Picking Themselves Up, Dusting Themselves Off

Snapping in the sharp and unpolluted air, flags of many nations form a lofty ring of tribute to competitors of the world: all those who strive for mastery. Blazing in perpetuity, the eternal flame sizzles and dances, enlivened by the wind and gently falling snow. The crowd moves in, respectful, celebratory, their jackets, parkas and knitted caps forming a mottled field of primary color. A cheer goes up as the three highest scorers ascend the platform. Weighty medallions are presented to each, settling upon victorious chests. Ecstatic winners humbly acknowledge the acclaim as their national anthems are sung.
Picking oneself up, dusting oneself off and starting all over again actually is an essential ingredient to every champion’s achievement, but Olympic medals are awarded only for athletic perseverance. Were there a similar award for resilience in life, what a crowded field would be in competition! And I think that Zora and Hughberta could have been serious contenders. Silver, maybe, Bronze, at least.

For starters, they survived early childhood on the Dakota prairie. ”Little House On The Prairie”, the tales written by Laura Ingalls Wilder, describe the desperate struggles of those early Dakota pioneers in the 1880’s and 90’s. Zora and Hughie’s mother grew up on a farm near the Ingalls’ homestead, and her family’s stories of survival on the prairie rivaled the famous author’s. A generation later at the turn of the century, life in a Dakota village was difficult enough. Winters were brutal. Coal for the cast iron stove had to be parsimoniously rationed when great drifts of snow on the railroad tracks delayed delivery to the little town- sometimes for weeks. A “country doctor”, possessing rudimentary medical education and little in the way of effective medications- compounds containing silver were the closest thing to antibiotics- traveled over several counties, bringing good advice, and laudanum for pain. His services, too, were often as the mercy of the inclement climate of South Dakota. In early March of 1909, Zora and her twin brother, Theo, both became dreadfully ill with what was later determined to be rheumatic fever. Their mother, seven months into a difficult pregnancy, nursed them and did what she could to keep them warm. Late that month, only a few days before his fifth birthday, Theo died. Hughberta’s birth a month later had to have been a painful reminder of their loss.
The lovely watercolor posted with this entry is called “The Twins.” A kind of memorium, Zora’s seraphic brother sits at the forefront of their mother’s lap, Zora herself, a dark, serious child eclipsed in shadow.

Survivors, to be sure. Hard times: the confusing insecurity of a parent who disappears for months- reemerging at times high spirited, money jingling in his pockets, and bearing presents for one and all; other times, morose and short tempered, broke and inebriated. The move to Minneapolis was a hopeful exodus to a civilized place where some of the necessities of life were accessible, especially medical care. Their youngest brother, DeVern, Bob’s father, was born shortly after the family settled in that beautiful city.
The Steensons’ life in the big town had other benefits: for one thing, income opportunities not available in a very small isolated town. Christine, their mother, called “Jean” as long as I knew her, found work as a cook in some grand homes overlooking the lakes. For many years it was a sporadic source of income until she became the cook at the grand Elks Temple in downtown Minneapolis where she worked for twenty years.
However, living in an established society definitely has a downside, especially for youngsters growing up in an environment where they don’t quite fit in.

The sisters developed different coping strategies. Zora envisioned the world as she preferred it to be and often seemed, inexplicably, to relate to and even refer to the world of her fantasies as though her dream world was quite evident to everyone. It worked for her in a way.
Hughberta was more cynically inclined. She could caustically and humorously deride conditions or situations which she perceived to be out of her reach. That approach may not always have worked to her benefit.
Each had her way of dealing with disappointments. As with all of us, their experiences were formative but their responses indelibly marked their characters. They were old hands at picking themselves up, dusting themselves off and starting all over again. Growing up poor in what we would today identify as a “dysfunctional family”, putting up with the ridicule of insensitive classmates, being passed over for better jobs, seeing the work of less talented, less competent artists praised and remunerated as they struggled for recognition- neither Zora nor Hughberta ever really got the breaks they deserved.

One big break did come along for each. Traveling the long trail of their long lives, both sisters at least once found themselves sidelined on the trail of broken hearts, detoured by the devastating blow of a truly failed romance. Abandoned, betrayed, ridiculed and ignored by the one who, insensitively perhaps, or maybe without even being aware of it, broke a heart. For many, a broken heart is a cautionary experience, an instruction from the sensei of life about keeping up one’s guard.A common interpretation of this lesson is to, one way or another, avoid intimacy. Thus, many lovers on the rebound choose a safe, conventional pairing. Some of the walking wounded make another pay, inflicting lifelong pain on a hapless partner. Avoiding any further serious entanglements while not the most satisfying, could certainly be the safest strategy.
Hughberta loved a high school classmate who led her on, and then cruelly made fun of her. Did he break her heart? Perhaps. That experience certainly influenced her opinion of men. Cletus didn’t break her heart; he made her mad, but he didn’t ruin her life. Actually, his infidelity goaded her to a decision that really did change her life for the better. Since the blissful, committed partnership was eluding her, Hughberta adopted the attitude that not only did she not want that kind of relationship, but that the whole concept of marriage was defective and undesirable. Later in life, she did change her mind about that.
Romantic that she was, Zora was an open target for Cupid’s poisoned darts. I believe that she was fairly young- early twenties when she met the love of her life. It is possible that the young man simply didn’t appreciate the intensity of her ardor; it is also possible that he put as much distance between them as he could.

Twentieth century’s expectation of women- certainly woman in midwestern America was unequivocal. By twenty-five years of age, if she were not yet married and raising a family, she had better be working on it- before it was too late. Zora’s nod to society looked to her sister-in-law like self-deception, but may just as likely have been a creatively crafted evasion technique. Zora went through the rituals of attracting beaus, going out on dates, and lamenting her spinsterhood while consistently choosing unlikely prospects for marriage.
The bottom line was: Zora and Hughberta’s life-long companions turned out to be each other.
But I have a few more stories---