I’ve been tossing around the idea of writing a fictional book based loosely on Addie, Marlboro Man’s great-great grandmother, the Original Pioneer Woman who sold chickens and eggs to Indians and saved enough money to help her husband, Fred, start his own business. Set both at the turn of the century and in the present day, the book will require loads of research and immersion into the era in which Addie lived. Fortunately for me, much of Addie’s history is preserved in a family history volume that was published by a relative over twenty-five years ago. In addition, Addie’s actual home—the same home in which M.M.’s great-grandfather, Big Pa-Pa, was raised—is an official historical site in our state. And in the ten years Marlboro Man and I have been married, I’d never once darkened the door of the place until last week. So the day after Christmas, we made an afternoon of it.
It was beyond wonderful to walk where Addie walked…
In the sleeping porch just off her bedroom, where everyone slept in the sweltering summer. In sleeping porches, the windows on either end of the room would be opened at night, allowing the cool breezes to pass through. Ahh, I could fall asleep just thinking about it. All these quilts were Addie’s. I covet them.
Here’s the dresser in Addie’s bedroom, where she primped and made herself purty for Fred. See those fuzzy little clumps? They’re made entirely of Addie’s own hair. Apparently, gals used to collect hair from their hairbrushes and use the pieces to cover their buns. Pretty inventive, I’d say!