I LOVE Central Park, but I didn’t know its history. We need to think carefully before we displace people.
Twelve inspiring articles:
- This is why I need grandchildren.
- “Then and Now” photos of celebrities.
- Don’t just take notes. Take sketchnotes.
- A specially designed torch for the 2020 Tokyo Olympics.
- Muralist Drew Young talks about his childhood, his influences, his process.
- Clever mixed media.
- Simple innovations.
- The best advice to a young writer might not sound very encouraging at all.
- An Assyrian basin and its history.
- I haven’t taken any MasterClasses yet, but I’m a big fan of the commercials for them. Here is David Lynch talking about his MasterClass on creativity and film.
- As global temperatures rise, we will need more of this anti-surge technology from Holland all over the world.
- Polar vortex storm photos.
I first visited the historic Niels Petersen House in Tempe, Arizona, in the early 1990s. When I stepped into the kitchen, I was hit with a wave of déjà vu. I realized it reminded me of the farmhouse my Uncle Hughie grew up in. (Click the smaller images to enlarge and to view captions.)
I recently visited again. In December, the house is decorated for Christmas.
Niels Petersen, the original owner of the house, was born on October 21, 1845, in Denmark. He served in the English Merchant Marines from 1863-1870, allowing him to travel the world until he decided to immigrate to the United States.
In 1871, Petersen arrived in the Salt River Valley of central Arizona, where he staked a homestead claim and begin farming. Four years later, in 1878, Petersen became a United States citizen and subsequently filed a homestead entry, the next step in permanently establishing himself in the valley. The final action in this process was the filing of a homestead proof, providing evidence that improvements to the land had been made by the claimant, which Petersen filed on May 12, 1883. By the time of his final homestead filing, Petersen had built two small adobe houses on the property and maintained 140 acres in cultivation.
Petersen acquired more property surrounding his homestead claim. His ranch grew to more than 1,000 acres and Petersen emerged as one of the area’s leading producers of cattle and grain.
By the 1890s, Petersen emerged as one of the Salt River Valley’s wealthiest and most revered citizens. In 1892, he made the decision to construct a new two-story brick home, in the Queen Anne Victorian style, hired Architect James Creighton to design it. Petersen’s house was widely considered one of the most elegant homes in the region.
Petersen married twice. His first wife died in childbirth and their son died in infancy. His second wife did not bear any children.
After Petersen’s death, the property passed to a distant relative, Rev. Edward Decker. He modified the house somewhat, including adding its one and only bathroom.
Only one more family ever lived in the house. It was placed on the National Register of Historic Places in 1977. The city of Tempe acquired it in 1979 and restored it.
The Niels Petersen House will be open to the public this weekend, December 15 and 16, 2018, from 10:00 AM to 2:00 PM. For more information, click here.
Photographs by ARHuelsenbeck.
Twelve articles to get your creative mojo humming.
- Literal street art.
- Advertising campaign for the 2018-2019 Hong Kong Ballet I especially like the video. How do they hold those poses?
- You’re going to need a hanky for this one. An artist honors his deceased wife.
- Quotes for writers.
- I love this Metropolitan of Art series of artists talking about pieces of art.
- Pretty scrap quilt.
- Have you bought your Christmas cards yet?
- Street photography of Vivian Maier.
- Colorful and surreal paintings.
- Hands down.
- Dance audition.
- In 1979, women in Tehran protested the new hijab requirement.
When I read How to Write Funny last year, I was disappointed to find that many of the writers who are considered geniuses of comedy aren’t very funny to me.
So I perused all the books on my shelves and thought about who I consider funny. I like cerebral humor. I like wry, twisted observation.
I came up with two authors: Anne Lamott (see my review of Bird by Bird), and Sarah Vowell.
If you’re not familiar with Vowell, she was a popular contributor to This American Life on NPR, and the author of many commentaries on American history and culture, and the voice of Violet in the animated movie The Incredibles. I saw her speak in person at a writers conference many years ago.
Assassination Vacation is a cerebral and wry account of a marathon pilgrimage Vowell took to various sites connected with the murders of presidents Lincoln, Garfield, and McKinley, accompanied on various legs by a friend, her sister Amy, and/or her (then three-year-old) nephew Owen.
How could that possibly be funny?
Vowell makes it so. Let’s eavesdrop on a conversation in the book:
Bennet asked, “You know that Kevin Bacon game?”
“The one where he can be connected to every other movie star?”
“Yeah, that’s the one. Assassinations are your Kevin Bacon. No matter what we’re talking about, you will always bring the conversation back to a president getting shot.”
He was right…Once I knew my dead presidents and I had become insufferable, I started to censor myself. There were a lot of get-togethers with friends where I didn’t hear half of what was being said because I was sitting there, silently chiding myself, Don’t bring up McKinley. Don’t bring up McKinley.
Oh. I almost recognize myself in that exchange.
Vowell collects interesting but random facts and shares them with us. For example, “Mary Surratt’s D.C. boardinghouse, where John Wilkes Booth gathered his co-conspirators to plot Lincoln’s death, is now a Chinese restaurant called Wok & Roll.”
Here is how Vowell describes the tour guide who leads her through the Oneida Community, a former cult commune in New York, and briefly the home of Charles J. Guiteau, the assassin of James Garfield:
…Joe Valesky, a retired Oneida native who taught high school American history for thirty-six years, gives me a guided tour. Someday, I hope to be just like him. There are people who look forward to spending their sunset years in the sunshine; it is my own retirement dream to await my death indoors, dragging strangers up dusty staircases while coughing up one of the must thrilling phrases in the English language: “It was on this spot…” My fantasy is to one day become a docent.
Did I mention I love nerds, being one myself?
Vowell is annoyed when while trying to find the place where a particular event happened, there is no marker:
I am pro-plaque. New York is lousy with them, and I love how spotting a plaque can jazz up even the most mundane errand. Once I stepped out of a deli on Third Avenue and turned the corner to learn I had just purchased gum near the site of Peter Stuyvesant’s pear tree. For a split second I had fallen through a trapdoor that dumped me out in New Amsterdam, where in 1647 the peg-legged Dutch governor planted a tree he brought over from Holland; until a fatal wagon accident, it bore fruit for more than two hundred years. To me, every plaque, no matter what words are inscribed on it, says the same magic informative thing: Something happened! The gum cost a dollar, but the story was free.
And her writing is so picturesque: “…the McKinley National Monument in Canton is a domed edifice on top of a hill. It’s a gray granite nipple on a fresh green breast of grass.” Tell me you didn’t smile when you read that.
Sarah Vowell loves history, and she has the knack of making it interesting to those who might rather stick needles in their eyes than read about past tragedies. You may not think a book about presidential murders could be entertaining or actually funny, but Assassination Vacation is.
What about you? Do you like history? Have you read anything by Sarah Vowell or heard her speak? Share your opinions and insights in the comments below.
For twenty-seven years, I’ve lived seven miles from the Gilbert (AZ) Historical Museum, and never visited it. That changed last month when a friend invited me to accompany her to a quilt show there.
The museum documents the story of the farming community, which sprang up in the early 1900s when the Arizona Eastern Railway established a rail line between Florence and Phoenix. But it also preserves the memory of our country as experienced by our grandparents, great-grandparents, and great-great grandparents.
Full of charming artifacts, the museum catapulted me into memories of my extended family, particularly my aunt’s in-laws, who farmed in New Jersey. I will intersperse pictures of items from the permanent collection amongst the photos of the quilt show.
You can click on the smaller images to enlarge and see the captions.
On Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday mornings, a group of quilters gathers at the museum to work.
Who wouldn’t want a laundry room equipped with these lovely washing machines, fully loaded with mechanical wringers?
Seeing the crazy quilt below triggered a memory from my childhood. When I was a little girl, an elderly friend of my parents gave them an old crazy quilt like this, heavily embroidered silk bordered and backed with burgundy velvet. My mother gave it to me to use as a bedspread on my bed, until it deteriorated into shreds. Knowing what I know now, I wish I’d had the option of saving it. I suspect it was already pretty worn out when we got it.
World War I artifacts from the Military exhibit:
Let us never forget our men and women in uniform who have perished in service to our country.
The quilt show runs through May 30, 2016. It was so worth my $4 (senior discount) to see it. And the museum is absolutely charming. I’ll be back again. And the quilt show is an annual event! See you next year, maybe.