The tallest of the two girls is Mary Jane, (Mae) Johnson Wyncoop Lundberg. August 26, 1901-December 16, 1968
How is she connected?
She is the second wife of Phillip Arthur Lundberg
They were married in Illinois on April 03, 1930
To this marriage, no children were born
She would be the female caregiver for Viola and Ella
This is her dit, dit, dit
Mae was born on August 26, 1901. She lived in Akeley, MN and her dad working in the logging industry. The picture is of Mary Jane and her family. Her father's name was Martinus Goldberg Johnson and her mother's name was Ella Evenson. Mae is the tallest of the girls; her sister's name was Myrtle. Her brothers were Ed and Harry. Ella liked spending time with Ella. Yes. Ella and Ella.
According to Daddy, the guys were pretty slow. Myrtle had breast cancer and did not go to the doctor. She was in a locked room at the hospital when she died, you could hear her screaming in pain when one got off the elevator. Her breast was the size of a basketball obviously it went to her brain.
Grandma Mae was kind soul. She had a gentle spirit and was a listener. I spent a lot of time there and other than when Valerie and I put a rug on the floor furnace grate because we wanted to sit there and play cards, her voice never squeaked. We had snuffed out the fire and it was winter and the house was getting cold.
Phil had worn glasses before his stroke. He did not wear them after. Mae wore them as she crocheted fine thread items and didn't have money to buy her own, but she didn't complain. She never complained. She crocheted little dresses, hats, and underwear for a set of little dolls called Bobby and Betty for me for Christmas one year. Bobby is missing; Betty is upstairs in the room of treasures right here in Fargo.
Mae had an electric toaster. You browned one side they turned it over and browned the other. Well, Mae always forgot and burnt side two. She told me that burnt toast made you sing better. I practiced my burnt toast skills on Phil and sang to him every time we went there. Poor dear, Grandpa Phil. If I am very still, I can hear her scraping off the burnt part.
Every morning and evening, she would stand by the sink which had a slop pail below which was hidden by a fabric skirt. She would take a jar of Pond's cold cream off the shelf and apply liberally to her face. She would take the rat out of her salt and pepper hair and brush it. During the day, it was rolled up tight against the nape of her neck and covered with an invisible hair net.
She had two gardens. One was all gladiolas; the other vegetables. Before the Phil's chicken house land was sold, they had three lots. One of them was half vegetables. The flower garden was behind the house before the out house, shed, and garage. She was the kind of grandmother that taught you how to pick carrots. She was also the type of person that allowed you to sit in the garden and eat baby carrots without washing them. I always thought it would be neat to carry those flowers at my wedding.
The carrots that I did not eat were stored in the cellar. She would move the kitchen table and access the basement via a trap door. I didn't like it down there. It was dark and smelled of dirt. Canned vegetables lined the walls.
Off the kitchen, in what one might consider the back entry, the washing machine was stored. It was a speckled white and green machine. The wringer part was covered with a muslin dish towel, she did that so it wouldn't get dirty. Also in the back entry was a galvanized pail filled with water. Long before they had a fridge, that is where she kept the milk. Although I could be convinced the burnt toast made me sing better, I would NOT be convinced that room temperature milk tasted good. The chicken coop clothes were hung on hooks behind the door. There were cupboards above the hooks. I was too small to get into them. There was a rag wipe-your-feet rug on the floor. DO YOU HAVE A WIPE YOUR FEET RUG?
The kitchen was the width of the house. There are windows to the east and to the west. On the east side, there were cupboards and cabinets the length of the room. The counter top had no interruptions. (Remember, the house was plumbed later and then the only running water was in the bathroom). I am not so sure this wasn't an addition.
On holidays and other gatherings, she would heat the water in the tea kettle to wash dishes. Two enamel pans were used; one to wash and one to rinse. These pans were set on the long counter. Mae would wash and Mother would dry. The pans were stored in a cabinet below the washing area.
One of the cabinets had bread and oleo in it. Oleomargerine, as it was called, came in two pound lots. It was sealed in a plastic like bag. It was white and there was a little red M&M size unit sealed inside. The idea was to work the red button into the oleo to make all of the margarine yellow, like butter.
Mae made it look so easy! She let me try it. I will tell you that when I had enough, the red was a little orange in the oleo. I couldn't understand why she didn't just buy butter; it was already yellow. Later I learned the oleo was cheaper and the reason it wasn't yellow was because yellow oleo was not to be sold in Minnesota. Imagine my surprise when I moved to Kansas and Blue Bonnet in quarters were available!
The cupboards were filled with dishes including depression glass and her cup and saucer collection. She sold most of her collection over the years to have extra money. As there were no drawers, the table service was stored in the cupboard with the dishes. The cupboards went to the ceiling; on the top shelf was stored a plate they had gotten as a wedding gift. She would take it down and let me look at it. She gave it to us on our wedding.
Mother saw Mae often. On Sundays she, like all hosts, had afternoon lunch prepared. Although I do not use the depression glass, I look at the oval cherry blossom bowl and see red Jell-o with a layer of bananas on the top. It was a staple with her after Mother and Daddy gave her their old Kevinator refrigerator with a storage bin for potatoes.
There was an apartment size gas stove on the short wall on the north. On top of it was a tea kettle with decades of use. I always wanted to clean out the inside which had a thick coat of natural minerals. I was not allowed to touch or carry the kettle because of the weight and the hot water. I was in the house once after she died, the tea kettle was heavy; the water cold. I gave my self permission to lift it. Above the stove there was a calendar. Every morning she would record the temperature. EVERY DAY.
The dining room, the west and north end of the house had an oak table, the treadle sewing machine, a Victrola, a wooden rocking chair and a roll away bed. The rocking chair was by the window, that is where she sat to crochet. After Phil had his stroke, she slept on the roll away.
The roll away mattress was poor. It had a sink hole in the middle. When I stayed there, it was like we were mushed together in the dip. The sheets were flannel and the room smelled of Pond's cold cream.
Valerie and I liked to play bankers. She had an extra bird cage which was the teller's window. The Victrola was the records room. Mae didn't seem to mind if we wrote on the labels. Once in a while she would crank the player up and play the old records. Safely away from my grasp was the gone with the wind lamp. It sat on a dresser, again with a scarf. The scarf was one mother had made, I have it now, it is cross stitched. The phonograph opened from the top, the scarf was moved to open it but the lamp was not disturbed.
The treadle machine was also covered with a scarf. On holidays, that is were the candy dishes filled with ribbon candy, divinity, and other sweet treats were displayed. Valerie and I liked to be robbers and steal the accessories out of the drawers. The cards were stored in the drawer. They were royal blue with an image of a clear ice cream dish filled with strawberry ice cream. They were promotional cards from Bridgman, an ice cream manufacturer in Thief River Falls.
Her phone, put in after Phil's stroke, hung on a short wall. Around the top of the phone were special numbers written in pencil. She did not scold me when I wrote "Would you give me Watertown, glug, glug, glug".
Just beyond the phonograph was a curtained door. This closet became a bathroom much later. In a nook in the corner was a large trunk. I wanted the trunk so I could look through the contents but wasn't allowed to take it. On her death bed she told mother to find her Bible. In the Bible was $500 in small bills she had saved for her funeral. I did not take Mother's distraught state into account when I said I wanted the trunk. How rude of me.
There was storage shelves in the bathroom/closet. I found a container I had given her. I had made it in Brownies. It was a white cardboard ice cream container to which we had pasted flowers from wall paper books then varnished over. Mae kept her fine thread in it along with her hooks. Our leader may have gotten them from Bridgman's.
The living room was in the front of the house. There was a sofa which opened to a bed. an over stuffed rocker, a full stating radio, and a rocker, which blocked the front door. The only end table was a half table on which she placed her little Christmas tree decorated with the metal strip removed after opening a coffee can. She would pull them out to make an 'icicle'. The metal key was the hanger. For those of you who don't remember this, coffee came vacuumed sealed. There was a key on each can. One would insert the key into the metal tab. One turned the key carefully around the can and the strip of metal would wind unto the key. Yes, it was sharp and for a five year old, difficult to do. Under the tree were gifts, all wrapped in white tissue paper and decorated with the kind of ribbon that can be curled with the blade of a scissors. She taught me how to curl ribbon.
The bed room, now Phil's domain, had windows to the north and east. There was a portable closet in one corner where Mae hung her meager wardrobe. The dresser had a mirror. The top was covered with a scarf and assorted bric brac including a little green glass case with a pin in it. The clock was electric; it was pink and it had a grinding hum to it. Most of the space was filled with Phil's pajamas, Grandma had two little drawers. One of the drawers had her snuggies in it. WHAT ARE SNUGGIES? Snuggies are underwear. The top is like a sleeveless T and the bottoms came to your knees. Later she gave me a pair of her bottoms to wear while skating.
After Phil died, she started baby sitting for a child named Nancy. She had much to offer and Nancy was lucky to have her. It gave Mae an opportunity of a life time. She spend part of her earnings on having her hair done. We found the rat in the trunk after she died along with a hank of my hair after it was cut as a child. Touching the items in the trunk seemed like I was sifting through the sands of her life at the time. I don't think I was mentally or emotionally ready to go through her stuff. It seemed like I was treading on her. Now I know differently.
Her funeral was well attained. She was loved. I didn't call or think of her as STEP. I called her my little Grandmother. When she died, she weighed 68 pounds and was 67 years old. And that is the dit, dit, dit of Mary Jane.
I bid you joy.
