I just finished reading two of the sweetest books. They would make great read aloud stories for early primary school children, or even starter devotional type reading material for an upper elementary aged child.Â Arleta Richardson teaches Biblical lessons and precepts as she brings the past alive with her wonderful storytelling skills.Â I was totally charmed by both, In Grandma’s Attic, and, More Stories from Grandma’s Attic.
It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old…or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!
You never know when I might play a wild card on you!
and the book:
In Grandma’s Attic
More Stories from Grandma’s Attic
David C. Cook (April 1, 2011)
***Special thanks to Karen Davis, Assistant Media Specialist, The B&B Media Group for sending me a review copy.***
Arleta Richardson grew up in a Chicago hotel under her grandmotherâ€™s care. As they sat overlooking the shores of Lake Michigan, her grandmother shared memories of her childhood on a Michigan farm. These treasured family stories became the basis for the Grandmaâ€™s Attic Series.
Remember when you were a child, when the entire world was new, and the smallest object a thing of wonder? Arleta Richardson remembered: the funny wearable wire contraption hidden in the dusty attic, the century-old schoolchildâ€™s slate that belonged to Grandma, an ancient trunk filled with quilt piecesâ€”each with its own special storyâ€”and the button basket, a miracle of mysteries. But best of all she remembered her remarkable grandmother who made magic of all she touched, bringing the past alive as only a born storyteller could.
So step inside the attic of Richardsonâ€™s grandmother. These stories will keep you laughing while teaching you valuable lessons. These marvelous tales faithfully recalled for the delight of young and old alike are a touchstone to another day when life was simpler, perhaps richer, and when the treasures of family life and love were passed from generation to generation by a childâ€™s questions and the legends that followed enlarged our faith. These timeless stories were originally released in 1974 and then revised in 1999. They are being re-released with new artwork that will appeal to a new generation of girls.
In Grandma’s Attic:
List Price: $6.99
Reading level: Ages 9-12
Paperback: 144 pages
Publisher: David C. Cook (April 1, 2011)
More Stories from Grandma’s Attic:
List Price: $6.99
Reading level: Ages 9-12
Paperback: 144 pages
Publisher: David C. Cook; 3 edition (April 1, 2011)
AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:
In Grandmaâ€™s Attic â€“ Chapter 1
Pride Goes Before a Fall
â€œGrandma, what is this?â€
Grandma looked up from her work. â€œGood lands, child, where did you find that?â€
â€œIn the attic,â€ I replied. â€œWhat is it, Grandma?â€
Grandma chuckled and answered, â€œThatâ€™s a hoop. The kind that ladies wore under their skirts when I was a little girl.â€
â€œDid you ever wear one, Grandma?â€ I asked.
Grandma laughed. â€œIndeed I did,â€ she said. â€œIn fact, I wore that very one.â€
Here, I decided, must be a story. I pulled up the footstool and prepared to listen. Grandma looked at the old hoop fondly.
â€œI only wore it once,â€ she began. â€œBut I kept it to remind me how painful pride can be.â€
I was about eight years old when that hoop came into my life. For months I had been begging Ma to let me have a hoopskirt like the big girls wore. Of course that was out of the question. What would a little girl, not even out of calicoes, be doing with a hoopskirt? Nevertheless, I could envision myself walking haughtily to school with the hoopskirt and all the girls watching enviously as I took my seat in the front of the room.
This dream was shared by my best friend and seatmate, Sarah Jane. Together we spent many hours picturing ourselves as fashionable young ladies in ruffles and petticoats. But try as we would, we could not come up with a single plan for getting a hoopskirt of our very own.
Finally, one day in early spring, Sarah Jane met me at the school grounds with exciting news. An older cousin had come to their house to visit, and she had two old hoops that she didnâ€™t want any longer. Sarah Jane and I could have them to play with, she said. Play with, indeed! Little did that cousin know that we didnâ€™t want to play with them. Here was the answer to our dreams. All day, under cover of our books, Sarah Jane and I planned how we would wear those hoops to church on Sunday.
There was a small problem: How would I get that hoop into the house without Ma knowing about it? And how could either of us get out of the house with them on without anyone seeing us? It was finally decided that I would stop by Sarah Janeâ€™s house on Sunday morning. We would have some excuse for walking to church, and after her family had left, we would put on our hoops and prepare to make a grand entrance at the church.
â€œBe sure to wear your fullest skirt,â€ Sarah Jane reminded me. â€œAnd be here early. Theyâ€™re all sure to look at us this Sunday!â€
If we had only known how true that would be! But of course, we were happily unaware of the disaster that lay ahead.
Sunday morning came at last, and I astonished my family by the speed with which I finished my chores and was ready to leave for church.
â€œIâ€™m going with Sarah Jane this morning,â€ I announced, and set out quickly before anyone could protest.
All went according to plan. Sarah Janeâ€™s family went on in the buggy, cautioning us to hurry and not be late for service. We did have a bit of trouble fastening the hoops around our waists and getting our skirts pulled down to cover them. But when we were finally ready, we agreed that there could not be two finer-looking young ladies in the county than us.
Quickly we set out for church, our hoopskirts swinging as we walked. Everyone had gone in when we arrived, so we were assured the grand entry we desired. Proudly, with small noses tipped up, we sauntered to the front of the church and took our seats.
Alas! No one had ever told us the hazards of sitting down in a hoopskirt without careful practice! The gasps we heard were not of admiration as we had anticipatedâ€”far from it! For when we sat down, those dreadful hoops flew straight up in the air! Our skirts covered our faces, and the startled minister was treated to the sight of two pairs of white pantalets and flying petticoats.
Sarah Jane and I were too startled to know how to disentangle ourselves, but our mothers were not. Ma quickly snatched me from the seat and marched me out the door.
The trip home was a silent one. My dread grew with each step. What terrible punishment would I receive at the hands of an embarrassed and upset parent? Although I didnâ€™t dare look at her, I knew she was upset because she was shaking. It was to be many years before I learned that Ma was shaking from laughter, and not from anger!
Nevertheless, punishment was in order. My Sunday afternoon was spent with the big Bible and Paâ€™s concordance. My task was to copy each verse I could find that had to do with being proud. That day I was a sorry little girl who learned a lesson about pride going before a fall.
â€œAnd you were never proud again, Grandma?â€ I asked after she finished the story.
Grandma thought soberly for a moment. â€œYes,â€ she replied. â€œI was proud again. Many times. It was not until I was a young lady and the Lord saved me that I had the pride taken from my heart. But many times when I am tempted to be proud, I remember that horrid hoopskirt and decide that a proud heart is an abomination to the Lord!â€
More Stories From Grandmaâ€™s Attic
The Nuisance in Maâ€™s Kitchen
When Grandma called from the backyard, I knew I was in for it. She was using her would-you-look-at-this voice, which usually meant I was responsible for something.
â€œWhat, Grandma?â€ I asked once I reached the spot where she was hanging up the washing.
â€œWould you look at this?â€ she asked. â€œI just went into the kitchen for more clothespins and came back out to find this.â€
I looked where she was pointing. One of my kittens had crawled into the clothes basket and lay sound asleep on a clean sheet.
â€œIf youâ€™re going to have kittens around the house, youâ€™ll have to keep an eye on them. Otherwise leave them in the barn where they belong. Itâ€™s hard enough to wash sheets once without doing them over again.â€
Grandma headed toward the house with the soiled sheet, and I took the kitten back to the barn. But I didnâ€™t agree that it belonged there. I would much rather have had the whole family of kittens in the house with me. Later I mentioned this to Grandma.
â€œI know,â€ she said. â€œI felt the same way when I was your age. If it had been up to me, I would have moved every animal on the place into the house every time it rained or snowed.â€
â€œDidnâ€™t your folks let any pets in the house?â€ I asked.
â€œMost of our animals werenâ€™t pets,â€ Grandma admitted. â€œBut there were a few times when they were allowed in. If an animal needed special care, it stayed in the kitchen. I really enjoyed those times, especially if it was one I could help with.â€
â€œTell me about one,â€ I said, encouraging her to tell me another story about her childhood.
â€œI remember one cold spring,â€ she began, â€œwhen Pa came in from the barn carrying a tiny goat.â€
â€œIâ€™m not sure we can save this one.â€ Pa held the baby goat up for us to see. â€œThe nanny had twins last night, and sheâ€™ll only let one come near her. Iâ€™m afraid this oneâ€™s almost gone.â€
Ma agreed and hurried to find an old blanket and a box for a bed. She opened the oven door, put the box on it, and gently took the little goat and laid it on the blanket. It didnâ€™t move at all. It just lay there, barely breathing.
â€œOh, Ma,â€ I said. â€œDo you think it will live? Shouldnâ€™t we give it something to eat?â€
â€œItâ€™s too weak to eat right now,â€ Ma replied. â€œLet it rest and get warm. Then weâ€™ll try to feed it.â€
Fortunately it was Saturday, and I didnâ€™t have to go to school. I sat on the floor next to the oven and watched the goat. Sometimes it seemed as though it had stopped breathing, and I would call Ma to look.
â€œItâ€™s still alive,â€ she assured me. â€œIt just isnâ€™t strong enough to move yet. You wait there and watch if you want to, but donâ€™t call me again unless it opens its eyes.â€
When Pa and my brothers came in for dinner, Reuben stopped and looked down at the tiny animal. â€œDoesnâ€™t look like much, does it?â€
I burst into tears. â€œIt does so!â€ I howled. â€œIt looks just fine! Ma says itâ€™s going to open its eyes. Donâ€™t discourage it!â€
Reuben backed off in surprise, and Pa came over to comfort me. â€œNow, Reuben wasnâ€™t trying to harm that goat. He just meant that it doesnâ€™t â€¦ look like a whole lot.â€
I started to cry again, and Ma tried to soothe me. â€œCrying isnâ€™t going to help that goat one bit,â€ she said. â€œWhen it gets stronger, it will want something to eat. Iâ€™ll put some milk on to heat while we have dinner.â€
I couldnâ€™t leave my post long enough to go to the table, so Ma let me hold my plate in my lap. I ate dinner watching the goat. Suddenly it quivered and opened its mouth. â€œItâ€™s moving, Ma!â€ I shouted. â€œYouâ€™d better bring the milk!â€
Ma soaked a rag in the milk, and I held it while the little goat sucked it greedily. By the time it had fallen asleep again, I was convinced that it would be just fine.
And it was! By evening the little goat was standing on its wobbly legs and began to baa loudly for more to eat. â€œPa, maybe youâ€™d better bring its box into my room,â€ I suggested at bedtime.
â€œWhatever for?â€ Pa asked. â€œIt will keep warm right here by the stove. Weâ€™ll look after it during the night. Donâ€™t worry.â€
â€œAnd we arenâ€™t bringing your bed out here,â€ Ma added, anticipating my next suggestion. â€œYouâ€™ll have enough to do, watching that goat during the day.â€
Of course Ma was right. As the goat got stronger, he began to look for things to do. At first he was content to grab anything within reach and pull it. Dish towels, apron strings, and tablecloth corners all fascinated him. I kept busy trying to move things out of his way.
From the beginning the little goat took a special liking to Ma, but she was not flattered. â€œI canâ€™t move six inches in this kitchen without stumbling over that animal,â€ she sputtered. â€œHe can be sound asleep in his box one minute and sitting on my feet the next. I donâ€™t know how much longer I can tolerate him in here.â€
As it turned out, it wasnâ€™t much longer. The next Monday, Ma prepared to do the washing in the washtub Pa had placed on two chairs near the woodpile. Ma always soaked the clothes in cold water first, then transferred them to the boiler on the stove.
I was in my room when I heard her shouting, â€œNow you put that down! Come back here!â€
I ran to the kitchen door and watched as the goat circled the table with one of Paâ€™s shirts in his mouth. Ma was right behind him, but he managed to stay a few feet ahead of her.
â€œStep on the shirt, Ma!â€ I shouted as I ran into the room. â€œThen heâ€™ll have to stop!â€
I started around the table the other way, hoping to head him off. But the goat seemed to realize that he was outnumbered, for he suddenly turned and ran toward the chairs that held the washtub.
â€œOh, no!â€ Ma cried. â€œNot that way!â€
But it was too late! Tub, water, and clothes splashed to the floor. The goat danced stiff-legged through the soggy mess with a surprised look on his face.
â€œThatâ€™s enough!â€ Ma said. â€œIâ€™ve had all I need of that goat. Take him out and tie him in the yard, Mabel. Then bring me the mop, please.â€
I knew better than to say anything, but I was worried about what would happen to the goat. If he couldnâ€™t come back in the kitchen, where would he sleep?
Pa had the answer to that. â€œHeâ€™ll go to the barn tonight.â€
â€œBut, Pa,â€ I protested, â€œheâ€™s too little to sleep in the barn. Besides, heâ€™ll think we donâ€™t like him anymore!â€
â€œHeâ€™ll think right,â€ Ma said. â€œHeâ€™s a menace, and heâ€™s not staying in my kitchen another day.â€
â€œBut I like him,â€ I replied. â€œI feel sorry for him out there alone. If he has to sleep in the barn, let me go out and sleep with him!â€
My two brothers looked at me in amazement.
â€œYou?â€ Roy exclaimed. â€œYou wonâ€™t even walk past the barn after dark, let alone go in!â€
Everyone knew he was right. I had never been very brave about going outside after dark. But I was more concerned about the little goat than I was about myself.
â€œI donâ€™t care,â€ I said stubbornly. â€œHeâ€™ll be scared out there, and heâ€™s littler than I am.â€
Ma didnâ€™t say anything, probably because she thought Iâ€™d change my mind before dark. But I didnâ€™t. When Pa started for the barn that evening, I was ready to go with him. Ma saw that I was determined, so she brought me a blanket.
â€œYouâ€™d better wrap up in this,â€ she said. â€œThe hay is warm, but itâ€™s pretty scratchy.â€
I took the blanket and followed Pa and the goat out to the barn. The more I thought about the long, dark night, the less it seemed like a good idea, but I wasnâ€™t going to give in or admit that I was afraid.
Pa found a good place for me to sleep. â€œThis is nice and soft and out of the draft. Youâ€™ll be fine here.â€
I rolled up in the blanket, hugging the goat close to me as I watched Pa check the animals. The light from the lantern cast long, scary shadows through the barn, and I thought about asking Pa if he would stay with me. I knew better, though, and all too soon he was ready to leave.
â€œGood night, Mabel. Sleep well,â€ he said as he closed the barn door behind him. I doubted that I would sleep at all. If it hadnâ€™t been for the goat and my brothers who would laugh at me, I would have returned to the house at once. Instead I closed my eyes tightly and began to say my prayers. In a few moments the barn door opened, and Reubenâ€™s voice called to me.
â€œMabel,â€ he said, â€œitâ€™s just me.â€ He came over to where I lay, and I saw that he had a blanket under his arm. â€œI thought Iâ€™d sleep out here tonight too. I havenâ€™t slept in the barn for a long time. You donâ€™t mind, do you?â€
â€œOh, no. Thatâ€™s fine.â€ I turned over and fell asleep at once.
When I awoke in the morning, the goat and Reuben were both gone. Soon I found the goat curled up by his mother.
â€œWill you be sleeping in the barn again tonight?â€ Ma asked me at breakfast.
â€œNo, I donâ€™t think so,â€ I said. â€œIâ€™ll take care of the goat during the day, but I guess his mother can watch him at night.â€
Grandma laughed at the memory. â€œAfter I grew up, I told Reuben how grateful I was that he came out to stay with me. I wonder how my family ever put up with all my foolishness.â€
Grandma went back into the house, and I wandered out to the barn to see the little kittens. I decided I wouldnâ€™t be brave enough to spend the night there even if I had a big brother to keep me company!
3 thoughts on “What’s in Grandma’s Attic?”
My mother had a button tin which I now have. I always loved playing in it; still do. They are little gems.
Those do look like neat books.
Good review, Quilly! It reminds me of old times both in the story content and in our days of early marriage.
We got this book when it first came out, probably it was one in our line that we sold. It came out, first publication, in 1974. That would be for us, not Karen.
It is probably with all our daughter’s Dr. Suess, etc, books that we never gave or threw away. The same with “More Stories from Grandma’s Attic” as it came out in 1979 when Karen was five. We were still selling books then.
I’ll look. 🙂 [:) means don’t hold your breath!]
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