A few years ago I visited a National Historic Site in Ohio, the home of assassinated U.S. president, James A. Garfield. The place is interesting and beautiful. Over 10,000 square feet of house includes the very first presidential library, which was created by Garfield's wife. She had the foresight to collect all materials relating to him and to his presidency, because a man who had been president for only six months before his untimely death could be easily lost to history.
What I'm actually getting at is something that bothers me when looking into the past. It's the twisted perspective as to what constitutes poverty now and in the past. Today I'll talk about the past.
I descend from a long line of extremely poor people. To me, poverty means struggling to put a roof over one's head and food on the table. It means a dearth of money to pay for the niceties of life--music lessons, vacations, books and magazines, higher education. Poverty comes with a fear of the future, kind of like experiencing an earthquake. Will it fade away and become nothing of consequence, or will it grow in strength and duration, such that it will damage our lives forever?
In Garfield's home a few times the tour guide referred to the fact that they were poor, they didn't have much money, etc. Of course she was referring to earlier years of their lives, but still. (Side note: this tour guide was good; she knew her stuff, and she didn't balk that I turned a 45-minute tour into a 75-minute tour due to my complicated questions). Anyhow, the Garfields bought this farm about 1875, six years before James A.'s death, which had an older house on it at the time. Gradually they enlarged it to accommodate their family. It grew to over 9000 square feet. I expressed my astonishment at the size of it and the guide reminded me that they had 9 people living there. Given that we housed a family of seven in a 2200 square foot house (which in itself is relatively luxurious to those in other countries), I couldn't imagine having the Garfield's space, 1000 square feet per person.
My Irish ancestors lived in thatched cottages about the size of my kitchen, with at times over a baker's dozen of people, and a pig or two being raised indoors (meant for the rent required by the money-grubbing landlords). Had they the Garfield house, they could have moved their entire village inside and still felt lost in the space. My Carpatho-Rusyn ancestors also lived in tiny cottages that usually had the barn and tool storage attached to one end of the house. It was common for some family members to sleep in the barn area given the abundance of bodies crowded into the cottage. So that is my frame of reference to the past.
I once did some family history research for a woman who showed me photos of her family and places they had lived. She commented on one place, "This is where my family summered." Summered! This was the first time I ever heard "summer" used as a verb. My ancestors "summered" in whichever end of their one-room cottage or tenement felt cooler. That is, when they weren't out scratching the soil for potatoes they might have missed from last fall's harvest, those being the difference between starvation and survival.
What I'm actually getting at is something that bothers me when looking into the past. It's the twisted perspective as to what constitutes poverty now and in the past. Today I'll talk about the past.
I descend from a long line of extremely poor people. To me, poverty means struggling to put a roof over one's head and food on the table. It means a dearth of money to pay for the niceties of life--music lessons, vacations, books and magazines, higher education. Poverty comes with a fear of the future, kind of like experiencing an earthquake. Will it fade away and become nothing of consequence, or will it grow in strength and duration, such that it will damage our lives forever?
In Garfield's home a few times the tour guide referred to the fact that they were poor, they didn't have much money, etc. Of course she was referring to earlier years of their lives, but still. (Side note: this tour guide was good; she knew her stuff, and she didn't balk that I turned a 45-minute tour into a 75-minute tour due to my complicated questions). Anyhow, the Garfields bought this farm about 1875, six years before James A.'s death, which had an older house on it at the time. Gradually they enlarged it to accommodate their family. It grew to over 9000 square feet. I expressed my astonishment at the size of it and the guide reminded me that they had 9 people living there. Given that we housed a family of seven in a 2200 square foot house (which in itself is relatively luxurious to those in other countries), I couldn't imagine having the Garfield's space, 1000 square feet per person.
My Irish ancestors lived in thatched cottages about the size of my kitchen, with at times over a baker's dozen of people, and a pig or two being raised indoors (meant for the rent required by the money-grubbing landlords). Had they the Garfield house, they could have moved their entire village inside and still felt lost in the space. My Carpatho-Rusyn ancestors also lived in tiny cottages that usually had the barn and tool storage attached to one end of the house. It was common for some family members to sleep in the barn area given the abundance of bodies crowded into the cottage. So that is my frame of reference to the past.
I once did some family history research for a woman who showed me photos of her family and places they had lived. She commented on one place, "This is where my family summered." Summered! This was the first time I ever heard "summer" used as a verb. My ancestors "summered" in whichever end of their one-room cottage or tenement felt cooler. That is, when they weren't out scratching the soil for potatoes they might have missed from last fall's harvest, those being the difference between starvation and survival.
an old Irish cottage
Cottage found in eastern Slovakia, currently part of a museum exhibit. Back in the day the roof would have been thatched.
