I promised someone another story set in the pre-World War II days, so here goes. Got your rear view glasses on. Look in my memory bank.
Pete—burning tumble weeds out of fence rows, being careful not to burn the posts. Amy—catching two hens, wringing their necks, dipping them in scalding water and plucking the feathers.
Pete—beaming with pride about his straight plow rows. Amy—dashing into the house to pull down the blinds before the dust storm got there.
Pete—re-plowing field edges that the dust storm ruined. Amy—clearing the wasps out of the windows.
Pete—hearing that the grasshoppers were awful down south a ways. Amy—ordering baby chicks from the catalog.
Pete—giving a shrill whistle for the cows to come home. Amy—filling the rough walls with pads of newspapers so her wallpaper would look smooth.
Pete and Amy—going to town to see who was there.
Pete and Amy—singing in a quartet.
Pete and Amy—taking their kids to church.
Pete and Amy—feeding anyone who dropped by.
Pete and Amy—believing in me.
Notice the gender roles. Yes, I was raised that way! But did you also notice the “do together” times? A valuable pre-World War 2 tradition. Mine was the generation of “working” women. Sometimes I think, “Who am I kidding?”