Dear America A Journey to the New World Diary of Remember Patience Whipple

August, 1621

August 1, 1621

Plimoth Settlement

Dear Imp,

Father has made me a stool! - a stool, Imp, just for me.  I think I might be the only child in the settlement to have a stool all to her own.  And it be the first piece of real furniture in our house.  We have not bed nor table.  We just use a barrel for a table.  I do not count shelves or pegs as furniture.  It was so dear of him.  He is making a real spoon for Blessing.  There hardly are any spoons or forks in the entire settlement.  I do not know when he found the time for this work.  We are so busy from before dawn til darkness what with tending the garden and fields and at least every other day he goes fishing, and when we are not doing one of those chores we are making nets for the fishermen.  I have never worked so hard before.  This is why I can only get to writing you every few days or so.  And it will get worse as the time of harvest nears.  Already I can feel the light being sliced off the day's end, just a tiny sliver at a time.

But think of it, Imp.  I have my stool and shall sit by the fire on it for a winter's eve.  If only Mam were here, how cozy it would be.  I wonder if one ever grows old enough not to miss her mother?

Love,
Mem

August 2, 1621

Plimoth Settlement

Dear Imp,

Guess who else has a stool?

Air Nose!

Love,
Mem

August 5, 1621

Plimoth Settlement

Dear Imp,

Here is something else I do not like about Mistress Hannah Potts.  She "tsks" when she doesn't like something or the manner in which something is being done.  I was working with her in the pea patch today and I heard this tsk-tsking sound.  At first I thought it to be a gigantic, annoying mosquito, but no, it was Hannah Potts.  Sticking her little tongue between her lips tsking at the way I was snapping off the pea pods.  She then tsked very loudly and said, "Like this."  That was all, a tsk and two words.  I don't like that.  It is very irritating.

Love,
Mem

August 9, 1621

Plimoth Settlement

Dear Imp,

I feel simply terrible.  I hope Mam in heaven was not looking on, but undoubtedly she was.  After four days in the pea patch with Hannah Potts and her tsking, I turned to her and I said, "Can't you just say what I am doing wrong?  Tell me, instead of this tsking and clicking with your tongue?"  Well, her face did crumple right before me.  Her lovely gray eyes swam in tears, and she fled the field.  And if I didn't feel bad enough then, I find here when I return a note folded on my pallet.

Here it is:

Dear Remember:

I am so sorry to have tsked as you have described.  It is not good of me and this might be very hard for you to understand, but since my dear husband died and my baby, too, is now buried at his side, I have had a very hard time speaking.  I cannot always put my thoughts into words.  I am getting better but speech comes very hard for me.  My tsk sounds do not really always denote criticism.  With the peas it is nothing that you are doing wrong but the fact that so many of them seemed scorched.  Our yield be so small for all the work we have done.  But I cannot think how to express it.  I know you are a patient child and will now understand better my affliction.

May God's blessings be upon you,
Hannah Potts

She knows I am a patient child, Imp.  Oh dear, I be mortified.  The poor thing.

Love,
Mem

August 15, 1621

Plimoth Settlement

Dear Imp,

I went out today to a field near the pond where Father and Squanto and I had gone eeling.  I picked a lovely bunch of wildflowers.  They be New World wildflowers so I know not the name.  But they make a lovely bouquet.  As I stared down at them, I thought this would be a nice thing to do for Mistress Potts.  So I stuck them in our smallest pipkin with water and left them at her house with a note.  For over a week now I have been trying to think of a way to make up for my rudeness.  I know this cannot make up really, but perhaps it shows a better aspect of me.

Love,
Mem

August 20, 1621

Plimoth Settlement

Dear Imp,

There is more talk these last days about the expedition to the Massachusetts province.  Father is to be included.  Everyone is very excited.  The only problem is that it will leave us shorthanded at a very busy time of the year - harvest.  This is when I wish more than ever that I be a boy and could go with them.

Love,
Mem

August 25, 1621

Plimoth Settlement

Dear Imp,

Today I was out in the field near the large pond.  I wandered to the inland end of the pond and heard children laughing.  It could have been our pilgrim children, for when Indian children laugh it does sound just like ourselves, which makes me think all children on earth must laugh alike.  I crept closer and crouched down in the berry bushes and peered through.  There, where the lily pads grow so thick, a half a dozen Indian children were swimming and diving.  When they came up they clutched the roots of water lilies.  They are gathering them for something.  I shall ask Squanto.

But what is amazing to me is that these children are so strong and healthy despite playing about in the water.  We have been taught to fear water, not simply because one might drown but because we think that it washes off the body's natural protection.  I am beginning to wonder about this now.  I think if it is not true, I should like to learn how to swim.  I, of course, would not go naked.  Fear not, Imp.  I would wear at least two petticoats, my waistcoat, and my coif.  I would not wear shoes, but yes, stockings.

Love,
Mem

August 26, 1621

Plimoth Settlement

Dear Imp,

I asked Squanto about the water lily roots.  He says that they are dried and pounded into a powder that heals stiffness of joints as well as stomachaches!

I want to go back there.  I am haunted by it.  I have figured out a better swimming dress.  I would wear my two petticoats and my blouse, but not the waistcoat.  I would then tie the third petticoat under my arms, smock-style, which will be as modest as the waistcoat but allow more movement.

Love,
Mem