Depression Era Deception
Grace Prats prayed as she sifted the tainted contents of the “Gay Powder Puff Design” box of Coty Fragrant Face powder. She needed Divine Intervention to endow the flour sifter from her kitchen with magical properties that would transform this substance back to its original state. A miracle was required to restore the gossamer lightness and caressing texture to the face powder in the beautiful pink box.
“Not perfect, but close enough,” she sighed and carefully closed the box. No trace of powder showed on its exterior. To Grace’s eye Mary’s beautifully decorated container looked pristine. Gasping for breath, with each creak of the wooden stairs, she placed back on the dressing table and backed out of her sister’s room.
Aunt Mary was the terror of her siblings and extended family. She had quite the temper. Woe to those who crossed in her path when she was in a mood.
Urination is the recurring theme of this tale.
Family lore has it that my grandmother failed her efforts to toilet train her two year old twin boys.
“They’re almost two years old!” Aunt Mary decided “Enough was enough.” She took over the task, employing a “rat-tailed comb” which incited such fear that the boys scrambled to get on the chamber pot. Even if their pants were still up, they peed in that porcelain bowl. The boys perfected the technique in record time. Grace, no longer plagued with extra wash loads of their soiled underwear, was relieved.
My mother and her cousin were only 3 months apart in age. Grace Prats loved her niece as if she was her own. “I even nursed her and Dode at the same time” she’d say with a sly wink.
Her youngest sister’s child grew up with Grace’s brood of five while the child’s mother, Evelyn, worked at her beauty salon.
Great Depression times meant sacrifices. The family “made do” and shared resources.
Most members, siblings and their families lived with their mother, my great grandmother, Grace Blacklock. My Aunt Pat’s family being the exception, as her father was a well to do business man. Her mother’s salon was successful enough to support their more upscale home. Pat, too young to attend school, spent her days with her cousins, on the farm .Evelyn styled and curled the hair of the Akron’s well to do women.
Clothing was often provided to my grandmother’s children via the generosity of her sister’s thriving beauty shop. Grace appreciated the gifts of various garments, especially expensive winter wear.
The kids on the other hand, well… they were kids. Dode and Pat took their brand new snow pants and draped them over the bedroom lamp to make the room dark enough to play hide and seek.
Midway through the game, the room filled with smoke from smoldering snow pants. Heat from the lamp set the fabric aflame. Much to their embarrassment, the two girls had to wear patched and repaired apparel that winter. Not a happy memory for my grandmother.
Some pranks did make her chuckle- Grace remembered fondly the time the two girls decided to sample the family dog’s milk! Their golden haired Collie named Lady was a wonderful and patient mother to her pups and the kids as well. Lady seemed ambivalent to little girls who cuddled in with her puppies and stole a swig from her teats.
But, their most recent incident caused great consternation.
Coty’s Fragrant Face Powder. The box purchased at the cosmetics counter at O’Neill’s department store downtown, for one whole dollar, quite an extravagant luxury. Advertisements claimed this substance to be the preferred choice of the world’s smartest woman. My grandmother certainly counted her older sister as a member of that posh sounding group. Aunt Mary worked full time and had no children of her own. Her complexion glowed with a porcelain finish provided by Coty’s silky product.
The girls were frightened but equally fascinated by their Aunt Mary. While she worked they’d sneak into her room, paw through the fancy lingerie in the top draw of her bureau, and preen into the hand mirror that rested on her dressing table.
On that particular afternoon, their attention fell on a beautifully decorated pink box. They untied the thin satin ribbon and pulled off the lid. A puff of dust filled their noses and they began to sneeze. Fearing discovery the two grabbed the box and scrambled under Mary’s bed. The big four posted sat off the floor high enough for two little girls to fit beneath. They held their breath and listened, but no footsteps the wooden stairs. They heard Grace humming as she worked in the kitchen. “Whew.”
“To this day” says my Aunt Pat, “I don’t know what compelled us.” She continued the tale of how both she and my mom peed into the box of powder. After executing this feat the fits of giggles attracted the attention of Grace. She wasted no time investigating her sister’s room and found the girls attempting to put the lid back on the container, now filled with defiled beauty product.
Horror filled my grandmother’s face as she discovered her daughter and niece’s prank. Whatever possessed these two little girls? They were always getting into trouble. She shook her head to hide a smile; “What one didn’t think of, the other did.”
My grandmother feared her sister’s wrath. Mary would hit the ceiling, and her infamous comb would tan the hinnies of two little girls, if she discovered her fancy face powder in its current state.
Fortunately the beautiful fluffy pink applicator still sat on the dresser, and had escaped their ministrations. Grace spread out the powder on a linen tea towel to dry. Next she sprayed the mixture with the Eau de Toilet from Mary’s dresser, hoping to mask any unpleasant lingering smell. When the powder was dry again, she carefully pressed the freshly scented talc through her flour sifter.
Satisfied with the results she gingerly spooned the contents back into the fancy box decorated with powder puffs, replaced the fluffy applicator and closed the lid and retied the ribbon. Whispering a prayer, she placed the powder box back in its place of prominence on her sister’s dresser.
Both of the girls knew, even without my grandmother threatening them, to keep silent about the incident.
My Pat reports that my grandmother’s efforts passed muster. A quiet calm reined the household that evening. Aunt Mary’s arrival home and subsequent visit to her room went by without comment. Dinner conversation contained the usual pleasantries and no mentions of any misdeed discovered by the owner of the rat –tail comb.
Aunt Mary never knew about the new and improved ingredient added to her facial regime.
Note for my family- this is a chapter from a book of FICTION, so some of the details may not be entirely accurate, but according to Aunt Pat, the story is true.
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