Prairie Girls

No one said…

our good-byes would be so difficult and have to last forever.

our journey crossing the Atlantic would be so long.

trains rides lasting days would take us across vast America.

so many hardships and crisis could be experienced on the plains.

prairie grasses waved in the wind and beauty was found as far as the eyes could see.

the family would flourish and great bounty be realized.

the snows ran deep and a pioneer Christmas could be so perfect.

how important owning land would be for Papa.

nor how I would rejoice to be a prairie girl.

…But I did and I am.

Richelle

I am Richelle, and I am one of the characters in the authors’ writing project. I arrived on the Great Plains in the 1870’s. My family left Germany, traveled by train, and then boarded an ocean liner headed for America. We did not journey in first class, but at least could afford a stateroom and didn’t have stay in steerage because it was overcrowded, smelly and frightening to me. We could go up on top and get fresh air. The days were long, so going up on deck was a highlight.

My twin brothers and I made friends with a lady who had a dog we walked each day. She spoke German, but offered to teach me to read and write English. I was excited and learned much from her. Although we were traveling on one of the fastest steamboats made, it seemed we would never get to America. We were so lucky not to get seasick, but our luck ended when a North Atlantic storm drove everyone to bed except Papa and me. We took care of the others, but were glad we had eaten all of the sausages and cheeses we brought along because the smell of food made everyone ill.

Reaching New York couldn’t happen fast enough, but that’s telling too much of the story for now. I will share more later.

Travel     

Richelle and her family’s journey to America in the 1870’s was quite different from the travel of today. Several years ago my son, his wife, and three young children traveled abroad. I accompanied them on the non-stop thirteen hour flight. It was my first trip overseas, and I was concerned my luggage either might be the wrong size or too heavy. I might not have my liquids in the proper sized clear bag. Also there might be a problem with my passport or worse yet, I might accidently wear socks with holes for all of the security people to see.

The youngest child was 16 months old, and the other two were three and six. I was concerned about my luggage, but I was worried, very, very worried about the long flight with the children. How many trips to the restroom would there be? Would the airplane food taste good? What if I had a leg cramp and needed to stretch when one of the children was sleeping on my shoulder?

Turns out, my passport was in order, my luggage was not too heavy, my liquids were in the right sized bags, and I remembered to wear new socks. The children did not throw tantrums, and while the food was not wonderful, they did eat some of it. They also enjoyed the cartoons and games on both their electronic devices and the small screen television on the back of the seat in front of them. The trip was good, although we did lose count of the number of trips to the restroom.

Wouldn’t Richelle be surprised to learn her trip could now be made in a matter of hours?

Life on the Prairie

My name is Richelle Thomsen, and I am a ten-year-old girl from Bavaria (Germany) as it is now called in 1874. Mama, Papa, my twin brothers Willy and Andy crossed the Atlantic on a ship, and then traveled across America to the Great Plains by train. We experienced all of the problems most immigrants endured getting here and staying here. My great-uncle Verne helped us get to our homestead and start our new life here in America.

My family faced life and death situations and several times, especially with my brothers, I saved them using my wise ideas and experiences. My story will be appearing soon so you can read about my adventures. Watch this site for more information.

The Box Supper

Richelle, one of the girls we are writing about in our historical narration series, goes to a box supper in the 1870’s at her one-room school. I, too, attended a one-room school and box suppers, but in the 1950’s. This is a picture of an invitation I mailed to my grandma inviting her to a “good program” when I was in the third grade. There was also a box supper combined with the program.



I had volunteered to play a piano solo at the program, and my family was much more concerned about my upcoming performance than what food should go into the box. Unlike my teacher, my family knew I didn’t play the piano. My mother and grandmother quickly taught me to play Jesus Loves Me. I have a vague memory of decorating a shoe box with crepe paper and paste made from flour and water. I suspect the meal was a roast beef sandwich with sandwich spread, homemade bread and butter pickles, an apple, and a piece of chocolate cake. Nor do I remember if there was vigorous bidding for the box. I do know my Grandpa bought my box, and I thought I was so lucky Grandma had received my invitation and brought Grandpa with her.

And…one of my favorite things to do still