Dorcas Smucker - Downstairs the Queen is Knitting

A LSO BY D ORCAS S MUCKER,

Upstairs the Peasants are Revolting

Ordinary Days

Credits

All the essays in this book were first published in the The Register-Guard , Eugene, Oregon, except for Apple Dumplings, which first appeared in The Simple Home Almanac , an online magazine produced by Peggy Hostetler.

The scripture references on are taken from the Holy Bible, King James Version.

The scripture reference on is taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version NIV. Copyright 1973, 1978, 1984 by the International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved.

The publisher has made every effort, without success, to contact the prisoner for permission to reprint his letter and prayer-poem which appear on .

The photo on is by Amy Smucker. The photo on the back cover is by Ruth Swartzendruber.

Cover illustration and design copyright 2008 by Wendell Minor.

Design by Cliff Snyder

DOWNSTAIRS THE QUEEN IS KNITTING

Copyright 2009 by Good Books, Intercourse, PA 17534

International Standard Book Number: 978-1-56148-667-0

Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 2009008219

All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner, except for brief quotations in critical articles or reviews, without permission.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Smucker, Dorcas.

Downstairs the queen is knitting / Dorcas Smucker.

p. cm.

ISBN 978-1-56148-667-0 (pbk. : alk. paper) 1. Country life--Oregon--Willamette River Valley--Anecdotes. 2. Farm life--Oregon--Willamette River Valley--Anecdotes. 3. Smucker, Dorcas--Family--Anecdotes. 4. Willamette River Valley (Or.)--Social life and customs--Anecdotes. 5. Willamette River Valley (Or.)--Biography--Anecdotes. 6. Mennonites--Oregon--Willamette River Valley--Biography--Anecdotes. 7. Spouses of clergy--Oregon--Willamette River Valley--Biography--Anecdotes. I. Title.

F882.W6S54 2009

To Matt, my firstborn

You survived my first, frightened attempt at mothering.

We both survived your attempts to reconstruct the universe.

You will go far, and I am proud of you.

Table of Contents

Introduction

R aising a family is like a canoe trip down the Willamette River. You have a pretty good idea of where you want to go and how you want to get there, but the actual journey involves things you werent expecting: a swift current, dangerous snags, swirling eddies, and lots of seemingly unproductive hard work, as well as the unexpected beauty of leafy sunshine on the water and determined ospreys diving for fish.

This book is a collection of essays about rural life in Oregons Willamette Valley. Its about the strange, surprising journey of family life, about joy and laughter as well as guilt and grace and grief. Its about legacies and children and travels and marriage and loss.

These stories revolve around my husband and me and our six children. Written over a three-year period, they do not appear in chronological order, so you can open the book at random and peruse a chapter of your choice. Each one, I am told, is as long as a cup of coffee. Some are sweet, some black, some with lots of cream.

Growing Up

Silly Putty on the Quilt: This, Too, Shall Pass

L ife is never dull with two preteen boys.

Steven is 11, Ben is 12, and all day, the action never seems to stop. They eat mountains of calories and beg for more the instant the dishes are done. They spring into the air and slap their grimy hands on the door frames every time they walk through. Everything not nailed down, such as eggs or quart jars of green beans, must be tossed into the air and (usually) caught, every napping person wakened, every phone conversation disrupted.

They hold burping contests and comb-and-paper kazoo concerts and karate-chopping-cookies demonstrations. They put rocks in each others ears, whack each other with canoe paddles, and soak each other when theyre supposed to be washing the van. They break their little sisters hoe accidentally, they insist and my favorite china saucer. They feed ice cream to the cat, leave their sandals in the yard for the dog to chew on, and try to hatch tadpoles in quart jars of slimy green water. They put a loaf of bread in the freezer, as instructed, then absentmindedly place a three-pound package of sausage on top of it.

Personal hygiene is a foreign concept. The boys would wear the same T-shirts every day until they stood stiffly at attention under their own power.

With Bens digital camera, they make jittery movies with scenes that plunge sideways and swirl nauseatingly. One boy sweeps to the basket and dunks the ball while the other holds the camera and hollers a commentary, trying to sound like Jerry Allen, the Ducks announcer. Then they huddle their sweaty bodies in front of the computer and replay each scene backward and forward at high speeds, howling with laughter and shoving each other.

Mothering these boys is an exhausting job, complicated by the fact that I also have three older children and a 7-year-old daughter who thinks too much and never stops talking. I wonder what I should do, she says, soaking in the bathtub, if Im all grown up and theres this guy who really likes me and he wants to marry me, but I dont really like him. What should I do, Mom? I mean, he might be nice and stuff. And Id feel sorry for him. But if I dont like him I dont want to marry him, you know?

One day I decided I deserved a break and sat down to eat a slice of pie and read one section of the newspaper. What are the chances, I wondered, that I can get through this pie and this paper without being interrupted? Zero, it turned out. I was interrupted 11 times twice by the phone ringing, once by someone at the door, and eight times by children who desperately needed me.

I spend much of my time averting disaster and dealing with crises, always with the sense that I am forgetting something important and if I only had a moment to catch my breath I would remember what it was. What I need most and seldom get in this stage is perspective, a this-too-shall-pass mentality to give me a sense of humor and a wider view than todays broken eggs on the kitchen floor.

The truth, which I normally am too distracted to recognize, is that I have the perspective I need right under my nose. Matt, who is 20, and Amy, 18, are seldom around and make far less noise than their siblings, so I dont notice them as much. They spent hours in their rooms studying until finals week was over, and now they zip through the kitchen, grabbing an orange, on their way to work. Both of them are responsible young adults who take out the trash or clean bathrooms without complaining and call me on the way home to ask if I need milk or fresh fruit. Now and then, my husband and I sit up late with them and have long, refreshing discussions.

And both Matt and Amy, now that I think of it, used to be 12.

I was cleaning the attic recently when I found a stash of books and magazines: Animals of North America , Encyclopedia of Animal Life , Reptile Digest . It seemed like only yesterday when I had put them in the attic, and only the day before when they were all over Matts room and he was consumed with his interest in animals.

I called Matt up to the attic and asked him what I should do with all these books. He looked them over, maneuvered his tall body down the attic ladder, and said casually, You can give them all to Goodwill.