The Morning After

The living room was the musical epicenter of the 1940s home. The place where teenage daughters swooned over Frank Sinatra records, little brothers practiced their scales at the piano, and Mother and Dad tapped their toes to the Billy Mills Orchestra as they listened to the latest episode of Fibber McGee and Molly. And so my 1945 housekeeping manual reminds me to be sure to pick up any stray "music" or "victrola records" as I'm straightening up the living room after breakfast.

We always had a piano in the house when I was growing up, so any sheet music we were finished playing belonged inside the upholstered lid of the piano bench. The bench was just the right size to hold two stacks of sheet music side by side. And because they weren't as sturdy as music books, they needed a little extra protection. Music books got stacked up in a pile on the top of the piano and the ones that were least popular were kept on a bookshelf nearby. The authors of the manual recognized that the storage of sheet music and phonograph records posed a special problem for the housewife and suggested that sheet music might best be stored in labelled portfolios.

Have you ever handled one of those old shellac records? If so, you know just how heavy and fragile they seem in your hands. One stumble and they can break in two. By the '40s, many recordings were available in celluloid and, later, vinyl. Much, much lighter, but prone to scratching:

Expensive, precious records should be kept in albums or specially designed cabinets, safe from harm. Currently popular dance records that are in constant demand may be kept in open racks, but their paper jackets should not be thrown away. Unless these jackets are put on again after the records are used, dust or careless handling may scratch the records severely.

Our digital tunes in the 21st century don't leave much in the way of a mess about the house. No brightly-colored sheet music, no records, no paper dust jackets. I guess the only places they clutter up are our hard drives and playlists!

I'll wrap up this set with my vintage breakfast menu for this morning:

Stewed Apricots

Hard-Cooked Egg

Toast

Okay, so the menu actually calls for a Soft-Cooked Egg, but undercooked eggs have never been appealing to me. The cookbook included instructions for both. And though it's not how I'm accustomed to making a hard-boiled egg, it was perfect! The secret? Bring the egg to a boil very slowly, then reduce the heat dramatically, cover, and let sit for 20-30 minutes.