Brazil Beginnings and Visiting on the Farm 1968 and 1902
An uncomfortable interaction with someone in Rio, and Bess is still on the farm socializing!
March 11, 1968. OK, I felt lousy a few days ago. I really miss not being able to sit down and talk with someone about how things affect me.
These overnights away from the ship are all right! We land in a large seaside city port and never have an opportunity to get out of the congestion of ports and the city built around them. So we take an overnight and get out to a smaller city and meet people of more....Well, there’s
just so much difference between them and the city folks.
I'm gonna quit wearing nylons in these ports because it sure distinguishes you as a rich person. I was walking alone in a poorer section of town in the afternoon and a man passed me, giving some complimentary remark, similar to the "wolf-whistle" custom, only it's a statement here. I thought he was asking something and so I said Que? without stopping. I kept on going and pretty soon I heard him walking behind me. Then beside me he started asking me where I was going, who I was and what was I doing now...Golly, I was SCARED!!
So I walked to the corner, crossed the street and bipped into a sporting goods store. Holy cow. There was no one on the street and it was lonely and late afternoon and he was dirty and scrungy. It could have happened in Los Angeles even, but it sure as heck cured me of walking alone in these foreign countries.
Experience #1: I figured that if he tried anything, I could kick him to death. He wasn't very big, just scrungy.
We had open house on the ship Sunday between Montevideo and Rio, and I saw the guys' rooms. We played guitar and sang together. The cabins are so small that we all had to sit on the bunks.
March 12, 1968. Excerpt from a letter to the folks: Today has been a real bummer. Excuse me please for writing you in such a lousy mood, but it’s 2:30 a.m. and I’m about had it for today. We were supposed to get off the ship in Rio at 0800 this a.m. but port officials and heavy fog kept us out until noon. The ID (interdisciplinary practicum = facts on the port) kept us on ship so we didn't do anything until after dinner. Some of us were selected to be present at a cocktail reception at the penthouse bar of a No. 1. hotel. We went and didn't meet anyone except the other students whom we've seen too much of already.
So we had a few drinks and about eight of us decided to go night swimming at one of the beaches. Well, we hit a real bummer when half of the group, including Jim (my “date”), wanted to just rent a hotel room and stay there and drink all night. I didn’t see any point in doing anything like that.
When we hit a port, it's as though everything for every gosh-darn minute, day and night, we have to be doing something. Either walking, or shopping, or seeing or drinking. The bunch of peeps seem to not realize that it just might be a good idea to see the ship for balance while in port. I remember and used tonight what you said to me some time ago about curfews and fun. “Don’t run it into the ground. Too much of a good thing can wear it out. And there are always other nights.” Needless to say, I was the only one who came back to the ship. But in my mind I feel lots better for doing it. I feel as though I used common sense.
I hear the kid in Leslie’s household is talking! What’s this noise, and how come I can’t be there when all these things are happening? That silly baby Jeff isn’t going to know who-n-hell I am when I come back. Love him up for me until I do.
My typewriter is busted. I banged it on the door jam as I was carrying it from the cabin, and now the tape won't go up when I hit the keys.
Oh, by the way, I met the girl that Curt took out in Lisbon, his first port. Seems he passed out before they could get him back to the ship. You might pass that on to my dear brothy-ugler.
Bessie’s writings represent a slice of the small farm culture that has disappeared from our midwestern states since “big ag” bought up vast swaths of farmland for monoculture, and the human cultural memories with it.
BESSIE’S DIARY:
Saturday, May 31, 1902. The last day of May, it was raining this morning now and I went down to Frank Miller's to a party tonight. Road old Kit. Nell came home with Bingham, and I came home alone. Ate supper with Ward.
Sunday, June 1, 1902. Fine day today. Hitched old Clyde up early this morning and went over and got Doll and Jude and we went over to see Spivey. Ate dinner there and this afternoon we drove down to the ballast pit to see Billy. Got home a little before dark. Meg and Joe are here tonight. Cliff left on the 4:18 train this evening. Spivey and Gene went to Kansas tonight.
Monday, June 2, 1902. Nothing today, only plenty of wind and a whopping big rain tonight.
Tuesday, June 3, 1902. Went down to Frank Miller's today to invite them to the ice cream supper at Bill's. Stopped at the school house. Chester Moore came this morning. went down to George’s tonight to a party. I rode horseback, stayed all night with Jude and Doll. Billy took me to my horse (ha ha) had a fine time. Got home at 2 o'clock.