Typewriter lullaby

This week I've been sorting through some folders of my past writings.  I discovered a scribbled draft titled, "My changing relationship to typed words."  In the first paragraph there's reference to my mother's typewriter and my reaction to it.

To me, the sound of typing was like a lullaby. 

My mother often typed letters on her old manual typewriter, and did so when she had quiet periods, such as my nap-time, or just after she had put me to bed in the evening. So typewriter sounds were both familiar and comforting to me from a very early age.

Her desk with the typewriter on it was close to my bedroom – just outside my door, in the entrance to the adjacent bedroom where my parents slept. The typing sound carried easily, and meant that "Mommy" was nearby. 

That happy memory served me well in later years, when I was a college student living in a large dormitory.  Other students tended to complain about typing noises coming from nearby rooms. But for me, it was not a problem -- just a familiar lullaby to help me sleep. 

Topsfield Fair foods

In my local newspaper today, in western Massachusetts, I was surprised to see an article about foods at the 2024 Topsfield Fair.  I remember that Fair!  I don't remember much about eating food at the fair, but I do remember some of the rides, events (mutt races!), and buildings full of agricultural animals and exhibits.  I recall my mother proudly bringing selections of her best tomatoes for display and competition. She did that every year, so going to the Fair with my parents was an annual habit during my childhood.

I recall one season when my father brought a "sailing kayak" that he had designed and was trying to promote. He and cousin Jed Derouin had tested the prototype at the Ferncroft pond in Danvers, sailing back and forth. They brought the kayak to the fair and displayed many photos of it in action (with sail, without sail; with, or without, an outrigger for stability, and so forth). They staffed that exhibit booth day after day, and enjoyed taking with visitors. They had fun with the idea, but never found sponsors to develop this product and bring it to market. 

What about the foods at the Fair? Why don't I recall what I ate there?  I'm guessing that my mother packed food for us and/or discouraged the buying of the sugary treats often sold at fairs.  (She was quite serious about preventing tooth decay, and strictly limited our intake of sweets.)

I've previously written of other memories of the Topfield Fair.  To find them, type "Topsfield Fair" in the Search field (at upper left).

Today's newspaper says the Topsfield Fair – "one of the oldest agricultural fairs in the United States" – is running through Monday Oct. 14.   If I lived closer, I'd be tempted to attend the fair and order the "Shepard's Pie Baked Potato" from the Stuffed Potato stand. 

Suprenand's

 

[Click to enlarge image]

I'm glad my mother typed a note to go with these old photos of us riding together. We often went to Mr. Suprenand's farm in the Ferncroft area and enjoyed their animals:

• goats
• ponies: "Mitzi" and "Peanuts"
• a horse for my mother to ride
• chickens 

I have many memories of our times there, but wouldn't have known how to spell the name of the owner. Don't recall ever seeing the name written (except on this label).

My mother, a horse-lover without a horse in those years, had some arrangement with Mr. Suprenand for frequent access to exercise a horse. Often she brought us along to ride his Shetland ponies. We'd go off into woods and fields of nearby properties, having various adventures as we learned to ride and to cope with the antics of the ponies.

I remember riding Mitzi in a large flat field somewhere, perhaps on Essex Aggie land. We were galloping along at a good clip. My braids were probably flying behind my head. Exciting fun! But when Mitzi shied sideways suddenly, I was left airborne without a pony! I recall flipping, head over heels, onto the ground, landing on my back with my braids in water. It all happened so very fast! I had not seen the wet patch ahead, but we think Mitzi was spooked by a flash of sun reflecting off that water. I was wearing a leather jacket, which made a resounding slap on the water surface as I landed. My sister laughed, especially when I stood up, dripping wet. My mother probably managed to catch Mitzi so I could climb on and finish the ride.

Mommy liked to make comments as we rode along, sometimes mentioning a bit of local history. One day she pointed to the remnants of an old foundation, barely visible in the woods. She said that's where someone in our Nichols family had lived. "Had HAD to live," she emphasized, "this far out from town because he had married a Quaker!"  (I was puzzled, thinking what's wrong with marrying a Quaker?  But I never really discussed this with my mother, nor do I know the names of those long-ago people or recall the location of their home.)

I wonder now about my mother's wording on the label: "Suprenand's (site of Nichols homestead, later Ferncroft Inn)." Did she think that the Suprenand property had once belonged to a Nichols relative?  Perhaps even the same one who had married the Quaker? (But maybe I'm confusing two different stories? As best I can recall, the old foundation fragments were somewhere else in the woods, not right near the Suprenand home.) 

Sometimes Mommy needed to discipline us (or teach us lessons to improve our riding) and sometime she disciplined a misbehaving pony. I definitely remember the day Mitzi needed discipline. We were returning from a ride in the woods and I was riding Mitzi, as usual. Suddenly Mitzi began running, and ran very fast all the way back to the barn. I couldn't stop her or even slow her down. I was terrified when she ran directly towards the barn doorway because I could see the metal chain across that opening. Would that stop her? No! She lowered her head under the chain and kept going. The chain hit me in the belly and scraped me right off onto the ground!  I wasn't really hurt, but my mother knew that Mitzi needed a lesson. She brought Mitzi out from the barn, climbed on her back, and rode Mitzi around and around in yard near the barn. My mother's adult legs almost reached the ground as that short pony labored under her load. Mitzi's head was held low, as if ashamed of her bad behavior.  We never again had trouble with Mitzi misbehaving.

Around the barn yard we enjoyed watching other animals, especially very cute baby goats! 

The chickens I remember less fondly. That's probably because of my reckless running and sudden fall from a slippery ramp of a chicken hutch. Oops. That foolishness brought me, with injured nose, to a big hospital, where a nice nurse offered her hand, saying I could squeeze if the pain became too much. I didn't need to squeeze; my nose was quickly repaired.  I have a flat spot on my nose as a small souvenir.

One summer a different arrangement was made with Mr. Suprenand regarding Mitzi and Peanuts. My mother invited those ponies to come to our place (actually, to the large fenced pasture at Locust Lawn, across the street from our home).  I think it was because Mitzi was pregnant, so we weren't allowed to ride her, and the LL pasture could provide plenty of good grass for grazing. (The Suprenand farm was on a rather bare ridge, lacking topsoil.)  We enjoyed having the ponies nearby. Later I became very fond of the young foal, named Champion, and sometimes lay next to him in the grass. His hair was SO soft, and very warm in the sunshine.  Fond memories.