Memory, that winged host that flew above me

Have you heard about the book club Hayley at Carrots for Michaelmas is hosting about Evelyn Waugh's Brideshead Revisited? I'm thrilled because Brideshead  is my favorite book. Ever since it was on my summer reading list senior year of high school, I've re-read it about once a year. On every return visit I've changed a little, and so I notice or enjoy new things. The notes my 17 year old self feverishly made in multi-colored pencil seem a little silly today.

Brideshead Revisted is a great novel becaue its decades-long story has something for everyone. Carefree college antics, coming-of-age angst, love affairs, guilt, religious identity, family drama, the place of Catholics in English society, and some great papist insider jokes. There a so many different facets to ponder, and I've added a page to this blog tracking some of my favorite recent commentary on it.

For me, BR continues to be an obsession because it's all about decorative arts, yo. Architecture and home furnishings are practically the star of the show. Like the Flyte family in Charles' life, BR passages kept popping into my head when I started my master's program at a "museum and country estate."

"Is the dome by Inigo Jones too? It looks later."
"Oh Charles, don't be such a tourist. What does it matter when it was built, if it's pretty?"
"It's the sort of thing I like to know."

All the descriptions of the Flyte family house make so much more sense now. On my first visit to Winterthur, I scoffed at its seemingly redundant acres of antique furniture. Gradually, as I learned to guide tourists through the corridors, I discovered the joy of paying close visual attention to the things around me. After all, historical context is the sort of thing I like to know too.

It was an aesthetic education to live within those walls, to wander from room to room, from the Soanesque library to the Chinese drawing-room, adazzle with gilt pagodas and nodding mandarins, painted paper and Chippendale fret-work, from the Pompeian parlor ... to sit, hour after hour, in the pillared shade looking out over the terrace.

The Chinese Parlor at Winterthur, full of painted paper and Chippendale fret-work.

Even though Charles Ryder is a total jerk sometimes, I do identify with his artistic journey. Eventually shedding his lazy undergrad ways, he soaks up all the art around him, tries his first big painting project, and eventually makes a career out of documenting historic architecture. As the existential trauma that is grad school fades, I tend to remember fondly my two years "in arcadia": with unlimited access to an eight-story mansion.

Most of the time I use my "looking at furniture" master's degree to make obnoxious comments about the background in Downton Abbey scenes (oh man, that William and Mary high chest in Mrs. Crawley's parlor), but I'm still obsessed with photographing architecture. Like Charles, I feel closer to the big truths in life when I'm pondering beautiful things. 

First Dance

Grace is doing a linkup about first dance songs, so here's ours. We're only newlyweds for one more month, so I better get in the wedding pictures while I can!

We didn't really have an official song during our 4 years of dating. Most of the time we were listening to music to pass the time while we were apart. Despite our nerdy mind-meld at times, the Southern Baron and I have very different musical impulses. He dreams of listening to Wagner's entire Ring Cycle nonstop on a road trip, while I can happily memorize the lyrics to any stupid pop song within two listens. When we first fell for each other, he sent me a gorgeous Chopin nocturne and I emailed him Aretha Franklin's "Baby I Love You."

We do associate certain songs with missing one another, especially on the long drives back and forth for weekend visits. He would always text me when Doc Watson's "Shady Grove" came on. "Ain't no gal on this whole world that's prettier than mine." One Republic was one of my highway staples, and their song "All This Time" would always have me crying into my steering wheel somewhere along I-95. "All this time we've been waiting for each other...Got all this love, can't waste it on another/ So I'm straight in a straight line, running back to you."

Classics and folk rock are two genres we can agree on though. The Wailin Jennys became a favorite of our visits, and were playing on the car stereo as we drove home from our engagement dinner. Their song "Asleep At Last" was an easy choice for our first dance. It describes the happiness and relief we felt at finally being together forever.

Be my asleep at last

Kiss me slow and hold me fast

Be my sail and be my mast

In the blue forever cast your love

Far from pain and past

Be my this one’s meant to last

It's a slow song, so we didn't pull out any wild dance moves. Having a calm romantic moment together was the perfect antidote to all the crazy schedule juggling the week before. Back when I was on my college's ballroom dance team I had dreams of elaborate choreographed wedding dances. Maybe now that we live in the same state we can finally take dance lessons together. But the memories of our sweet and simple first dance are way better than what my college self imagined.

Photos by JeanneMarie Photography

Commuter Show and Tell Purse Dump

Kendra at Catholic All Year did a purse dump linkup recently. I love these things because it's fun to see what other people carry around. Also: material culture! You're welcome, historians of the future. Here's what some ladies of the Twenty-Teens were schlepping around.

This is the random brand, fake leather big bag that I take to work every day. I've mentioned before that I am always on the lookout for functionality in a bag.

I found her on Columbus Day at a TJ Maxx under the Queensboro Bridge. The cross-body strap and multiple interior pockets were key selling points. She's looking a little worse for wear these days - note broken clasps replaced by classy carabiner clips. Also, my black wool winter coat appears to be wearing off on her. A spring/summer upgrade may be in my future.

First, the commuter survival essentials I can't do without.

From top left I have:

• Book to read, currently Well Behaved Women Seldom Make History by Laurel Thatcher Ulrich. The NYPL has the most efficient inter-branch loan systems I've ever seen. All 7 of my holds arrived at once last week so I'm trying to keep up with due dates.
• Wallet, because even with a bag full of stuff sometimes you have to run to Duane Reade or a food truck. 
• Umbrella, because the day you forget it will be the day it pours. 
• Hand sanitzer, because sometimes you have to touch subway poles. 
• NJTransit monthly pass and MetroCard holder so I can get to my office. The Vera Bradley pouch was a thank-you gift from a former intern after I served as a job reference. The plastic holder is a vintage image of Grand Central, because Penn is too hideous to put on merchandise.
• Headphones, because sometimes trains are noisy and you need to tune out the world with a podcast. 
• Staff ID from the Museum's fundraising gala in October. Because I never clean out my purse? 
• Business card holder - the image is a detail of the Roy Lichtenstein mural at the 42nd Street/Times Square subway station. 

Next is all the cosmetic/medical stuff that keeps me from making emergency Duane Reade purchases.

From top left: 

• Cough drops
• Heat patches for when my back acts up
• Tea bags for when I need a hot drink
• Gum for fresh breath
• Bandaids for shoe blisters and for papercuts while rolling 900 Gala poster favors
• Hand lotion for dry winter weather
• Ibuprofen for headaches - I refill it from our big generic container at home
• Hair ties for ponytail emergencies
• Vincent Van Gogh lens cloth from the Carnegie Art Institute gift shop
• Lip gloss - it's poppin'
• Pens and mechanical pencil
• Target generic Lactaid pills, because I am lactose intolerant but still like cheese
• Tissue, because cold season
• Spare pair of socks? Ok
• Fingerless gloves, a random purchase from the street vendor outside my Brooklyn subway stop. Even street urchins like to keep warm while using their iPhones. 

And finally here's the random paper stuff that I removed thanks to this exercise.  

Left to right: outdated train schedule, playbill from seeing a Broadway show with my aunt and cousin, outdated museum children's calendar, notepad for weekly staff meetings.

Not pictured: keys, coffee travel mug, foldable nylon tote bag (it's currently holding 15 posters of Grand Central Terminal) and various lunch tupperware containers. My sweet husband makes me coffee every morning and packs me a lunch so I can get out the door bright and early to catch my train. And then I join the herds of commuters carrying at least one bag across the river and down the tracks.