Written by a Great Great grandchild, Angela Hallstrom (angelahallstrom.com):
As a young woman, Mary longed for formal education, for books, for people with whom she could discuss interesting ideas. She secretly wished she could have been a school teacher. In the midst of having nine children, she worked full time as a postmistress and struggled off an on with illness. Her life was demanding and often difficult, but at the end of it all she felt grateful and complete. Her wisdom was hard won, and I'd like to share a little bit of it with all of you.
The following excerpt is from her personal history. There aren't any dates, so I'm guessing from the surrounding information that she's in her early twenties and is struggling with a bout of illness. She's directed this particular entry to a friend who's studying to be a teacher. (I don't know if it's a letter she saved, or if she copied it down in her journals). And even though it was written nearly a hundred years ago, and even though I've read it now many times, it never fails to resonate with me:
From the journal of Mary Leona Johnson Jolley:
"It has been 18 months since I have been able to do much of anything. But there is never a loss without some small gain. I really have been blessed with time to read, and didn't feel guilty as the doctor said I shouldn't do anything. In my selfish heart I was almost glad, only I have been such a burden on the folks. But Jesse [her husband] has been so kind and mother and the girls so helpful.
"I have been ashamed of being so useless, but have enjoyed the wonderful privilege of living ‘in another world,' or so it seemed. You see, I never realized how very ignorant I was until the Relief Society outlined literature classes for the women. This caused an awful uproar because the Church was teaching the women to read novels. Well, I was secretary at that time and one of the first projects was a debate on the lives of writers. We chose ‘Resolved that Hawthorne was a Greater Writer Than Whittier.' I was to take the side of Hawthorne, and didn't know whether he was a blacksmith or a policeman. It happened that the MIA had just . . . taken up a collection for a small library. I found a book by Hawthorne and some poems by Whittier. These were a revelation to me, and awoke such a desire for knowledge.
"A neighbor had moved back to Tropic and through some deal had a large number of books. She offered to let me read them all. I believed I knew what it was like to be a famished wandered at an oasis in the desert. I just devoured them, about two or more volumes a week. There was a set of E.P. Roe tales of New England that seemed like they were so real and inspiring; then a set of Jane Austens, which transported me to England among the upper class of wealthy people. This was so refreshing, so different, such a new phase of life.
"I read everything and was so thrilled to be enjoying myself so much. And oh, how I wanted to talk to someone and discuss the different ideas. I was so overwhelmed with the great poems; sometimes my soul feels so full of poetry that I am afraid it will spill over, even without 'schooled language.' I felt maybe I was absorbing some of the things you were getting in school. Of course, I'm not jealous of you, but all the while you were in Beaver, I have been sort of living with you, enjoying your success."
As a young woman, Mary longed for formal education, for books, for people with whom she could discuss interesting ideas. She secretly wished she could have been a school teacher. In the midst of having nine children, she worked full time as a postmistress and struggled off an on with illness. Her life was demanding and often difficult, but at the end of it all she felt grateful and complete. Her wisdom was hard won, and I'd like to share a little bit of it with all of you.
The following excerpt is from her personal history. There aren't any dates, so I'm guessing from the surrounding information that she's in her early twenties and is struggling with a bout of illness. She's directed this particular entry to a friend who's studying to be a teacher. (I don't know if it's a letter she saved, or if she copied it down in her journals). And even though it was written nearly a hundred years ago, and even though I've read it now many times, it never fails to resonate with me:
From the journal of Mary Leona Johnson Jolley:
"It has been 18 months since I have been able to do much of anything. But there is never a loss without some small gain. I really have been blessed with time to read, and didn't feel guilty as the doctor said I shouldn't do anything. In my selfish heart I was almost glad, only I have been such a burden on the folks. But Jesse [her husband] has been so kind and mother and the girls so helpful.
"I have been ashamed of being so useless, but have enjoyed the wonderful privilege of living ‘in another world,' or so it seemed. You see, I never realized how very ignorant I was until the Relief Society outlined literature classes for the women. This caused an awful uproar because the Church was teaching the women to read novels. Well, I was secretary at that time and one of the first projects was a debate on the lives of writers. We chose ‘Resolved that Hawthorne was a Greater Writer Than Whittier.' I was to take the side of Hawthorne, and didn't know whether he was a blacksmith or a policeman. It happened that the MIA had just . . . taken up a collection for a small library. I found a book by Hawthorne and some poems by Whittier. These were a revelation to me, and awoke such a desire for knowledge.
"A neighbor had moved back to Tropic and through some deal had a large number of books. She offered to let me read them all. I believed I knew what it was like to be a famished wandered at an oasis in the desert. I just devoured them, about two or more volumes a week. There was a set of E.P. Roe tales of New England that seemed like they were so real and inspiring; then a set of Jane Austens, which transported me to England among the upper class of wealthy people. This was so refreshing, so different, such a new phase of life.
"I read everything and was so thrilled to be enjoying myself so much. And oh, how I wanted to talk to someone and discuss the different ideas. I was so overwhelmed with the great poems; sometimes my soul feels so full of poetry that I am afraid it will spill over, even without 'schooled language.' I felt maybe I was absorbing some of the things you were getting in school. Of course, I'm not jealous of you, but all the while you were in Beaver, I have been sort of living with you, enjoying your success."
Written by a Great Great grandchild, Angela Hallstrom (angelahallstrom.com):
As a young woman, Mary longed for formal education, for books, for people with whom she could discuss interesting ideas. She secretly wished she could have been a school teacher. In the midst of having nine children, she worked full time as a postmistress and struggled off an on with illness. Her life was demanding and often difficult, but at the end of it all she felt grateful and complete. Her wisdom was hard won, and I'd like to share a little bit of it with all of you.
The following excerpt is from her personal history. There aren't any dates, so I'm guessing from the surrounding information that she's in her early twenties and is struggling with a bout of illness. She's directed this particular entry to a friend who's studying to be a teacher. (I don't know if it's a letter she saved, or if she copied it down in her journals). And even though it was written nearly a hundred years ago, and even though I've read it now many times, it never fails to resonate with me:
From the journal of Mary Leona Johnson Jolley:
"It has been 18 months since I have been able to do much of anything. But there is never a loss without some small gain. I really have been blessed with time to read, and didn't feel guilty as the doctor said I shouldn't do anything. In my selfish heart I was almost glad, only I have been such a burden on the folks. But Jesse [her husband] has been so kind and mother and the girls so helpful.
"I have been ashamed of being so useless, but have enjoyed the wonderful privilege of living ‘in another world,' or so it seemed. You see, I never realized how very ignorant I was until the Relief Society outlined literature classes for the women. This caused an awful uproar because the Church was teaching the women to read novels. Well, I was secretary at that time and one of the first projects was a debate on the lives of writers. We chose ‘Resolved that Hawthorne was a Greater Writer Than Whittier.' I was to take the side of Hawthorne, and didn't know whether he was a blacksmith or a policeman. It happened that the MIA had just . . . taken up a collection for a small library. I found a book by Hawthorne and some poems by Whittier. These were a revelation to me, and awoke such a desire for knowledge.
"A neighbor had moved back to Tropic and through some deal had a large number of books. She offered to let me read them all. I believed I knew what it was like to be a famished wandered at an oasis in the desert. I just devoured them, about two or more volumes a week. There was a set of E.P. Roe tales of New England that seemed like they were so real and inspiring; then a set of Jane Austens, which transported me to England among the upper class of wealthy people. This was so refreshing, so different, such a new phase of life.
"I read everything and was so thrilled to be enjoying myself so much. And oh, how I wanted to talk to someone and discuss the different ideas. I was so overwhelmed with the great poems; sometimes my soul feels so full of poetry that I am afraid it will spill over, even without 'schooled language.' I felt maybe I was absorbing some of the things you were getting in school. Of course, I'm not jealous of you, but all the while you were in Beaver, I have been sort of living with you, enjoying your success."
As a young woman, Mary longed for formal education, for books, for people with whom she could discuss interesting ideas. She secretly wished she could have been a school teacher. In the midst of having nine children, she worked full time as a postmistress and struggled off an on with illness. Her life was demanding and often difficult, but at the end of it all she felt grateful and complete. Her wisdom was hard won, and I'd like to share a little bit of it with all of you.
The following excerpt is from her personal history. There aren't any dates, so I'm guessing from the surrounding information that she's in her early twenties and is struggling with a bout of illness. She's directed this particular entry to a friend who's studying to be a teacher. (I don't know if it's a letter she saved, or if she copied it down in her journals). And even though it was written nearly a hundred years ago, and even though I've read it now many times, it never fails to resonate with me:
From the journal of Mary Leona Johnson Jolley:
"It has been 18 months since I have been able to do much of anything. But there is never a loss without some small gain. I really have been blessed with time to read, and didn't feel guilty as the doctor said I shouldn't do anything. In my selfish heart I was almost glad, only I have been such a burden on the folks. But Jesse [her husband] has been so kind and mother and the girls so helpful.
"I have been ashamed of being so useless, but have enjoyed the wonderful privilege of living ‘in another world,' or so it seemed. You see, I never realized how very ignorant I was until the Relief Society outlined literature classes for the women. This caused an awful uproar because the Church was teaching the women to read novels. Well, I was secretary at that time and one of the first projects was a debate on the lives of writers. We chose ‘Resolved that Hawthorne was a Greater Writer Than Whittier.' I was to take the side of Hawthorne, and didn't know whether he was a blacksmith or a policeman. It happened that the MIA had just . . . taken up a collection for a small library. I found a book by Hawthorne and some poems by Whittier. These were a revelation to me, and awoke such a desire for knowledge.
"A neighbor had moved back to Tropic and through some deal had a large number of books. She offered to let me read them all. I believed I knew what it was like to be a famished wandered at an oasis in the desert. I just devoured them, about two or more volumes a week. There was a set of E.P. Roe tales of New England that seemed like they were so real and inspiring; then a set of Jane Austens, which transported me to England among the upper class of wealthy people. This was so refreshing, so different, such a new phase of life.
"I read everything and was so thrilled to be enjoying myself so much. And oh, how I wanted to talk to someone and discuss the different ideas. I was so overwhelmed with the great poems; sometimes my soul feels so full of poetry that I am afraid it will spill over, even without 'schooled language.' I felt maybe I was absorbing some of the things you were getting in school. Of course, I'm not jealous of you, but all the while you were in Beaver, I have been sort of living with you, enjoying your success."
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