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. 

St. Vincent Ferrer Church, New York City

When The Betrothed came back from England a few weeks ago, we spent a day wandering around New York  City. On our walk between The Frick Collection and meeting a college friend for cupcakes at Sprinkles, we peeked at a church at the corner of  Lexington Avenue and E 63rd Street. Janitors were sweeping up rose petals from an afternoon wedding procession.

St. Vincent Ferrer parish began in 1867, and its current building dates to 1918. Architect Bertram Grosvenor Goodhue designed the church, which is the most elaborate Gothic revival building I've seen since our field trip to the Newark Cathedral.

This reminds me of a medieval church I did a middle-school report on.

The sanctuary was just glorious. I've never seen seven lamps like that in a church that wasn't Anglo-Catholic. The altarpiece topped with Christ the King was carved in Belgium.

I wonder if the little dog/fox/wolf on top of the pew is a shoutout to the Dominicans
as God's dogs (Domini canes.)

The rood screen. 

Immaculate Conception shine

Side altar with tons of saints, plus Mary giving St. Dominic the rosary.

You can take a virtual tour of all the church's features and symbolism here. St. Vincent Ferrar is a peaceful oasis in a busy city. From the abundance of votive candles ($4 at the front desk, we bought one), you can tell many New Yorkers bring their intentions there. St. Vincent and St. Dominic, pray for us!

SIlent Retreat Reflections

A few weeks ago I went on a silent Ignatian retreat. The Betrothed is a big fan of such things, but had never tried one. To me, a retreat means campfire singalongs, craft projects, and talking about feelings. I  was a little skeptical about being trapped alone in silence, but the weekend ended up being fantastic. Even if I did get lost on the way there because I was so busy rocking out to Mumford and Sons that I missed my turn in the rainy dark. 

I was afraid of silence. I was afraid that I would go crazy with my own thoughts. Instead, it was the perfect break for an introvert like me. I didn't have to make awkward small talk over breakfast, I didn't have to worry about sitting in the wrong place and breaking up a conversation. It was great to just read, think, pray, and do whatever I felt like. 

Also, I was not in silence alone. The priest's talks throughout the day had wonderful insights about prayer, discouragement, and the desires God has placed in our hearts. Once we could talk on Sunday, I met some great people whom I may run into again. And of course, God was there the entire time. He was easier to hear than usual. 

I took some photos around the Arlington Diocese's lovely San Damiano Retreat Center. It was built as a Franciscan novitiate house in the 1960s, but has been renovated. One of my favorite parts was the collection of photos of Arlington churches that decorated the hallways. The cozy library with free books was just the icing on the cake. 

If you're curious about silent retreats, I highly recommend giving one a try. Bring a good map, but don't be afraid to crank the Mumford and Sons. Their lyrics can be quite appropriate. 

Don't leave me alone at this time/ For I'm afraid of what I will discover inside. 

Now let me at the truth/ Which will refresh my broken mind. 

Stars, hide your fires/ These here are my desires/ And I won't give them up to you this time around.

There is a design/ An alignment to cry/ At my heart you see/ The beauty of love as it was made to be. 

Get over your hill and see/ What you find there/ With grace in your heart/ And flowers in your hair.  

Lead me to the truth and I will follow you with my whole life. 

Quick Takes about the Big Apple

1. Last year my grad school class took a field trip to see the "Americana Week" antiques shows in New York. It was so much fun that this year several of my classmates and I planned a mini-reunion redux of the adventure. This time, instead of the Times Square Hampton Inn, we all crashed on the living room floor of H's tiny Upper East Side 5th floor walkup. (For the record, I did not have to subsist on salad this year. Thank goodness.)
2. Of course, it ended up being the snowiest weekend of the year, but wind and slush did not deter us from dec arts. We have been trained well. 





The view outside when we woke up on Saturday. 



3. All 5 of us wore some variation of "gray sweater dress/tights/boots" for our 4 exhibition journey. I swear this was an accident. 
4. There were tons of little kids running around in puffy coats, grabbing hunks of snow off the sidewalks. Since I am a child of the suburbs, I always wonder about kids in New York. Does an urban upbringing make you fearless? Do you remember those early years spent bundled up in a stroller behind a plastic shield? 
5. The newly-renovated New York Historical Society has a great kids' section. You can write newspaper headlines, record yourself speechifying, look at different boroughs through a viewmaster thingy, and get inaugurated as the first president. Oh, and there is a newsies touch-screen game. I owned at selling those papes. 





I also ran into the Marx Brothers



6. Here's a tip, kids: do NOT attempt to check a suitcase at The Met, even if you are just running through the Islamic galleries on your way to catch the Megabus. Their security guards are well-trained to think luggage = art thief/terrorist. They will politely, but firmly tell you to get lost. Even if they just watched you schlep said suitcase up two flights of stairs to the entrance. 
7. Speaking of suitcases, they are also totally impractical on the stair-laden subway.  After riding on public transportation in both New York and DC, I have decided that the subway is definitely superior to the Metro. (As if there were any question, amirite Washingtonians?)
   DC Metro advantages: Escalators, stations that don't feel claustrophobic, cleanliness, very little graffiti, colored lines with names and directions that quickly make sense on a map to the uninitiated. 
   NY Subway advantages: Express trains, an abundance of track options, flat rate for each ride, not needing to scan a card to exit, lack of easily broken escalators, MOSAICS. 

For more quick takes, visit Jen at Conversion Diary.

New York: A culinary recap

 At the end of every day on these long class trips I feel like I've lived through a week and am at a loss to sum up everything I've seen. Gluten-free survival is always a big part of my day, though. While all my classmates are looking forward to a platter of assorted sandwiches, I'm just praying there won't be any croutons or mysterious gravies. So I decided to chronicle New York by documenting every salad lunch. Stroke of genius or dorky idea? Whatever, I had fun doing it, and I happily did not starve or have to resort to sandwich meat and potato chips. . 

Day 1, Tuesday: Sotheby's auction house 11th floor cafe. Spinach with chicken, asparagus, roasted beets, and mushrooms tossed in lemon herb vinaigrette. Pretty tasty, though not as lemony as I hoped. We had several Devil Wears Prada moments when 80 lb. girls dressed in black cut ahead of us in line.

Day 2, Wednesday, Metropolitan Museum of Art American Wing curatorial conference room: Spinach salad of candied walnuts, sauteed pears, dried cranberries, blue cheese, and balsamic vinaigrette. Classmate L gave me her salad tomato. The Met's staff were very nice, and a few are alumni of my MA program. The silver curator caught me sneaking my one blurry salad photo,  but I don't think she thought I was too much of a weirdo. 

 

Day 3, Friday, Brooklyn Museum Cafe: Lemon tarragon chicken breast on arugula with tomatoes and manchego cheese. Tarragon was faint, but the grill marks tasted real. We sat on fun lime green chairs and learned about the museum's new extended evening hours. I also ate my last remaining sprinkle doughnut from Babycakes, a vegan gluten free bakery around the corner from the Tenement Museum. Both are awesome places to visit.

Day 4, Friday, the Appraisers Association of America: Grilled chicken, bell peppers, carrots, and tomatoes on romaine with balsamic vinaigrette. Not too exciting, but it still hit the spot. While we ate, three chatty, confident, successful New York women told us how the appraisal business works. Not unlike antiques dealers, they have customers as long as there are deaths, divorces, and debts.  

Day 5, Saturday, Cilantro restaurant on E. 71st: Tequila lime shrimp enchiladas with green chile sauce, rice and beans. Ok, I fell off the salad wagon. But watching that Sotheby's auction made me hungry!
This lunch was so good, and fortified me for two afternoon antique shows.

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: Travel bags

True confessions: I am a tote bag addict. Ever since I started carrying books in them in college, I've accumulated almost a dozen different bags of various materials. They range from a Duaghters of Charity grocery tote to a Vera Bradley that was a birthday gift. Lately I've been a fan of a fleur-de-lis print bag from The Beau's mom.
Sadly, I am also a tote bag destroyer. Thanks to my heavy computer and tendency to carry a million books, I've busted the straps on two stylish bags and worn out countless others. I can never find exactly the right fit, so I keep collecting more totes..   

So after ruining the straps of my last two computer bags, I decided to abandon cuteness for total practicality. The savvy laptop tote from eBags.com has proven to be some of the best $40 I ever spent. Its rugged straps are firmly attached and won't dig into my shoulder. There are a gazillion pockets, including side hatches for bulky water bottles and umbrellas. There is even a strap on the back for attaching it to a suitcase handle!

Though plain looking, this awesome bag can hold my big laptop along with tons of other items and still fit under the seat of a plane. The nylon construction means it is waterproof and not too heavy on its own. Seriously, I cannot say enough good things about it, or how glad I was to have it on my 4 airport journey this weekend. If it's not your style, eBags has a laptop bag finder widget where you can search their huge inventory by computer model.
I promise not to become one of those bloggers who is always shilling products, and eBags was in no way involved in this review, but I couldn't help wanting to spread the word about my trusty traveling companion.

2010:The Year of Travel

8 airports, 16 states, and one foreign country make the grand total. I've been to London, Pittsburgh, Boston, Tampa, Alexandria, Washington DC, New Orleans, St. Louis, Charleston, Hartford, Newport, New York, Philadelphia, and Williamsburg. I've spent hours in planes, trains, and cars. I've logged thousands of miles. I hadn't realized grad school would turn me into such a globe trotter.

So it is most fitting that I spent the end of 2010 and the beginning of 2011 as a nomad, bouncing from one location to another. Part of it was planned - a fantastic 5 days with The Beau and his family that culminated in watching New Year's Eve fireworks from the bell tower of the New Orleans cathedral. Then things got unexpected as I discovered how incompetent AirTran airlines can be. A canceled connecting flight from Atlanta meant that I did not make it home in time for the annual New Year's day ham supper. Instead, I got rerouted to Tampa, and am now on my way from there to Baltimore, from where I will take a shuttle of some sort. At this point, I would not be surprised if there were a stagecoach involved.

BUT as a surprise burst of Divine Providence, my Tamp layover meant I got to spend the day with my dear friends K&J and their three kiddos. We kept joking that I was playing Mary Poppins - I flew into town in the dead of night, and when the kids awoke I was there ready to play. I ended up helping keep track of everyone at a birthday party. I even assembled a kite - no joke. I almost expected to find Dick van Dyke dancing with some penguins. Then the winds changed and I was off in the air again.

The school-funded trips will end, but 2011 will see the nomading continue as I graduate (yikes!) and figure out where I will have a job. I hope the road continues to stumble on such fun surprises.

Material Culture Alert: The man in the big red suit

Last week my class had the wonderful opportunity to take a short end-of-semester field trip to the Boston area.  Part of the time was spent in the Museum of Fine Arts' new Art of the Americas wing, which is absolutely glorious. I couldn't help noticing a common theme throughout the portraits : the red suit.  In the eighteenth century textiles were costly, and so clothing in portraits could show off one's gentility and status. I was amazed how many examples there were of men in an outfit that is today reserved for Santa Claus. 

Here's Nathanial Sparhawk, painted by John Singleton Copley in 1768. He was a successful merchant in Maine, but his house was nowhere near as grand as this backdrop.

 

John Singleton Copley also painted Samuel Adams in a red suit around 1772.

 

Across the pond in England, Thomas Gainsborough painted this portrait of hospital benefactor John Eld of Seighford Hall, Stafford in 1775.

Here's French artist JeanJacques Caffieri, painted by Swede Adolf Ulric Werftmuller in 1784.

 

The red suit persisted through several decades, as this1793 painting of Bostonians Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Russell by John Trumbull. Their arm-in-arm pose was the latest trend from England.

I wonder what portrait fads will look funny to future generations. Maybe jumping photos of entire wedding parties?

Conferences rock my socks

They really do. I know that there will come a day when they feel like a tired, boring, routine, but for I now I love having an excuse stay in a hotel and share my work with other scholars. It's really encouraging to see that there are other people out there who care about nerdy things. It's even better to present a paper and prove to yourself that there can be a final product from all that research. Extra bonus: I got to meet up with two dear friends from high school, and pretty much hang out in Old Town Alexandria in some perfect fall weather.

My presentation was about a project I did years ago on 20th century Catholic churches. It had been a while since I looked at the material, and then I realized all over again what a monstrous pile of information it was. I also realized my undergrad-quality writing was a little clunky - I guess that's a good sign for my current abilities? After two days of editing, I am proud of what I wrote. At my panel I was pleased to find that there are at least 2 professors out there who are interesting in similar topics and liked what I had to say. Should I let this topic die or think about publication?

The conference as a whole was a pretty mixed bag; it was large and varied like the aisles of Costco. There was a pop culture focus, so many papers were about movies and tv. At first this seemed fun, but after 1 hour of scholarly buzzwords mixed with analysis of Twilight, I realized there is a reason academics tend to look down on such things. From what I saw, there were some intelligent points mixed with a lot of things anyone with internet access already knows.

Then again, I can't judge every talk. Here are a few other titles that looked, um, interesting.

"You don't even look Italian!": Counting Italian-Americans on Reality TV
Philosophy from a Pineapple Under the Sea
(Re)presentation of the Body in Pain on Survivor
Mayhem in Motherhood: Working Class Representations on The George Lopez Show
From Genesis to Torah: The Harry Potter "Such a Person" Happening

Oh, and there were 5 Twilight papers, 4 on Harry Potter, 3 on American Psycho, 2 on Avatar, but only 1 about Lady Gaga.

Off to Colonial Fantasyland!

From 30 Rock, episode 205: “Greenzo” (Via the splendid Kirsten.)

Ohhh CW. It's not an actual time capsule, but rather a conversation about "suspension of disbelief," "public history and memory," and the Colonial Revival. When anthropologists write a book that discusses the decision to leave horse poop in the streets, you know you are in an alternate universe.

This August The Beau was a trooper and let me drag him all over town, but I could tell part of him was skeptical. Why on earth were my college friends and I so excited to walk down a street of not-actually-historic buildings in 90 degree heat?

I think because we are happily brainwashed by our experiences there. No matter how much time I have spent in Williamsburg, it never disappoints. Part of my heart will always reside in that little colonial hamlet-turned college town and haven for retirees. That is where I first lived on my own, where I became an adult, where my life changed dramatically. It's where my friends and I made tons of memories that we'll relive at Homecoming this weekend.

Plus, my little sister is now a costumed interpreter intern in CW! So we'll frolic down the pseudo-historic street singing this song.

Field Trip: Eastern State Penitentiary

Yesterday Philly had a free museum day for college students, so a bunch of us ventured to a more unusual field trip location - the Eastern State Penitentiary.



















Completed in 1829, it was ground breaking in prison theory. Instead of just a holding pen as people awaiting the stocks or the gallows, it was a place to inspire penitence. It relied on complete solitary isolation - "You just sit there and think about what you did!" Reform rather than brute punishment seems like a good idea, but I wonder how humane treatment actually was. Inmates got no letters or visitors, and only 1 hour of recreation time. When they arrived bags were placed over their heads so they wouldn't know the layout of the building. Personally, I think 23 hours a day in a small dark room alone would make me crazy, not rehabilitated.

Over time, they realized single cells weren't really practical for a place meant to jail all the criminals in eastern PA. Inmates got roommates, and later wings were two stories. 20th century inmates got a lot more freedom - work details, sports leagues, tv hours, etc.

People who work in prison ministry have told me that "prison doesn't work." Often it denies the dignity and humanity of those it attempts to reform. There are no easy answers to stopping crime but also remembering criminals are people too, but the questions are important. After all, didn't Jesus include "I was in prison and you visited me" to His list of righteous deeds that gain entry to heaven?

Eastern State may be plagued with ghosts and painful memories, but there were also stories of hope. As restrictions lifted, inmates got to collaborate for religious services. One Catholic guy painted murals of Mary and of Christ receiving a man's confession. Jewish inmates were so well organized that they built a little synagogue in the 1920s. I liked the story about how they stuck tree branches in the skylight to make a Sukkot hut. Even in today's prison ruins, that legacy of growth survives in the trees and plants that find ways to live inside the stone walls.

On England and Popery

In retrospect, it has taken me months to process my class trip to London this January. Now that the memories of stress and exhaustion have faded, I begin to appreciate the wonderful places I saw and feel a real fondness for the city. That has been most apparent this weekend as I've followed Pope Benedict XVI's state visit to the United Kingdom. Not only is the Holy Father making historic speeches and appearances, he's doing so in places I've visited! Westminster Abbey? Been there. Mass in Westminster Cathedral? Done that too! It makes me feel a kinship with "Papa Benny" to know that we've both looked at the London Eye across the Thames.

The papal visit has also caused new reflection on my position as an historian and Anglophile who is also Catholic. When I study or visit England, I am always aware that this was a nation which, for centuries, would have killed or oppressed me for my beliefs. Nowhere did I feel that more keenly than at the Tower of London, where St. Thomas More spent his last days and is buried. He doesn't get a large shrine or elaborate casket, just a space beneath the chapel floorboards and a footnote after the saga of Anne Boleyn. Still, I could feel his presence as I toured the Tower. I wondered what he thought as he faced his death. We carried on a conversation of sorts as I asked his prayers for me and people I love.

Stories like Thomas More's are what make the Pope's UK visit so historic. Any 17th century English person would not believe what happened this weekend. The Pope stood in the place where Thomas More was condemned, addressing Parliament. Not far from the Tyburn, the Pope reflected on the Catholic and Anglican martyrs who died there. At Westminster Abbey, the Pope and Archbishop of Canterbury prayed together. We've come a long way. Former rivals and even enemies find themselves allies and friends in the face of a secular culture.

Which brings me to my thesis. "Late nineteenth early twentieth century Episcopal church vestments." At times it seems so insignificant and pointless. Who really cares about some Catholic girl's bumbling about in Episcopal church history? Rich parishes had pretty vestments, ok moving on! But somehow I think the newly beatified John Henry Newman would care. He spent part of his life as an Anglican, then as a Catholic. He influenced the liturgy and spirituality of both Churches. Both contributed to the man he was.

Speaking of conversion, someone in Salem heard my thesis topic and asked if I was planning on converting to be an Anglo-Catholic Episcopalian. I laughed and answered "No, I really like the Pope, you know?" I do like the idea of a visible head of the Church. I also really like "Papa Benny" in his soft spoken, shy, scholarly demeanor. Under that gentleness is a razor sharp, encyclopedic mind and a good heart. I have been so darn proud this weekend as he bluntly spoke about important things: the horror of sex-abuse scandals, the need for public expressions of faith, the rationality of religion, and the desire for Christian unity.

Maybe my research is a tiny drop in the bucket of that Christian unity. If nothing else, I will understand my "separated brethren" better. I'm also learning more about liturgical history. If I can just tell an interesting story of Christians glorifying God through material culture, I will be happy. Blessed John Henry Newman, pray for me.

(Images are from the Daily Telegraph)

New England Trip: finale

I realized I am probably the only person who really cares about my New England recaps, so I'll restrict this last batch to interesting trivia only.

Day 5: Randomness

• The New Bedford Whaling Museum has more gory prints of whale hunting than you can shake a harpoon at. Whale skeletons are enormous, and drippy with oil if not cleaned properly. Today, fishing is still profitable and dangerous. Up to 40% of local high school guys drop out to make quick cash in the scallop market.
  
• John Rogers' 19th century plaster sculptures of sentimental scenes can be considered the forerunners of Norman Rockwell.

Day 6: PLIMOTH!!
What can I say about Plymouth, MA, Jamestown's early settlement rival to the north? There are a lot of similarities - recreated ships, costumed interpreters, Native villages, totally inaccurate statues. Points to Jamestown for less emotional myth and more hardcore archaeology. (Oh, and being OLDER.) Points to Plimoth for house construction in action and the Plymouth Rock hot tub in our hotel pool. It was almost like a time machine.

Day 7: Salem
This town takes tourism kitsch to a whole new level. With a discount "Hysteria Pass" you can take ghost tours and visit a pirate/witch wax museum. If you look past the dozens of middle aged tarot and aura readers, however, the walkable downtown is full of historic houses. The Peabody-Essex Museum has some serious decorative arts, especially from Asia. The highlight was a 200 year old Chinese house, Yin Tu Tang.

Day 8: Sturbridge
Another big outdoor living history site, Old Sturbridge Village is like a cross between Colonial Williamsburg and the Henry Ford. The farmhouses, town green, and mills interpret the 1830s, which is a time period I rarely think about. The old-timey costumes seemed truly alien - think Amish style combined with the costumes in Wives and Daughters. Thanks to the welcoming staff, we had a great time exploring. It looked like the families out and about were having a good time too.

And then we drove back to Delaware. Classes start tomorrow - holy cow, summer is over!

New England Trip: Part 2

I'm almost done with my jaunt through New England. In the past two days we've caught glimpses of Pilgrims, tarot card readers, and three wedding receptions. Here are some recaps.

Day 3: Artists in training

• The Florence Griswold House in Old Lyme, CT may by my favorite stop. There's a fascinating story here about a spinster sea captain's daughter and her tenant artist colony of impressionist painters. The staff tells the story well, and has added more modern gallery space that doesn't clash. It doesn't hurt that the house is in a gorgeous rural area next to a river!
• The Rhode Island School of Design has a well-stocked art gallery. The 20th Century exhibit was AMAZING, but they wouldn't let us take pictures :-( My favorite was the 1970s red "Valentine" portable typewriter marketed to amateur poets. It only had capital letter keys. There was also a garment I can only describe as what Lady Gaga would wear as a maternity dress.
  
• RISD has a great gift shop selling things designed by alumni. When we peeked in, I bought a little something that will hopefully become part of an art glass collection. (Pictures coming soon!)

Day 4: House tour mania
We hit up Newport, RI, a seaside resort town with dozens of historic houses. Since Gilded Age mansions have no place for moderation, we visited SEVEN buildings. On days like this my class goes through stages ranging from "passionate" to "interested" to "tired" to "grumpy" to "slap happy". Fortunately our schedule saved the gaudiest, Marble House, for second to last.

On the road again...

I'm off on my last road trip of the summer, this time a week in New England for school. Here's a recap of the first two days.

Day 1: Connecticut
We hit two local historical societies with different approaches. One tries very hard to be a community resource, not just a WASP-y gallery. The director has a master's in social work, and it shows. I was very impressed with their oral history undertakings and sensitivity to concerns of minority groups. The many interactive games in the history exhibit were also a plus. The other museum was more traditional in focus, but still made very creative use of their collection. I especially liked the floor mosaic map and the "assemble a chair" activity.

Day 2: Hartford
I would like to point out that we passed through Farmington, the home of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler, noted fictional art collector and owner of some "mixed up files." Other sights included:

• The Wadsworth Atheneum, which happily combines early American, European, and modern art. I got to see works by both Frank Lloyd Wright and Ralph Earl.
  
• The Mark Twain house, which totally changed my view of him. It turns out the boy from Hannibal married up and lived in an upper-middle home with decor by Louis Comfort Tiffany's firm. He also owned a ridiculous angel-bedecked bedstead. Some of his best novels were written in the upstairs billiard room/mancave, far away from his six daughters.
  
• The home of former Wadsworth director Chick Austin. Oh my gosh, how did I not know about this fabulous man? My new life goal is to go back in time and hang out with him. He was a pioneering museum director, a great judge of artistic talent ( He bought Mondrian, Dali, and Picasso before they were big), an actor, set designer, and rebel against stuffy New England society. In the 1930's he built a post-modern home, filled it with colorful and eclectic furnishings, and entertained his famous friends there. When George Balanchine, Angela Lansbury, and Bette Davis hang out in your aqua damask-lined dining room, you must be pretty awesome. Oh, and Bauhaus artists designed the bathrooms. I'm a little in love.
  

St. Mark's sneak peek

Here are a few photos I took on my semi-disastrous outing in Philadelphia. St. Mark's Episcopal Church really has some amazing embroidery, especially on altar frontals.

Urban Jungle

After my New York thesis trip, I felt like a total city person. Today's trip to Philadelphia was not so good. After dealing with endless stoplights on Broad Street, I drove in circles for literally half an hour trying to find an open parking space. In this half hour I was honked at once, twice pulled in to spaces only to realize they were restricted, and THEN had some jerkface steal a space from behind me while I was ineptly trying back up into it.

When I arrived thirty minutes late, I found Famous Vestment Designer smoking out front. Thank goodness he had something to do with his time. He had this semi-British accent that made everything I said sound stupid. For example,
"I'm so sorry I'm late, I should have planned this parking situation better."
"Well, one does need to plan these things." (Translation: You are an idiot.)
"I guess I'm so used to Wilmington where not much is going on."
"Yes, this is definitely more of a city. Wilmington is really more of village." (You are an idiot who lives in a podunk town. But he's right about the village thing.)

After that exchange things went better, and I found some fantastic stuff. Hearing about parish histories that actually mention vestments was music to my ears. And then I was helping Famous Vestment Maker close a sticky cabinet I accidentally slammed his fingertip in it. He kept a stiff upper lip - "These things happen" - but I felt like a jerk. A jerk who needs to read up on her embroidery terminology.

If I can make it there I'll make it anywhere

Last week I not only got some major thesis research in, I went to New York City all by my big girl self! Navigating New Jersey Transit and the subway made me nervous at first, but everything went fine. From the upper west side to Grand Central Station to Times Square, I visited three historic Anglo-Catholic parishes and fit in lunch with a college friend as a bonus.

Since I've settled on Episcopal vestments as my thesis topic, I'm rediscovering the pros and cons of using parish churches as a resource. It can be tooth-gnashingly difficult at times. There are no finding aids that lead to tidy cabinets of acid-free boxes. Clergy are super busy dealing with worship schedules, committee meetings, Sunday's sermon, and homeless people knocking at the door; they are not waiting at a reference desk to take your call. Even a church possesses antique vestments, they might not know what or where those garments are.

But when things finally work out, it's amazing. Priests may be busy, but they are also in the business of being kind to strangers. Once you get in the door, they love showing off the history of their church's building or the beauty of the rarely used rose vestment set. They'll unlock cabinets and make connections for you. At one point on Thursday afternoon, as an adorable Episcopal nun led me to an attic room where chasuble-draped tables sat in rows like a hospital ward, I remembered why I love being an historian.

Modernist Monday

Since I was in St. Louis this weekend, today's installment has to be THE ARCH. Designed by modernist master Eero Saarinen in 1947, it wasn't completed until 1967, after his death. Today it stands as a symbol of the city that is the "Gateway to the West."


After living in STL for a year, I feel like I have a relationship with this structure. It was pretty much love at first sight. Sleek, shapely, and shiny, this silver fox will win you over with photogenic good looks. My roommates have been known to greet him/her/it with a "Heyyyy Arch, lookin' fine!"

The arch is hands down one of the finest public monuments I've ever seen. It truly belongs to everyone in the city. Even if you're not at the riverfront, you can catch glimpses from tall buildings and highway ramps. I've used it as a directional beacon on many drives around town. One of my favorite views is heading east on Market Street with the Arch beckoning in the distance. It's a loyal and sturdy friend, always offering a greeting and reminding you of what a great city you are in.