Part 1: In Pursuit of Dreams
The Story of Vivian Mae Faircloth
Prologue
Vivian stood before the mirror in her bedroom, her reflection a stranger staring back at her. She whispered words of self-assurance, convincing herself that the choice she was about to make was not born from selfishness, but from an urgent need to find the woman she’d buried beneath the roles of wife and mother.
Her trembling hands brushed over the familiar weight of her wedding band. It held years of shared promises, a symbol of a union now strained to the breaking point. With a determined breath, she carefully placed a photo of her children atop neatly folded garments in her open suitcase, sealing her decision.
Vivian hurried out the back door, heart pounding, and down the alley where her lover waited in the passenger’s seat of her 1949 black Ford Coup. As she sped away, gravel spat defiantly from the wheels, and she glanced back and forth between the rearview mirror and the open road, caught in the turmoil of past and future.
Beside her, her lover sat back in quiet contemplation, a silent reminder of the choice she’d made. His hand reached out, offering warmth that barely masked the chill of doubt. The road stretched ahead, a blank canvas which was about to be painted with choices and consequences. Each passing mile tightened the knots in her stomach, mingling desperation with regret.
She told herself that this decision, as grave as it was, wouldn’t define her. She was only 32 years old, and had literally been married half of her life.
The Burden of Want
In the heartland of Long Prairie, Minnesota, amidst the biting cold of a February night in 1925, Vivian Mae Faircloth entered the world as a breech baby. Born to a family unaccustomed to farming life, Vivian's arrival marked a shift from her mother Harriet's bustling city of Minneapolis roots. The family's hasty retreat from the city had been prompted by the devastating toll of the smallpox epidemic, claiming over 500 lives in the state, hitting Minneapolis hardest.
Calvin, Vivian's father, hailed from a North Carolina farm, though his knowledge of farming was scarcely shared with his Long Prairie family. He toiled long hours at a bakery in Minneapolis, with his presence at home largely reserved for the purpose of expanding the family.
Their marriage, though one of convenience rather than love, worked well for all until Calvin's untimely demise in 1934 at a mere 45. Vivian, just nine, retained but one memory of her father: “he was mean, mean, mean.” He was a man of few words, abstaining from drink, smoke, dance, or song. However, a leather strap provided a stark contrast to his quiet demeanor. Calvin's passing, while emotionally distant for the family, was the impetus for financial hardships that would persist until Harriet's passing in 1963.
Prior to Calvin’s death, the family was one of strict Baptists. After his death, if the family attended any service, it was Catholic. In truth, Harriet didn’t put much weight on religion in the upbringing of her children. In fact, if the measures of a good mother are rooted in what one can see, then Harriet lacked in many regards. Though the children all had household chores, she wasn’t much of a housekeeper herself. She wasn’t much of a cook either. Meals consisted of red gravy (thickened tomato soup) and boiled potatoes, vegetable soup with hard dumplings and “poor man’s fruit cake.” Meat, when they could afford it, was dry and overcooked. Although a loving mother, her main goal, it seemed, was not that different from other women of her generation: get the children through a few years of school and married to the first halfway decent person that showed interest, rather than marrying for love or passion.
In the wake of Calvin's death, the family moved into Northeast Minneapolis, among the poorest of the poor, relying on government assistance. The older children balanced school and work to contribute to rent, yet they lived at the mercy of capricious landlords who could hike rent or, worse, evict them without warning. They didn’t have money for a lot of possessions, which although convenient when packing up in the middle of the night to dodge landlords seeking past-due rent, weighed hard on Vivian.
The family's precarious circumstances were a source of unrelenting anxiety and shame for Vivian. She was acutely aware of the disparities that set her apart from the more privileged children on the "rich side of the tracks." Even in the post-Depression era, the absence of a reliable family provider ensured that poverty was an inescapable reality. It meant sacrifices, and while the company of neighbors in similar straits provided some solace, attending school among peers of greater means was a trying experience.
From these humble beginnings, Vivian nurtured ambitions that sprang from scarcity. She longed for a devoted husband who could support the family, children who wouldn’t need to wear hand-me-downs; and, above all, she desired a home of her own. These things, she reasoned, would bring stability in all the definitions of the word. She promised herself that her children would never know the want she had endured.
Girlish Dreams & Guiding Lights
Having been orphaned as a young girl herself, Harriet didn’t have much to offer in the way of guidance for the necessary skills of a young woman. She didn’t cook, clean, attend church, sew or frankly even demonstrate any of the appropriate virtues of a young lady. Overwhelmed with their state of poverty, lack of a breadwinner and six school-aged children, Harriet spent most of her time with the local ladies catching up on the neighborhood gossip and playing cards for coins. Of course Harriet loved her children and always had a warm and sheltering hug to share, but she wasn’t very engaged with their lives. If someone had asked her what the hopes and dreams of her children were, she wouldn’t have been able to answer.
For those conversations, Vivian’s same-age cousin Lois was her close friend and confidant. Together they played “dress up for tea.” In their mothers' clothing, hats, and beads, they pretended to be rich ladies, sipping tea. They would walk barefoot and explore along the railroad tracks for what seemed like miles just to find the end of the tracks, which of course they never did. One time they packed a picnic of apple butter sandwiches and hiked eight blocks to the lawn of a box manufacturer on Hennepin Avenue just so they could sit in grass while they had their sandwiches. Then they’d walk home and dress up their paper dolls with homemade outfits using wallpaper scraps, talking about the day’s big adventure. Later when a bit older, Vivian and her best friend from the neighborhood, MJ, were inseparable. Together they tried makeup, shared clothes, and participated in Girl Scouts. They were competitive with each other, but in the end, they had each other's backs.
A girl needs friends and Lois and MJ filled that role; she also needs a mother. But since Harriet didn’t have much in the way of “how to be a woman/ wife/ mother” guidance, Vivian looked to Miss Brown, the young woman who worked at the Margaret Barry House.
The Margaret Barry House on Pierce Street in northeast Minneapolis was run by the League of Catholic Women and was an important fixture in the community, aiding newly arrived immigrants as well as the poor. For Vivian and her siblings, it was the epicenter of experiences they may otherwise never have had. Some experiences were not the good kind, like when the doctors were handsy during the girls’ annual exams or the dentists-in-training performed procedures without novacane. For the most part though, it was a source of what Vivian would later recall as very fond memories.
Miss Brown was young, smart and beautiful and seemed to know about everything. She was kind and gracious, always with the best of social graces. Miss Brown taught Vivian how to cook, dance and sew. To Vivian, she was everything good and pure and glamorous – all attributes Vivian worked to emulate, especially the glamore. Looking good on the outside was a value that stayed with her throughout her life: she never left home without having carefully applied her lipstick and wearing a clean and pressed outfit. Image mattered so much that even as 60-something year old, she had an eye lift.
Under the unwitting influence of Miss Brown and the empty part in her soul that craved affection and attention, at the age of fifteen, Vivian carried herself as if she were twenty, and harbored dreams that mirrored those of a thirty-year-old.
In part 2, Vivian experiences first love, world war and motherhood.
Wonderful. We are transported into her life. Excellent !
This is fabulous, you had me hooked from the fumble with the ring. Well done!