Then Rembrandt lost his temper. He screamed and shouted and he shook his fist in their faces and he called them pigs and idiots and all kinds of other things and he threw them out of his house and told them never to come back. So they didn’t but Rembrandt became famous without them.

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You can take a “tour” of the Night Watch painting at this link to the Rijksmuseum.

November 21, 1912

From 8-year old Hilda’s diary:

Last night I told Grandfather that I had been a very good girl for a long time, over a week, and I thought he should tell me some more of that story. He asked Alma if that was true, had I really behaved nicely all week long and not yelled or stamped my feet and Alma said yes it was true, that not once had she had to bring me the little glass bowl. Every time I lose my temper and cry, Alma brings me a little glass bowl for my tears. She always says that if I can fill it she will buy me a pretty goldfish to swim around in it. That would be lovely but so far I have never been able to cry enough to fill even half. Really, I can’t even get it hardly wet because the tears run down my face and not into the bowl. So because I was good, Grandfather told me more of the story.

He asked me where he left off and I said in the kitchen with the cow. So he went on…

And he told me that he was the eldest of those boys, his brothers, but of course I knew that already. He said that they were so poor that he has trouble even now thinking that he isn’t poor anymore. They had meant to eat only once a week. Not nice lamb chops and steaks and veal cutlets like we have but stringy boiled beef just out of the water and it didn’t come to the table all trimmed with pretty parsley. His mother always cut it in half right away and gave half to his father and then she divided the rest evenly amongst the rest of the children. She never kept even a tiny piece for herself, she just always said that she wasn’t hungry or that meat isn’t good for her. Grandfather now thinks that she must have been terribly hungry but she wanted to feed her children but he didn’t know it then. He said that she was like that. She just wanted everything for everyone else and nothing for herself.

Then he said that if his mother had gone to visit Tante Esther, she would have been glad to take the money out of her bank and buy her some roses. Then he said that a present isn’t a present unless you have to go without something yourself so that you can buy it. Then he talked a long time about how much fun it is to give things away and how good it makes you feel inside yourself. But buying the roses for Tante Esther didn’t make me feel good inside. It just made me feel mad. I didn’t tell him that and I didn’t like that part of the story. Grandfather said that he was sleepy and he guessed I was too and he would tell me more some other time.

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I was very interested to read this entry because it tells part of my own family’s story. Hilda’s grandfather Jacob was my grandmother’s father Adolf’s brother. According to my grandmother’s story about her family history, her father was the eldest son, while Grandfather says he was. Both stories agree about the poverty they were born into. My grandmother wrote: “One fine day, the oldest son Adolf, then 10 years old, packed his bundle to be off. He had neither money nor any idea where to go but for the fixed plan to go to school wherever he would have an opportunity.” Adolf was about 10 years older than Jacob. Regardless of exact timing, perhaps my great-grand-father left home as the house filled with more mouths to feed, leaving Jacob as the eldest brother living with their parents.

November 20, 1912

From 8-year old Hilda’s diary:

After school today I went to the beach with Grandmother and Grandma Uri. We sat on a bench on the sand but I wasn’t allowed to play in it because Grandmother never allows me to get my clothes dirty. So I didn’t have any fun. Grandma Uri had brought her ear trumpet along and I had to nearly scream into it because it was so windy and the wind seemed to blow the sound away and I could hardly hear what she said to me. The conversation wasn’t very interesting but I had an idea how hard it was for her not to be able to hear what everyone is talking about.

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Photo (circa 1910) courtesy of SAN FRANCISCO HISTORY CENTER, SAN FRANCISCO PUBLIC LIBRARY

November 19, 1912

From 8-year old Hilda’s diary:

Aunt Dora has moved into a beautiful new house. It is just like a house in a story book. It is of dark brown wood and it sits in the middle of a lovely garden and it is full of tiny windows that open out and they all have window boxes of red geraniums. Inside, all the rooms have big fireplaces and all the windows have window seats with cushions, so you may either curl up and go to sleep in them or read. And the rooms have one or two steps going from one to another. Grandmother says the steps are just crazy, that they are only good for people to break their necks on. I love them, I don’t know why but it seems exciting to go up a few steps and then come down a few steps into another room. I love sitting on them and just sit and pretend about the rooms and imagine having parties in each one. The kitchen is all blue and white, like a picture in a story book I have about a little boy and girl who live in Holland. And there are so many books on both sides of the fireplace. The books are not for children but I found a long poem called “Hiawatha.” It is about an Indian boy who is very brave and strong and he knows all the animals in the forest and loves them. Reading it is a little like listening to music. Sometimes it sounds like a bar in four-four time. When I came home and told Aunt Tillie about it, she was angry because I was supposed to be punished for not keeping my room neat and Aunt Tillie told me that I wasn’t to read for a whole day and I forgot. I didn’t mean to break my word but now I may not read for two whole days.

November 18, 1912

From 8-year old Hilda’s diary:

This afternoon after school I had to stand up for hours and hours and hours while Miss Sarah lengthened all my dresses. I don’t know Miss Sarah’s last name because that is all anyone ever calls her. She is a very little lady who always has her teeth full of pins and it looks as if they are sticking in her tongue. She never laughs or smiles, she just always sews and sews except sometimes when the pins aren’t in her mouth she does talk a little and nearly always about funerals. Sometimes she talks about what she had to eat in other people’s homes but she really loves funerals and tells us what they wore, the dead people, and how they looked and if they looked really dead or if they looked like they did in life and if they received a lot of flowers and if their families cried or looked glad.