Betty & the Chicken Farm

Last Friday night, I went to a used bookshop in Pike Street Market. I didn't know what I wanted to get, but I wanted something new and fun to read, not a parenting book on how to deal with your troubled teen.

I fell upon The Egg & I by Betty MacDonald, a Pacific Northwest writer and author of the Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle series. Published in 1945, The Egg & I is memoir about the early part of Betty's life from her childhood in Seattle, to her marriage in 1927 to a chicken farmer on the remote Olympic Peninsula.

Sometimes when I pick up a book in a store, I'll read the back jacket, the table of contents, or flip it open to the middle. Of course, there is also reading the first page:

"Along with teaching us that lamb must be cooked with garlic and that a lady never scratches her head or spits, my mother taught my sisters and me that it is a wife's bounden duty to see that her husband is happy in his work. 'First make sure that your husband is doing that kind of work he enjoys and is best fitted for and then cheerfully accept whatever it entails. If you marry a doctor, don't whine because he doesn't keep the hours of a shoe clerk, and by the same token if you marry a shoe clerk, don't complain because he doesn't make as much money as a doctor. Be satisfied that he works regular hours,' Mother told us.

"'It is depressing enough for a man to know that he has to work the rest of his life without the added burden of knowing that it will be work he hates. Too many potentially great men are eating their hearts out in dull jobs because of selfish wives.'"

I stopped reading there. I was slightly repulsed. Betty's mom does not sound like a modern feminist. But, the book cover said this book is a classic, so I thought I might get it anyway because it is only $7. I thought I might find it interesting to read about something I would seriously question myself.

When I got home, I read more of the book and about Betty online. Betty continues:

"This I'll-go-where-you-go-do-what-you-do-be-what-you-are-and-I'll-be-happy philosophy worked out splendidly for Mother for she followed my mining engineer father all over the United States and lead a fascinating life; but not so well for me, because although I did what she told me and let Bob choose the work in which he felt he would be the happiest and then plunged wholeheartedly in with him, I wound up on the Pacific Coast in the most untamed corner of the United States, with a ten-gallon keg of good whisky,... and hundreds and hundreds of the most uninteresting chickens."

This is a book I could read.

When I googled Betty MacDonald, I read that she grew up in Laurelhurst, a historically posh neighborhood in Seattle. When I read that she married a chicken farmer and moved to the boondocks, I wanted to fly back in time before Betty married this guy and take her for a walk around Green Lake and say "Oh honey--marrying a chicken farmer and living on a chicken farm is such a bad idea. You are smart! You are elegant! You are funny and refined! Chickens are dumb, smelly and poop all over the place." I bet her some of her friends did try to tell her, and I bet she didn't listen because she was in love with the first guy that paid her any attention.

When I got home, I googled Betty. She left Bob and the chicken farm in 1931. You know the old cliche--a bad date makes a good story. Betty's bad marriage made a famous memoir.

I began to think about Betty's mom's advice. At first pass, I thought it was crazy. Now I think it isn't wrong, but I might take a different spin on it. Instead of being blindly happy about your husband's work, I might say don't marry a guy whose job you hate.

When I read more about The Egg & I, I felt a little like Ginny Weasley when she found Tom Riddle's diary in her book basket when she was shopping for school supplies. I just picked up this book not really knowing what it was really about. It seems interesting, but it also could be dangerous.

So where does this leave me? Jack became leader of his group about seven years ago. At that point, his job became all consuming. He works long hours and has a hard time being physically or emotionally present. When real problems arise (see: The Boy, Wilderness), he lacks the bandwidth to adequately cope as he is spent on work. Based on my own personal data inventory of people I know who have held this job, I've seen 100% divorce rate. I've never known anyone in this role in other hospitals around the country who isn't on their second spouse.

Jack and I have talked and talked and talked about his job. He loves his work. He admits it is too much, but he sees no way to change it.

Now I wish Betty could fly forward in time, take me for a walk around Green Lake, and tell me what to do. What would I tell her I want: companionship. Steady and reliable companionship. I went out with friends this weekend, but I don't want to go out with a different friend every night. I want a constant companion who knows my stuff and I know his.