AMERICAN GOTHIC IMAGINED
AN INTERPRETATION OF FOLKS IN THE PICTURE
Meet Josiah and Annie Figg. They have been married for 32 years and have lived in Hope Valley, Pennsylvania on their farm since their wedding day in nineteen ought two. Josiah is a hard-working man, somber in expression and quick to take note of any offenses wrought his way. He is the Lord and Master of his house and the final voice in any decisions made under his roof. He answers to no man, and holds the word of God from the tattered Bible on his fireplace to be the hard and fast basis of those decisions. Josiah and Annie are members of the Friends in Jesus Bible Church, a non-instrumental as well as non denominational gathering of brothers and sisters from the community who meet Sunday mornings, Sunday evenings and Wednesday nights in a small white clapboard structure near the community crossroads. It is the social hub of the small population of farmers in Hope Valley. There are 63 members. The congregation has no formal pastor, and each month a designated brother presents a segment of sermons on the subject matter of his leading, according to God’s will. When Josiah Figg speaks, you can pretty much count on a lot of hell and brimstone. He takes the promised eternal damnation for the sinners of the world seriously, and is quick to instill the fear of God into every man, woman and child in Hope Valley. Annie always sits in the front pew of the tiny church on Sunday mornings wringing a handkerchief held tightly in her hand and listens intently as her husband speaks when he is Shepherd of the Month.
Annie Figg is a dutiful wife and keeps an immaculate home for her husband. She is thrifty and cans the fruits and vegetables the sweat of his brow and his labor in the fields has yielded. During their courtship and early marriage Josiah addressed his wife by her given name of Annie. From the moment the country doctor placed his firstborn son, Samuel, into his arms, however, Josiah referred to his wife as “Woman” in front of adult company, or “Mother” in the presence of their children, and Annie basically bowed to her personhood of who she was to what she was. To the community she was Mrs. Josiah Figg. Annie gave Josiah three sons and two daughters…Samuel, Ezra, Simeon, Phoebe, and Sarah. Mrs. Josiah Figg performed her duties as a mother in a conscientious fashion. She saw to her children’s physical needs by preparing nourishing meals and keeping them well fed and clean. She saw to their spiritual needs by teaching them lessons on good moral character from the bible and not sparing the rod on occasions that merited it’s use. Mrs. Josiah Figg made her children’s clothing and taught her daughters womanly skills at an early age so that they too, would become capable wives and mothers. She was also a member of the local quilting circle at Friends in Jesus Women Society. Her motto was “waste not want not”, and she put to good use animal feed sacks and flower sacks in making her husband’s, sons’ and daughters’ undergarments and nightclothes. Although she rarely smiled, Mrs. Josiah Figg secretly chuckled to herself when she sewed her husband’s underwear from the cotton flower print sacks on the old treddle Singer sewing machine he’d bought for her as a wedding gift. Once she’d caught sight of him in a yellow and green print flower pattern as he prepared for bed, and she had chuckled audibly. Josiah Figg gave his wife a stern look and said, “Woman! What strikes your humor?” And she had born the false witness of replying, “It was something that young Samuel and Ezra said this morning in milking the cow I was pondering Husband.”
Mrs. Josiah Figg was a woman with some memories tucked away in her apron pockets. She and her husband had attended a few barn dances in their day, and once they had gone on a lovely buggy ride during courting and pic-nicked by Lake Eerie. Josiah had picked some spring wildflowers for her and placed them in her hair with a kiss, asking for her hand in marriage. He had kissed her…not in secret…but under the splendor of the open sky in the beauty of the moment, caught off guard with his emotions. He had told her he could not imagine any other woman ever finding a place in his heart but her. They were young. Josiah’s eyes had a light in them that displayed a vulnerability not unlike a child’s on Christmas morning. Yes…there were memories for her to keep. And there was hope in the new radio as well. Josiah had agreed to it and brought it home from the catalogue store of Sears Robuck. Now there was the music of Bing Crosby crooning like a rainbow from a prism against the papered walls of the kitchen where Mrs. Josiah Figg baked her pies, and fried her husband’s chickens for their sustenance. Life was getting sweeter. Perhaps one day, when they were alone, and the pitchfork and plow rested silently within the confines of the barn, Annie and Josiah Figg might even dance a bit, and it would be pleasing in God’s sight.
By Jennifer Grant