A Day in History

In addition to the play this weekend, we had our annual festival when we open the historic house for tours and children's activities, including dress-up, games, and painting.  Sis and Bud decided against attending their morning activities so that they could help out.  They even had new colonial outfits, since they had long outgrown their costumes.  Bud had the same kind of "nutmeg"-colored vest as before but in a larger size; Sis had a red bodice over a shift with a floral print, plus her cap and apron. I wore my new short jacket, with its pink and green floral print, over a navy skirt.

It was a hot day, so I was glad to have air conditioning.  Bud and I did demonstrate the old game of graces outside for awhile, walking up and down the street attracting some attention.  They also both gave tours.  Bud gave his first--he hopped right in talking about how colonists made bread, toasted it, and made butter to go with it; then he moved on to the parlor to talk about tea parties and "liberty" tea and help visitors make tea bags with herbs and coffee filters.  He was great!  Sis has given tours before and gives a good one; she also did some stenciling with a few young visitors, showing them how to paint.

I love that they love the historic house and want to help out.  They've attended programs, planted gardens, ridden in parades, demonstrated games and crafts, and told people about the history of Connecticut.  I love that we can share the history together.  I'm so proud of those kids.

36 Hours in WMass

Spring Break 2016 is nearly over for us.  Today is the last day before school and we're home, playing videogames, lazing around, and enjoying a beautiful spring day.  From the couch.  Because the last day and a half were pretty packed with activities.

On Friday morning, we slept in, packed, and left for Northampton in the western corner of Massachusetts. It's a pretty and pretty easy drive north and would have been even prettier in almost any other season--spring isn't really here yet, so there's barely grass and the trees are still mainly skeletal brown.  At least there's no dirty snow anywhere.  And it's warm enough to go without a jacket in the sun.

Because of the timing, the first thing we did in this college town (home to Smith) was eat.  In fact, we ate somewhere the kids and I had eaten before--at Sylvester's, a breakfast and lunch place in an older building on one of the main drags.  It's where Gommie and I had gone with the kids and our minister many, many years ago, in 2009, when Mama was in Thailand.  Of course, the kids didn't remember it.  But it was as good as last time--clam chowder, chicken caesar salad, Irish eggs benedict (with corned beef hash), Cubano sandwich, and a bacon cheeseburger on a brioche.  And a delicious hot chocolate that Sis really enjoyed.  I hadn't realized last time that the building housed the original manufacturer of graham crackers, Dr. Sylvester Graham.  But I didn't notice any extra graham-y-ness on the menu.

The kids and I strolled the street as Mama drove a few blocks to the Hotel Northampton, a 1920s mainstay that is now an Historic Hotel of America.  We stopped at a yarn store and picked up a few skeins for a scarf.  And a felted wool sheep for Mama.  There was also a Newbury Comics store, but we didn't have time to stop because we had a few things to do before our big evening activity.

Rice Paper

Blue Morpho

Glass Wing

We went first to Magic Wings, which is a butterfly-arium--thousands of butterflies in a rainforest-like garden inside.  It was lovely, the largest one we've ever seen (including AMNH, Bronx Zoo, Norwalk Aquarium, Boston science museum.)  I do like being surrounded by butterflies.  And I "met" a few new ones--the lovely white wings with black detailing of the Rice Paper and the completely transparent and surprising wings of the Glass Wing.  There were also gorgeous Blue Morphos that flit around in indigo and violet luminescence.  But they rarely land and keep their wings open but for a split second.  So they are really hard to photograph.  And I tried.  Sis and Mama had more luck, even found a few sunning their wings open.  So, in the end, I did manage a few glorious photos.  None really landed on us this time, though, which disappoints Bud, but since they didn't land on any of us, it was ok.


Then we kicked off the warm-weather family putt-putt golf season!  And we started it with some actual time on the driving range.  Who knew hitting a ball with a driver could be so hard?  I don't think we were making contact more than 50% of the time!  But it was fun.  Putt putt was better, though, more our speed (and by "our," I mean "their"--I just watch.)  We had the course almost completely to ourselves and had fun comparing strokes to par.  I'd say they were mostly at par.  Sis even got two holes-in-one!

And then it was time to go to our Owl Prowl at a nature center in Canton, CT.  We got there early, but Mama had to rush out for flashlights (the lady on the phone had said not to bring anything; the leader of the group said we needed them.)  She missed our first foray outside, when we visited the habitats of the rescued owls and then actually saw at a distance of about 20 yards the silhouette of a Barred Owl in a tree.  We watched for a few minutes before it flew off.  Mama got back in time to hear the presentation on North American owls and we definitely needed the flashlights in the dark woods behind the center.  Our leader has perfected the Barred Owl call, something akin to "who cooks for you?" he said.  And one of the center's rescued Barred Owls responded (the leader could recognize the owl Harry's slightly warped call.)  But then a symphony arose as at least one wild owl if not more joined Harry in song.  Gorgeous.  And you could still hear it deep into the woods as we saw where some owls used to nest in an old sycamore and then went into the meadow and looked at the stars, still hearing some of the symphony back and forth.  Really quite magical.


It was late by the time we left and so we grabbed fast food and headed back to our hotel, having a good night's sleep before the east-facing windows brightened the room (worst room-darkening curtains ever.)  We had a leisurely continental breakfast downstairs--some pretty good glazed cinnamon bear claws--and eventually left the hotel for our Saturday's big activity:  Patriot's Day celebration and programming at Historic Deerfield.  We had never been to the house museums that make up Historic Deerfield, thinking they were rather dry house museum tours focusing on obscure genealogies and decorative arts, but there were many other things going on to mark the anniversary of the "shot heard round the world" at Lexington and Concord. We made "liberty" tea bags with mint and lemon balm, talked to a docent about powder horn carving (which I compared to scrimshaw and was vehemently corrected.  I still say the crafts are similar--they're both carving on bone), and had a very lively interaction with the docents doing the cooking demo, who both discussed making drinking chocolate and then actually demonstrated how they made a coal bed for a baking kettle and put hot coals on the lid!  Really very interesting, even though I'd heard it described a dozen times.  Then we visited just one house because, indeed, we were right--a dry-as-dirt PAID docent droning on about clocks and wallpaper and portraits to ten-year-olds. Mercy, if I were the education director . . . .  We rushed off to the encampment where Sis enjoyed seeing a weapons demo on horseback--Mama and I learned about the efficacy of a sharp steel blade back by an 800 lb horse and a 200 lb man with gear--as the re-enactor said, he doesn't even have to exert much effort to be deadly (we laughed about how he decapitated that bad ol' Tory Watermelon in his demo!  I think you had to be there.)  I liked seeing the women cooking cornbread and beef stew outside.  And I LOVE the fife and drum music played by the Nathan Hale Ancient Fife and Drum Corps.  We also enjoyed our wagon ride up and down the preserved street, enjoying all the 18th-century houses.

And lunch was good, too!  We had a very tasty repast at Champney's in the Deerfield Inn, with French onion soup, chowder, a charcuterie, fish and chips, fried calamari, and poutine with maple pulled pork.  Mmm, mmm good.  While we were eating, the re-enactor rider from Lexington arrived announcing the beginning of hostilities at Lexington and Concord and General Gage's maneuvers.  The kids and I watched from the porch of the inn as the rider encouraged the captain to call up the local militia and then everyone marched off.  But instead of going to war, we went back to lunch.


Winding up our trip, we stopped at Richardson's for some ice cream (mmmm, purple cow and burnt-sugar and butter, which tastes like maple) and chocolates.  And we went to Webs, the largest yarn store in the country, which I had shopped online (at yarn.com) but didn't know was in Northampton!  Ooooh, what a place!  So many wonderful colors and textures.  So much temptation.  I chose a few skeins to make mandalas but didn't have an exact project in mind to go buying a dozen skeins.  I did learn about their line of Valley yarns, in all the different weights and lovely colors.  I'll be dreaming of things to make with those (I even took some photos so I could remember which weights I liked.)

Lastly, we stopped for Tibetan food at our favorite restaurant halfway home.  We got there just at 5 and so didn't have to wait as we usually do.  Another great meal:  mango dhara drinks, iced chai, avocado potato salad, spicy noodles (Thukpa Dhrangmo), chicken with noodles and veg (Gyathuk Ngopa), dumpling soup (Mokthuk), fried dumplings (Sha Momo), fried bread (Bhaklep), steamed bread (Tingmo), and vinegary slaw (Dhang-tsel.)  So, so good.  And the perfect end to another great 36 hour vacation!

At least we have today to ease into the work week tomorrow . . . .

Countdown to Easter

Thursday:
Sis stayed home because the doctor Thursday afternoon said she had probably had the flu and was only just getting over it (strep test negative.)  We lolled around, watching "Glee," our new show (yes, there are a lot of adolescent situations but it gives us a chance to talk--about sex, pleasure, responsibility, feminism, sexism, body issues, bullying, homophobia, acceptance, etc etc etc.)

Bud came home midday (it was just a half day) and we hung out for a bit before running off to an appointment, picking up some dinner, and having some frozen yogurt.

That evening, I was gone for three hours on a night shoot for a new promotional video for the historic house.  I was very self-conscious but eventually settled into my role as narrator and costumed interpreter.  In fact, though it was in no way like a movie, I had some insight into several things--waiting waiting waiting around while lighting, set, props, etc were set up; trying to keep the same lines fresh over and over again without tripping on any words; taking direction to turn my head this way, modulate my voice that way, move a prop another way, and emote half the sentence like I did in the first take and half like the second; getting the giggles when I flubbed a line (cursing, too); becoming super self-conscious of how I looked, sounded, and moved.  But I had a great time and the video turned out pretty well.  (If I know you personally IRL and you want to see a copy of it, I'll send it to you; just email me.)


Friday:
We were kinda dull on Friday, with Sis still recovering and Bud tired after a long week at school (he was probably fighting the virus Sis had without actually developing the flu.)  We had pizza and watched Beetlejuice, which holds up pretty well some thirty years later.  The kids didn't quite get it, but nobody was scared of the ghosts or sad about the deceased.

I finished crocheting a blanket for an old high school buddy with whom I've reconnected and sent it on its way; she's having surgery and I wanted her to know I was thinking of her.  It's my usual Giant Granny Square but with a new edging called the Crab Stitch (mainly reverse single crochet around a row of double crochet.)  The colors in the photo are a little muted because it was overcast--it's actually a lovely lavender, some deeper  light green, and blue.

I did manage some shopping for the last of our Easter grocery needs.  Our final menu includes deviled eggs, pimento cheese, ham, macaroni and cheese, green bean casserole, cheddar cheese rolls, green peas, and Shaker Lemon pie, with Zinger Sherbet Punch.   And I got some hyacinths and hydrangeas for Ma and for me.


Saturday:
The Easter Penguin came!    There weren't any wet footprints because we don't have carpet anymore, but he did leave the kids a set of Minecraft blocks.  We had asked Bud if he thought the Easter Penguin would come and Bud reiterated that the Easter Penguin was very reliable.

The kids skipped their morning activities, both because they weren't feeling great and because Ma and Gong arrived . . . . so we went to the movies instead!  Yep, went to see Zootopia, which was funny but also a good teachable moment on race, biological determinism, stereotypes, prejudice, free will, the role of police in society--it even had a plot to incriminate the "predators" by poisoning them with toxic flowers (see recent interview excerpts with Nixon lacky Ehrlichman who said the war on drugs was exaggerated to criminalize and oppress African Americans and hippies/war protestors.)  All it needed was #PredatorsLivesMatter.

We had lunch at a new traditional Mexican restaurant which serves fresh tableside-made guacamole, lots of grilled foods (including cactus!),  lots of authentic-seeming dishes, and fresh tortillas (I know, Texans, none of that sounds special but this is Connecticut.)  Some of it was even too spicy for Ma and Gong!

The afternoon was a hodgepodge of "It's the Easter Beagle, Charlie Brown," eating apple pie, Bud trying out Gong's tai chi sword, building an Easter nest (there were flowers in bloom this year!!), making origami bunnies and frogs, and eventually saying goodbye to Ma and Gong.

We planted a hydrangea to mark the almost-one-year anniversary of the death of beloved Aunt Sis (today, btw, was the first anniversary since my emergency surgery.)  We had planted two other hydrangeas this spring in her memory, but I think only one survived the winter (and my gardening!)

Then the "work" started!  We pulled out the Easter decorations and purged some of the books and things.  We always find extra egg decorating kits--and so Sis chose plain tab Pas dye and Bud did tie dye.  I drew on a few eggs with a Sharpie and a wax crayon--see my bunny, Bay Max, and Totoro.  Lots of fun.  Then I prepped some dishes while Mama made the traditional last-minute run to the store.  And the kids and I hid some eggs and left a basket for the little girl and boy across the street.

Whew!

And it's not even Easter yet.

Celebration!!!

It might be a tad premature, as it hasn't actually started, but it looks like the teen docent program at "my" historic house that I designed with the local schools is going ahead as planned!!!!   After meeting with the assistant superintendent, I submitted the call for interns today and we will begin training them the first week of March.  I'm so excited.  It's the beauty of a small organization and a small town that we can get it up and running so quickly and relatively easily-all very straightforward, face-to-face, friendly.  The old fashioned "do business with a handshake."   I know there will be hiccups and bumps, but for now I'm just enjoying the joy.  Best of all, it gets two birds with one stone:  our need for more docents AND our goal of serving the town!  Plus, my own desire to expand professionally and find new challenges.  Yay!

Today's Tour

The last historic house tour of the season, the one with Sis and Bud's classes, went wonderfully well.  The rain had stopped before the tour, but they all ate inside--I had brought special deli sandwiches, chips, and cookies for them.  They ate with their friends while I got everything squared away.  When the tour started, Sis joined Bud's class, carrying my phone around to take pictures.

Here's a view of the tour from her vantage point:

We did all the usual third grade historic house tour things:  I dressed volunteers up in colonial garb; they strung dried apples, played with paper dolls, practiced chores like churning butter, and examined recent artifacts uncovered during the construction (namely a broken late 19th-century white ceramic vase/pot.)  We talked about the history of the family, the structure and evolution of the house, clothes, trades, food, seasonal activities, and children of long ago.

And, because the rain held off, we even got to go out to the herb garden that our Brownie troop created.

Sis and Bud didn't answer many of my questions; Sis had said she wanted to give other kids a chance (same with using other volunteers for dress-up).  But even though they were just two more faces in the group, they were my familiar little faces.  And I so really enjoyed today, having waited for it for a long time now.  It'll be two more years before they come back.  I hope I'm still volunteering then, because I'd really like to take them on another tour.

UPDATE:  The kids told me over dinner that both of their docents at the other house (they go to two) asked how they knew so much!!

My "Lousy" Days

Four classes, two days.  I just finished giving in-class programs to the third graders at Sis and Bud's school in preparation for their field trip next week to the historic house where I volunteer.  I entitled it, "Weird but True:  Colonial Life," but maybe should have called it "Ewww But True" because of all the gross stuff I shared--no baths, corn cobs for toilet paper, lice/fleas/nits, mice, trash middens right in the backyard, multiple-seat privies, hay mattresses, also boys dressing in skirts until they were about 7, corsets, long slow travel times, cold and dark houses, etc.  And then we made sachets, using lavender, winter savory, and rosemary, which were designed not only to smell sweet but to ward off bugs!

I forget perhaps how well-versed Sis and Bud are in historic houses, because several of these kids didn't realize that colonists had no electricity, no plumbing, no heat/AC, no well-stocked stores, no plastic, no trash pick up, no hospitals (yes, one girl asked me how women had babies!  She didn't mean physically, thank heavens, but where.)  I think they could barely fathom it.  And I forgot to start so simply because I figured they knew. I won't make that mistake again.  They had lots of great questions--and some challenging ones, like how would Santa get in the house if there was usually a fire--I had to tell them that colonists didn't really dwell on Santa Claus or even on Christmas.  They did not like the picture of the rat skeleton but loved the discussion of toilets the most.  They were shocked by the boys in skirts but pretty uninterested in how syllabub is made straight from milking a cow and not so surprised by the pillow I stuffed with hay to represent the mattresses they had.  They were all pretty surprised by the picture of George Washington's fake teeth and the fashion of wearing white-powdered hair (or wigs.)  They couldn't believe how long travel took (5-6 days between Boston and NY!  And sleeping in inns in bed head-to-toe with strangers!)  And they liked the etymology of "lousy," being full of lice, especially because lice had been going around school.

They all seemed to enjoy the sachet project, though one class ran so long that they'll have to save making theirs with their teacher next week (that was my only disappointment, especially because it was Sis's class.)   They followed directions for a pinch of this and a spoon of that well enough, even managing to bundle the cheese cloth into a little packet, but many of them couldn't tie.  I never dreamed that third graders would be unable to tie a knot or bow.  It's a great project, but prepping materials for 100 students would be my limit--I'm not sure I could do the sachet project with all schools if and when we could expand the in-class program (that would be 700 or so strings and cheesecloth squares!)  I'll cross that bridge if and when I come to it.

It was fun to be in Sis and Bud's class, though neither of them answered any of my questions, letting the other kids have a turn.  I had a few pictures of them--Bud at the archaeological dig in the backyard, Sis cooking in the fireplace.  And a picture showcasing the Brownie troop because they built the herb garden, which provided the winter savory and rosemary for our sachets (but not the lavender, as our plant didn't flower, so I bought buds in bulk.)  Everybody got a kick out of recognizing people in the photos--one class wanted me to take their picture at the house, too (but permissions being what they are, who knows!  Which is why this post is un-illustrated.)

So in a week, I welcome them to the historic house, on the last tour day of the season.  It's been a pretty good one, but I'll be glad for a bit of a break.

Apple Art

One of the big activities at the historic house where I volunteer involves apples, a major food staple of colonial life.  In fact, as we tell our student visitors, colonists and early Americans were often referred to as "pie eaters" for all of the apple pies they consumed.  And so, in our keeping room before the 7' hearth, we string up dried apples.

We just have to dry the apples beforehand.  After cutting them into small slices with a mandolin and soaking them in cider, we dry them slowly in a low oven.  Voila, dried apples.  Of course, colonists would have strung up the apples without drying them first, hanging them up in the rafters of their smoky kitchens to dry.  Then they would re-hyrdrate them as needed and bake them in pies.  Our apples are hung in our hearth, which would have been too close to the fire but makes a pretty and central decoration in the house, along with all of our fresh herbs.

1.  Slice whole apples thinly with mandolin.  Toss apples in apple juice and soak for 7+ minutes to prevent browning.  Arrange a single layer of apple slices on baking sheet covered in parchment paper.

2.  Bake apples at 225F for 3 hours, turning over and rotating sheets (if more than one) halfway through.  Cool apples and enlarge core or pierce hole for easier stringing.  Store in paper bag.

3.  String up and hang for decoration..  These are for educational and decorative purposes only; do not eat.

Getting Ready

It's almost time for tours to start up again at the historic house.  So today, volunteers and I were prepping the house by setting up activities, clearing away the extra stuff, and even hanging some fresh herbs from our colonial-inspired herb gardens.  There's rosemary, lavender, winter savory, and sage, making the house smell so fresh.  Of course, colonists wouldn't have hung herbs inside the fireplace where they would burn, more likely hanging them from the rafters.  But, as we lecture from the hearth, we hung them there.  There's also our new candle mold on the mantle for us to discuss nighttime and the ways colonists created light.  It's going to be a great (but busy) season, especially because all my Brownies plus Sis and Bud will be coming on the tours in October.  

Tasty History

We wrapped up the family workshops at the historic house a few weeks ago.  We had fun making soap scrimshaw, outlining and then cutting silhouettes, and weaving bracelets.  Each art activity was accompanied by a docent-led discussion of the historical context of the craft--maritime life in the eighteenth-century, capturing likenesses before photography, and the process of yarn craft from sheep to shawl.

And we have one docent who often bakes for us. For the last workshop, she brought us this delicious blueberry cake, which everyone raved about.    History is always better with food.

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Blueberry Crumb Cake
Streusel:
1/4 cup granulated sugar
1/3 cup light brown sugar
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/8 teaspoon nutmeg
1 stick unsalted butter, melted
1 1/3 cup flour

Cake:
6 tablespoons unsalted butter, room temperature
3/4 cup granulated sugar
2 extra large eggs, room temperature
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 teaspoon grated lemon zest
2/3 cup sour cream
1 1/4 cup flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1 cup fresh blueberries
confectioner's sugar for sprinkling

Preheat oven 350F.  Butter and flour a 9" round baking pan.

For streusel:  combine 1st four ingredients in bowl.  Stir in melted butter, then flour.  Mix well.

For cake:  Cream butter and sugar with mixer on high speed 4-5 minutes, until light.  Reduce to low and add eggs one at a time.  Add vanilla, lemon, and sour cream.  In separate bowl sift together flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt.  With mixer on low, add flour to batter just until combined.  Fold in blueberries.  Spoon into prepared pan, crumble topping evenly over batter.  Bake for 40-50 minutes until tester comes out clean.  Cool and sprinkle with confectioners sugar.  Enjoy!

Miss P.K.

Fabulous Field Trip!

Today, I was a chaperone on the children's first school field trip to a local historic farm.

And after my experiences a week or so ago with poorly behaved teachers and chaperones on my own historic house tour--the teacher talked through the whole tour, not noticing when her kids misbehaved and not stopping when I privately requested she do so (besides that, we've had chaperones talk and text on their phones, teachers and chaperones abandon their classes and wander off, and more)--I wanted to be a model chaperone.  And I think I was--helped the kids follow instructions, kept them all together, and never distracted from the docents.  Though, perhaps, I spoke up a couple of times enthusiastically--"oooh, kids, you won't get to touch a 200 year-old loom again!" or "wow, just imagine cooking on that stove!"  But I didn't dominate or ask too many questions (only  one or two, on the side) and I never answered them.  (Yes, I wanted to.  But I didn't find any fault with any of the tour.)

We had a wonderful time!  The kids learned about blacksmiths and "jobbing", getting to try their hands with "frog-lip" tongs and "duck-billed" tongs.  They planted green bean seeds in containers to take home.  They fed sheep and chickens.  They helped weave a floor rug with fabric scraps on the aforementioned loom.  They made and ate cornmeal pancakes, after looking at an old wood-burning stove, and got to touch ice in a real icebox.  They carded and then spun by hand yarn from the sheep, tying it into a bracelet to take home.  It really was a fabulous tour--well-paced, well-structured, well-timed, with a diversity of information and hands-on activities with enthusiastic and engaged docents.  As a fellow museum educator, I was impressed; as a mom, I was grateful.  Because I know how much effort went into the tour.

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Cornmeal Pancakes

1/2 cup whole wheat flour
1/2 cup ground cornmeal
3 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon sugar
1/2 cup boiling water
1/4 cup milk
1/4 cup melted shortening or vegetable oil
1 egg, well beaten

Add together flour, cornmeal, baking powder, salt, and sugar.  Then mix in boiling water.  Stir milk, shortening, and egg into batter.

Drop large tablespoonful onto a hot, well-greased frying pan or griddle.  Turn the heat down and cook the cakes until they are brown (and begin to bubble.)  Then flip them over and brown on the other side.  Eat and enjoy!

One Down

Our first week of tours at the historic house are over.  I did two of the tours--one was great, the other was good enough.  I've added some new bits to this year's tour--some more Revolutionary War facts and a section about colonial music.  We even play a recording of "Yankee Doodle" with different lyrics, first the British ones and then some American ones making fun of George Washington.    To go with the music, I added a lap harp the students can play to our activity centers; there's even sheet music for "Yankee Doodle."    I also changed the weaving activity--instead of a small inkle loom, we now have a more historically-accurate paddle loom on which women and girls would make tape, or ribbons.  And today, with beautiful weather (and because the class arrived 45 minutes early and we were stretching things quite a bit), the students played outside.  First, it was boy vs. girl in a race of wooden hoops.  Then they lined up to play snap the whip, tumbling all over the ground.  All in all, a good week.  I look forward to four more.

Meet Me at the Met and Other Fun This Weekend

Saturday found us in the glorious halls of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, primarily to see "Impressionism, Fashion, and Modernity."  We loved the combination of paintings by Monet, Degas, Tissot, Caillebotte (okay, so they weren't all Impressionists, but the word sells tickets!) and the crinolined and bustled fashions of the second half of the 19th century.  Bud, who recently read a biography of Monet, was glad to tell us all about Monet's wife Camille as well as the exhibition of 1871 and plein-air painting.  Sis especially liked Monet's "cotton candy" painting of a woman in white with a parasol on a hill.

We also walked the 19th-century galleries, where Sis wanted to see Degas's statue of a dancer.  She stood mesmerized for awhile, liking the cloth skirt and ribbon of the otherwise bronze figure.  Bud kept asking us to describe the subjects of painting so we finally would send him to read the labels.  For the painting in the above photo, of the massacre of the Innocents, the label really didn't help him understand the dead children or bereft mothers.  Interesting to note that the Met situates its labels at the height of an 8-year old, also probably that of a person in a wheelchair.

We had lunch on the (somewhat chilly) steps, though many of the fancy gourmet food carts have left--no cupcakes, no shakes, just New York hot dogs, which were good enough for Sis, Bud, and Mama!

Back inside, led by a banner on the facade of the building, we tracked down the newly-opened "Photography and the American Civil War," with his collection of carte-de-visite portraits in lockets and frames, battlefield images of casualties both dead and injured, and equipment such as cameras, braces to hold subjects' necks still, and stereoscopes, which were the kiddos' favorite.

We headed home soon after, with a swazu over to Columbia.  We picked up some huge slices of Koronet pizza and ate them in front of Butler Library, where Mama and I met way back when.  The kids love hearing that story over again and marveled that we could point to the exact stone bench (really more of a wall) where I was sitting eating breakfast when we were introduced by a co-worker.  We'll have to go back for a longer visit next time, to hit some of our other favorite spots again (we took them once before, but they were probably too young to remember the library stacks, the Hungarian Cafe, and St. John the Divine.)

Saturday night, our babysitter came so that Mama and I could go to see Audra McDonald in concert with last-minute, half-price tickets.  I'd seen her before, both in Carousel and Ragtime, and was looking forward to it.  And we loved it!  We had great seats, front row center mezzanine.  Most of the songs dealt with the meaning of life, such as "Make Someone Happy" and "First You Dream."  But, including those, I didn't know most of the songs, several being 1930s musical standards which isn't my forte.  She "got over herself" to sing "I Could've Danced All Night," but she encouraged us to sing along.  She sang about flying--and played the piano--in honor of her father who died five years ago in a plane crash.  She was inspired to add "My Buddy" by an 86-year old veteran singing the song in Harvard Square; she sang some lullabies because her daughter wouldn't listen to them, saying her mother's singing "made my ears cry."   The song about the effects of September 11th on one person, "I'll Be There," made us both cry.  And we laughed hysterically, truly to the point of tears, when she sang her German art songs with lyrics from, of all places, Craigslist!  There she was operatically singing about finding a particular type of Hudson Valley pickle because "some dipschitz though out my bottle!"  I wasn't as affected by her song "Go Back Home" about the Scottsboro Boys or "Some Days" from a James Baldwin poem, but I really liked the poignant chorus and story of "Stars and the Moon," about being promised true love yet wanting a yacht and champagne.  And her version of "Moment in the Woods."  She closed with a song first sung by the person she considered the best singer ever--Judy Garland's "Over the Rainbow."  No Porgy and Bess, no Carousel, no Ragtime.  And it was all wonderful nonetheless.  Mama and I glowed the rest of the weekend from having done something so adult, so enjoyable, so much like we used to, so memorable.  We picked up Indian food on the way home and chatted late into the night.

Sunday was spent mainly at church--we were in charge of snacks, bringing homemade brownies, cheese and crackers, veggies and dip--as we had both morning service and I had a small group ministry meeting of parents of young children in the afternoon.  There we discussed, passionately yet sensitively (also rather liberally), the shooting tragedy in Newtown through the lens of parenthood.  I just joined the group but felt really comfortable with everyone and am very glad to have found a niche at church.  Meanwhile, Mama and the kids made wooden pinball machines at a local museum and went for a short hike.

We ended the outing with some frozen yogurt--tart or lychee or strawberry yogurt with fruit toppings, caramel sauce, raspberry sauce, coconut, almonds, mochi, gummies, maraschino cherries--we had more toppings than yogurt!  A sweet end to a great weekend.

Worst of Tours, Best of Tours

I had one of those tours today that make me love talking to kids in historic houses and museums.  Though it started out very poorly--they were early, but the teachers insisted that each child go to the (single-toilet-with-old-plumbing!) bathroom before we could begin and so we started 45 minutes late!  And they had to be on the bus with less than 45 minutes for the tour.  With two docents trying to steer 45 kids total through everything without bumping into each other.  

But it was wonderful, even though I rushed through topics and skipped certain activities like stringing apples and playing charades.  They were engaged and curious, asking questions and giving answers.

I knew a boy with visual impairments would be on my tour so I had practiced how to describe the house, the big fireplace, and my costume with vivid words and references to placement and size (thanks, AIC and Met for that training!).  To evoke the period for him through touch, we passed around ceramics, let everyone play in the big fireplace, and all felt the difference between the new floorboards and the 18th-century ones.n It took extra time to describe the wallpaper and clothing that everyone else could see, but I didn't want him to miss out (or to bore the other kids, so I tried to deftly weave it all in).  As he left, he said to his aide, "That was a great house!" 

Yay!

My First Tour

More than a year in the making and then waiting, I finally gave my first costumed historic house tour on Friday! It was like redemption or finally catching up to where I left off last spring (similarly, we're trying to reschedule the things that were canceled that we can re-do, like our trip to Plymouth).

And it was marvelous!

I was nervous beforehand.  I haven't given a tour since November 2004, a long time ago (though I did it weekly, and sometimes daily, from June 1998 until then).  And never in a house, or in a costume.  Sure, I helped write the tour and have been researching the colonial period since January 2011, but leading a tour is something different altogether.

Thank heavens for adrenaline.

Not only did I enjoy the tour, but I think it went well.  I remembered all of the facts, hit the transitions, managed interactive questions, and kept the discussion going.  They paid attention and there were no discipline issues (that can be so, so common with 5th-grade tours!).  And I think they enjoyed it, from the stories about slaves and Native Americans to the discussion of the archaeological excavations that tell us about life in the 18th century.

And I got to do it all in a costume!  Chemise, underskirt, gathered overskirt, English bodice, apron, gathered cap, even pockets tied around my waist.  Which contained my smartphone!  Other major anachronism:  I had my fancy tennis shoes on.

But they got me through the morning with no spasms or serious weakness, which was a major achievement.  Even a month ago giving the same tour to the docents, I almost didn't finish.

I hope I get to do another tour soon.

Especially because my favorite costumer has new bodices and flounced skirts in their catalog!

Touched

Tonight, at a holiday party for the historic house association on which education committee I sit, I was surprised to be thanked for my work on the 3rd and 5th grade curricula!  My friends, the director and education coordinator (the wonderful Mrs. S about whom I've written frequently) had encouraged me to stay to have fun when I said I could only stay a bit.  But I thought they were just being nice, you know, wanting me to enjoy myself since I don't get out much.

Yes, I can be dense.  Then, when the dedicated and hard-working director, Mrs. A, stood up and thanked the illustrious guests as well as the long-standing house docents, she also acknowledged me!  I couldn't have been more surprised.  Seriously.  I thought she was talking about my two other main colleagues on the committee who had been there much longer.  I had no clue until she looked at me and mentioned my work in Chicago.  And then I think I blushed deeply from my spot in the back of the room where I had been comfortably pacing on the rug. I shook hands, we took pictures, and I went back to my spot in the back, this time with people smiling and nodding at me.  And I could barely contain my sniffles.

I can't begin to say how touched I was.  See, the historic house and these wonderful women (it's mostly women) have been such a light in what has been not exactly a dark but definitely a gray year.  Because while they supported and accomodated me in my health struggles, they also allowed me to do what I love to do, which is engage children in learning about history through material objects, interactive tours, and hands-on experiences.  It was an intellectual challenge (learning colonial history) and professional challenge (stretching my museum ed legs again but in a new living history as opposed to art museum setting), in an inspiring, open-minded collaborative environment, so far from my "sick room" that it was a wonderful distraction, even when I couldn't participate as fully as I'd like.  It was--they were, and still are--a life line for me, for which I will always be truly grateful.  So the honor, the gratitude, the appreciation were all mine.

But it was really wonderful to be recognized.  (In fact, I'm not sure how much that ever happened in my professional life--people are always nicer to volunteers!).  And I will always treasure the paperweight with its hand-drawn depiction of the historic house.  (When we met up right afterward, Sis and Bud oohed and aahed over it.  Bud said, "Congratulations, Mommy!  That's cool." And Sis offered me a tissue!)

And I'm rearing to go for the spring tour season!

Thank you so much.

The Marvelous Met

Our visit to the Met yesterday was astounding.  Of course, I always love going to the Met, but this was momentous for a variety of reasons:  I hadn't been since before April, when I reinjured my back, missing several exhibitions I had hoped to see; I still find standing on hard surfaces for a long time a challenge and the floors at the Met are stone; and I had long awaited the reopening of the Islamic galleries, now the Art of Arab Lands and it just opened to rave reviews (see also here for a discussion of the challenges of presenting Islamic art).

The new galleries, officially galleries for the Art of Arab Lands, Turkey, Iran, Central Asia, and Later South Asia (yes, that is way too long, but it conveys less a false monolithic entity and more the diversity that was a vast region over 1500+ years), are glorious (see here in pics from the NYTimes and the Met):

Look at those floors in the introductory gallery!  (You can't see it here, but one gallery had glass lanterns hanging above the historical objects which inspired them)  And the alternately warm and dramatic lighting in the other galleries!  The replication of both palatial and intimate settings to engage directly with the objects! The labels were informative, but not too, and were well placed.  I applaud both the designers and the curators.  Of course, my favorite space, the space I remembered from eight plus years ago, before the galleries closed, the one Mama had never seen until I took her, on what was our ultimate date at the Met (followed by a walk down Fifth and dinner at Carnegie Deli one Friday night), was the Damascus Room, a receiving room bringing together so many of the arts on display, with the wonderful trickling fountain:

It was even more wonderful than I had recalled.  It, and all the objects, shine in this new interpretation and installation, such an improvement over the old, shabby galleries.  Warm, inviting, comfortable, were words that came to mind--these are galleries I will visit again and again, being happy to wander and linger.  Now, I'm not fully conversant with the breadth and depth of the arts of Arab lands, having only touched upon them in classes on other topics or in exhibitions tangentially related.  But for the purpose of our first view of the galleries and an introduction of the art to the kids, that was not a hindrance, especially because of the visual power of the objects.

The kids had a scavenger hunt that we'd picked up from the information desk and so were on the lookout for numerous objects, from details in manuscript illuminations to repeating patterns in large carpets, from ceramic plates to metal incense burners.  Between finds, we admired the floral and animal themes; followed the intricate (seemingly) symmetrical, repeating, interlocking patterns; counted the numerous references to battling animals (large cat vs ibex, on carpet, illumination, book binding, and dagger hilt); spotted the embedded calligraphy; admired the tiny details in the illumination; wondered at how mosaics, tilework, even ceiling engravings are joined; and thrilled at several depictions of rabbits.

Perhaps the most revelatory aspect of the new galleries was stepping out of them into the adjacent 19th-century European paintings galleries, the first one hung with Orientalist works by the likes of Gerome.  We played compare and contrast::  here were oil paintings, numerous depictions of humans (there are some in Islamic art; not all believed in the prohibition of the depiction of humans), a focus on the "exotic," the Other.  Even to first graders, it was obvious that these second-hand depictions by outsiders paled in comparison to the real thing.  And professionally speaking, even though my beloved European 19th-century galleries were renovated about 20 years ago, they look old and tired in comparison with their new neighbors, particularly because in these galleries paintings are removed from their original contexts, which were elaborate houses of rich patrons, complete with furniture and other objets d'art, well-illuminated and hung in rows on the "dead" (at least no longer white) walls of the museum/mausoleum.  While the art of Arab lands is displayed all together (not manuscripts here, mosaics there in some kind of surgical separation of media that plagues the study of European art, subdivided as painting, decorative arts, sculpture, textile etc), it avoids the ethnographic, exotic Other feel of natural history museums--this is art on par with all the other art in the museum, with each object as worthy of study as the oil paintings on the line.

Really, I could go on and on, but I'm not sure it would convey the depth of my appreciation for the galleries. And for the day.  I was so proud, so happy, so excited, so relieved to have made it to and through the museum--two hours without any real problems--I'd be standing at a carpet and find myself in tears at the wonderfulness of it all.  I am so grateful to Mama, for handling all of the logistics, and to the kids for humoring me (when they really wanted to go to Egyptian!).  They were a delight, enthusiastically exploring every gallery, soaking in an art very new to them.  We then went outside for food--the carts are almost better than the cafeteria, with new gourmet pretzels and organic cupcakes, with of course, the standard hot dogs.  We ate, swatted away pigeons, people-watched, and enjoyed the buskers singing Motown tunes. We bought a few postcards and a catalog.

And planned our next visit . . . .

Crisis in Faith

Not that faith. Not real faith. In fact, if I'd embraced my UUism and lessons from Buddhism, it wouldn't have been much of a crisis.

But last night, when we realized that Yahoo had erased, obliterated, annihilated, deactivated one of my email accounts--the one that included all of my professional work from all my museum jobs, an account I obviously don't check often because I haven't needed them--I too felt erased in a way. That professional identity--with all my contacts, my documents, my work history--gone in a flash. And I had wanted them more than I had in the last 6 years because I'm starting a new volunteer position as an educator at an historic house museum and am writing curricula and other materials. So I tried to log into my old account. But Yahoo's new policy is to deactivate email accounts, erasing everything, if you haven't used it in four months. And they never told me.

I cried myself to sleep, in the glow of the computer light.

Because Mama was convinced that somewhere, somehow there was a backup, that she had been careful, conscientious, and cautious six years ago.

And she had.

Only not with the email account, because it's not possible to download Yahoo, but with my work files, which were carefully labeled on a CD which she'd backed up to an external hard drive, way back when. So, even though the emails and contacts and such are gone, I have anything that I wrote and stored on my own computer.

Bless Mama, who stayed up very late to retrieve the documents. (And she is now double-backing up and/or printing out all manner of things--a decade worth of pictures, 500 pages of a cookbook, the entire text of this blog, our address book.)

Though, I tried hard to convince myself it hadn't mattered in that 12 hours I thought it was all lost. Telling myself that I needn't be attached to those files because I could make new ones, or even more importantly, be attached to that old professional identity, which had little to do with my life today. If/when I ever go back full time in museum education, here in a new state, my contacts will have moved on, my documents will need to be updated, everything will have changed. The security blanket of data that I have held on to--the one that offers the protective cover of tools should I ever need or want to go back to that work, proof that I'm capable and employable--really holds little safety or protection, I realized. But it had held, very tangibly, who I used to be. And that is what I mourned last night.

Looking through the documents this morning--pre- and post-visit activities, tour confirmations, docent training manuals, public program announcements, class syllabi, lecture texts, conference presentations, grant proposals--brought back all sorts of memories from about a decade of work. It was both bittersweet, remembering all that I used to do, but also confidence-building, here as I begin a new journey.

Beyond learning to have faith in myself (and in Mama!) and in the way things unfold, I was reminded not to put too much stock in perceptions (or ideas/beliefs about myself, career, past) or in things.

Especially computers.

(Yes, some of you will note that, in the end, a computer did save the documents. True enough. But I think it's more the symbolism of it. I could've had printouts of everything, too. Might, even, in the basement somewhere. It's the faith in the belief that I needed these things, truly needed, not just wanted because I'm attached to them--that I couldn't be happy or survive without the documents, or my recipes or blog or even pictures--that was false (even if we're still gonna back it all up, because there's more than one lesson we're working on here.) That, and Yahoo sucks.)

Meet Me at the Met

We took the kids to the Metropolitan Museum of Art on Saturday, a last-minute (well, the night before) decision to so something extra special for the weekend. There were several exhibitions that I had wanted to see with the number of free weekends to do so dwindling rapidly. And so we went first thing in the morning to be sure to catch the children's program before we saw everything else.

We arrived early enough to catch Vermeer's The Milkmaid before the program started, knowing the show would be packed later. And it was already crowded, but only at The Milkmaid. Because savvy New Yorkers and museum-goers knew that all the other paintings were from the Met's permanent collection and usually on view. Even after all these years, I'm just amazed how reproductions, as advanced as they are, fail to capture, to borrow a phrase, the aura of a work of art. The colors are just wrong everywhere I've seen this painting reproduced. And it is glorious in person--the blue of her skirt, the dotted brushstrokes creating the bread and the basket, the clever single nail on the wall referencing the scene as a work of art. Sis liked the milk jug but insisted she was pouring gravy on bread, not milk. We even got to see a 17th-century jug in the Met's collection. Bud was more worried about missing the program and so we headed back to the education center.

The children's programs, Start with Art, usually includes a story, discussion of one or more works of art, and a sketching project--a fairly standard structure for children's programs. We had been before and liked the experience, so much so that Sis remembered Georgia O'Keeffe by name, but this particular session was not even mediocre. Basically, the two objects chosen were great but the connections the educator was trying to make--you can count things in these pieces!!--was forced, contrived, and, well, really lame, even for preschoolers. But the kids liked looking at Brueghel's (choose your favorite spelling of his name--the Met has 2 on one page!) Harvesters and finding some of the details, including the birds (count them!) and the moon. Then the were asked to sketch their favorite parts (which is a pretty advanced and daunting task). Bud drew the "teepees" (can you see them?) and Sis focused on the reclining man under the tree; both included the moon. Can you find it? (hint: no it's not dirt on your computer, it's that tiny blue dot in the upper left corner)

Next, as a family, we headed to see American Stories, which examines genre and other paintings about America and Americans. The first room alone was worth the exhibition, full of iconic water images, from Copley's Watson and the Shark to Homer's Gulf Stream plus Eakins and Bingham. Bud was entranced by the sharks, standing in front of the Copley repeatedly asking about the painting for more than 10 minutes. "Why is he in the water? Is the shark going to eat him? Will the people save him?" Good news: the man comes out of it alive, though loses a leg (it's based on a true story). Which I told Bud over and over but something about the painting wouldn't let him go. He even bought the postcard, which now sits in his special treasure box. And Sis's favorite painting in this show? A scene of a bear and hunter in mortal combat. And Mama preferred a Civil War-era image of a husband and wife saying goodbye. Such cheerful images my family likes.

After lunch and a much needed break, we saw the following:

Paintings by Watteau, which for me lost some of their power when grouped altogether;

Chinese musical instruments, including a video of people playing a variety of the unique instruments which enthralled the kids;

and last but not least, an exhibition of the armor of the Samurai, including several

suits of armor, fantastic helmets (though Sis's favorite, of a crouching rabbit, was in the permanent collection display), and those majestic swords. Oddly, they liked watching the video of how the blades are forged and sat through it mesmerized 3 different times. Maybe because they were finally sitting!

But if you asked them what their all-time favorites were, they'd say the two statues at the beginning of this blog: Canova's Perseus and Guidi's Andromeda in Chains. We stood in front of these statues for what seemed like ages. And then went back again later! They were at first fascinated with Andromeda--was she a mermaid? what is that sea creature doing? why is she in chains? And so I told the story, using the nearby Perseus nearby as an illustration. And so we went over there--why is he naked? what's he doing with that head? why does that lady have snake hair? hey, why is he naked? did we talk about why is he naked?

Yep, "privates." Love those private parts in works of art. I gave my little speech again about how artists like to show the human body, how it's something we all have in common, how is often considered the most beautiful thing to depict. And they get that, in their way. But still, it's fascinating to see a bigger-than-life-size penis and some breasts on high. Sis, our budding feminist, though, objected to the different treatment of men and women, wondering when she was ever going to see a woman's vagina just like hers--why did they always cover it up? I'm going to have to make sure that all the privates get equal time on our next visit. I can just see it, "Mommy's 'Private' Tour of the Metropolitan Museum of Art!" Ah, the dangers of being a mommy museum educator.

There were other highlights: peering in the scansions to see them setting up the creche and the Christmas tree; wandering around the roof garden with its huge metal sculpture Maelstrom; seeing the mother-in-law of a friend and colleague of mine as she gave a tour at the museum; marveling, again, at the "building inside a building" Temple of Dendur; the arms and armor display. Eating lunch in the cafeteria and also shopping for souvenirs also always rank high. There were only two downsides--a very rude mom in the cafeteria who ran over Bud and then blamed him for almost spilling her lunch (we actually "knew" her from the tour and also our last trip to the museum; she's a piece of work) and then the awful mess they've made of the American Sculpture Court, which now looks like a big train station terminal with art and a huge cafeteria--they must need the space for rental and concessions revenue, otherwise why mess it up? But, in the end, those didn't tarnish our wonderful, full, exhausting, exhilarating day. I'm sure we'll be going again soon--want to come?

The More Things Change . . .

Huge oval conference table.

Big conference room chairs.

Table tents with names.

Half-sandwiches and wraps with toothpicks on plastic trays.

Bottled water.

Trouble with the computer projector.

Trouble with the room temperature.

More absentee attendants than expected.

Handouts.

Introductions.

Powerpoint presentation with bullet points.

And a Venn diagram.

Objectives.

And goals.

Outcome.

Impact.

Evaluation.

Assessment.

Quantifiable.

Measurable.

Realistic.

Bloom's taxonomy.

Gardner's multiple intelligences.

Warm-up exercise.

Passion.

The future.

Community.

Multiculturalism.

Enrichment.

Break-out session.

Assignment.

Small group discussion.

Note taking.

Different understanding of assignment.

And program.

And language.

Jargon.

Informal learning.

Object-based education.

Learner-centered education.

Inquiry-based method for discussing works of art.

"What else do you see in that picture?"

Visual thinking strategies.

And Phil Yenawine.

Critical thinking.

Lifelong learners.

Curriculum.

"Repeat and validate."

Bathroom break.

Big cookies.

Coffee.

Group discussion.

Review notes.

Compare ideas.

NAEA.

Conference proposal.

Complaining about shortage of time.

And money.

And staff.

And lack of enthusiasm.

Meeting goes late.

. . . the more things stay the same.