This morning, lying in a quiet shivasana at the end of my yoga class, I realized that I had just gotten through the entire hour and fifteen minutes of class while mentally wandering the rooms of Emily's house, plotting out scenes for my novel. It was a perfect example of NON-midfulness. (Please don't tell my teacher!)
In the 2 weeks since I got home from Iowa, I've entertained out-of-town company, had a wisdom tooth extracted, tried to organized the thousands of pictures and scans I took of Emily's diary and her farm in Manchester--and written nearly 60 more pages of my novel (in addition to the 50 I had written before I left). Inspired doesn't even begin to describe how I feel!
The book is humming along, and has nearly taken over my thoughts--both waking and sleeping. Although I haven't yet dreamed about Emily, I have dreamt about plotpoints and settings. I watch TV, and consider the construction of dialogue. I read, and take note of description and setting. I had no idea that the process of writing a book could be so all consuming!
Today, I had the very great pleasure of speaking--not quite face-to-face, but on the phone--with the woman whose writing about Emily inspired my whole project. Dr. Judy Temple studied Emily's diary as her PhD project, publishing it (and multiple articles about Emily and her life and diary) in 1989; nearly 25 years later, it found its way into my hands. We talked for almost an hour and a half, sharing stories about our trips to Iowa, our visits with Wilbur--and particularly sharing stories of Emily Gillespie, the person who brought us together.
I took notes about ideas Dr. Temple floated past me, things she suggested I look for in the diary, and lines Emily wrote that she thought might have been inspired by the 19th century novels Emily loved. But mostly we talked about Emily and her desire to imagine her life on her own terms in a time when few of the choices women today have about their own lives were available to her. Dr. Temple told me the story of one of her young students--the first time she taught about Emily's diary--who asked why Emily didn't just go back to school and get a degree, so she could get a job and get away from her abusive husband. We had a good laugh over that one, but I must admit I've had the same sort of reaction a few times, wondering why she didn't just leave him when she claimed to be living in fear of her life. Times were certainly different 150 years ago!
But we also talked about the fact that Emily's diary offers only one side of the story. She painted a picture of her husband that reinforced the image of herself she wanted the world to see--a suffering saint married to a harsh and somewhat unstable man. What was the truth? Well, in her diary she's proven herself a gifted writer with a good imagination--the facts are likely somewhere outside of the story on the page, in a tale not yet told.
But wouldn't I just love to find it?!
Thursday, July 31, 2014
Sunday, July 13, 2014
It's 5 am in Omaha
My sister, Kathie, just left to catch her 6 am flight back to Sacramento, and although I should be sleeping (or at least trying to), my mind is just too full to allow for that at the moment. I keep remembering all the little details I've gleaned about Emily's life and home that I haven't written down yet--like the depth of the well that James Gillespie dug (60 feet, but the water is at 40 feet), or that when Wilbur bought the house, there were no stairs leading up to the second floor bedrooms (Emily's son, Henry, had decided they weren't straight, and tore them out to redo them, but never quite got around to it. There had apparently been a ladder in their place for about 10 years or so). Or that when I sent a picture of the main street through Manchester to my husband, he asked if there was an old-fashioned ice cream parlor nearby--because the place looked just like Disney's Main Street USA (It does!), or that the population is about 5200 ("give or take," according to Wilbur).
These are just a few of the thoughts that are keeping me awake right now. But, I guess it's the memory of a walk I took yesterday morning down N. Franklin Street in Manchester about 10:45 am that is most on my mind at the moment; I had wanted to pay one more visit to Emily's grave before we left the area. My time there the day before with Wilbur had been full of trying to figure out who was who among all the Gillespie relatives, wondering when (and by who) all the headstones had been purchased because they all looked the same age and design (we decided on Sarah, Emily's daughter, since she was the last Gillespie to die), and discussing how many of the people mentioned in the diary might be buried in this cemetery. It had been an enjoyable visit, but didn't really allow time for introspection--or the conversation that I wanted to have with Emily.
So, I told my sister over breakfast that we needed to go back to Manchester before we could leave; I needed to talk to Emily. We drove the 23 miles due east down Hwy. 20 (before we headed west toward Omaha), and at 10:45 am I left the air-conditioned car to brave the 2 block walk through humidity that had returned with a vengeance after an overnight rain. I crossed the lawn, past the locked gate across the cemetery driveway (the gardener was mowing the lawn, so I'm guessing they kept the gates locked until he was finished) into an entirely empty cemetery. The mosquitoes were thick so I didn't stay too long, but I did have a thing or two I needed to say to Em and her daughter before I could go home to finish writing my book.
Standing in front of her headstone, I told Emily that I'd do my best to tell her story in a way that she would be pleased with, to make sure that another generation would remember her--to make her proud. I assured Sarah that all her efforts to preserve her mother's diary wouldn't go to waste. And finally, I leaned down and picked up a small and fragrant branch that had fallen from the tree that shaded the Gillespie graves, placed it on Em's headstone, and asked her to be my audience as I wrote. (I also asked her to please be a cooperative subject; I was going to need all the help I could get!)
I walked back up the street just a few moments later, with at least 5 new mosquito bites and a sense that I was now really ready to write. Emily may not be the central character of my book project, but she and her diary are certainly its heart-- and that heart is beating pretty enthusiastically right now, right along with my own.
My flight doesn't leave until 4 pm, but I have a feeling I won't be going back to sleep for awhile. If you'll excuse me, though, I think I have some writing to do...
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These are just a few of the thoughts that are keeping me awake right now. But, I guess it's the memory of a walk I took yesterday morning down N. Franklin Street in Manchester about 10:45 am that is most on my mind at the moment; I had wanted to pay one more visit to Emily's grave before we left the area. My time there the day before with Wilbur had been full of trying to figure out who was who among all the Gillespie relatives, wondering when (and by who) all the headstones had been purchased because they all looked the same age and design (we decided on Sarah, Emily's daughter, since she was the last Gillespie to die), and discussing how many of the people mentioned in the diary might be buried in this cemetery. It had been an enjoyable visit, but didn't really allow time for introspection--or the conversation that I wanted to have with Emily.
So, I told my sister over breakfast that we needed to go back to Manchester before we could leave; I needed to talk to Emily. We drove the 23 miles due east down Hwy. 20 (before we headed west toward Omaha), and at 10:45 am I left the air-conditioned car to brave the 2 block walk through humidity that had returned with a vengeance after an overnight rain. I crossed the lawn, past the locked gate across the cemetery driveway (the gardener was mowing the lawn, so I'm guessing they kept the gates locked until he was finished) into an entirely empty cemetery. The mosquitoes were thick so I didn't stay too long, but I did have a thing or two I needed to say to Em and her daughter before I could go home to finish writing my book.
Standing in front of her headstone, I told Emily that I'd do my best to tell her story in a way that she would be pleased with, to make sure that another generation would remember her--to make her proud. I assured Sarah that all her efforts to preserve her mother's diary wouldn't go to waste. And finally, I leaned down and picked up a small and fragrant branch that had fallen from the tree that shaded the Gillespie graves, placed it on Em's headstone, and asked her to be my audience as I wrote. (I also asked her to please be a cooperative subject; I was going to need all the help I could get!)
I walked back up the street just a few moments later, with at least 5 new mosquito bites and a sense that I was now really ready to write. Emily may not be the central character of my book project, but she and her diary are certainly its heart-- and that heart is beating pretty enthusiastically right now, right along with my own.
My flight doesn't leave until 4 pm, but I have a feeling I won't be going back to sleep for awhile. If you'll excuse me, though, I think I have some writing to do...
Friday, July 11, 2014
The House that Emily (or at least her husband) Built
This morning, at shortly after 9 am , I found myself standing in the 150+ year old house where my diarist Emily Hawley Gillespie lived with her family until her death in 1888. Her family continued to live there until 1954 when her daughter Sarah (who died in 1955 at the age of 90) sold it to a high school junior named Wilbur Kehrli. This amazing and generous gentleman allowed my sister and I to descend on him for the day, and not only showed us around the house and barn where Emily lived and worked, but then took us on a sightseeing tour of northeast Iowa--all the way to the Mississippi River.
Wilbur, who claims to be retired (but really isn't), answered so many of my questions about Emily's family (especially her son Henry who Wilbur had known since he was a boy), told us about the changes he had made to the house since he bought it and what it had looked like when Emily lived there. He talked about farming, raising cattle and pigs, community dynamics, and even helped us find Emily's grave in a very large cemetery. I told him things I had learned about the Gillespie's and other families, and even information about his own farm (gained from Em's diary) that he hadn't known. He even took us out to lunch at his favorite spot--Breitbachs', built in 1852, it is the oldest eating establishment in Iowa--and everywhere we went he told people about my book. (I've promised him both an autographed copy of the completed manuscript and the chance to name "his" character in the book. So if you read it, and come across a neighbor named Alex, it will be Wilbur!). I'll be processing this trip for a long time, I know--and I've come up with so many interesting things that will never make their way into this book that I have enough information for several other research projects
Tomorrow we wind up our trip with a drive back to Omaha, and hopefully a chance to visit with our second cousin from Bellevue, NE. Because of my sister's day-late arrival, we didn't get to see her, but we are hoping to remedy that tomorrow night.
There is a prediction of thunderstorms tomorrow, but our weather has been so beautiful this week, so I am convinced it will continue--at least, I hope so! This trip has been well nigh perfect, but I must admit I am anxious to get home and get to work while everything is still fresh in my mind.
But I will miss this beautiful place and the lovely people that we've met here. Maybe when the book is done (and published), I can do a book tour in Iowa--after all, it's as much their story as mine!
Wilbur, who claims to be retired (but really isn't), answered so many of my questions about Emily's family (especially her son Henry who Wilbur had known since he was a boy), told us about the changes he had made to the house since he bought it and what it had looked like when Emily lived there. He talked about farming, raising cattle and pigs, community dynamics, and even helped us find Emily's grave in a very large cemetery. I told him things I had learned about the Gillespie's and other families, and even information about his own farm (gained from Em's diary) that he hadn't known. He even took us out to lunch at his favorite spot--Breitbachs', built in 1852, it is the oldest eating establishment in Iowa--and everywhere we went he told people about my book. (I've promised him both an autographed copy of the completed manuscript and the chance to name "his" character in the book. So if you read it, and come across a neighbor named Alex, it will be Wilbur!). I'll be processing this trip for a long time, I know--and I've come up with so many interesting things that will never make their way into this book that I have enough information for several other research projects
Tomorrow we wind up our trip with a drive back to Omaha, and hopefully a chance to visit with our second cousin from Bellevue, NE. Because of my sister's day-late arrival, we didn't get to see her, but we are hoping to remedy that tomorrow night.
There is a prediction of thunderstorms tomorrow, but our weather has been so beautiful this week, so I am convinced it will continue--at least, I hope so! This trip has been well nigh perfect, but I must admit I am anxious to get home and get to work while everything is still fresh in my mind.
But I will miss this beautiful place and the lovely people that we've met here. Maybe when the book is done (and published), I can do a book tour in Iowa--after all, it's as much their story as mine!
Tuesday, July 8, 2014
A day in the Archives
It was almost surreal. After months spent thinking about seeing and studying Emily's diary, I was suddenly sitting at a table in the library of the State Historical Society of Iowa with a sheet of paper to sign, essentially "checking out" the three boxes of Emily's diary materials sitting in front of me, waiting for me to open them. I asked my sister to take my picture as I signed, and then I opened the first box. Within minutes, I had opened them all and found the diaries written by Emily's own hand (the first five volumes were recopied--BY HAND--by Emily's daughter Sarah in an effort to preserve them), and sat down to read. I spent the next 7 hours (with my long-suffering sister by my side) reading, making notes, and taking hundreds of pictures of entries that I had never read in their entirety. It was really amazing.
The wonderful people in the archives were so enthusiastic about my project, and took me upstairs to see items that had been donated by the descendants of the family left behind when Emily moved to Iowa from Michigan. We saw the most unusual thing I'd ever seen-- a beautiful "hair flower" family tree sculptural thing (seriously, I'm not sure what to call it, but it was exquisite!) that she had made from human hair (taken from family hairbrushes for the most part. Apparently this was a thing that people did, so that your family tree would contain not only all of your genealogical information, but the DNA of your relatives as well (although I'm not sure they knew that then). I also discovered that Emily was a prolific poet. There are folders full of her poems in the boxes!
Tomorrow morning I'll get my first look at the diary materials that Emily wrote first--before she began her revisions during recopying (and definitely before her daughter took over the revisions/ recopying). Apparently she made notes on backs of envelopes and scraps of papers before she wrote them down for posterity. She was editing from the beginning.
Speaking of editing, I'm making a few plots changes to my book already. I can't imagine the sort of changes awaiting once I've seen the rest of the diary-- and Emily's house! Iowa has inspired me, and I can't wait to get back to work on the writing!
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The wonderful people in the archives were so enthusiastic about my project, and took me upstairs to see items that had been donated by the descendants of the family left behind when Emily moved to Iowa from Michigan. We saw the most unusual thing I'd ever seen-- a beautiful "hair flower" family tree sculptural thing (seriously, I'm not sure what to call it, but it was exquisite!) that she had made from human hair (taken from family hairbrushes for the most part. Apparently this was a thing that people did, so that your family tree would contain not only all of your genealogical information, but the DNA of your relatives as well (although I'm not sure they knew that then). I also discovered that Emily was a prolific poet. There are folders full of her poems in the boxes!
Tomorrow morning I'll get my first look at the diary materials that Emily wrote first--before she began her revisions during recopying (and definitely before her daughter took over the revisions/ recopying). Apparently she made notes on backs of envelopes and scraps of papers before she wrote them down for posterity. She was editing from the beginning.
Speaking of editing, I'm making a few plots changes to my book already. I can't imagine the sort of changes awaiting once I've seen the rest of the diary-- and Emily's house! Iowa has inspired me, and I can't wait to get back to work on the writing!
Sunday, July 6, 2014
Greetings from Iowa!
As I type, I am in Kalona, Iowa right down the road from several Amish farms. A few hours ago, buggies were driving up and down the road as their various owners were making their ways home after spending the afternoon visiting with neighbors after church. They dress in their "Sunday best" for the day, and right after service, they all get together at someone's house for a big Sunday dinner. At the end of the afternoon, they climb in their buggies to make the trek home. Although they don't really like it if you go to their farms and take pictures (although, they apparently enjoy talking to strangers), they are just fine with it when they are driving down the road--at least so says our host here at the Carriage House B&B.
So far this trip has been amazing. There was that little glitch when my sister's flight out of Sacramento was cancelled, and she arrived 23 hours after she was supposed to, but she got a night in Phoenix out of it, and I got breakfast alone at Karrays' Cafe in Bellevue, NE--where they are apparently not sure about outsiders eating Saturday breakfast alone. It was an experience, though, and I read a lovely article in The Atlantic about genius and the synergy of opposition, particularly as it related to John Lennon and Paul McCartney. For a life-long Beatles fan, it was a lovely way to spend a meal! (And the coffee wasn't bad either.)
But back to the trip: we drove through Des Moines this morning and found the house where my grandparents lived when our mother was born, got stuck in road construction trying to find a Starbucks so this caffeine-dependent Washington girl could survive the morning's drive across the state (totally unsuccessful by the way), and drove through farmland so green it could put Ireland to shame. It was beautiful!! We also drove through the Amana Colonies north of Iowa City before making our way to a diner where we ate grilled cheese sandwiches and hand dipped ice cream cones, and finally ended up here in Kalona, where we made friends with the dog (a golden retriever named Zoe), five horses, three cats, and a chicken named "Chicken." We sat under a tree and listened to the wind in the trees while my sister was on the lookout for more buggies-- and a better picture than the last one! It was lovely, restful-- and humid!
The humidity--although not unexpected--can be a bit overpowering. I guess since its only been in the 80s its not as bad as it can be, but since the weather is turning toward hot(ter), I guess I'll get a chance to see how much worse it can get. But as long as there are no floods or tornados, I'm ok with it!
Tuesday morning we head to the archives and the real reason for the trip, but for today (and tomorrow), we are playing tourist in a beautiful part of the country--and enjoying the peace and quiet!
So far this trip has been amazing. There was that little glitch when my sister's flight out of Sacramento was cancelled, and she arrived 23 hours after she was supposed to, but she got a night in Phoenix out of it, and I got breakfast alone at Karrays' Cafe in Bellevue, NE--where they are apparently not sure about outsiders eating Saturday breakfast alone. It was an experience, though, and I read a lovely article in The Atlantic about genius and the synergy of opposition, particularly as it related to John Lennon and Paul McCartney. For a life-long Beatles fan, it was a lovely way to spend a meal! (And the coffee wasn't bad either.)
But back to the trip: we drove through Des Moines this morning and found the house where my grandparents lived when our mother was born, got stuck in road construction trying to find a Starbucks so this caffeine-dependent Washington girl could survive the morning's drive across the state (totally unsuccessful by the way), and drove through farmland so green it could put Ireland to shame. It was beautiful!! We also drove through the Amana Colonies north of Iowa City before making our way to a diner where we ate grilled cheese sandwiches and hand dipped ice cream cones, and finally ended up here in Kalona, where we made friends with the dog (a golden retriever named Zoe), five horses, three cats, and a chicken named "Chicken." We sat under a tree and listened to the wind in the trees while my sister was on the lookout for more buggies-- and a better picture than the last one! It was lovely, restful-- and humid!
The humidity--although not unexpected--can be a bit overpowering. I guess since its only been in the 80s its not as bad as it can be, but since the weather is turning toward hot(ter), I guess I'll get a chance to see how much worse it can get. But as long as there are no floods or tornados, I'm ok with it!
Tuesday morning we head to the archives and the real reason for the trip, but for today (and tomorrow), we are playing tourist in a beautiful part of the country--and enjoying the peace and quiet!
The Braham girls send you greetings from Iowa!
Thursday, July 3, 2014
Packed and ready to go!
Tomorrow morning at 10:30, I'll be on a flight to Omaha. Nine months ago when I first came across Emily Gillespie's diary, I never thought it would lead me nearly halfway across the country in an effort to discover the woman who wrote it--yet here I go!
Just this week, I've managed to get in contact with the gentleman who lives in the house Emily and her husband built about 150 years ago--and he's offered to show me around. I've gotten a list of the contents of 10 boxes of documents left behind by Emily and her daughter, now in the possession of the Iowa State Archives, and have made arrangements to have the first two of those boxes waiting for me in the library bright and early Tuesday morning. Those documents include not only Emily's diary (in various versions), but also letters written both to her and by her to family and friends. What a treasure trove awaits me!
Just this morning I spoke with a woman I've never met, but who shares a genealogy with me. She is my maternal grandmother's youngest sister's daughter (whew!), and my second cousin (at least I think that's what she is to me. I've never figured out how that second cousin vs. first cousin-once-removed thing works...). I met her mother--my great Aunt Pat--when I was about 10, but she and I have never met. What a gift to be able to reconnect with a side of our family who stayed behind in the Midwest when my grandparents moved to California! I can't wait!
Over the next 10 days, I'll be covering a lot of ground in a discovery of a past left behind by many-- my grandparents, Emily and her family--and I am SO excited to begin! If you'd like to join me on this journey, stay tuned; I'll be posting my discoveries right here!
I'm off to the Heartland!
Just this week, I've managed to get in contact with the gentleman who lives in the house Emily and her husband built about 150 years ago--and he's offered to show me around. I've gotten a list of the contents of 10 boxes of documents left behind by Emily and her daughter, now in the possession of the Iowa State Archives, and have made arrangements to have the first two of those boxes waiting for me in the library bright and early Tuesday morning. Those documents include not only Emily's diary (in various versions), but also letters written both to her and by her to family and friends. What a treasure trove awaits me!
Just this morning I spoke with a woman I've never met, but who shares a genealogy with me. She is my maternal grandmother's youngest sister's daughter (whew!), and my second cousin (at least I think that's what she is to me. I've never figured out how that second cousin vs. first cousin-once-removed thing works...). I met her mother--my great Aunt Pat--when I was about 10, but she and I have never met. What a gift to be able to reconnect with a side of our family who stayed behind in the Midwest when my grandparents moved to California! I can't wait!
Over the next 10 days, I'll be covering a lot of ground in a discovery of a past left behind by many-- my grandparents, Emily and her family--and I am SO excited to begin! If you'd like to join me on this journey, stay tuned; I'll be posting my discoveries right here!
I'm off to the Heartland!
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