Today, we’re going to recap Little House on the Prairie, Season 1, Episode 6: If I Should Wake Before I Die. It already sounds morbid.
If I Should Wake Before I Die
Warning: I have thoughts about “If I Should Wake Before I Die,” and they’re not all positive. Just wanted to make that clear before you invest time in reading this.
We open with a pair of older hands playing “Camptown Races” on a stringed lap instrument that I don’t know what it’s called. As the camera pans out, we see a smiling Laura staring at the playing hands that end their song to applause. Ah, these hands are at the Ingalls house, and Ma, who is also smiling, walks in the door.
All three girls are sitting around an elderly woman, who we’ve never seen before and will never see again, who tries to get the girls to pat their heads while rubbing their tummies in a circle. All but Mary partake. Now they’re breaking into a rousing version of “Aunt Rhody.” Wait, what? We’re singing about a dead goose? Mind you, they are all smiling as they sing about poor Aunt Rhody, who can’t have a featherbed now that her goose is dead behind a shed. These pioneers were something else.
Despite the big smile that was on her face seconds ago, Laura says she doesn’t like singing about dying because it’s too sad. Their older friend said it’s not so sad when you’re as close to death as she is and compares death to finishing a book or quilt. I have to ask Ma who is kneading bread at the same table: How would you feel if Mr. Edwards had this same morbid conversation with the girls?
Ma suggests they sing “Going to Boston,” a much more appropriate song.
Miss Maddie’s Not So Surprise Party
Pa is helping a woman named Amy, whom we’ve never seen before, and never will again, decorate her house with red and blue paper chains. I can’t help but think this must be a very rich woman to have that much red and blue paper to waste on making chains.
Amy is talking about someone who is the same age to the day, and they’re not anything alike. Pa wants to know why Amy (who is not a “Miss”) and “Miss Maddy” (who we’ll assume is the woman singing and playing at the Ingalls home) should be anything alike. Apparently, because they are born 12 days apart under the same sign. Pa doesn’t believe in that nonsense.
The decorations are for Amy, and she knows about her surprise party. Pa and Amy are talking about something that I’ve already forgotten about when Doc Baker knocks on the door and is told to wipe his feet. It should be noted that he didn’t wait for anyone to open the door or ask who it was. He just opened the door. Rude! Doc Baker drops off the mail and invites himself to Miss Maddy’s Surprise But Not Really Party.
Amy picks up the letter Doc Baker dropped off and notes that it’s another letter from Miss Maddy’s daughter, Eliza. “Too busy. Can’t make it. Sorry.” Like always. Charles offers to take the letter, but Amy says she’ll know about it soon enough.
Back at home, Miss Maddy rocks silently and holds her letter. Amy tells her she’ll see them at Thanksgiving. Then she says they can celebrate their birthdays together and that children do have their own lives. Miss Maddy tells stories about her own children that I won’t get into here. She goes quiet.
The letter falls from Miss Maddy’s hands, and they go limp. Amy stops talking. We’re going to go ahead and presume Miss Maddy is dead.
Saying Goodbye
Graveside, Walnut Grove mourns for Miss Maddie. Amy watches from a distance while the three Ingalls girls inexplicably remain in the wagon and watch from Amy’s vantage point.
Carrie asks what everyone is doing, and Amy says they are saying goodbye. Laura wants to know what good it does when she can’t hear them, and why didn’t they come to her birthday? Amy tells her that you can miss a birthday and no one says much, but you can’t miss a funeral. Laura puts a bug in Amy’s ear and says that we should have funerals while we’re still alive so we can say goodbye to everyone.
Pa takes Amy home in his wagon, which literally looks like it’s about to roll over on that fake road. He invites Amy to stay with them because it’s going to be lonely. Where would Amy sleep, Pa? In the barn like Mr. Edwards? She passes.
It’s been decades since I’ve seen any Little House on the Prairie episodes, and I have to tell you, this one is a real buzz kill. I mean, since the pilot, we’ve seen menacing wolves, Pa break a bunch of ribs, bullying, powder monkeys blown into oblivion, and heard of heartbreaking loss. Mind you, I was only ten when the series launched, but there may be a reason I stopped watching after the first few seasons and went strictly sitcom. This is what made up family programming in the ’70s: Wolves, bullies, and old ladies who are stood up by their kids before they die.
But I digress…
Miss Amy hesitates at the door, turns and waves to Pa and walks into her empty home, pausing at Miss Maddie’s rocking chair, sitting down and hugging her family pictures to her chest. See? Buzzkill.
Dinnertime
After the commercial, Mary is saying grace. There is corn on everyone’s plates, as usual, and something brown. As usual. Ma saw Amy at the mercantile, and she insisted on settling up her bill as if she had some kind of premonition. Pa said she needs something to occupy her mind, and it’s not good to be in that house by herself. I don’t know, Pa. I kind of think an empty house sounds like bliss, but that’s just me. Ma voluntells the girls to visit Amy – one on one, day and one the next. This way, she has two visits.
Laura is really digging into her corn on the cob. I’d be good with not seeing that again.
Ma made pie crust cookies, and Pa said to bring some over to Amy, and it’s ok to be late for school. An early-morning visit so that Amy can spend the whole day alone, thinking about her mortality? What a great idea, Pa! Plans for Sunday supper are also in the works. Laura likes Amy because she talks to them like adults, and Pa said she wouldn’t if she saw how Laura eats, and I have to agree with Pa here.
A Very Big Ask
The next morning, Laura is running down a hill and into town, while calling for Pa. She tells Pa that Miss Amy is sick. Pa tells Laura to run to school while he sends Doc Baker over. Doc Baker is busy looking into the throat of a boy who seems to be experiencing a classic case of 5-Day Quincy. Comes on Monday and leaves on Friday. Doc Baker suggests castor oil every four hours, which, just the suggestion, miraculously cures the little faker.
Doc says he can’t find anything wrong with Miss Amy. Maybe she needs castor oil, too. In a very low, sick voice, she asks Pa to call in her family and get the priest from Mankato. Miss Amy has a lot of asks, which are about to get askier. She is holding a wake next Wednesday, her birthday. Oh. I see. It’s a ploy to see her family before she dies.
Doc Baker threatens to put Amy over his knee, which is as creepy as it sounds. Pa and Doc Baker are using outdoor voices now that they realize they’ve been played. Doc Baker doesn’t want any part of this deception, and Pa isn’t happy about it either. Miss Amy thinks it’s an idiotic convention in a grown-up world that your loved ones only come to see you when you’re dead. Amy is trying to logic them into deception, and I think they’re going to give in.
I’m not ten years old anymore, and I’m just shaking my head. The grownups in the room have all lost their collective marbles.
Guilting the Neighbors
Sure enough, Miss Amy guilts Pa and Doc Baker. I think it was the “You’d do for a corpse, but not for me” line. She’s that good. She’s actually better because not only does she have these men notifying her ungrateful, absentee kids and grandkids, and fetching priests, but she’s putting Charles in charge of all the preparations for the wake. And Charles “Do Unto Others” Ingalls is going along with this nonsense.
Amy tells the men there’s plenty of money in the till, and she’ll be there to supervise…er…I mean, advise them. There will be blackberry wine, chicken, ham, and potato salad. No expense will be spared. Readers, this is what happens when you don’t say no. Let the enabling begin!
Ma is incredulous. Pa says he knows it’s unusual, but “unusual” isn’t the word Ma is looking for. Ma wants Pa to march right back to Amy’s house and tell her he won’t do it, but Pa is not about to break his promise to an 80-year-old woman. Amy guilted him good, yo.
Ma will handle this.
Prediction: Ma won’t handle this.
In bed, Laura asks Mary how long she wants to live. Laura wants to live forever, but funsucker Mary says that she can’t. Mary tells Laura to go to sleep, and Laura says that’s what it’s like to be dead. Going to sleep. Laura’s amused by this.
This “If I Should Wake Before I Die” episode is morbid beyond words.
Ma Bakes a Cake
Pa parks his wagon precariously on the fake road in front of Miss Amy’s house and paces outside while Ma talks inside. Carrie paces in the wagon in solidarity. Ma comes out and silently climbs into the wagon. Pa asks if Amy was terribly disappointed, and Ma said no. He asks how Ma managed to do it, and she responds that she’s baking the cake. Called it once again.
An undisclosed period of time later, the children are leaving school. Doc Baker is enjoying a beverage on the mercantile porch while Mr. Oleson sweeps around him. The men are discussing inflation. Laura and Mary stop by and ask Doc Baker how Miss Amy is getting along, as Laura winks. Doc Baker doesn’t know what to say, but he doesn’t want to lie to Mr. Olseson, and leaves.
And maybe this is my big problem with this episode. This show takes great pains to produce a moral outcome, and “If I Should Wake Before I Die” centers around enabling dishonesty. Laura and Mary would have been taken to the woodshed for lying to their parents. This isn’t a little white lie. It’s a whopper of epic proportions. It’s worse because it involves a whole bunch of people lying about the worst thing you can lie about. I get that Amy has ungrateful children who don’t visit her often enough, but there is no way you can turn this into a positive for me. Charles “a lecture for every conversation” Ingalls is lying to someone’s family about their mother and grandmother being dead. Not cool.
The ruse continues as Pa and Doc Baker sneak Amy out of her house, bags packed, because she’s not supposed to be there if she’s dead.
Lying to the Priest
Coming home from school, Mary and Laura encounter an obvious man of the cloth who is riding a horse badly down the road. He asks them if they can kindly direct him to the Ingalls’ place. What a coincidence! Laura excuses herself because she “has to go” and runs away.
At home, Ma, Carrie, and Amy are peeling eggs as they talk about Amy’s children. You know, the ones they’re deceiving? Laura runs in the barn to tell Pa the priest is here, and Pa high tails it to the house to hide Amy in the bedroom so they can lie to a priest. The priest didn’t know Amy but said his predecessor knew her well. He asks the Ingalls’ to fill him in so he can do a proper eulogy. Ma passes, but Pa, ever the accomplice, is happy to oblige.
As they are talking, Amy comes out of the bedroom and tells the priest she’d like a word. Outside. In private. Ma thinks Amy’s finally come to her senses. I just think Amy is trying to guilt someone else into deception. Ma hopes the priest won’t be too angry, coming all that way for nothing. Pa starts eating the cake as Ma offers the icing to the girls since there won’t be a cake.
Turns out, Amy didn’t come clean. She lied to the priest, too, and pretended she was someone else so she could fill him in on who Amy Hearn was. I have no words.
Miss Amy Has a Wake
At Miss Amy’s house, guests have arrived, and food is on the table. Harriet Oleson is questioning the birthday cake, but Ma explains that Amy would have been 80 today. Amy is tucked away in her bedroom and pours herself a stiff one. Then she puts on a black veil that hides absolutely nothing over her face and joins the party. Harriet wonders who the woman with the veil is, and I’m like, how can no one else see through this veil that hides nothing?
Amy’s family arrives. There are a lot of them. Ma tells Amy she can see why she’s so proud of her grandchildren. Amy tells Ma who each of them is. Pa makes introductions all around like he’s an old friend. May I just say that this is one of those wakes where no one is sad? Everyone laughs and eats ham and cake, but no one actually seems to be mourning Amy.
Ma wonders how long this will go on. Amy walks around and lurks. Listening to conversations. Muttering to herself. In this see-through veil that no one can see through but the people in TV land. It should also be noted that her kids are all speaking in brogues, though Amy doesn’t have much of one herself.
Why is no one but Mrs. Oleson curious about this woman in her black dress and veil, the only person in the room dressed for a funeral, who is lurking in the shadows, talking to no one? THIS ISN’T NORMAL, PEOPLE!
The door opens, and a soldier walks in. “He’s home!” Amy whispers from under her veil that hides nothing. Andy, the prodigal son, has come home! Another brogue child. “What a pity it is, it took something like this to bring us together again.” Unamused, Amy pushes aside her veil and says, “Amen to that!!” Awkward!
Miss Amy Shames Her Guests
Everyone stares as if they’ve seen a ghost, and can you blame them? Everyone but the priest, who still thinks that Amy is Miss O’Hara, an old friend of Amy Hearn. Harriet is not looking one bit amused. “What in the name of common sense…” her oldest son asks. Amy tells him she’ll deal with him later. She has a bone to pick with the soldier and calls him a miserable, ungrateful “spalpeen.” With that kind of greeting, I’m thinking it’s no wonder he hasn’t seen his mother in 15 years. A bit of a brogue finally creeps in as Amy’s talking.
Amy starts in on her other kids, but they’re not having it. “How could you let them tell us you were dead?” Her daughter asks. But Amy twists it around to make it her children’s fault for not visiting her often enough. Sorry, Amy. I’m siding with Bridgette on this one. You can’t polish this turd. Amy pours on the guilt, and of course, she guilts her children into feeling awful.
Amy lectures her family and uses their own words against them, while they all look ready to cry. She tells her kids that even though she deceived them into mourning her and coming to her wake, they mean everything to her. She’s 80 years old and doesn’t have many birthdays left. This woman puts my own grandmother to shame. Crying and hugs ensue. Pa and Ma smile, proud of their work, and all of Walnut Grove looks on. Even the priest winks. Pa, who brought his fiddle to a wake, fake fiddles and all is forgiven. The End.
I can’t leave it there. I have to note one more morbid detail. Everyone is dancing beside a coffin. And now I’ll leave it at that.
