avatarMaryJo Wagner, PhD

Free AI web copilot to create summaries, insights and extended knowledge, download it at here

1761

Abstract

e knee were not allowed except in gym class at school.)</p><p id="9ab2">Skirts and dresses must come several inches below one’s knees. I look at old pictures of me with Sharra or other friends, and there I am looking goofy in my ridiculously long skirt.</p><p id="ea13">Jeans could only be worn while horseback riding or going to the mountains.</p><p id="8776">One must eat everything on one’s plate (because there are starving children in India — as if these children could eat what I might choose not to eat.) Once I put a small jar with a lid in my pocket. When my Mother wasn’t looking, I scooped up the disgusting canned peas from my plate and put them in the little jar to be thrown out at school.</p><p id="1899">Celery should never be served at family holiday dinners if the tops have been removed. My Father and I drove all over Denver one Christmas day looking for a Jewish grocer who might be open so we could replace the celery after I’d cut off the tops.</p><p id="6f70">Christmas presents must be opened on Christmas Eve before church because children would want to get up too early on Christmas morning. I was an only child and certainly wouldn’t have rushed down stairs on Christmas morning to rip open presents.</p><p id="76e0">Large dinner napkins used for big family dinners must be ironed and folded in such a way that when a guest picks it up by corner nearest the plate, the napkin drops neatly in the guest’s lap. I was scolded repeatedly for ironing the dinner napkins incorrectly — as if my cousins would have noticed or cared.</p><p id="2350">There is a right way to introduce people to each other and a wrong way. I rarely got it right and I still dread introducing people to each other.</p><p id="10f7">Toys belong in the playroom in

Options

the basement. No toys in bedrooms, except for a stuffed animal by the pillow on the bed. No toys or games in the living room. Books, however, could be in in bedrooms and living rooms. A friend once commented that the living room and dining room at my house looked like a museum. The rooms were too perfect.</p><p id="a48d">I spent a lot of time at my Grandmother’s. It was easy. She didn’t have all these rules. My cousin and I could build houses out of playing cards on the living room floor. We could even shove several footstools together to make a train.</p><p id="11e3">I was not allowed to go into a Catholic church, an Episcopal church, or a synagogue. A Jewish friend who lived in our neighborhood got married. I was not allowed to go to the wedding or reception even though this friend and I had played together as children. My parents went.</p><p id="4d2f">I’ve often wondered about all these rules, many of which my cousins didn’t have to follow. Did the rules make my parents feel safer? If so, safer from what? More respectable? Both my parents cared deeply about what others might think of them.</p><p id="9b81">More family stories:</p><div id="2a46" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/six-stories-about-love-and-loss-ce416ce84ec0"> <div> <div> <h2>Six Stories of Love and Loss</h2> <div><h3>The Complicated and Confusing Histories of Families</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*LFptwEHljIfzfAXwJ5FG7w.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div></article></body>

They Had Rules

Oh So Many Rules

Licensed from 123RF; Sean824

Perhaps they felt the world would fall apart without rules? Maybe they thought their identification as white, Protestant, middle-class parents was dependent on rules? Perhaps breaking one of the rules was was not unlike a sin, except that white, middle-class parents didn’t use the word “sin.” That was a Catholic word. As a child, I suppose I believed the rules came down from God. But if that was the case why did my Protestant cousins not have to live by these rules?

Rules for Sunday

One may not go to movies on Sunday. My friend Sharra could go to movies on Sunday. She would ask me to go along. Her Mother would remind her that Mr. Wagner would not allow MaryJo to go to movies on Sundays.

Women and girls must always wear a hat to church.

And speaking of church, it was forbidden to wear white shoes before Memorial Day. Black patent leather would be worn on Easter.

There were so many rules about Sunday that I learned to hate the day.

General Rules

Comic books were forbidden. (So I read my favorite comic “Little Lulu” at Sharra’s and didn’t tell my Father.)

Women, which would include little girls, were not to go into a restaurant in slacks, jeans, or shorts. On road trips, we’d stop at a cafe in the middle of Kansas, and I’d have to put on the skirt with an elastic waist band over my Bermuda shorts. (Shorts shorter than those that came to the knee were not allowed except in gym class at school.)

Skirts and dresses must come several inches below one’s knees. I look at old pictures of me with Sharra or other friends, and there I am looking goofy in my ridiculously long skirt.

Jeans could only be worn while horseback riding or going to the mountains.

One must eat everything on one’s plate (because there are starving children in India — as if these children could eat what I might choose not to eat.) Once I put a small jar with a lid in my pocket. When my Mother wasn’t looking, I scooped up the disgusting canned peas from my plate and put them in the little jar to be thrown out at school.

Celery should never be served at family holiday dinners if the tops have been removed. My Father and I drove all over Denver one Christmas day looking for a Jewish grocer who might be open so we could replace the celery after I’d cut off the tops.

Christmas presents must be opened on Christmas Eve before church because children would want to get up too early on Christmas morning. I was an only child and certainly wouldn’t have rushed down stairs on Christmas morning to rip open presents.

Large dinner napkins used for big family dinners must be ironed and folded in such a way that when a guest picks it up by corner nearest the plate, the napkin drops neatly in the guest’s lap. I was scolded repeatedly for ironing the dinner napkins incorrectly — as if my cousins would have noticed or cared.

There is a right way to introduce people to each other and a wrong way. I rarely got it right and I still dread introducing people to each other.

Toys belong in the playroom in the basement. No toys in bedrooms, except for a stuffed animal by the pillow on the bed. No toys or games in the living room. Books, however, could be in in bedrooms and living rooms. A friend once commented that the living room and dining room at my house looked like a museum. The rooms were too perfect.

I spent a lot of time at my Grandmother’s. It was easy. She didn’t have all these rules. My cousin and I could build houses out of playing cards on the living room floor. We could even shove several footstools together to make a train.

I was not allowed to go into a Catholic church, an Episcopal church, or a synagogue. A Jewish friend who lived in our neighborhood got married. I was not allowed to go to the wedding or reception even though this friend and I had played together as children. My parents went.

I’ve often wondered about all these rules, many of which my cousins didn’t have to follow. Did the rules make my parents feel safer? If so, safer from what? More respectable? Both my parents cared deeply about what others might think of them.

More family stories:

Family
Rules
Childhood Memories
Growing Up
Parents
Recommended from ReadMedium