Being the genteel poor in the 1940s—poem
At a time when nobody was very rich
a country vicar with six kids
was paid with a roof overhead
and a goose at the door
and less than a thousand pounds per year
and of course, respect—like a poet or a pet.
A country vicar’s wife was paid
with expectations
and gossiping tongues
and a few nice friends
and soon a move
just in case
she felt too safe
or something.
Photo (c) http://www.chathams.co.nz. My parents lived in the Chatham Islands for a year or two during WWI. Poem cc by 2.0 rachel mcalpine
A quaint life.
A hard life
For the wife
Who might fret
That their pet
Was not hers,
. . . or worse.
(Couldn’t not respond. Such an interesting story and photograph. I imagine there’s more.)
You got it!
Oh, this is so on the mark!! My husband grew up in just such circumstances. Amazingly, he went into ministry, too, in spite of it.
Service verged on servitude…
My grandparents lived in a town where nobody was very rich and children were not pressured to achieve. It was nice.
That sounds like a happy place.
I wouldn’t mind being treated like one of our pets! Pastor’s wives still have odd lives. (Both of my grandfathers were ministers.) Blessings!
And this situation was always taken for granted – for years and years.
Almost feudal in one sense.
Yes, as it was for so long in earlier times.
Poignantly put.