Alice in the Boarding House

Alice Howe 1888

After divorcing her alcoholic husband in 1901, Alice found herself poverty stricken with five children to care for. Having a large home as part of the divorce settlement, she calculated the cost of room and board and then advertised six rooms for rent. 

An eclectic group of men were soon living under her roof. The boarding house rules were simple: No chewing tobacco or alcohol, breakfast at six, and dinner served exactly twelve hours later. 

One additional rule applied at meal times: Polite conversation was required to keep your seat at the table.







There was plenty of political strife and poverty across the nation yet Alice demanded that meal time conversations have, “Ample decorum with no vulgarities.”

Hundreds of meals were shared by a former banker, a craftsman, two steelworkers, a millworker, and a school teacher. These men came from different segments of society, yet shared a single wash room and ate meals together. 

The haughty banker knew how to return America to prosperity, but he dared not express it with any vehemence because Alice stood ready to clang a heavy spoon against her cast iron pot and order him to leave the table. 



Despite differing political opinions, the men’s mealtime conversations were without rancor. 

Eventually, each one found steady work and left the confines of Alice’s boarding house. But I daresay, no one would ever forget that having a seat at the table was a privilege earned by being respectful. 




Fast forward to the 21stCentury. Now Americans have a seat at the social media table to discuss solutions to big problems. 

Notice how conversations escalate to anger in a cyber-second? It would seem Alice’s cast iron pot would help in a world of spiteful tweets and posts. 

Alas, the niceties of respect for differing opinions seems to be from a bygone era. But perhaps someone will arise with a cyber version of the cast iron pot and spoon.

P.S. And what happened to Alice? Oh, the boarding house millworker fell in love with her. He married her and adopted her five children. In 1907 they had a son. Alice is my great-grandmother. I admire her grit, her boarding house rules, and thanks to my mom, I have her large cast iron pot.

Popular posts from this blog

Counting the Cost

Image
Something big is missing in this photo. Let me explain. Here in my hometown, the Lower Elwha Klallam Tribe prepared a parcel of land for a new hotel. Plenty of planning and architectural designs were evaluated. A gemstone of a hotel would be built across from the waterfront—a beautiful, restful place welcoming travelers. A true four-star facility.   They cleared the aging brick structures that had been fading away between Front Street and Railroad Avenue. Then the pandemic hit, shortages of labor and supplies, add in the costly inflation that followed. Everything stopped.   But this is what I admire about the Elwha Tribe: they have counted the cost. They didn’t want to move forward and take on tremendous debt. They would rather move slowly and be financially ready, rather than begin building and then letting it sit unfinished.   Counting the cost is something I should have done earlier in life when I didn’t know what high interest rates would do to our farming cost...
Read more

Summertime Music

Image
During the summer months, in an outside seating area, a delightfully painted piano sits with a sign that says, “Play me”.   It was just before 8 pm as I walked past the piano. My bus would be arriving soon, and I still have another ten minutes to walk before reaching my bus stop. But no one is around. It’s a beautiful warm evening. I pulled out the piano bench and sat down. The sun was behind me, and the piano keys reflected its glow. I had no music in front of me, only the songs within me. Notes drifted into the air.  In those brief moments, the magic of music and summer came together. Isn’t that how it is? Summertime music has a way of lingering in our minds and lasting a lifetime. As I stood and grabbed my things, I heard distant clapping—I guess I wasn’t alone, after all.
Read more

Planting Good Seeds

Image
Harvest will always depend on what we plant and how well we care for our crop.    Looking over my seed packets, I notice they’re different than the ones I planted before. One package is called Word seeds. The directions say that each of my words is a seed, so it cautions me to think before I speak. Harsh words don’t produce sweet, nourishing fruit. These seeds will require thoughtful care in the garden. I see some Volunteer seeds. Those extra hours I tend to fritter away are going to be planted in a useful project.   It looks like time isn’t wasted in this garden plot. Next are some Love seeds—the directions are interesting: get up each day and love others. No specifics are given—just do something for someone every day. The seed package shows pictures of smiling faces. I smile back. As I’m ready to head to the garden with my seeds, a package falls to the ground. I open it. Inside are the tiniest seeds I’ve ever seen—but the directions s...
Read more