People of Costco

Today I'm guest posting for Bonnie at A Knotted Life, talking about religious identity and how I secretly want to make friends with people who follow super-religious dress codes. Her blog is honest, funny, and faith-filled; definitely check it out!

Magnetic cart escalator to heaven?

It's funny how just after I finalized my post for Bonnie, I ran into the very same experiences that inspired it in the first place. We need snacks for a big museum event this weekend, so I was dispatched to Costco, that haven of bulk provisions for large religious families. Most of the time working in Brooklyn I feel like my suburban upbringing is a liability, but not today, hipsters! I knew this place back when it was still Price Club.

The Sunset Park Costco's industrial setting is pretty different from the strip malls of NoVA, but inside it smells just like a Costco. The signs and price tags are the same and the layout is familiar once you realize this store has two levels. The sheet cake order form is unchanged since my 1998 sugar-coma of graduations  and Confirmation receptions.

It brought back so many memories I almost wept with homesickness. I felt like I should be wearing a school uniform and making sure my little brothers didn't wander off in the frozen foods. Bulk grocery shopping is my heritage, dangit.

The crowd of giggling hijab-clad schoolgirls in long black dresses on the R train platform should have tipped me off. Of course this place would be packed with various descendants of Abraham. There were Jewish men in black hats and their wives in wigs. There were more hijabs and long skirts, including one Muslim mom pushing a double stroller while wrangling two other kids.

For once, I didn't feel like I needed to explain to these people that I am sorta kinda one of them. I've logged enough hours in my life traipsing the Kirkland Signature aisles in a plaid skirt to be certain of my identity. I come from a Big Catholic Family, and my people can feed a crowd with the best of them.

My Dive Bar Catholic High School

This weekend we traveled down to Virginia to celebrate Brother #3's graduation from 8th grade. It's not a huge transition, since he'll still attend the same grade 7-12 school, but rites of passage are always a good excuse to eat cake. On the long drive I filled the Southern Baron in on more quirky details of my tiny Catholic school, like the locker situation.

Me: "So the Sevvies get these tiny boxes, but the high school ones are huge enough for a couple people to share."
Him: "Wait, you SHARED a locker? What if you want to lock it?"
Me: "Oh, nobody has a lock. There's just a general sense of trust, and it's not like you have anything worth taking in there. I shared with the J and K last names all four years."
(Brother #3 later confirmed that anyone caught messing with another guy's stuff would be dealt with behind the school.)

My husband and I both look fondly on our solid Catholic high school educations, but as a New Orleanian he basically went to school on another planet where your identity is fixed before you take the SATs. NOLA and St. Louis are the only two places I know where "Where'd you go to high school?" is the defining question to ask when meeting someone. There's something about those cities on the Mississippi river settled by tenacious French nuns - Catholic schooling caught on and never let go.

The Southern Baron is proud of his all-boys Jesuit education, and has the swag to prove it. There are lapel pins, an etched rocks glass, and glossy alumni magazines in our apartment. Last time we flew to Louisiana, the college kid in our row recognized his class ring and they proceeded to trade saints' and bishops' names like a secret code. At a Memorial Day barbecue, we discovered that my aunt's boyfriend's niece's husband also went to Jesuit, and it took the two men only five minutes to sniff out the other's academic track and activities. They count a Supreme Court justice and an American Idol judge among their fellow alumni.

My diploma doesn't have that kind of clout, except among the Steubenville/ Christendom crowd. When I tell people where I went to high school, I usually have to say "You've probably never heard of it, it's really small..." But I've concluded this means Seton is secretly super cool. My high school is the Catholic education equivalent of an awesome hipster dive bar.

The building is a little rough around the edges, with a distinctive musty smell, unreliable climate control, and worn mismatched furniture and paint colors. The same faded posters have been on the wall for years, if not decades. The menu hasn't been updated much since they opened, and you won't find anything too exotic or complicated. Some employees have cycled in and out, but for the longtime head staff, keeping the doors open is a labor of love.

Christ The King watches over the lobby.

You've probably never heard of it because it's pretty small and in a random part of town between the fire station and the railroad tracks. They don't really bother to advertise since word of mouth promotion from the regulars is enough to fill the seats.

But if you are lucky to be one of the insiders, it's a place where you know everyone and their mother and their brother and their six other siblings. Memories of fun shenanigans, long deep conversations, and romantic misadventures are scattered among the uncomfortable chairs. Other places may have broadened your horizons since, but this place knows how to deliver the classics insanely well. It also offers all kinds of obscure retro small batch stuff most people have never heard of.

It's great that there are flashier, bigger Catholic high schools with enough long hallways of identical lockers for each student to keep one with his own padlock. But I'm glad I went to a place with dubious fire code compliance that taught me about things like: logic syllogisms, sentence diagramming, Aquinas' proofs for the existence of God, Fr. Walter Ciszek, St. Januarius' liquefying blood vial, and King Philip II"s last days in the Alcazar. I'm glad that they made us go Mass twice a week and sing Pange Lingua so many times we'll never forget the lyrics. I'm especially grateful for the community of devout families in which I still find warm welcomes a decade after I graduated.

Because sometimes you gotta go where everybody knows your name.

What I Wore Sunday, Entry 12

Top, skirt, and cardi: Anne Taylor outlet and clearance; flats: Aldo; purse: thrift store

This Sunday's picture was taken in New Orleans' Audubon Park. Our quick weekend trip was bittersweet, since we were in town for the funeral of my husband's Grandma Marie. We're all sad to see her go, but she had a long and blessed 92 year life. She passed peacefully in her sleep the night of the feast of St. Joseph, the patron saint of a happy death. Seeing so many family gather for her funeral was an amazing testament to her legacy - in fact, her thirteenth great-grandchild was born just this week! The Good Shepherd was favorite devotion, which perfectly suits what a caring woman she was. There were references to that title of Jesus all through Sunday Mass. We were even sitting near a Good Shepherd stained glass window. 

I'm grateful that I was able to know Grandma Marie's kind, joyful spirit and that her generosity helped our married life get started. Her diamonds are in my engagement ring and some of her furniture helped furnish our living room. We flew home today with one of her bayou oil paintings, an heirloom we're excited to hang in our home. 

Sunday we were all emotionally and physically drained, so the Southern Baron and I spent a relaxing day with his parents. After Mass we walked around the park enjoying the sunshine and went out to their favorite Middle Eastern restaurant. Driving around we noticed that the Southern Baron's high school was having their annual bazaar! So we hit up the craft booth for some Jesuit memorabilia and marveled at how young all the students running around in blue and white shirts looked. It was the perfect way to round out a weekend full of reminiscing and celebrating family history.

For more Sunday outfits, visit Fine Linen and Purple!

Look at those azaleas! Why do we live in the frozen north again?

7 VA Quick Takes

Hop over to Conversion Diary for more Quick Takes!

1. Last weekend The Southern Baron presented at a European Studies conference in DC, so I got to see my family AND get my academia fix. Win win!

2.The conference was at the Omni Shoreham, a 1930s brick hotel and historic night life spot that is on the National Register of Historic places. The Woodley Park neighborhood was adorable and the lobby was gorgeous - but there was not enough wi-fi or free coffee. C'mon, grad students cannot live on aesthetics alone! 

3. My favorite panel was one about Europe's new role as a mission field for Christian re-evangelization. Evangelicals from Africa and othe former European colonies are now ironically planting churches in the same nations that once worked to Christianize them. One speaker referenced a definition of this reverse evangelization trend as "meridionalism" - the romantic perception of the global South as a source of salvation for the tired West. 

Meridionalism does appear to be on the rise in Catholic consciousness, especially since the election of a Latin American pope. US dioceses short on priests now import clerics from Africa or South Asia. Are the believers of developing nations our only hope for redemption from "First World" progressive modernity? Or is the modern world enabling a more integrated global Church? 

4. Both sociologists on the panel offered evidence that this trend is far more complex than noble savages. One had done extensive field work interviewing different church groups, and found that missionaries had a complex web of international connections. In her experience, Catholic priests were more blasé about moving from place to place - foreign assignments are par for the course. 

The second presenter was researching the history of American missions in Europe. To his surprise, 1920s mission magazines weren't as concerned about converting Jews as they were about bringing the "true gospel" to the "superstitious" Catholics of Eastern Europe. 

5.  While we were in town, we got to celebrate Brother #3's Confirmation a few days early! St. John was the saint he chose, and he got to receive the Holy Spirit on the feast of his patron St. Joseph. Sweet! 

He's now 14, the same age I was when he was born. How did he grow up so fast?

6. This weekend we made a shorter trip back down so I could attend a friend's baby shower. I met Mary when we were both 14, and last summer we got married within a week of each other. How did we grow up so fast? It was so nice to catch up with her whole family and be back in the Manassas Catholic community. You know it's a Papist baby shower when the attendees include 5 infants, 3 pregnant women, and 2 parish staffers who worked First Communions that morning. 

7.  Because I started my job so suddenly, many of my NoVa acquaintances don't know the details of my NJ-NYC life. It's fun to hear reactions to museum patron antics. Lately my cross has been cranky complaints. Why do some donors act like demanding customers? "If you want to keep getting my $35 donations you better do what I want!" 

The other day someone sounded upbeat on the phone but spouted passive-aggressive insults. "Gee, I thought computers were only as smart as the people who used them!" Listen buddy, at least I'm smart enough to know that generosity and arrogance don't go together. 

So yeah, one my goals for Lent is to work on being patient instead of thinking up all the blistering comebacks I'd like to say. As the Southern Baron pointed out, this is a way to "offer him your coat as well." Respecting other people's dignity when they insult yours - that is the challenge of the Gospel. 

Thank You

It's no secret that long-distance relationships are tough. Holidays are one of the worst parts. I usually forget this until the day rolls around, then the loneliness makes me remember. 

There are so many festive things my fiance and I have never done together. We've never decorated a Christmas tree, or carved pumpkins, or dyed Easter eggs. We've watched fireworks together once. Our first Valentine's Day was postponed because of a snowstorm and car trouble. We've never fasted or worn ashes in the same place. We're always apart on Christmas and Easter - we make do with Gaudete and Palm Sunday. Ringing in the New Year works out, but only after a pricey solo flight to his hometown. We still have fun even if we have to go to celebrations alone, but it's hard not to spend special days with the person you love most. Things will be so much easier when we are making our travel and celebration plans together.

Thankfully, Thanksgiving has always been ours. Three years ago, we had known each other only three months, but he drove down with me to meet my family. Today will be the fourth time he's eaten turkey off my parents' wedding china and played board games with my siblings on Black Friday. And so, I'm grateful. 

- for how my family has always welcomed the man I love into our home and our traditions

- for having my entire family all together in one place for the first time in months

- that this is our last holiday season playing schedule tetris and crossing fingers that we can see each other

- that I have time to visit my fiance next week, too

- that we can work together in the kitchen making sweet potato casserole

- that God sent a funny, handsome historian who would drive almost 500 round trip miles up and down the east coast, just to wind up at my door. And then next month drive 500 more. Happy Thanksgiving, sweetheart. I love you!

Road Trip Quick Takes

Thanks as always to Jen at Conversion Diary for hosting this link-up.

 The Betrothed and I just spent the last three weeks of June on an epic road trip visiting many friends and relatives across the Central time zone. Here are some of the funny and interesting things we saw at each of our stops.

This is what it looks like when two nerds  revisit childhood road trips. 

1. A store along the highway in Tennessee proudly proclaimed, "JESUS IS LORD" and "WE BUY GUNS."


2. The tiny town of Morrisville, AL is only nine square blocks. It was cute, but not as much of a time warp as  my doctor's office Southern Living December 2009 made it out to be. 



Quaint, but overrated. 






Fathers' Day Mass at my future sister-in-law's Florida parish featured the "Knights of Columbus Chorale" - basically Dads in matching Knights polo shirts leading the hymns. Adorbs. 






My fiance took me to a bayou nature preserve outside New Orleans, where the air was thick with humidity and cicadas. The alligators were hiding from view, but we did see lizards, a million dragonflies, and a crawfish crawling around in the the dirt. He threatened us with his claws.






Don't worry little guy, we won't eat you. 






There are a ton of historic plantation houses down River Road outside New Orleans. Evergreen Plantation is still privately owned, and so not jammed with tourists. Hollywood has found them though - apparently Quentin Tarentino has been filming scenes for Django Unchaned there. We only saw intact slave cabins, though, no movie stars.






Can't begin to describe how seeing these buildings blew my nerdy mind. 





A bumper sticker on a truck outside Dallas informed us that "Kids who hunt and fish don't steal and deal." Ok then. 







While visiting grandparents in Chicago, I did some archival research of old family photos. Check out the fantastic vestments at my great uncle's diaconate ordination. (Rest in peace. Fr. Kevin.)

Seriously, check out that man-lace. 

I hope we come back soon, Chicagoland. 

7 Quick Takes, Summer Break Edition

Thanks to Jen at Conversion Diary for hosting!

1. It really feels like summer break has started. My sister is home from college, my temp job has ended and I have ton of free time, and Brother #2 has finished his master's thesis. Let the movie marathons and outdoor frolicking commence! In the morning, I'm making waffles. 


2. One of my goals for my time off is to work on the church architecture research that I hope to publish. There are so many interesting new churches with traditional flair in the Arlington diocese. 



St. Raymond of Penafort, one of favorites from my last round of photography. 



3. The Betrothed and I have set our wedding date! June 15, 2013 will be exactly 3 years and 10 months since we met on the Feast of the Assumption.  


4. Before I started all this marriage paperwork I had no idea how Catholic churches keep track of their membership. Did you know that the parish where you were baptized keeps the official record of all your sacraments for the rest of your life?  The archival nerd in me is excited about how nationally organized this is. So I had to call a church across the country in Arizona where I have not been in 26 years. "Ok we'll call you when your baptismal certificate is ready and you can pick it up!" Umm, yeah, about that. 


5. Speaking of wedding prep, I signed up for Weight Watchers online this week. Cliche bride activity, I know. But I have a big goal to reach, and it's nice to someone else calculate things for me. Anyone have advice about how to succeed with the program?


6. Last week I went to the Young Professional's Happy Hour at the Catholic Information Center downtown. It's a bookstore and chapel run by Opus Dei, and it has by far the best Catholic book selection I've seen in the area outside of a shrine gift shop. As an added bonus, Dr. Helen Alvare was the speaker. She pretty much knocked my socks off with her legal arguments about religious freedom. I kind of want to be her when I grow up. Listen to a podcast of her talk here - you will not be disappointed. 


7. Thank you for all of the great comments on my post about being underemployed. It's good to know other people are dealing with the same challenges of trusting God's plan. Speaking of which, while wandering from the Metro to the CIC, I passed this banner on a Christian Scientist building. It made me smile. 

Can Motherhood and Graduate Degrees Mix?

I'm late to the party for this week's Bright Maidens topic, but I've really been enjoying everyone's contributions. The dilemma of stay-at-home mom vs. working mom is one that I wrestle with. I'm still asking God to show me the proper balance between my scholarly goals and my desire for motherhood.

Source

I'm blessed to have a mother who left her physical therapy career to raise her children full-time. My mom hasn't been formally employed for 27 years, but I've always known that she works as hard as any CEO. Creating a loving home and family is her mission in life, and I admire her dedication to it. As the oldest of 5 kids, I was her assistant from an early age. I'm proud of the skills I've learned at home. I can cook for a crowd, grocery shop strategically, hem pants, plant flowers, paint a living room, and jump-start a car.

On the other hand, I can identify with some women's professional angst . Grad school messes with your head in many ways, and that includes how you think about parenthood. After spending years of blood, sweat, and tears on an advanced degree, all you can think about is getting a job that will let you use it. When you make the "terrible life choice" of grad school, you make a commitment to a field you are passionate about. I didn't set out to follow a different path than my mom, it just happened that way.

When I graduated from college with no marriage prospects, I figured I might as well pay the bills doing something I loved. Thanks to Divine Providence, I started a competitive master's program ... and met my future husband two weeks into the school year. The Betrothed's love for history and Catholic family life both made me fall in love with him. I had happy daydreams of us being one of those faculty couples beloved around campus for their dinner parties, cute kids, campus ministry involvement, and banter-filled joint lectures. Here was someone who understood all the things that I valued, both sacred and secular.

It's sad to see how children can be a professional afterthought for academics. Some people in our fields would say to delay kids until tenure or several job promotions. (Waiting for pregnancy until your late 30s always works out well, right?)


That kind of attitude looks at just half the picture. Scholarly publications can feel like birthing a child, but they don't really go on to have developing lives of their own. They sit on shelves collecting dust until someone makes future grad students read them. Academia doesn't love me back, or need me to teach it what life is about. Sitting alone in an archive is cold and lonely. No one coos about how adorable your Chapter 6 footnotes are. (If they do, they need help.)


When I see examples of women writing dissertations while pregnant, I feel like there is hope in the world. It may not be possible to have it "all," but I would love to try to have at least some. I deeply desire to have a family with my historian fiance, but I have also been fighting long and hard to break into the museum field. Both parts of my life are valuable to me.

Making family a priority might be a counter-cultural choice that will keep me from becoming a super-famous and powerful curator, but I'm ok with that.When I freak out the logistics of my future motherhood, The Betrothed is always level-headed. He reassures me that his professor schedule won't be a typical 9 to 5 gig. Sometimes he'll gently chide me, saying "Hey, you're forgetting that there's another adult in the equation here!" It's so encouraging to know that raising a family is a project we'll tackle together. As Jen Fulweiler recently pointed out, fatherhood is a man's vocation, not his career.

So what kind of mom will I be? I have no idea.  Will The Betrothed and I be able to balance our work schedules so one of us is always home? Will I chase after little ones during the day and then work on a journal article after they're in bed? Will I leave my field altogether, or will I go back for a PhD once the kids are school-aged? It's too soon to tell. For now I just have to keep asking God how I'm supposed to serve him with all my abilities.

Any over-educated moms out there? I'd love to know how/if you balance scholarship and parenthood.

Last Quick Takes of 2011

--- 1 ---

Soo, that Advent wreath photo project was not as prolific as I had hoped. This year for some reason I am more timid about whipping out my camera to document a church after Mass. Still,  I did take some fun touristy field trips - here are installments 1, 2, and 3.

--- 2 ---

Last weekend I got to hear The Beau sing in his parish's Advent Lessons and Carols. It definitely got me in the Yuletide spirit. Advent carols should always have timpani accompaniment.

--- 3 ---

It looks like the fresh, cheap British takeaway chain Pret A Manger has made the leap across the pond! There's one in Manhattan, and lately I've seen two in DC. I just had to stop at the one in Union Station on my way to catch my train to The Beau's Lesson and Carols in New Jersey.
Me: "OMG how long have ya'll been here?!?!?!"
Bemused cashier in reindeer headband: "Since Tuesday. I know, people keep freaking out and saying they recognize us from London. Honestly, this time of year Pret is the last thing on my mind."

Via IamDCDG

Seriously, though, you should check them out. They win my allegiance for listing allergen information and for personally responding to customer emails. Pret got me though my two week frigid museum death march/London trip of a lifetime.

--- 4 ---

My sister and I were victorious in our bridesmaid dress mission for Brother #1's June wedding. This was our  inspiration

but this is what I ended up choosing. The best part? The dress has POCKETS. Thank you, fashion designers, for allowing me to carry Lactaid pills and tissues.

--- 5 ---

Speaking of blue, that is also the color scheme for our family portrait today. I'm excited to actually be in it this time. The last parish directory photo was great, except for the fact that I was out of town....

--- 6 ---

Reasons #467 - 469 why I love my job: The VP of Finance made festive earrings for all the ladies in the office, there was gluten free pizza for lunch, and my new Russian boss is teaching us the Cyrillic alphabet one letter a day.

--- 7 ---

I might schedule some posts for the Christmas Octave, but otherwise this is my last big installment until after I return from ringing in the new year in New Orleans with The Beau's family, Have a blessed, joyous Yuletide everyone!

The Christmas wreath at St. Mark, the parish where I grew up

For more Quick Takes, visit Conversion Diary!

7 Quick Takes Vol. 13?

--- 1 ---

I have Veteran's Day off, something I didn't realize until three days ago. This morning I am thinking about World War I (since this was originally Armistice Day), and considering a donation to the Wounded Warrior Project.

--- 2 ---

Speaking of veterans, I finally visited the Stonewall Jackson Shrine that randomly lurks off I-95. Check out my post about it on my museum blog.

--- 3 ---

Last night I turned to Brother #3 and said, "In the morning, I'm makin' WAFFLES!" Our parents have this sweet George Foreman grill with waffle iron plates. You don't even need non-stick spray! My last GF waffle experiment was quickly gobbled up by even the normal eaters.

--- 4 ---

It even has POCKETS!

This week I reached an adult milestone: I now own a wool-blend suit. Like the kind professional people wear. All those Anne Taylor Loft sale emails were not total spam. This is the jacket, and there are pants to match.
My Fall fashion mantra is, "A jacket covers a multitude of sins." Seriously, pair a blazer with a cute necklace and no one will notice your faded jeans or the fact that you lost a shirt button on your way to work.

--- 5 ---

By this time next week, The Beau should be ABD! That's academese for "all but dissertation," meaning your coursework and qualifying exams are done and your advisors have approved your research proposal. Please say a prayer for him, because there are few things more nerve-racking than asking someone to validate your life plan.

--- 6 ---

On a happier note, my job is still awesome. We accountants are usually the last to leave, so by 5:30pm things get a little loopy. This week we had a stirring group rendition of "Climb Ev'ry Mountain," which prompted our new Russian team member to retaliate with YouTube videos of dancing Cossacks.

--- 7 ---

I've been pondering it for a while, but I've decided it's time to make this happen: next week is going to be Mormonpalooza on this blog. The LDS Church fascinates me, so I'm going to ponder their role in modern American pop culture. I'd love for you to check it out next week!

For more Quick Takes, visit Conversion Diary!

7 Quick Updates

It's been rather nice being on blog silence for a while, but I feel like I should at least check in here. I've still been keeping up with everyone else's posts, though. If you're looking for more fun stuff to read check out the other linkups to 7 Quick Takes Friday on Hallie Lord's fun blog.

1. I'm back home in northern Virginia for reals this time! Tonight I switched my address on my car insurance so you know it's official. Added bonus: my rates are cheaper here. 
2. "Living at home" (isn't that a weird redundant expression?) has never had a dull moment. Already I've been to a homeschool conference, made a sextuple batch of pasta salad for a graduation party,  watched baby birds learn to fly, and relearned the art of grocery shopping for a crowd. 
3. Yesterday I had an impromptu interview for a  part-time babysitting job. Please pray that this works out! It would be so encouraging to be employed, even a little bit. 
4. While it's frustrating not to have clear employment prospects, I'm grateful for this time to spend in my beloved DC area. Already I've gotten to reconnect with a lot of friends from high school and college.
5. For instance, today my longtime friend S. and I went on a museum romp around the national mall. If you have never been to the Hirshorn Gallery, I highly recommend it. There is lots of interesting, quirky modern art but nothing too entirely bizarre.
6. Meanwhile, the Beau has safely made it to London for several weeks of dissertation research. Figuring out Skype with a 5 hour time difference has been tricky, but I am so excited for him to have this opportunity. 
7. Finally, I hate to end on a sad story, but I feel like I should spread the word about a teacher at a local Catholic high school who has gone missing. Please pray that Tom Duesterhaus comes home safely!

Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end

Posts are going to be a little sporadic here as I deal with the aftermath of getting my master's and gradually move back to my parents' house. I'll be packing up my apartment, visiting friends, and maybe even reading history books for fun.

It's funny how graduating will get certain songs stuck in my head, No, I'm not talking about that Vitamin C 90's hit, although I am a shameless fan of Semisonic's one hit wonder, Closing Time. When I left college I got all weepy to the ballad "For Good" from Wicked, but this time around the mental soundtrack has been a little more random. Here are some songs helping me make the transition to the "real world."

"Little Wonders" by Rob Thomas

Let it go, let it roll right off your shoulder.
Don't you know the hardest part is over?...
Our lives are made in these small hours,
These little wonders,
These twists and turns of fate."

I think I cried for some reason every day last week, and one of those times was when this song came on Pandora when I was sorting photos for a professor's graduation slideshow. Let me tell you, with each note and click of the mouse, I was  this much closer to bawling. It's the everyday conversations, book recommendations, car trips, and goofy smiles that built my relationships in grad school. Knowing my classmates by their mannerisms and the color of their tote bags is one thing I'll miss the most. Luckily, we've taken hundreds of photos that each capture a moment of the 24 months that have changed our lives forever.

The lyrics are reassuring too, especially when you have no idea where your life is headed next. Good old Divine Providence got me into this M.A. program, so I shouldn't think God is gonna quit on me now.

"The Last Time" - Blind Boys of Alabama

This may be the last time, I don't know.

As I leave my museum alma mater, there are so many uncertainties - is this the last time I will see some of these people? Is this the last time I'll pas a professor in the hallway? Will I ever roam around the halls of the collections again? I intend to delay my last drive around the grounds as long as possible.

"You Got the Love" - Florence and the Machine  

(previously recorded by Candi Staton, The Source, and Joss Stone)

Sometimes I feel like throwing my hands up in the air

I know I can count on you

Sometimes I feel like saying Lord, I just don't care

But you've got the love I need to see me through

If anything can make you want to throw up your hands and yell, "Jesus take the wheel," it's grad school.

 The entire process can seem designed to make you doubt yourself and question your purpose in life. My degree is as much a testament to my support system as it is to my book learnin'. From my professors who always kept their doors open, to the classmates happy to vent in the library at 11pm, to the family and friends who have humored two years of geeking out over furniture, to The Beau who has stayed up past his bedtime helping me edit presentations, there's been an army of people I could count on. Sometimes it's been hard to keep caring, but in the end, I'm humbled and grateful to be surrounded by such love.

7 Beginnings and Ends

Happy Friday!  Since my graduation is only a week away, this installment is going to be about some of the many "lasts" and "firsts" I'm currently experiencing. Many thanks to Jen for hosting the 7 Quick Takes linkup at Conversion Diary.

1.Tonight I turned in my last graduate school paper. Ever. It felt so surreal. Then my art history professor fed us tacos and pickled cactus, and it was delicious.

2. Last night I worked on said paper by pulling what I hope is my last almost-all-nighter in a long, long time. I've been avoiding graduation emotions, but as I turned off the library lights at 1am there was this sudden bittersweet feeling that it was the end of an era. I might shed a tear when I return all my books next week. 

3. On Monday I'll go on my last grad school field trip.We'll be touring the White House and Capital Building. This will be my first time seeing the inside of each, despite having grown up near them.

4. I got a new camera! Ever since my old Olympus died last summer I've been yearning to have a "real camera" again.My little point-and-shoot has taken good close-up images, but it makes me feel like I'm at the mercy of it's little buttons instead of in control of the situation. So, I took advantage of the magical, wonderful part of grad school known as "professional development funds" to buy a Nikon d3100. 

Check out this inefficient packing. Great job Sears, I am now the proud owner of  gallons of Styrofoam peanuts.

After I got over my initial buyer's remorse, I was delighted to see how well the camera handles both close up and action shots.

 

 

My first time shooting with my new toy was also probably the last time The Beau and I will have a date strolling around the museum grounds. I should send the gardens paths a thank-you card for being such a fun, free activity in the early months of our relationship.


5. My sister started her first museum summer job this week. I'm so excited for her, and can't wait to hear how this colonial farm work turns out. I'm imaging she'll get really buff carrying pails of water and hoeing crops. 


6. This just in: The Beau completed and passed his second and last Ph.D comprehensive exam! I am so glad his tough academic year is done, and I'm so proud of him I could burst.

7. Finally, I am pleased to announce that I have...drumroll please...a NEW BLOG! Chasing Claudia Kincaid is named for the heroine of From the Mixed Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler, one of my all-time favorite books. This blog will focus on my thoughts about museums, art, and material culture, freeing up this space to write more about my faith and whatever other random things I feel like. "Claudia" is also my first attempt at using the Wordpress platform, so it will be an interesting learning experience. She'd love it if you paid her a visit!

New and old favorites for Easter

Rejoice, Christ is risen! I hope those of you who celebrate this holiday had a blessed Triduum. My Good Friday was penitential, bit not how I expected. Pouring rain, a delayed field trip, and DC traffic kept me from services downtown. Now I'm glad to be at home with my family, watching Brothers #2 and 3 hone their altar boy skillz.

A friend just introduced me to this poem, and it has immediately become one of my favorites. I love thinking of the Resurrection as a cosmic/nuclear reaction happening inside a tomb, strong enough to imprint Jesus' body as a photo negative on his shroud.

Make no mistake: if He rose at all
it was as His body;
if the cells’ dissolution did not reverse, the molecules
reknit, the amino acids rekindle,
the Church will fall.

It was not as the flowers,
each soft Spring recurrent;
it was not as His Spirit in the mouths and fuddled
eyes of the eleven apostles;
it was as His flesh: ours.

The same hinged thumbs and toes,
the same valved heart
that–pierced–died, withered, paused, and then
regathered out of enduring Might
new strength to enclose.

Let us not mock God with metaphor,
analogy, sidestepping, transcendence;
making of the event a parable, a sign painted in the
faded credulity of earlier ages:
let us walk through the door.

The stone is rolled back, not papier-mâché,
not a stone in a story,
but the vast rock of materiality that in the slow
grinding of time will eclipse for each of us
the wide light of day.

And if we will have an angel at the tomb,
make it a real angel,
weighty with Max Planck’s quanta, vivid with hair,
opaque in the dawn light, robed in real linen
spun on a definite loom.

Let us not seek to make it less monstrous,
for our own convenience, our own sense of beauty,
lest, awakened in one unthinkable hour, we are
embarrassed by the miracle,
and crushed by remonstrance.

—John Updike, “Seven Stanzas At Easter,” 1964

Speaking of angels in tombs, here's a song that's been an Easter staple in my house since before I could read. It's not really Easter until I've heard a New Jersey Italian lounge singer-turned- Evangelical Christian tell his own version of the Resurrection. We lost the 1983 cassette tape a while ago, but thanks to the internet I can still get my Carman fix.

Man is a giddy thing

It's Latare Sunday. How is it time to break out the rose vestments already? Didn't Lent just start? Almost every year around this time I start to worry that I don't feel penitential enough, that my Lent needs to be harder, that I should have piled on more things to give up. If I'm not miserable I must be doing something wrong. Does this ever happen to anyone else? I guess it's a sign that I need to involve God more in my thesis drudgery.

A nineteenth-century rose cope at St. Ignatius of Antioch, NYC

Brother #3 is turning 17. How has it been that long since he was born? Wasn't I just 17? It can't have been that long since he was born on a Holy Saturday evening. I still remember the cooing compliments from the nurses when we all came to meet him the next day in our Easter clothes. My sister and I had matching dresses (my idea), but I also remember my 9 year old hair-styling skills being not that great. When Mom and the new baby arrived home the next day, our next-door neighbor kid climbed up on the garage roof to meet them. I'm so proud of the outgoing, ardently Catholic young man my little brother has become since that day.

Yesterday was the 6th anniversary of Pope John Paul II's death. Has it really been that long since I watched all the news coverage of crowds gathering to mourn in St. Peter's Square? That weekend was a very emotional one for me. I've idolized JPII since childhood, and as his sickness and pain ended, my own journey into suffering was just beginning. The circulatory condition that would eventually make me drop out of college for a year was just starting to flare up. Grief over the Holy Father combined with frustration at my body slippping out of my control and I ended up crying in a heap on the laundry room floor. Normally I don't cry when people die, but that day I felt like I was finally getting it right. I'm grateful for what I learned that year about suffering and trusting God, and for how much stronger I've gotten in the past 6 years. I like to thing that JPII may have put in a good word for me up there.

I guess what ties all three of these things together is that since time keeps moving us forward, there will always be more opportunities to keep growing into the people God wants us to be. I love how this song explains that with a little help from Shakespeare.

Sigh no more, no more
One foot in sea, one on shore
My heart was never pure
And you know me
You know me

And man is a giddy thing
Oh man is a giddy thing...

Love that will not betray you, dismay or enslave you,
It will set you free
Be more like the man you were made to be.
There is a design,
An alignment to cry,
Of my heart to see,
The beauty of love as it was made to be

The District's siren song

This weekend I got to go home to Virginia for a weekend's worth of spring break. (Thanks to thesis a week off just means more time to edit.) It was a great break that involved attending a Confirmation Mass, pigging out on barbeque, being the only table of white people in a legit Cantonese restaurant, and catching up with girlfriends from high school and my VSC year.

From anadelmann's Flickr

There was also a lot of driving. On Saturday morning, I dropped Brother #1 off for a flight at Reagan National, and on the drive back I could see the DC skyline in the distance. Something about the outline of the Washington Monument and Capitol building always makes my heart skip a beat. There were even cherry trees blooming! Oh DC, why must you tease me so? Part of me really, really wants to work there next year. I want to Metro downtown every morning, reading library books and being part of the commuter hustle. I want to cook dinner for my parents and to see my brothers serve at Sunday Mass.I want to have a young adult church community.  I want to see my old friends on the weekends. Part of me will always be left in the national capital area. Whenever I go back there, life makes more sense and my faith is stronger; I feel safe, optimistic,and  inspired.

Trip traditions

This is going to be just a little update since I'm leaving for yet another school trip. This is the last big one for my class - five days in New York. By now I've got a little routine down for these outings. I get distracted by other things, then stay up late packing and second-guessing what to wear. Tomorrow I'll go through the usual cycle of adrenaline, car napping, grogginess, grumpy exhaustion, and finally enjoying myself. Yikes, does that sound like the 5 stages of grief? I should really be happier about a free trip to New York, right? I think the underlying issue is that these trips are physically harrowing but also make me question how much I fit into ever aspect of my grad program. First years, you are about to head to London. Take note: it's a marathon experience of Darwinian proportions. You will not return the same.

Then again, I'm not to new to late night packing and travel prep. That's how my family always got ready for our annual summer drive to Chicago. Tonight I carried on another of my Mom's traditions, late night sewing. Sitting here hemming those jeans I bought at an outlet ages ago, I'm listening to the sleet and snow falling outside.It reminds me of a July night my last summer of high school, when I was up late packing for World Youth Day in Toronto while Mom patiently hemmed my capri pants.

Material Culture Alert: Collections Storage

Well, now I am back in Delaware - break's over. I returned with even more stuff in my car than when I departed, thanks to my parents' offsite storage unit. We all pitched in to empty it out, sending a full U-Haul to the dump. In between trash boxes and broken furniture, my siblings and I retrieved a few long-lost and almost-forgotten goodies. I made off with most of my books from undergrad history classes, along with a large scented candle, exercise resistance cables, my yoga mat, some jewelry, and a perfectly good watch that I had never worn for some reason. It was like a yard sale, only we already owned everything.

It's hard to believe that it was three years ago we packed up many of our belongings to make way for mold remediation and renovations. What was supposed to be a three month project turned into a year-long home improvement odyssey. I'm grateful for our shiny new mold-free house, but still contemplating what we've lost in the process. No longer do I arrive at the familiar home I knew with its brown carpet, wobbly banister, and floral wallpaper. Forever I will regret not making photo documentation of each room before the drywall started flying. That U-Haul took away a lot of the past too - childhood toys, Halloween costumes, and storybooks. Have we lost our memories? Or are we just making room for new ones? Honestly, we haven't missed too much from that storage unit. We've survived just fine without most of it for the past three years. As an historian, I know that memory is constantly evolving and being created. The smaller material record does not mean my childhood never happened.

 Oh, and in other news there is a man in my coffee shop wearing a Ravens jersey and Union Civil War cap narrating Japanese obstacle course game shows. Earlier his friend was discussing going to Confession in Italy. Even earlier there were two little kids repeating "underwear" and giggling uncontrollably. Not gonna lie, this might be more entertaining than the library. 

Let's Go Hokies!

Last weekend I sprinted home to see Brother #1 graduate from Virginia Tech. My textiles block project prevented me from attending the big ceremony in Lane Stadium, but Mom and I made it to Blacksburg in time to see him receive his degree in mechanical engineering.

It was Mom's first visit to the campus, and my first in two years, so we were both struck by the peaceful beauty of the mountains on our drive. Of course, one you get to VT, the most impressive thing is the scale of the campus. My college world at W&M was much smaller - my entire graduating class fit into the basketball arena floor, whereas just VT's college of engineering took up that much space.

It's been a long time since the April 16 shootings my brother's freshman year, but that event continues to bond and define the Tech community. It was very touching that the college of engineering granted posthumous degrees to the parents of students killed on April 16. The whole arena gave them a standing ovation. Brother #1's class is the last one to remember that day; for next year's undergrad student body April 16 will be a story but not a memory. A memorial on the drillfield ensures that VT will never forget. Still, it will be interesting to see how April 16 is commemorated when Brother #2 attends one day.