To describe me as a fan of Little House on the Prairie is a gross understatement. Not the books, the TV series. I was too young to watch it when it originally aired, but I caught it in reruns later and consumed the entire series, more than once.
LHOP shaped my worldview in many ways. When I was offended by something a friend or sister had done I would describe her as “such a Nellie Olsen”! If a character on a medical drama needed pain relief and they were given morphine my first thought was “Careful! It’s highly addictive. Just ask Albert after he got in with a bad crew and was so hooked he stole the drug from sweet Doc Baker. PA WOULD BE SO DISAPPOINTED IN YOU.”
My roommate in university and I stayed up late one night recalling episodes of our beloved show. She disclosed that she and her sisters would put nylons on their heads and braid the legs as hair and act out scenes as the Ingalls girls. In case you’re wondering, yes, I for sure casually strolled into her room several times as I braided my pantyhoes atop my head.
As newlyweds, Bearded Husband and I had a vegetable garden in a very sunny backyard. As I lugged watering cans from our rain barrel to the parched tomatoes I reminded myself that if a heavily-pregnant Laura Ingalls Wilder could take care of her and Manly’s crops during a drought, then surely I could manage our garden during a heatwave. Sadly, no Willie Olsen organized my students to help me out, but I also did not suffer from heatstroke, so there’s that.
One morning when my oldest son was about five years old, he complained that his neck was itchy. I discovered a fine rash on his torso and he was running a fever. We went to the doctor and the moment he laid eyes on my little guy he declared “Oh, he has Scarlett Fever, I can tell just by looking. Hop up on the table so can check to be sure.” I then waited for the punchline. Nothing. So I responded with “Pa! I can’t see! Help me, Pa!” Our doctor had an excellent sense of humour, but his LHOP frame of reference was nil. I had to spell it out for him: “Ha, ha, like Mary Ingalls, right? Little House?” After a beat he calmly commented, “Oh, yeah, it’s a real thing, but don’t worry we caught it early and he will be fine.” Wait, wait, wait, this was something you could still get?
The above anecdotes might not convince you that I was die-hard fan. Fair point. But then let me ask you this: would anyone but a die-hard fan have the LHOP collector’s plates?
No. They would not.
My collection began as a kind gesture from my parents. They had the plates shipped to a friend who lived in the states (only US residents could order these treasures). He would then bring them to us on his visits. The orchestration of the purchase and delivery of these memorabilia just adds to the legend that is my LHOP plate collection. I have saved them for such a time as this. We are all at home for social isolation and going out to the grocery store now is the equivalent of Caroline Ingalls going to the mercantile to haggle with Mrs. Olsen. Plus, they keep me company.
I’m not lonely. Who said I was lonely?
I’m fine. Nothing to worry about.
I’m willing to loan these out to those of you who are homeschooling the Pioneer Life unit of the grade 3 curriculum. Just promise to be careful.
So, LHOP fans – which episodes stuck with you? How did this series impact your life?