Social Distancing, 1930s’ Style

Along with many of you, the nation-wide COVID-19 quarantine has given me some extra time at home. As a result, the pace of my latest project kicked into high-gear, and I’m tearing (metaphorically, of course) through the more than 800 letters sent between my great-grandparents over the course of their courtship, engagement, and early marriage. The letters begin in 1925, continue through the hardships of the Great Depression, and finish in the early 1940s. They chronicle the life and love of a Western Pennsylvania oil worker and his Oklahoma bride, detailing the minutia of their lives that are a puzzle piece in the greater context of working-class life in the midst of one of America’s greatest challenges.

Unlike most archivists, I have the luxury to read each letter in an item-by-item catalog of the collection. Each piece of mail is recorded in a Word document with the sender, address, and date of writing. Then the subject matter and people mentioned in the body of the letter are tagged for future reference. Brief summaries of each year provide an overarching narrative. The letters are then stored chronologically in archival-quality file folders and boxes, easily retrievable and safely housed.

Some of the contents have surprised me. The nonchalance with which my great-grandmother quit high school was unexpected, given that she excelled in her coursework that included Latin, Spanish, writing, and mathematics. My great-grandfather’s confessions of loneliness, homesickness, and a wish to settle down to farming rather than continue traipsing all over the country’s oil fields are often heartbreaking.

And yet some things are decidedly familiar. During a 1930 trip to visit her family in Oklahoma, my great-grandmother encountered a whooping cough outbreak in her hometown. Alone responsible for the well-being of their infant son, my great-grandmother informs her husband that she changes her clothes as soon as she enters her mother’s house and washes her hands thoroughly after each outing to town. She also quarantines the baby from other children. “I hope I did right” is her prayer. History does indeed repeat itself.

So brave your attics, basements, and closets to haul out those old photo albums, family Bibles, and boxes of letters that have been crying for attention. You never know what little gems you may find. Best of all, no mask is required.