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“I have been at home.”: A Midwife’s Tale and A Request for Your Own

25 Mar

A Midwife's Tale
Martha Ballard’s diary entries frequently contained this note when she wasn’t out delivering babies in Hallowell (now Augusta), Maine. She lived and operated in a world both uniquely familiar and starkly foreign to our own, a tight-knit 18th century community in which she played the vital role of midwife. She called on neighbors, attended church, worked in her garden, remembered anniversaries, and raised a family with her husband Ephraim, ten years her senior. Most importantly and notably, she kept a diary over the course of her last 27 years of life, recording her work, the daily goings-on in her community, and her life in over 10,000 entries between 1785 and 1812.

As I write this, I have also been at home. Hoboken is practicing social distancing due to COVID-19, and I can’t go out unless I need groceries or other essentials. If I want to take a walk for some fresh air, I can, but I have to keep six feet apart from other people. I could in theory take my cat for a walk in his stroller to get outside, but I’d worry that people would assume a human child was in there and I’d be branded an irresponsible parent. On the flip side, this means I’ve been getting a lot of reading done, so I finished my reread of Laurel Thatcher Ulrich’s A Midwife’s Tale in a few days. It was to be the historical nonfictional book club’s discussion book for April, but the date is now up in the air for the time being. I hadn’t read it since my undergraduate days at Gettysburg for my historical method class, but I recalled learning a lot about how to work with primary sources from it, so I picked it for the book club – and I am so glad I did.  If you are interested in participating in our virtual book discussion starting on Friday, March 27 check out our calendar page.

In a way, it’s very relevant right now. When I first read the book, it was for purely educational purposes. I was reading it to learn how to utilize primary sources to tell an individual’s story, and I used what I learned within the next year when I took on my undergraduate senior thesis project, which involved extrapolating a story from a soldier’s court-martial. A reread of it now, though, gives the book new meaning. Right now, we’re living through a historical event. Life is going on as normally as possible as we remain in lockdown due to COVID-19, only going out for essentials and working from home if possible. Everyone’s searching for some normalcy, but at the same time we all know we’re living through something historic. I’ve decided to collect articles on COVID-19 and Hoboken for a future vertical file, but I’m also keeping a log of my activities during this period of social distancing because I know someday I’ll want to remember it all – or someone coming after me might want to know what it was like to live through this.

Martha didn’t particularly consider her diary to be historic. She mostly used it to record her daily life, the comings and goings of friends, family, and neighbors, and her midwifery business. She probably didn’t anticipate that it would be today sitting in a historical society, a testament to life in frontier Maine before Maine was even a separate state from Massachusetts. She definitely wouldn’t have imagined that nearly 200 years after her death in 1812 a historian would find her diary there and use it to patch her life together for modern readers. Martha wasn’t the sort of person who intended to be famous, if her no-nonsense diary entries are any indication. She’s now the subject of a Pulitzer Prize-winning piece of historical nonfiction. She’ll be remembered for eternity. She’s achieved immortality, so sought after by rulers of the past, and yet she was an ordinary, everyday woman with an ordinary, everyday – yet crucial – job.

In the spirit of Martha Ballard, I’d like to make a request of you all. If you read this blog post, please consider keeping a journal or a log of your life during this time. When we’ve returned to business as usual here in Hoboken, donate that journal or log or a copy of it to us here at the Hoboken Public Library. We’d love to preserve your story so that future generations can remember what life was like in this difficult time for all of us – and it’ll give you another thing to do during quarantine! We would appreciate your help in recording history – indeed, we’re living through it right now! Send us your activities, your photos, your videos – anything you feel we should save! This may not be the best historical event to live during, but let’s make the most of it and make sure that we’re remembered for what we did to save and protect others during this outbreak!  After 9/11, HPL collected people’s memories and it was published by Wiley in publication September 11: Hoboken Remembers that is now part of our local history collection.

You can send any reflections, images, videos, or other items about your experience during quarantine you want preserved to stephanie.diorio@hoboken.bccls.org, and I’ll make sure they’re safe and protected for the future!

Oh, and one more thing – whilst you’re stuck at home, fill out that Census! You can do it online, and you’ll be helping future historians, archivists, and genealogists too! Your descendants will be able to find you in 72 years when they’re looking!

Stay safe, keep six feet apart, and wash your hands – we’ll get through this!

Written by:
Steph Diorio
Hoboken History Librarian

If You Read One Non-Fiction History Book in Your Life, Make It This One: The Johnstown Flood

4 Dec

Johnstown Flood
I know, those are strong words to lead anything with, but trust me, I don’t toss words around willy-nilly. When I decided to start a non-fiction history book club at the library, I knew that this had to be the first book we read because of its broad appeal – if you’re not used to reading non-fiction, it reads enough like a thriller that you’ll be sucked in anyway, and even if you are used to reading non-fiction, as I am, you’ll whip through it faster than you’ve ever read non-fiction before. That’s the strength of David McCullough’s writing. You’d never know this was the man’s first book – it’s that polished.

The Johnstown Flood happened in May of 1889, and with a death toll of over 2,200 people it was the deadliest disaster in the United States until the 9/11 terrorist attacks. The basic story is well-known – a club of wealthy industrialists from Pittsburgh bought an old dam in South Fork, Pennsylvania, turned it into a man-made lake, and didn’t make the correct modifications to the aging structure, which led to it collapsing during the storm of the century, releasing the water, and destroying town after town in the valley below, killing anyone caught in its path. The lucky ones made it to high ground in time; some fortunate individuals survived by floating on roofs, mattresses, and other debris passing by. A number of people were famously caught in a massive pile-up of debris at a stone bridge in Johnstown proper, dying there when the pile caught fire. When all was said and done, the entire town was in ruins, save for a few buildings, and thousands of people had perished. Thousands more were displaced and had lost everything, their lives shattered.

Johnstown rebuilt, of course, and started to do so almost immediately as news of the disaster spread and aid was rushed in from all over the country. Within days, Clara Barton had the American Red Cross in town, and she personally stayed there for five months. Fundraisers in major cities brought in massive amounts of financial aid. As soon as the rails were repaired, which the Pennsylvania Railroad set about doing immediately, train after train of food, clothing, and blankets arrived to help feed the victims. For those of us who were affected in some way by Superstorm Sandy, as many Hobokenites were, it would have been a familiar and welcome sight – people have always been people, and we rush to help one another whenever we can.

So if the story is so well-known to history, why read this book? David McCullough wrote it in 1968, which means that he had access to survivors who were still living, and their personal accounts of what happened and what they experienced are truly incredible. Moreover, by telling the stories of individual people in the town before he even gets to the flood, McCullough gets you invested in them and their lives, and then when the flood hits you’re left wondering which of them are going to survive. This leads you to frantically turn the pages, and before you know it, you’ve finished the relatively short book and you’re really emotional and probably angry at a bunch of long-deceased Pittsburgh millionaires. I won’t mention the names of the interviewed survivors in here so as not to spoil the experience for you, but their stories are absolutely harrowing and it’s mind-boggling that they made it out alive.

In short, The Johnstown Flood was the perfect way to start off a history book club, and it was the first book that popped into my mind when I decided to do this because I knew just how engaging a read it was. If you want to experience the events of 1889 yourself (in a decidedly safer and drier way than the people in the book), come to the second floor reference desk at the library and borrow a copy to read, then join us for a discussion of the book on January 6 at 6:30 pm in the lower level of the library. We’ll be delighted to have you, and don’t worry – after Sandy we installed flood doors down there!  You can also listen to it as a digital audiobook from eLibraryNJ.  You can stream a documentary about the flood on Hoopla narrated by Richard Dreyfuss .

Also check out HPL’s other book clubs this month if you enjoy Sci-Fi/Fantasy and/or Mysteries!  This month you can join us for discussions of Time and Again by Jack Finney and The Alienist by Caleb Carr.

Written by:
Steph Diorio
Local History Librarian/Archivist at the Hoboken Public Library