Recently in Family Category

Minigolf Portals and Cigarette Silks

I took yesterday off from work, and we all drove out towards Morgantown and Lancaster to look at stuff in anqtique/junk shops. LBY and I ended up playing minigolf while Kate went for the bonus expert round of shop-looking. If there's anything better than the little portals in the fabric of spacetime at minigolf courses, I'm sure I don't know what it is:

I found a small cardboard box stuffed with cryptic, lustrous little silk ribbons. The ribbons have intricate woven designs. Each is labeled "Egyptienne Luxury" and "Factory no. 7 3rd District State N.Y.":

Egyptienne Luxury Cigarette Silks

They fall into four groups: US states, countries, colleges and universities, and secret societies(!), like "B.R.R. Trainmen" and "Golden Fleece."

Some Googling reveals that these are giveaways that you would get with the purchase of Egyptienne Luxury cigarettes. The factory was in New York City, which at one time had several THOUSAND(!!!) cigar and cigarette factories, which is why they were broken into tax "districts" entirely on the island of Manhattan.

Egyptienne Luxury Cigarette Silks

What a fun day!

Cult of the Object: Wheatley Aluminum Fly Box

My grandfather, John Randolph ("Slim") Young, was a hell of a fellow. He was an avid fly fisherman, and belonged to a fishing club in the Poconos called the Pohoqualine Fishing Association, which I've blogged about before. Here he is in 1979 with my aunt Becky, relaxing in the white clapboard fishing cottage called "totem home":

Aunt Becky and Slim

Here he is, be-suspendered, on the lawn outside Totem Home, teaching my cousin Beth and I to cast. Ten... and two! Ten... and two!

jay_cast

Here is my aunt Becky, looking incredibly fierce and dashing in her full fly-fishing fig, preparing to cast a dry fly upstream into McMichael's creek. Or perhaps she's waiting for a gaggle of Ralph Lauren photographers to arrive. Could they have been far away? I mean, come ON! Look at those hip waders! JUST LOOK AT THEM!

Aunt Becky in Hip Waders

Anyhow, the reason I posted these pictures from Flickr (you can click on them to see the set, including this picture of eight-year-old me looking just like Lydia), is because I remembered the existence of the chief, the most amazing, the BEST piece of gear in a hobby that's almost entirely built around wonderful little bits of gear. This is the item that I would stand in the stream and play with, mesmerized. I'd take it out of my child-sized fishing vest, provided by my grandfather, and just MARVEL at it.

Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the richard Wheatley Spring-Loaded, Multi-Compartment Window Dry Fly Box Number 1609:

Richard_Wheatley_Fly_boxes_1609.jpg

Each little window compartment has a spring behind it, and a little wire catch, so when you touch the catch, the window opens with a satisfying little "FWIP" noise. You can run a fingertp down a column of windows and "FW-W-WIP" open up three in a row. You can run TWO fingers down TWO columns and "FF-WW-IPP" open up two rows of windows. Since the box is stuffed with lots of colorful little flies, it's the most AMAZINGLY SATISFYING THING EVER. I hadn't thought about this box for years and years and years, and now that its existence popped into my head I REALLY REALLY want one again.

Given that JRY was an inveterate gearhead, I realized that this probably was not a cheap item. And it's not - it's two hundred damn dollars. And since I don't fish anymore, I don't even know what I'd put in there. BUT I STILL WANT IT!

Still Life With Dashing Uncle

Matt got his 1971 BSA Thunderbolt up and running yesterday, and stopped by at dinnertime. There's a line in a Lord Peter Wimsey book where Peter produces a revolver, and immediately is upgraded in the eyes of his nephew from "genial uncle" to "Exalted Uncle", and that's what this picture reminds me of:

Still Life with Dashing Uncle

Matt is wearing an old-stock waxed-cotton Belstaff jacket, which I think may have been Bob's, and of course the correct pudding-basin helmet with goggles.

Matt on His 1971 BSA Thunderbolt

The whole family comes by it honestly. Here's a picture of Kate, Bob, and Matt after Bob won the AHRMA grand national championship of the sportsman 750 class in 1987!

[ahrma.jpeg

Kitty Bo's Rodeo Pictures

Until I was six, my family lived in Austin, TX, because my parents were Official Scientific UFO Hunters. The folks at Project Starlight were really cool; I have shadowy four-year-old's memories of a group of tall, capable Texans in denim clothes pouring concrete, welding rebar, lighting campfires to heat up coffee, and moving heavy UFO-detection equipment around.

Kitty Bo was one of the Big Shadowy Grown-Ups that I remember especially fondly. Her blog is in my RSS feed. I love glimpsing the slices of Texas that come through when she visits the rodeo with her Chihuahua Tink, and posts pictures.

As the father of a five-year-old girl, I especially like the images of Texas girlhood she catches:

You can see a whole bunch of photos that she just uploaded here on her blog, each photo with interesting comments. Go check them out!

This is one of the things that I think is most wonderful about blogging. You get to see a different slice of the world through someone else's eyes. But the glimpse you're given is not delivered in a carefully curated way. When you're reading a book, you know that the author has thought very carefully about the impression they're going to give and you keep a weather eye out for the author's intention. The informality and shorter timeframe of blogging -- well, it's more like you're looking through a window with that person, than that you're being told a story by that person. You get to enjoy the view and the company, without there being the formal contract of a narrative. Or something. Anyhow, I love Kitty Bo's pictures and her comments.

Shakers: Co-ed Nerd Monks

Kate, Lydia, Barb and I are in the Berkshires right now, staying at a nice hotel for Thanksgiving where someone else cooked the turkey. It's really tranquil and relaxing; I got a chance to read all 955 pages of Neal Stephenson's Anathem, which features cloistered, technology-loving ascetics living in a community separated from the outside secular world. And, given that it's a Neal Stephenson book, they are for the most part asexual technology-loving ascetics.

So how do you do after reading a thousand pages about asexual technology-loving ascetics? Why, you visit Hancock Shaker Village, naturally!
Hancock Shaker Village
That's a pretty labored intro, but the parallels between Stephenson's "co-ed nerd monks" and the 19th-century Shakers goes beyond striking. Shakers started as an offshoot of Quakerism, but they placed heavy emphasis on end-times millennialism and charismatic worship. Unlike Quakers, they embraced music and dancing. They were celibate, but unlike "conventional" monasteries and convents, they didn't wall off men from women -- men and women had bedrooms on facing sides of the same halls, and carried their chairs across for nightly singalongs. They loved technology, and their community is packed with all kinds of sensible, clever, and carefully-planned labor-saving devices.

The kitchen in the ground floor of their big brick community house could have been a modern commercial food-service kitchen, except rendered in brick, marble, and iron instead of stainless steel. I am so not kidding about this: from the steam pressure cookers, to the ventilation hoods over the deep fryer, their early-1800s kitchen might as well have been a modern food-service layout.
Hancock Shaker Village kitchen
What's most striking about this, to me, is that all this cutting-edge 1826 ingenuity was deployed by and for the women who worked in the kitchen. This is at a time when most women were cooking by kneeling at a hearth, not at high-tech ovens that are still up-to-date a hundred years later.

Shakers believed in, and practiced, total equality of the sexes -- two male and two female ministers, two male and two female day-to-day work bosses -- even two Christs: Jesus, and Mother Ann Lee. (Record scratch!) It's totally obvious, looking at care and attention that the Shakers paid to both women's and men's work, that you don't have to use some carefully-depreciated definition of "equal" to describe how they lived. As far as I can tell, they really and truly were capital-"E" Equal.

Hell, the Shakers invented the washing machine, which any watcher of historical-reenactment documentaries will tell you was the third messiah, at least for domestic women.
Hancock Shaker Village Sewing Room
Walking through the house is tiring, because your preconceptions about Shakers are getting smashed one after the other. I thought I knew the Shaker "austere" aesthetic, but it turns out all the floors in the building were painted bright yellow; likewise, the copious amounts of woodwork were all cheerful reds, yellows, and blues. The work rooms are set up so that folks can work in small groups, talking to each other. Everyone shared the work; just as the men's and women's technology was equal, so also there's no separate, shabby "servant's quarters". The same care, attention, and planning has gone into space for every activity.
Hancock Shaker Village Basket Room
I had thought of Shaker lives as "ascetic", but you have to stretch the garden-variety definition of "ascetic" pretty far when these folks are working in clean, well-lit, comfortable, and carefully-planned spaces, using excellent tools, and encouraged to use their creativity to improve those tools. Shakers improved the circular saw, and invented a vise to press round brooms (think of a witch's broom) flat, then sew it that way in a more efficient shape (think of every other broom you've ever used.) The seven-hole privy had double-hung glass windows, and was neat, clean, snug, and well-lit.

The goddamn barn is practically a cathedral, with a very clever layout: centrally-ventilated haystack in the middle, cows around the perimeter. That's more efficient than Sears mail-order barns being built a hundred years later. That doesn't fit any definition of "ascetic" that means "uncomfortable" or "inconvenient". It's more... I guess, focused. Certainly not deprived.
Hancock Shaker Village Round Barn
So all in all I feel like I was disabused of a whole bunch of bad preconceptions about Shakers, including the old saw that "they died out because they banned sex HAW HAW HAW." Shakers adopted kids, treated them pretty decently (as the kid-height furniture and the clever, humane, rhyming table-manners lessons attest), and had great commercial success selling seeds, capes, and furniture to the outside world. With just 6,000 members at their peak (and no "deep bench" of lay practitioners), maybe they never reached a sustainable mass. The whole "two Jesus" thing, which put them out in the cold as far as Christian orthodoxy goes, couldn't have helped there. Regardless, it was a really thought-provoking visit, and piqued my interest. I've ordered a book containing the Shaker's day-to-day rules, the "Millennial Laws", and look forward to seeing what's in there!

There are some more pictures that I took up on Flickr.

Update: I've been Googling around, trying to find the text of the Millenial Laws, which was the day-to-day book of practice that the Shakers used. I'm surprised that it's not available on Gutenberg, or anything. There lots of opinions about the Shakers online, but very little primary material. Which, I suppose, stands to reason. I ordered a book that has the Millenial Laws in it. I also found Adam Gopnik's 2006 piece in the New Yorker, which struck me as pretty flip; he explains Shaker organization with a casual "crowded poor people learn to hate disorder with a passion that for the wealthy is only a pastime", and goes on to point out how Groucho Marx couldn't let his peas touch his applesauce. Because of THE TENEMENTS, you know. Huh? It seems like the Shakers are everyone's football. I'll be interested to read some more.