Company's Comin'

Friends of ours from Hurst are coming through Logan.  They called this morning and asked if they could come and spend the night.  Of course, we said yes, not only because they are friends, but also because I love company.  Drake is more luke warm on the theory of having company, but always happy and gracious when they arrive.  

According to my upbringing, we should have immediately gone to the grocery store, broken out the vacuum and scrub bucket, to frantically clean and PREPARE.  I decided not to do any of that.  Our house is reasonably clean; thanks totally to Drake, and I decided on delivery pizza as the evening meal.  We will just play all this by ear when they arrive.  

I still feel uneasy, and Drake even more so.  What is there about 'company coming' that causes such a knee jerk reaction?  Somehow, we, who do our own housework and cooking, have drifted away from the  old West version of hospitality -  "hello, the cabin", and boom, you had company.  There was no elaborate preparation, and better than average odds that you might not even know the arriving visitors. 

As a child of the '50's, my mother's house was a serious reflection of her.  A 50's woman was expected to have a spotless house, imaginative meals, set a fabulous table, and appear dressed up at the end of the day (think 'June Cleaver) with a smile on her face welcoming her hero husband home from work.  Those TV families were hard to live up to, and, while idealized, American women were expected to try and achieve that level of homemaking.  No wonder women of that era were addicted to tranquilizers.  My mother actually owned an apron made of organza, a frilly, transparent material that had to be starched before being worn.  The purpose of it was to create the illusion that this wonderfully clean house and scrumptious meal was just whipped up without any noticeable effort on her part.    

Company coming was a serious challenge; there were no organza aprons.  Instead there were dirty pedal pushers, sweaty sleeveless blouses with bleach stains and bright yellow rubber gloves lined with white stuff that flaked off onto your hands.    I can remember my mother scrubbing and 'freshening' (ie taking down the curtains, taking up the rugs, cleaning the fridge, emptying the cabinets and putting down fresh shelf paper, toothbrushing the grout, and on and on) prior to the arrival of the company.  While cleaning, she was also cooking, cooking, cooking.  Then she would attack my brother and I (but mostly me as the 'girl'), bathe and tidy us with the cliche admonition to 'not get dirty'.  Spotless house, clean, tidy kids, and lots of prepared food - the 50's standard for company coming.   



My mother, Jo, (far right) in 1954 - these are electrician's wives at
an auxilliary ladies luncheon (My mother's dress is in my memory clothes.)

Not getting dirty was much harder for children in the '50's because there were no electronic playtoys, and TV had very limited children's programming (cartoons) happening only in the late afternoon for an hour or so.  Children PLAYED outdoors unsupervised day in and day out, and getting dirty was just part of that equation.  Therefore, 'company coming' was really dreaded even if you liked the people coming.

Women did all of this as a matter of course because not cleaning and doing elaborate preparations was somehow demeaning to the guests, and a signal that the woman was not up to snuff.  In the late 60's and early 70's this rigid household standard relaxed along with hair styles, shoes, and clothing choices as women poured into the work force.  My mother began working for the Tulsa Public School photographer, and she was so very grateful to not be the standard bearer for this insane level of homemaking.   I can remember in my 30's she confided to me that if she had it to do over, she would spend much less time cleaning and much more time just being with her kids.  I wish that she had been strong enough to buck the trends of the times because she would have been much happier pursuing a career, buying a housecleaner, and putting HER wants and needs more into our life.  

So........I'm welcoming our friends with mismatched and borrowed sheets, a pizza delivery dinner, make your own bagel breakfast and a washer and dryer.