Volume 1: Lillian and her Letters
Lillian Parsons was born in Omaha, Nebraska on the 3rd of July, 1892 to Swedish immigrants Nels and Ida Parsons. The second of four children, her parents immigrated separately in the 1880s and met at church, most likely the Second Presbyterian Church of Omaha where they were married on 9 January 1889. Lillian’s older brother Harry came along just over nine months later on 20 September 1889. Two more children followed Lillian: sister Marion, born on 3 November 1894, and brother Charles, or Charley, on 21 November 1894.
A previous post talked about Lillian almost-sharing a birthday with her mother, Ida, who was born on the 4th of July in 1864, and how her parents became American citizens a few months before Lillian was born. As first-generation Americans, Lillian and her siblings were wonderfully typical American teenagers with all the excitement, woes, and drama of any American teenager. How do we know this?
Lillian, thankfully, was something of a packrat. Among the many things her family inherited were a stack of letters dated mostly 1908-1910 that Lillian wrote to her brother Harry when he went off to college in Chicago. Lillian was a 16-19 year old high school student and undoubtedly close to her brother and her sister Marion. The letters tell of a teenage girl typical of her time, who could be any teenage girl today. Instead of Insta and emojis, we have chatty handwritten letters (mostly in pencil), often written during or between classes, telling of flirtations, social engagements, drama with friends and neighbors, and (very occasionally) major historical events.
These letters are, frankly, too much fun not to share with the world. They’re a snapshot in time, a beautiful look at a teenage girl in turn-of-the-twentieth-century Omaha, Nebraska, and a fascinating look at a robust immigrant community that was rapidly becoming as American as those who had been on American soil for generations.
Lillian lived a full and wonderful life. As her grandson is fond of saying, “she was born in the era of the horse and buggy and died after man walked on the moon.” These letters are a tribute to her at a time in her life that none of her children, grandchildren, or great-grandchildren were alive to witness, and provide stories of real, living people that would otherwise be long forgotten. I hope you enjoy them as much as I do – please comment if you do!