A Helping Hand...

Recently I spent some time with the young lady who was an intern for me and, as she was talking about her bleak job outlook, I found myself trying to strategize with her about her future---perhaps looking in the “mirror” in a different way, taking control and making her own opportunities.

She and her peers are so excited at this point in their lives and they have just accomplished a great feat---graduation! I would never want to shut them and their enthusiasm down with a curt, “Well, you know, NOBODY is hiring right now, have you thought about the food services industry?” So, I say to those of us who they turn to for advice, help them think outside the box. Don’t say you don’t know anyone who is hiring (that’s probably true in the curatorial field), but tell them to create a job by selling their knowledge to someone who does not usually think they need a person with this education helping them with their business.

Thinking outside the box, as it were, is the best way to come up with a job or business that will match their skills. Real Estate, local government, and Historic Preservation Societies are the first place one would think of that would need the skills of a young historian, especially if they are willing to piece together their jobs in a small “chunk” size that will be more affordable in today’s economy. For example, tell them to pitch to a real estate office that often has historic properties to sell, a service researching the information about what is available tax wise to someone who purchased this property. They could also add a history of the house for another fee---the trick is to keep the fees small and make money by volume. These days a simple, “You know you can get a tax break by buying this house,” does not cut it, people want to see a report or evidence that it can benefit them tax wise to purchase this home. A new graduate could charge a flat fee and work for many realtors. Or how about contacting a set designer or art director through the website, www.setdecorators.org and send a letter offering to do research for them for their next project that features historical interiors, architecture or material culture.

Deciding where their interest lies is a major component in this next piece of advice. The best way to find out their passion and gain valuable experience is to volunteer at a historic site near where they live and get to know the staff so that they will be the first in line when a job does come around. Suggesting that they hone their skills in grant research and writing is something else that is currently very needed and with few people schooled in the proper way to go about the process. They have just graduated with the skills to research and analyze historic properties so connecting with a local appraising office is a place they could give out their cards and sell their ideas.

To her credit she was very respectful and listened as I came up with two or three ideas that she could put into action immediately. I am sure I sounded like I was very naïve as I spun the ideas and tried to get her excited about their potential to, if not make a living wage, at least be something to keep her active and engaged in her quest to find the perfect fit for her.

I have been very lucky in my career and I think it is because I have always done what I wanted to for the most part. I was blessed with an optimistic outlook no matter what befell me. I forget that lots of people do not have an entrepreneur’s constitution, and to be successful you certainly need a strong one.

This being said, I have also learned that when you float an idea that seems “out there” you definitely are blessed to have someone listening to you who takes the idea and without prejudice helps you flesh out the pluses and minuses of the proposal. These people are few and far between and I have found that when you find someone with great patience and listening ear, hang on to them as a friend or contemporary…or marry them as I did.

I have no idea whether or not she has gone on and taken any of my advice. I do know, however, that she knows that she can always find a willing listener in me if she needs one.

A kitchen full of memories

“A the symbolic center of the home, the kitchen gives meaning to family life. It is a place where parents nurture their children, families gather at breakfast and dinner, share chores, and discuss the world outside. Women especially see it as the space that connects them to past generations.”

“America’s Kitchen”, Nancy Carlisle and Melinda Talbot Nasrdinov

I visit many historic homes and museums and most of them have restored kitchens set up as they would have been, depicting whatever period and station in life of the family represented. As I look over the exhibit I often think about who the family was that lived in this house, what were they concerned with, how old and how many were their children, did they even have any children? What stories would they tell to us if we had the ability to hear the conversations around that kitchen table.

I think I feel this so personally because of my own history of growing up in two historic houses with great kitchens that were the center of life for our large family.

So many of our memories are centered in the kitchen---coming together to celebrate or simply being together around a convivial meal is the stuff that gets us through tough times. All families have their own styles, but the kitchen is where most family traditions begin. Whether it is a favorite requested meal your mom made for you on your birthday or when you get home after a really bad day the crockpot is there on the counter holding something ready for dinner---you hold on to the traditions that worked personally for you, and discard the rest.

I am from a family that does EVERYTHING around food. We use it to celebrate and comfort. Coming from a large family of seven, I think that because our mother had to come up with inexpensive, hearty meals that fed five children with leftovers my mother (we called her “Moo”) would cook with an eye toward something that we would eat with the least amount of fuss. It also would have to be reincarnated into something that could stretch to another meal or lunch for us. We lived in a very old (1780) house that had a huge hearth, and though it could probably still be used for a fire, had an electric range placed inside.

My earliest memories are seeing my mother stir something on the stove with another baby on her hip and no doubt one underfoot. Even at the age of 38 she had very gray hair, which she wore in a bun at the nape of her neck. Being a poor professor’s wife gave her nothing to spend on glamour, yet I don’t remember that she looked anything but beautiful as she bustled about our small house cleaning, doing the wash in the FREEZING root cellar with a wringer washer, or hanging the sheets out on the line. To this day, sheets that are devoid of the scents of added softeners ---that just have the scent of the clean air are sooo sweet, and I much prefer them even though they are “scratchy.”

We had simple celebrations and our birthdays were centered on my parents putting penny candy in a brown bag and hanging it from the branches of our apple tree. We screeched and yelled in excitement as the birthday boy or girl got the first crack at the swinging bag with a cutoff broom stick.

Even when my father was lost in a car accident in the early ‘70s, the atmosphere about the large house (we moved to a very large house in Shepherdstown eight years earlier) was still much like a party instead of a wake. My dad had a great sense of humor and was very witty and the house murmured that day with his friends and students retelling many stories about him. The dining room had many beautiful stained glass windows, and I remember the look of the sun shining through them onto the large dining table gleaming with all the dishes the neighbors brought---all given in love and kindness in the tradition I grew up with.

Many more stories could be told of all the celebrations that my family has had over the years and the meals now are even more important to us as we gather without our beloved parents. Right before Moo died we were blessed to have her live with us and one evening her nurse wheeled her into the kitchen to sit and watch me make dinner. She loved to watch me cook, a pastime she missed very much, and she did not hesitate to let me know that I should “turn down the fire under the chicken” or add more seasonings to whatever I was cooking. This particular evening I remember (in retrospect it turned out it was right before she died ), she sat watching me move around the stove and suddenly she loudly called to me raising her glass with her nightly drink, and said, “Louise, do you know what the great thing about being terminal is?” Puzzled and a little horrified I responded “No, Moo what is it?” She threw back her head and laughed heartily saying, “The great thing about being terminal is that your green vegetable for the day can be the olive in your martini!” Her nurse slid out of her chair laughing and through my watering eyes Moo never looked more gorgeous.

She soon quietly died in her small little room filled with windows and sun and we still call our family room “Moo’s room,” but the kitchen is where I remember her the most and on a regular basis I wish that I could “channel” her grace and kindness that she showed to everyone she met, and her ability to make any leftover into a meal fit for kings or more importantly her beloved children.

As I have often mentioned, your historic house has had many memories formed within its walls. You really need to be aware that you have the opportunity to make memories with your children, friends and family. To this day, I cannot get myself to paint over the Doxology a friend painted for me in the kitchen after Moo died. My friend had performed a really profound act of kindness and comfort for my 45^th birthday by painting this around the ceiling of the eating space in my kitchen. She was inspired by hearing me say that I was reluctant to attend church because I could not seem to get through the offering without crying as I had such a vivid memory of my mother in church, and for some reason the opening bars of the Doxology always made her seem so close. So one day I came home to find this beautiful hymn painted around the perimeter of the kitchen eating area, and now everyday Moo is there at my table.

Make your own families memories in your kitchen. Now more than ever, our families need to connect in a space that binds them with memories and traditions that are part of their family’s customs and history.

Thank You to all Local Museums everywhere

It is that time of year again, every spring there are conferences for national, regional and state museums to gather and learn from noted experts in different relevant subject matter and see the latest from the trade companies that cater to the museum world.

Such an event I just attended in Richmond, Virginia. The Virginia Association of Museums (VAM) held its conference from March 14^th-16^th and I was privileged to attend and sit in on some of the events. On the drive home I was again struck by the amazing dedication to this professionthat these true public servants displayed. Amid announcements of lost funding, cutbacks in budgets and lay-offs, I heard imaginative ideas to deal with the current events that are impacting them so powerfully.

I thought that I would reprise my blog from last year’s conference experience. I again urge you all to support your local museum with your donations or please find a way to donate your time to help replace in part the lost workforce.

When I was a little girl, my mother took me to our local small museum which was in the basement of the local library. We walked down the aisles filled with the odd assortment of objects and memorabilia that are often displayed in such museums. We stopped in front of a large case that had a woven coverlet draped in such a way, so the viewer would have the best look at it they could in the small space it was consigned to. I remember my mom saying something like” President Van Buren gave your Great, great, great grandfather this as a present, they were very good friends”. Now, this sparked two reactions in my young mind. That’s a lot of GREATS, and he must not have liked him that much cause that is one UGLY spread. The point of this little story is that had it not been for that small museum in that little town in West Virginia, I would have never gotten to see something that was a real link to the past, to MY past. I have, as do all of us, a small museum to thank for that.

There are people all over this country that have visited like museums and seen the proof of their ancestry on display conserved at various levels of expertise I’ll give you, but saved nonetheless. They walk through the doors and there is Uncle Joe’s WWI helmet and the letters filled with longing he sent home to his wife or the glove and parasol of someone you vaguely knew you are related to and as soon as you see it you are again determined to call your Great Aunt and not only ask those questions about the family you always wanted to but you are also going to WRITE IT down. Thus a family’s written history is born.

We have the small museum director and its board or if really lucky a curator to thank for this…They are dedicated professionals who work with little or no budgets and constantly fight to preserve the tangible bits of our history that otherwise would just slip away. I recently attended the annual Small Museum Conference and observed some of the most talented and educated people in this profession grapple with the new challenges this economy has given them. Luckily for all of us, I heard enthusiasm and excitement from most, if not all of them that I spoke to. They remain focused, dedicated and determined to recommit, rethink and even redesign the small museums that we as the public entrust to their care. Please support your local small museum or local historical society, they are supporting you every day in preserving our shared history.

Visit the Culpeper Museum of History. www.Culpepermuseum.com