CAN I BEAR TO WRITE ABOUT DIAPERS? by Marisa Masterson

 

Research! It dominates by free time. Also, I want to be as accurate in my historical romances as I can possibly be. That is until I searched out the facts on diapers.

At least, I want to be accurate without ruining the fairytale quality of the romance. I'm afraid details about diapers in the 1800s would or could do just that.

I've imagined squares of flannel cut and hemmed for the baby. A handy pin would hold that material in place. Once the baby was changed, the dirty diaper would go into a pile to be washed. 

Oh, if only that was the truth!

First shock--reusing dirty diapers. Yes, that's what they did. After all, do laundry was a time-consuming chore. For the most part, people only laundered clothes and diapers once a week. 

The dirty diaper would be hung to dry and then reused. It wasn't until the late 1800s that people began to understand about germs and the spread of diseases. Boiling diapers came into regular fashion then.

Second shock--no pins. The safety pin wasn't invented until 1849. Even then, many couldn't afford to purchase pins. Women with infants kept a needle and thread handy. They simply stitched the diaper closed. Some knotted the diapers instead. It would really depend on the amount of extra material around the infant's bottom.

Women used what they had as material to make diapers. In 1887, the first massed produced diapers appeared. After this, folding the diaper into a triangle between the baby's legs came into fashion. And by that time, everyone used pins and changed the baby into a fresh diaper each time.

What do I do? Reusing the diapers is almost too much for a sweet story. Still, you might find this in one of my books fairly soon.

 

A FEBRUARY TOMATO by Marisa Masterson

Many men had left to join a volunteer regiment, including the farmers. Boston, Massachusetts could no longer rely on importing food from the South . Can you guess the year or the circumstances?

Probably, the mention of both the South and regiments brought the American Civil War to your mind. In the early 1860s, some food items that the city of Boston enjoyed from the southern part of the country could not be imported. The cold New England winters definitely didn't allow for raising vegetables during the winter. At least, not without a greenhouse.

Greenhouses are not a recent invention. They date back hundreds of years. One, near Boston, became famous as it was owned by Christopher Gore, a former governor of Massachusetts who wrote about his experiments in agriculture as well as changes he made to make the greenhouse more efficient. This was in Waltham, Massachusetts,  not too far from Boston where my novel begins.

Waltham Place, home of Christopher Gore

I used this idea of greenhouses in my latest novel. Beginning in late 1861,  The Massachusetts Bride features a man who left the war and battles behind him. His mother schemes to see him far away from Boston and any temptation to rejoin his regiment so she gives him the farm she's inherited, knowing of his interest in agriculture.

The mother even has the perfect bride for him, a farm girl who wants to leave the city. Thus, because of the focus on agriculture, I was able to work in a marriage of convenience.

Milo rose and stood directly in front of the small woman. “What exactly are you saying, Mother?”
Her smile spoke of strength. She refused to be stopped or intimidated, it told him. “I won’t have you out on North Street with the poor. Or, for that matter, wasting away all winter alone in that empty farm house.”
“She—” They both turned to look at Fiona. The girl seemed to hunch as she sat on the sofa, obviously wanting to disappear. “—will care for you and help you run the farm. It’s what she knows best, not serving as a maid.”

My hero, Milo, transforms two rooms (one on each floor of the house) into a sort of greenhouse with the large south-facing windows. Gore's writings told me how my hero would need to heat the rooms and so I included a large grate placed into the floor with a furnace directly underneath.

Moving over to the grate in the floor, he felt for heat. In the last week, he’d dug an ash pit into the earth foundation of the house. A small furnace hung above it.
After cutting a hole into the floor of the room, he’d installed the grate. Looking up, he studied the grate in the ceiling. Its hole went straight through to the bedroom above, where he also kept plants. More lettuce and radishes, plants that didn’t need quite as warm of temperatures.

Everything he tried here was based on Christopher Gore’s work and writings. The man lived in nearby Waltham. His studies in the use of manure seemed especially important to Milo. He carefully followed the instructions in Gore’s book, mixing cow dung with the dark soil.

And, because my own daughter was wrestling with starting tomatoes from seeds, I made that Milo's focus, too. So, my hero in the book earns money by selling February tomatoes to the people of Boston.


Massachusetts, 1861



All’s fair in love and war.
Hardly! Neither war nor love have been kind to Milo Roberts. He survived a battle no one expected only to have his brother die next to him. Wounded, he lays in a cot and determines to leave war behind, no matter what his abolitionist father says.
Fiona immigrates to the United States after her cousin promises her a job. While on the ship, she worries about the war ramping up in that country. Little does she know danger is much closer than the battlefields.
At the Boston docks, she escapes the trap set for her. When the woman who gave her safety asks Fiona to marry her son, the girl agrees. She longs to live on the farm that will be his when they marry.
If only her husband isn't so tempting.
While the North and the South war, the battle in their farm house involves unfulfilled love and the tormenting nightmares. What can a man do when his beloved wife prefers the cow’s company? With unrest among the Irish and interference from Fiona’s cousin, will his Irish beauty ever love him?

This is a 216 page sweet romance with a historical background.

FROM YANKEE DOODLE TO BUMPER STICKERS by Marisa Masterson

Yankee Doodle went to town

A-Riding on a pony

Stuck a feather in his cap

And called it macaroni

There has to be someone else out there who's wondered why patriots would call a feather macaroni. The song doesn't make much sense--out of context that is. When I researched about cockades, a light went on in my brain. Now I understand.

First, let me introduce what a cockade is. Ribbons would be formed into the shape of a rosette. Then a button was secured in the middle. Look at the hats in the picture above and you'll see the cockades on the brims.

British officers also wore cockades on their hats. These were nicknamed macaroni. George Washington urged his officers to wear cockades of specific colors to match their ranks. Lack of uniforms caused him to order this.

Washington ordered, "that the field officers may have red or pink colored cockades in their hats, the captains yellow or buff, and the subalterns green." http://home.freeuk.com/gazkhan/03%20Cockade/cockade_new.htm

When ribbon cockades became scarce, revolutionary war soldiers used items from nature, like feathers in their hats. So, when Yankee Doodle stuck a feather in his hat and called it macaroni, he actually was replacing a cockade with something he found around him. This way, other soldiers would know his rank. Amazing, isn't it?

Cockades with the palmetto in the center started appearing in South Carolina even before the state seceded. During the Revolutionary War, soldiers hid in the palmettos and attacked British soldiers from them before retreating back into the thick protection provided by these scrub trees. Remembering that, the state government added the palmetto to its flag that year. Citizens wore the cockades in support of rebellion against a repressive government.

Several states in the south adopted this cockade so that it became a common sight. Women pinned it to their dresses in support of their men who were fighting for the southern cause of freedom from what they viewed as tyranny.

Today, cockades aren't likely to be made from ribbons and buttons. Still, they're seen daily on the bumpers and back windows of vehicles. After the Gulf War, the yellow ribbon became a common sight. A different medium, but the desire to support the troops is the same as what those women in the 1860's experienced. From Yankee Doodle to bumper stickers, we've had a long love afair with cockades in this country.


Interested in learning more about cockades? Check out these sites:

https://www.itemonline.com/news/local_news/ribbons-of-support-the-history-and-uses-of-cockades/article_b331a002-f168-50e7-a2ba-d4798fcdf3f2.html

http://home.freeuk.com/gazkhan/03%20Cockade/cockade_new.htm

https://acwm.org/blog/october-2015-artifacts-month-palmetto-cockades/

http://vcwsg.com/PDF%20Files/American%20Civil%20War%20Confederate%20Secession%20Cockades.pdf

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B086N1529V

Massachusetts, 1861

All’s fair in love and war.

Hardly! Neither war nor love have been kind to Milo Roberts.

He survived a battle no one expected only to have his brother die next to him. Wounded, he lays in a cot and determines to leave war behind, no matter what his abolitionist father says.

Fiona immigrates to the United States after her cousin promises her a job. While aboard ship, she worries about the war ramping up in that country. Little does she know danger is much closer than the battlefields.

At the Boston docks, she escapes the trap set for her. When the woman who gave her safety asks Fiona to marry her son, the girl agrees. She longs to live on the farm that will be his when they marry.

If only the husband wasn’t so tempting.

While the North and the South war, the battle in their farm house involves unfulfilled love and the tormenting nightmares. What can a man do when his beloved wife prefers the cow’s company? With unrest among the Irish and interference from Fiona’s cousin, will his Irish beauty ever love him?

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