From the Relief Society Magazine, May 1968 –

The Happy Homemaker

By Lael J. Littke

Janet felt ill at ease in the group of chattering young women. They all seemed to know one another so well, and they talked of Broadway shows which she had not seen, and of big department stores whose names she recognized but which she had not visited. She almost wished she had not come. Yet, she was anxious to be friends with her new neighbors and had been pleased when Norma, who lived next door, invited her to join this group.

“You’ll love the girls,” Norma had said. “We call ourselves ‘The Neighborhood Club.’ One morning a month we hire a sitter for our preschool children and get together to do something interesting. It’s to be at my house this month. You will come, won’t you?”

“Of course I will,” Janet had said, although she wondered if she really had time since her new job as second counselor in the ward Primary promised to take care of any spare moments left over from caring for Dale and their four children. Still, joining the group would be an opportunity to meet some of the other young women who lived nearby.

Now, sitting there, Janet wondered if she could ever fit in with the group. She was relieved when Norma clapped her hands to call a halt to the chatter.

“Girls,” Norma said as soon as the noise subsided, “I want you all to meet Janet Nelson who recently moved into Sally Mason’s house.”

“I hope she and Sally get along well,” said the girl sitting next to Janet, who had introduced herself earlier as Carolyn Symons.

Everyone laughed.

“You’ll have to get used to that,” Norma said. “The Masons lived there for a long time, so I guess it will take us a while to stop calling it Sally Mason’s house.”

“That’s all right,” Janet said, “as long as you don’t call me Sally’.’

The girls laughed again, and Janet began to relax. They seemed just as friendly as the girls at church, she thought. She wondered why she had thought they would be different. Probably because until she and Dale and the children moved here she had lived her entire life in a beautiful western valley where almost everyone she knew shared her own convictions. She had been fearful about moving to a new environment where she would be surrounded by people who thought, and even spoke, differently, but Dale had wanted very much to take advantage of the fine opportunity his company offered him if he would move to New York, so she had agreed. The children, and Dale, too, had readily made new friends in the pleasant suburb where they bought a house, but Janet, with all the problems of getting settled, had not yet had much chance to get acquainted.

Norma was clapping her hands again.

“Girls,” she said. “I’ve asked Ann Croyden to come today to tell us about her adventures in Japan while gathering material for her new book, but she has been delayed, so you can go ahead and talk until she arrives.”

Carolyn sighed. “Now there is a woman I really envy,” she said. “Ann Croyden is free as a bird — not tied down to a house and children as we poor drudges are.”

“Carolyn, here, is our career-girl type,” Norma said. “Left a wonderful job as a junior editor in a publishing house to rear a family.”

“And I’ve regretted it ever since,” Carolyn said with a wry grin.

Janet knew some sort of startled expression registered on her face, because Carolyn said hastily, “Don’t get me wrong. I love my two children. But if it weren’t for my husband’s insisting that I stay home until they are both in school, I would be back at that job tomorrow. I get so sick and tired of cooking and cleaning and saying nothing more intelligent all day than ‘Put on your shoes.’ Being a housewife is such an unrewarding, uncreative job.”

“Oh, I disagree,” Janet said, surprised at herself for speaking so forcefully.

“Oh?” Carolyn said, with an amused smile. “Tell us more.”

Janet’s face flushed as she felt all eyes upon her. She swallowed and went on valiantly. “It’s just that I don’t think it has to be uncreative and unrewarding. In the first place, I like to call myself a ‘homemaker.’ Adds a little dignity, don’t you think?”

She smiled brightly at the assembled girls and was reassured to see answering smiles on several faces. “What is any more creative than making a lovely home?” she went on. “You can use any talent you have to help make it a place you and your husband and children will enjoy and be proud of. And I don’t think there is anything more creative and rewarding than teaching and guiding your children and watching them develop. As for cooking, it can be as creative as you make it, and even cleaning is not so bad if you approach it right.”

Carolyn was watching her with something very close to scorn on her face. “Well, if it isn’t Little Mrs. Sunshine herself,” she said softly. There was a titter from somewhere in the otherwise quiet room.

Janet could feel her face flaming. “Oh, I don’t mean it’s all roses,” she said. “There are times when I would like to get away for awhile, and other times when I yearn to get back into teaching. Maybe I will when my family is grown. But right now I wouldn’t trade my very important and satisfying role of being a homemaker for any other job in the world.”

Janet looked hopefully around the room, waiting for someone to say, “That’s right,” or “I feel the same way.” But no one spoke until Carolyn shrugged and said, “Every woman to her own tastes.”

Janet was thankful that Ann Croyden arrived just then. In the ensuing bustle everyone else seemed to have forgotten the little exchange between her and Carolyn, but it burned bright in Janet’s mind. Why had she spoken so strongly? She had branded herself as such a domestic little homebody that certainly these more sophisticated young women would want nothing further to do with her. Perhaps she had been right in the first place. Perhaps they were different. Or was it she who was different?

She didn’t hear much of Ann Croyden’s lecture. She decided she would stay after the meeting and tell Norma that she didn’t think she could come any more.

But after the other girls had gone, murmuring polite things, such as “Nice to have you in the club, Janet,” it was Norma who spoke first.

“You’ll get used to Carolyn, Janet,” she said. “She’s really very nice, but she does have a sharp tongue.”

“I’m sorry I made a fool of myself,” Janet said.

Norma shook her head. “You didn’t. We have all had tiffs with Carolyn. Actually, most of us agree with you, but I guess no one spoke up because we didn’t want to get Carolyn started on her favorite subject — the downtrodden housewife.” Norma paused to smile, then went on. “I guess there is a little of Carolyn in all of us, but for the most part we are a pretty happy bunch.”

Janet had the feeling that she and Norma would become very good friends. “You don’t know how much better you have made me feel,” she said.

“I’m sure you will like our group,” Norma said, “and I’m sure they like you. Carolyn may needle you for awhile, but try not to let it bother you.”

But it did bother Janet, especially when Carolyn started calling her “The Happy Homemaker” whenever they met. “Well, how is the Happy Homemaker today,” she asked when they ran into each other in the supermarket. At the next meeting of the Neighborhood Club, she said, “Let’s have a happy thought for the day from our Happy Homemaker.” Each time Janet just smiled, although she felt distinctly uncomfortable. If it hadn’t been for the friendliness of the other girls, she would have withdrawn from the club.

Otic day she caught a glimpse of the inner Carolyn, and it made her hopeful that they might eventually become friends. Carolyn came over to get her daughter, Peggy, who had become the very best friend of Janet’s Karen. Janet was making cookies with the enthusiastic but messy help of the two four-year-old girls.

“Peggy,” Carolyn said as Janet invited her into the kitchen, “what a mess you’re making.”

“That’s all right,” Janet said. “We are all having fun doing it.”

“Mama,” Peggy said, “I made this my very own self.” With great pride she held up a mangled cookie.

“How nice,” Carolyn said. “If you stay around here long enough maybe you’ll learn something useful.” She watched as Peggy and Karen rolled and cut more cookies.

“Why don’t you roll out a few?” Janet invited, offering a rolling pin.

“I really have to get home and thaw out some dinner for Jack,” Carolyn said. “Besides, I’m all thumbs when it comes to baking. My mother taught me how to handle sculptor’s clay, but we never did get around to cookie dough.” Her tone was almost wistful.

“It’s easy,” Janet said, handing her a piece of dough. “Just try it.”

So, for the next half hour, until Carolyn remembered she should be home “thawing out dinner,” she rolled and cut fancy-shaped cookies.

Janet felt strongly that the episode might have established some basis for understanding between them, but a week later, at the next meeting of the Neighborhood Club, she was again scorched by Carolyn’s caustic tongue.

“What is the latest goody from the oven of the Happy Homemaker?” Carolyn asked as Janet arrived.

Janet smiled at her. “As a matter of fact, I just took a batch of bread from the oven.”

“Such thrift,” Carolyn murmured.

“I don’t do it all the time,” Janet replied, wishing that she didn’t always feel so apologetic around Carolyn. “But this morning I wanted to try out a recipe I learned at Relief Society.”

“At where?” Carolyn said, obviously amused.

Janet wished she hadn’t mentioned Relief Society. Carolyn was sure to make some sarcastic remark about it. Well, Janet just wouldn’t give her the chance. It was about time she stopped being defensive about her life.

“At Relief Society,” she repeated cheerfully, then went on to explain a little about what it was. “I wish you would all come with me to a meeting some day. You would be surprised what you can learn there. Why, you might even learn to quilt.”

“Quilt?” said Marcie Edwards. “I thought that went out with great-grandma. ”

“It’s fun,” Janet insisted. Then, on an impulse, she added, “Let me be the hostess at our next meeting and we’ll have an old-fashioned quilting bee.”

“Sounds fun,” Norma said. “That’s something we certainly haven’t done before.”

“For an encore we’ll make lye soap,” Carolyn said.

Despite Carolyn’s sarcasm, Janet was happy as she made the preparations for the quilting bee. She asked Sister Thompson, an elderly widow in the ward, if she would come over and teach the girls to quilt. Sister Thompson was thrilled to be of service.

“Let’s piece a Texas Star,” she said. “No, let’s make it something simple so they will feel free to make mistakes.” Happily she set to work, with Janet’s frequent help, to put together a colorful top. On the day before the meeting she brought the complete top and her frames to Janet’s house to set them up.

“I’m really looking forward to this,” she said.

“So am I,” said Janet. She planned to make it as much as possible like the quilting bees her mother had sometimes held. For lunch she was going to serve fried chicken and fresh-baked bread, as her mother had done.

It was while she was at the supermarket purchasing the chickens that she heard her name mentioned from the other side of a canned foods shelf.

“Are you going to the meeting at Janet’s tomorrow?” The voice was Norma’s.

The answering voice was unmistakably Carolyn’s. “I guess I’ll go, just for laughs. A quilting bee — can you imagine?”

Norma spoke again. “She’s such a quaint little thing.”

Quaint! So that’s what they thought of her. Quaint. Old-fashioned. Peculiar. Strictly for laughs. She had known from the very first that she didn’t fit in with that group. She would never be anything more to them than the quaint little thing who lived in Sally Mason’s house.

Quickly Janet paid for her chickens and left the store. She wanted to go home and hide. She would call all the girls and say she was ill and couldn’t hold the meeting.

But when she got home and saw all the preparations Sister Thompson had made, she knew she would have to go through with it.

She forced herself to be cordial the next morning as the girls arrived. They squealed with pleasure over the pretty quilt top, and under Sister Thompson’s direction they began to sew with enthusiasm. Janet waited for Carolyn’s inevitable sarcasm, but it didn’t come. In fact, Carolyn was strangely subdued as she sat there stitching the bright squares. However, everyone else was talkative.

“Isn’t this fun,” said Marcie Edwards, “to have a meeting where we can do something and talk, too?”

“Sit down and sew with us,” Norma said. “You’ve been working in that kitchen all morning.”

“Can’t now,” Janet said. “I’m all ready to serve lunch.”

The lunch received even higher compliments than the quilt.

“Oh, my diet,” moaned Eva Rankin. “But I don’t care.” She took another slice of bread.

Even Carolyn was complimentary. “Every home should smell of fresh-baked bread,” she said.

The girls stayed on until it was time for their children to come from school.

“Let’s do it again sometime,” Marcie Edwards said as she went out of the door. “I’d like to make a quilt for my boy’s bed.”

Carolyn was still quiet as she left, but she thanked Janet politely.

Norma was more effusive. “It’s so wonderful to have you with us,” she said, giving Janet a little hug. “You’re such a quaint little thing, and so refreshing to have around.”

Quaint again. Janet knew now that it was a compliment. She returned Norma’s hug, and smiled happily after the departing girls. The quilting bee had been a success, and Carolyn had not made a single sarcastic remark. At least not yet.

It was several days later that Carolyn came by and asked if she could come in and talk for a few minutes.

Surprised, Janet said, “Certainly. Come on into the kitchen. I always seem to be baking when you come. Today it’s pies.”

“I like being in your kitchen,” Carolyn said. “It seems so cozy.”

Janet smiled. “My mother always said the kitchen is the heart of the home.”

“In my home it’s been a pretty cold heart,” Carolyn said thoughtfully. “But after your quilting bee the other day, I went home and baked some cookies. Thought I would see if I could make my house smell as homey as yours. I let Peggy and David help. We were still at it when Jack came home, and he joined right in. I don’t know when we have felt so close, so much like a family. We almost starved before we finally got around to thawing our dinner. Davie asked why couldn’t we do something like that more often, so we have.”

Janet opened her mouth to say something, but Carolyn held up her hand. “Let me finish before I start blubbering or something. Anyway, it is gradually dawning on me how precious my family is and how much we can enjoy each other. Those first cookies weren’t very good — although the children thought they were wonderful — but I’ll keep trying. You know, Janet, I may even turn into a . . . a . . . .

“Happy Homemaker,” Janet said, laughing.

Carolyn’s face reddened just a little, but she grinned. “Exactly. Oh, I’ll still probably go back to work in a year or two, but maybe in the meantime I can begin to establish the kind of a home I would like my children to remember. I think things started coming clear at your quilting bee.”

Janet was surprised. “The quilting bee?”

Carolyn nodded. “I came prepared to be sarcastic about it, but somehow, when we got started, it seemed like such a … a … .” Carolyn paused, searching for the right word, “such a womanly thing to be doing, the sort of thing our great-grandmothers did back in the days when they created homes out of the wilderness. Your home has that same kind of warmth and welcoming homeyness that I imagine theirs had. But there is something more than that. A lot of the warmth comes from you, yourself — from some inner contentment or serenity that even my sarcasm couldn’t reach. What is it, Janet, that makes your life so different from mine?”

Suddenly Janet was terribly grateful that events had brought her to this place and into contact with this young woman. Silently she prayed that she might say the right things.

“Carolyn,” she began, “in order to start answering your question, I’m going to ask you two questions. We call them ‘The Golden Questions’. . . .”