City-wide swap meet ends

For as long as we have lived here in Portland, there has been a "large item pickup" in the spring. Usually, the pick up for our neighborhood occurs the week of the heaviest rains, but not always.

People put out their large items: furniture, mattresses, plumbing fixtures, etc., etc., and then go riding round the city and pick their choice from other people's items.

Seen outside a house one spring, a sign reading "FREE" surrounded by household items, including a dining table. Next day: all items gone. Following day: same sign, surrounded by chairs. Next day: all chairs gone. Day following that one: same sign, "FREE," surrounded by teenagers. Next day: all teenagers gone.

So you see, a swap meet can accomplish many things...

Even so, budget cutbacks have forced my fellow city-dwellers and me to think up other ways of distributing our good fortune.

Keeping the story

Thinking today about when you look through other people’s things, what do you learn about the person? Thinking right now about Grammy Carter’s box full of lace collars, and her box of ribbons (in a tangle...) and her other distinctly labeled boxes with bits and pieces of clothing that she might have had either to make over for someone or for herself or her mother or her daughter...

When Michele helped me go through the studio last year...we spent a whole day at it...we ran across a box that was labeled “felt scraps.” We tossed the scraps, kept the box.

The story behind the story: during the Depression, a man came door to door selling felt letters, you know like sports letters or college letters. My grandmother convinced him to give her the scraps from cutting out the letters, and so she had little pieces of felt for Mom to play with and for whatever uses one puts little scraps of felt.

So this box of felt scraps from the 30s was not just a box of felt scraps...it had a story, too, and whatever you choose to pin on it for a moral. It’s not just a box of felt scraps saved for 70 years...it's connected to a man eke-ing out a living, a mother entertaining her daughter, maybe teaching her to sew, and a little girl making playthings.

The story’s a much better souvenir than the box of felt scraps.

And for your entertainment...

Today, we resumed sorting through the studio. It has never had the privilege to be used as a studio, and has been a repository of all things family that came in from Laconia, Charlestown, and so forth. After we clean it out, we're moving the bedroom in there, so we can clean out the bedroom and paint the floor, etc.

Some of what we found:

P's grandparents' 50th Wedding Anniversary scrap book, a scrap book that perhaps Georgia Cheney kept (1889+), many pictures of all and sundry, a recipe book from 1931 (suitably austere, though the cover is red).

P sorted through photography equipment from college days, drawings and plans also from college and from Hughes Associates, a circuit board (perhaps he designed/drafted it?) that was not "printed" but wired in layers, many obsolete road maps and a geodetic survey map(s)...patched together...of New Hampshire....wallpaper-wise.

B sorted through boxes of boxes, all neatly labeled, and not used by their boxer since 1960, which is when my maternal grandmother died, she who did the boxing. Such delights as feathers for hats, ribbons, lace collars, and other fabric things. I thought to enumerate them here, but I have not yet actually LOOKED through them, saving that pleasure to enjoy with Barbara S and Sarah W sometime soon.

Oh, yes, I found more books...Volume II of Queen Hortense (I think I already gave away Volume I), Michener's Poland, The Story of the Pilgrims for Children, and others. Not as fun a box as the box of Nancy Drews, but more material for the church book sale.

The boxes labeled "purses" actually had purses in them, meaning that I had already sorted through those once. So we're getting there, in the studio.

As I worked my way through the boxes of boxes (sewing and fabric pieces, etc.) it occurred to me that much of that material had probably been sitting since maybe the early forties. I can't imagine my grandmother doing much sewing after my mother went off to college and marriage, etc. And then I spent a few moments musing on how clothing wears out. Remember, that my mother and I KEEP our clothing, even when it does not fit...we gifted many many pieces to Goodwill after she died. But wearing clothing out...the usual worn-through dungarees, elbows, cuffs, and collars...and clothing MUST get worn a bit in the wash and dryer. Why else would there be such a handful of lint to remove from the filter before every load? So clothing that is not terrorized simply washes away, gets thin, and goes into the ragbag. Well, not much as gone into the ragbag in my tenure. It's mostly still in the closet. 

That's another conundrum. After living in this house without a closet for so long, we build an addition 6 years ago that included a fine closet. But I have no idea how to use it effectively. Is that a reasonable excuse? No, but that's my story and I'm sticking to it.

I ran across the box of buttons again today, too, ready to go through with Sarah and Barbara. quantities of shoe buttons, bone buttons from navy whites, etc. I sorted through them some years ago...at least, some of them...but it will still be fun to look at.

I'm enjoying these careens down memory lane, even when they're not my memories. I don't know why it's so difficult to get started on each sorting stint, but it's a lot easier when I discover that I've actually gone through and sorted it some time ago! 

Washing dishes and packing to move

Before I got waylaid by a detailed description of doing dishes, I mentioned a similarity between that activity and packing to move.

I described packing recently as "the lists of the past..." We've packed over 57 boxes of books so far, and have found (of course, did you doubt it?) an additional 6 boxes full to give to the church book sale in January. I have also noticed the cookbooks in the kitchen, and have wondered where the knitting books are. So we are not done with books.

F and I went through ALL of M's research and resource material, as well as manuscripts and drafts of her book. That has been reduced to half of its original quantity, which (though half is a big reduction) is still a lot of boxes.

P has packed many many boxes of china etc., and there is still more to come, but we have also given away a lot of dishes. It's harder when it looks familiar or I remember using it when I was a child...easier when it is ugly or otherwise immemorable.

I have looked through and organized much music (see my December 3 post), and have been able to give away some of it, earmark some for Batahola Cultural Center, and throw out partial copies of some things...surprisingly few partial copies, considering that much of the music is at least 50 years old, and most of it is more than 70 years old.

We have packed all beads (I think) and are in process of consolidating sewing tools, etc.

We have given away another bookcase and a set of drawers. We have an alarming amount of furniture and bookcases and filing cabinets yet to go.

Well, this account is breaking down in its clarity as anxiety begins to take over, so maybe I'll go pack something.

Stack 'em up and wash 'em

I am the primary dishwasher in our household, which is a blessing in this cold weather. When my hands get cold, I go and do the dishes.

So yesterday, it occurred to me that there are organizational similarities between doing the dishes and packing to move. There is a granularity, an order, and at least temporary feelings of achievement and progress. Of course, with doing the dishes, it happens daily, three times or more a day. With packing, it is still intermittent, but has a similar aspect.

I'll try to explain.

I think I learned best how to do dishes in 1966 or so, at Thanksgiving visiting Dot's family in West Roxbury. I also once had an employee who described dishwashing as a highly creative act. I suspect that "creative" in this realm is very narrow, but satisfying.

But this is how I do it now:

1. Start with hot soapy water in a dishpan
   
2. With a clean sponge and some of the soapy water, clean the top of the stove, removing the spoon holder to wait with the plates
3. Scrape all dishes as needed
4. Begin with the glasses and mugs
5. Wash each, rinse each (turning water on and off), and place in drainer
6. When all the drinkware is washed, put all flatware...forks, knives, spoons...in the water
7. On top of the flatware, place the largest plates, smaller plates, etc., until they start showing above the waterline.
8. Wash plates from small to large, rinsing each (turn water on and off) in turn, and placing in drainer
9. When the dishes are all cleaned, start on the flatware that has been soaking under water
10. Place sharp knives and granny forks (and spatulas, etc.) business-side down in their own receptacle in the drainer
11. Place washed flatware business-side up in *their* own receptacle in the drainer
12. Rinse all tools and flatware. Remove the table flatware to the upper level drainer. (Maybe I should have made a diagram)
13. If the water is not too greasy yet, wash the pots and pans, least greasy to most greasy, rinsing as you go and placing them in the lower drainer.
14. When everything is washed, clean the counter top where the dishes had been accumulated before washing
15. Dump the water out of the dish pan
16. Rinse the inside and outside of the dish pan. If it is greasy, put some baking soda on the sponge, and absorb the grease, swiping the surface with the baking soda sponge, and then rinsing
17. When the soapy water has drained out of the sink, rinse the soap etc. scum from the sink. If necessary, use another baking soda sponge on the sink itself, cleaning side and bottom surfaces.
18. Grab a cup of coffee and go back to the computer. This step is optional

Dish 'n Dat

There was a neat little shop on Wethersfield Road on Natick (years ago) that Aunty J told me about. I hied myself thither and picked up such delights as a set of (now-identified and gone out of production) Towle flatware, some nice blue soup plates that we use constantly, and some fill-in pieces of my Arabia Valencia stoneware. I don't think it's there anymore, but it was fun while it lasted.

All this by way of trying to think about my china/stoneware/etc. obsession. We have worked our way through the nice white wedding Johnson Brothers stoneware (gone out of production/business long since) that I gifted to Kris years ago. I'm sure it's not around anymore.

And then the white Japanese china/stoneware that has the embossed calla lily on it...most of it also gone (it's lived in a house with twenty-something men for a few years).

I think my Valencia is my favorite...dark blue swirls that are reminiscent of the folk majolica in Valencia Spain...I never had a full set (the cups are dorky anyway) but white and dark blue always go together, and I have accumulated four of this yellow and white ware and four of that other blue and white ware, and now have an interesting set up. Cobalt blue and white go with ALL COLORS!!! hee hee

Martha Stewart made much one Thanksgiving of setting a table with all mismatched antique china. Well, mine is not so antique, but pretty well mismatched.

My love of many-colored china may have sprung from Uncle F and Aunt E's set of Fiesta Ware, back in the 1950s. I suppose they had it from before, when they lived in Indianapolis and Worcester, etc., but they moved to Portsmouth NH in 1947 (my year!) and that is where I knew them. Of course, we continue the tradition of place settings that have NO matching colors...I have nine colors of Fiesta, bought new a dozen years ago (I'm missing the newer color releases, if you're looking for something to burden me with...).

But back in the late winter last year, when we were packing up the china (well, most of it, anyway), I discovered that I actually DO have mismatched antique china on which to serve my "Martha" guests...both Grandmothers' china have landed in my china cabinet...neither set either intact or in production. I can identify both on Replacements Inc., but have no plans to fill out the sets. I also have a delightful chocolate set, possibly from the 1890s, and a pretty pink-blossomed tea or coffee set. I still don't know the difference, china-wise.

About the time we were packing things up, I tossed out the cats' icky plastic food dishes and began serving them twice daily on clean china...at first my grandmother C's, but now on Fiesta ware...much healthier for the cats. So the good stoneware and china that we don't use, our furry friends (the counter-culture) get to use.

I'm sure I'll think about china again, but for now, would you like that muffin on the GOOD old china?

Home at Last (sung in the key of delightful)

The piano's new wrangler writes:

Just wanted you to know that the piano has been played non-stop (I mean it) since its arrival Sunday night.  Even Samuel has been at it.  Aaron has been practicing more than ever.  MK and Daniel have always loved to practice but Aaron has needed a little encouragement.  They play before school, after school, and I've actually had to tell them to stop and go to bed!  I guess our old piano must have sounded pretty bad.  We haven't even had yours tuned yet and the kids said it's 100% better!  Let us know when you are in town so you can come and see it in its new home.  It's wonderful to hear all the enthusiasm, especially at Christmas!  Thanks again,

Holly

I am well-contented and nearly as happy as the piano is.

The elephant is out of the living room

Actually, it isn't an elephant, it's a piano, and it wasn't even in the living room, because I don't think the beams would have held. 

But my childhood piano, the Hardman baby grand, has now embarked on its trek to its new home with Pete's family in RI.

When I was six, I started piano lessons, and, having no piano, practiced at the neighbor's. I do not recall the event of the upright piano arriving in our house, but I do remember that it lived in the dining room. Being a smallish dining room, the piano was nearly smack up against the corner of the room, leaving just enough space for a small child (me) to hide from our babysitter. THAT was a whole other story, involving police and never seeing the babysitter again...I think everyone was pretty upset. But I was only hiding, not running away.

Sometime after that, our friends the Harrisons were replacing their baby grand, and sold my parents the Hardman aforementioned for some small amount of money. Of course, we had to move it, and I do not remember that, either. But it took up residence in our living room, there being not enough room in the dining room for it along with a dining table. And there it stayed, until about 1973 or so, when Dad and V shipped it to me in Massachusetts. THAT was a big event, and I had a tuner come in and recondition it...at least to the extent that one can recondition a piano in situ. She said it was nearly concert quality, despite the cracked soundboard.

I don't remember how we moved it to our new house in 1976, but we did...I seem to CONVENIENTLY forget the heavy lifting, as befits the princess that I must appear to my public... LOL. And then, sometime in the late 1990s, we moved it to Portland. Well, we had its insides reconditioned (the technician removed them and took them to his studio in the back seat of his pickup truck) and new plastic keycaps to replace the split and missing ivories. And when we built the addition in the back of the house (with the only actually LEVEL floors in the whole place), we had movers move it from the front room to the back room.

So imagine my surprise when, upon my gifting it to our grandniece and nephews, their Dad and his brother came to move it in a U-Haul truck. They had carefully and thoroughly researched the project, and deliberately and painstakingly wrapped it, shrinkwrapped it, bound it to a piano dolly, and hauled it right out the back door on the truck ramp, which luckily fit right in through the back door!

I guess this post is in memory of my many happy hours at the keyboard. The sightreading exercises stood me in good stead for my amateur singing and my typing...my eye-hand coordination is super. I am sad to see it go out of my life, but happy for its sake...as it moves through its 9th decade on earth as a Hardman baby grand, it is going to a young woman who will play it every day, joyfully. I also hope that she will play duets on it with her brother. What fun.

I will content myself to again practicing at the neighbors' house...K has invited me to use her instrument, and I have started to imagine scheduling myself to do so. I will assuage the guilt I felt when I came across my old practice schedule (hardly filled in at all), and I am looking forward to it.

Progress, Fingering, and a little Vocalizing

I come to the part of my packing when I examine ALL the music in the house. Not in detail, and I'm not even sitting down to play much of it. The piano will go (God willin' and the crick don't rise) to nephew Peter's family on Saturday, so it's all future fingering I'm practicing.

As the repository for

• a satchel (since discarded...the leather deteriorated) of Mom's Massachusetts Youth Symphonic Band music from the 1940s (instrumental parts for MANY instruments)
• a carton of sacred music of varying stripe from Ruth Perkins's collection
• vocalises...Lutgen, etc.
• a handful of recorder and ukelele and guitar music
• M's violin and fiddle music
• vocal sheet music ranging from the late 1870s to the 1960s from Uncle F, Mom, Ruth, Grammy Carter, etc.
• quantities of piano exercises, etudes, and simplified Rachmaninoff, etc., including a book on figured bass
  
• many Oxford University Press collections (in triplicate) from our summer Choral Symposia with Sir David Willcocks through the years
• many masterworks...Bach, Beethoven, Siegmeister, Britten, Bernstein, Mozart, Vaughan Williams, Haydn, Handel, etc. etc....also in at least duplicate
• folk song books, Scout song books, part-song books for glee clubs, choirs, and groups
• hymnals from the Congregationalists, the Tabernacle, the Presbyterians, the Spiritualists, and the Unitarians (among others!)

I especially love the sheet music...lovely covers, stylized according to the decade of publication, photos of "as made famous by" Rudy Vallee, Bing Crosby, Kate Smith, and many many of whom I have NEVER heard. The occasional music for something done in revival by Mama Cass...Dream A Little Dream of Me...and so forth.

There should be no doubt that music is in our genes...