Book Review - The First Four Years

Powell's Books · Barnes & Noble

Laura Ingalls Wilder ©1953
I read several reviews for this book and it was critiqued pretty harshly. People said the writing was poor and not at all like the rest of the idyllic Little House series. I, however, liked it—a lot.

First of all they're right, it is not a literary work of art. It was actually published from four notebooks, a handwritten rough draft, found after Laura’s death. But, what resonated with me was a feeling of authenticity. The other book I've read, Little House in the Big Woods, was wonderful, but felt censored—highly polished? For example, she’s afraid of being spanked by her Pa, but instead he curls her up in his lap for a moral story. Leaving me feeling that this man never, ever, lost his temper… Not even when his daughters disobey him, not once, but twice. But, if she was afraid of being spanked then wouldn't she have to have felt his belt before?

Laura and Almanzo are married early on in the story. Laura is nineteen and Almanzo twenty-nine. That's what attracted me to this story, I was twenty when I was married and part of me wanted to revisit those newlywed years and contrast them with hers. The comparisons in our daily lives are that there aren't any. I lived in a cozy little apartment in the suburbs and she lived in a government homestead in the Dakotas. However, Laura and Almanzo are immediately recognizable. Laura is still a woman/child, (like I was) who spends a snowy day playing and sledding, (like I did). Almanzo is an earnest, hard working man that doted on his young wife. (Like mine did.)

Laura has doubts (what? Laura has doubts!?!) about Manly's choice to earn a living by farming a homestead. She doesn't want to spend her life poor and broken from work. Infinitely optimistic, Manly convinces her to try it for three years. Each year their labor is devastated by forces of nature. Their wheat is filling out beautifully, then heat swoops in and dries it out. All that hard work was for naught. Plowing, seeding, tending… Done. Gone. The livestock, the prairie grasses (sold as hay) and Almanzo's strong back, provides just enough to get by and they try again the next year. Then Rose arrives.

Authenticity aside, I was a little relieved that Rose didn't arrive by stork. Although when Laura's labor began, the doctor arrived and then she fell asleep and the baby was here. Woah. I think modern medicine has taken a step backwards. Or she did a little creative storytelling to protect her modesty. I can understand that in a pioneer era woman.

The next three years are rife with disasters and oddities that can only be real, fire, losing a child, fever, Almanzo's stroke, their friendly neighbor who offers to trade baby Rose for a horse. Through it all, Laura never despairs and Almanzo never loses faith. After hail flattened $3000 in ripe wheat, money that would render them debt free with some to spare, Almanzo cheerily suggests they use the hailstones to make ice cream. Laura and I decline, and wonder if he’s a little touched in the head..

I understand why Laura, herself, never published this book. I also understand why she had to write it. Sometimes a writer is not in charge of what she writes. Sometimes a story becomes a nag, crowding out other ideas demanding to be written. So she did. However, she chose not to publish her doubts, trials and pain.

I am glad she wrote it. I’m glad it was eventually published. I'm in awe of their perseverance and hope. I'm in awe of their evident love for each other. I’m touched by Laura’s vulnerability and support of her husband despite her reservations. Perhaps their struggles bound them as a couple. In modern “me” times, it seems to tear couples apart.

Three ways I felt this book's authenticity:

• Laura is not always happy.
• The Dakotas are a scary place to live—weather wise. You could go out for a walk on a mild spring day, get caught in a freak blizzard, and be found frozen to a rock three days later.
• I closed the book feeling admiration for what they endured, and wholly fortunate to live in modern times.

A Story - Curious Berzo Gets a Haircut

(Inspired by a blog post describing Berzo's first haircut. Written in the style of the Curious George books wherein George is left unsupervised and gets in trouble, and by pure circumstance, it all works out to everyone's benefit in the end.)

This is Berzo. Berzo was a good little monkey and always very curious. Today Berzo and the lady with the blue hat were brushing their hair.

“Berzo your hair is getting long, let’s go to the hair salon for your very first haircut,” said the lady.

Berzo and the lady drove to the mall and found the hair cutting salon.

They went inside and talked to a lady behind the counter. “I’d like a hair cut for my monkey,” said the lady.

“Please put her name on the list. I’m alone today, but I’ll be able to see her in about ten minutes,” said the stylist.

“Berzo, I’m going to the next door to get a new pair of snowshoes. You can play with the trains while you wait your turn. Be a good little monkey and don’t be too curious,” said the lady as she left the salon.

Berzo could not believe her eyes. She saw chairs in the shape of cars and airplanes, a jar full of lollipops and a screen playing a movie about a princess. Toward the back of the room several ladies lounged in chairs with a funny looking space helmet covering their heads. Berzo watched as the stylist squirted funny smelling stuff on a woman’s hair and folded it in tin foil, while the woman sat with cucumbers on her eyes. Another lady with wet, funny smelling hair moved to a lounging chair and the stylist put a helmet on her head too.

Berzo was curious, could she style hair too?

Just then the phone rang and the stylist rushed to answer it.

Berzo grabbed bottles of color and squirted it on the lady’s hair and wrapped it in tin foil.

The lady started talking, “So as I was saying, I told June that she just doesn’t need to sign Roger up for so many sports. He needs that energy for his school work. But does she listen to me? Oh no…”

Berzo grabbed more colors and more foil. It was fun to be a stylist. Then she picked up the scissors and started to cut the lady’s hair.

She hopped over to the ladies under the helmet. She noticed a hole on top of the space helmets. Would those ladies like a stylist treatment too? Berzo was curious. She squirted in one bottle then the next, and the ladies didn’t seem to mind. They were busy chatting to each other over the whooshing of the machines.

The stylist hung up the phone. “Berzo, I’m ready for you now…” Berzo ran over to the fire truck chair and hopped in.

“How did you get these colors all over your hands?” She looked around. “Oh no!” the stylist cried.

She pulled up all the hoods and the woman pulled the cucumbers off her eyes… The stylist took the foil off—her hair was three different colors, and the cut? “Oh no!” the stylist cried again.

The other ladies hair frizzed and had splotches of red, blond, bronze, even purple!

Berzo was worried. Had she done something wrong? She had only wanted to help the nice lady while she was on the phone.

Just then the lady with the blue hat came back.

“Look at what your monkey has done!!” the stylist shouted.

The lady in the blue hat dropped her bag.

Just then the door swung open and a man in a funny looking suit and sunglasses came in.

“Helloooo, I’m Fabien from Fashion Forward magazine and I’m looking for a salon to feature on next month’s cover.”

“Oh, hello ladies!”

He flitted from woman to woman, admiring Berzo's work.

“Oh yes! Finally! Ma’am, you have created music for my eyes. Such originality! How ever do you come up with your ideas?”

“Oh, I had some help…”

“Mustn't be too modest now. I’d like to feature your salon in our magazine. Ladies, how would you like to model for the cover shoot?”

He turned towards the door and shouted, ” Get those photographers in here, NOW!”

“Berzo,” said the stylist, “you sure gave me a shock, but without your special brand of art, my salon might not have been selected. You can come back anytime, but leave the hair styling to me, OK?”

“ Now, let’s cut your hair.”

“Would you like a lollipop?”

Berzo did.

Curious Berzo Gets a Haircut

The morning snarl.

By the time I brought Berzo to Pigtails and Crewcuts for her first haircut last week, she was long overdue. Something in me just didn't want to face parting with those four little baby curls that finished her light-brown hair that flowed down her back—when it wasn't heaped in a snarl behind her head, that is… Coaxing her locks from the morning snarl began to involve more and more strategy…

I began to feel like a cheetah stalking a baby impala. I'd find the softest hair brush and begin following her. If she was running around playing, I'd hide the brush and feign indifference. Eventually, she'd tire and find a cozy spot to rest, such as by the fire reading a book. Haha! This is my moment. Silently, I'd approach from behind, very nonchalant, brush concealed, so as not to arouse the suspicion of my quarry. Then I'd ever so gently take her hair from under her collar and begin to work on the ends. A snag. Abort! Abort!

“Owww! Hey!"  She turns and looks at me, "Don't brush my hair.”

The chase is on.

Eventually, after much dashing about I corner her and pounce. She struggles, giggling, I walk her over to a chair, I sit down and use my legs to block her escape.

“Let me go!”

“As soon I get your hair brushed, you can go. I'll be extra, EXTRA gentle, I promise.”

Snag.

“Owww!”

Baby curls.

It's time... Time to let the baby curls go. With resignation I say, “Berzo, we need to get your hair cut kiddo.”

“No! I don't want to get my hair cut. It will hurt!”

“No, baby, it doesn't hurt. Let's just go check it out, and see if you feel better when we get there.”

Then we;re off to the mall. We go inside, it's a bright, friendly place and she goes over to the train table as I put her name on the list. I inquire as to the wait time, toddlers are not known for patience, and she says about ten minutes. We head down the stairs into the mall and walk a few circuits around the fountain then look in a clothing store. Soon our ten minutes are up and we head back to the salon. She starts to play again and within a few minutes, she is called for her turn.

“Ok, Berzo, it's your turn. What vehicle do you choose? The yellow taxi car or the airplane?  WooOOoo, sooo cool.” Why do I always say this? What kind of dork sells stuff to a kid with “Wooo, so cool!”? It never works; if anything it probably clues them in...

“No. No. I'm too scared.”

The stylist and I are patient and waited for her to get used to the idea but after about five minutes of coaxing we realized we needed to be more persuasive. I picked her up, she fought me a little, but went in the seat. She started to drive the car. Then she locked eyes with the stylist and immediately reached out to me and started to get upset. The stylist asked if we should offer her a lollipop now rather than after. I agreed. She offered Berzo the jar and she picked out a sour apple lolly and was instantly transformed.

“Mama, you open it?”

I undo the wrapper just a little and let her work it the rest of the way off. She pops it in her mouth and she's on board now, just like that.

Candy and TV notwithstanding, she's a little nervous when the stylist starts cutting. But she trusts her now, (candy) and is cooperative about looking this way and that, on command. The stylist hands me Berzo's severed ponytail. In my hands I hold the last vestige of Berzo's babyhood. My throat tightened...

Then stylist is all done cutting. The stylist picks up a round brush and starts to blow dry her hair. Berzo's scared again and pulls her neck all the way inside her body like a turtle. The stylist tries to show her that the dryer is harmless, but in the end decides to get it over with quickly.

Berzo's hair is silky and bouncy as my newly minted big girl swings her head from side to side. The stylist tries to get a picture, and we get a smile but eyes closed, then a smile with eyes looking sideways, then eyes on but no smile. Eventuall, we got a cute picture and the stylist takes a blond curl and prints the photo, and tucks both into a keepsake card.

I thank her, pay the bill with a generous tip for her extra care and patience and we leave. Unfortunately, I leave without Berzo's ponytail.

From there we headed to Pump-It-Up Junior, Berzo's favorite place to play, and Berzo dashes in the door exclaiming to the woman behind the counter, “I just got my hair cut!!” Then she swings her head side to side. The woman praises her cute cut and Berzo rockets down the hallway towards the play area.

I want another baby. No I don't. Yes, I do. Or do I?

The title of this blog post inspired me to write a Curious George style story about the experience.  I'm kinda wishing I was more artistic. I'd love to illustrate this to have for our family...