Yearly Archives: 2007

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Family histories of childhood friends

This morning I caught this moving story on NPR about an archaeological dig taking place on a former slave plantation in Talbot County, Maryland, not far from the town where I used to live. Thousands of slaves inhabited Wye House Farm across the Chesapeake Bay from the 1650s onward. Many of the Maryland slaves joined the Union Army during the Civil War and then came back to the old plantation to farm their own parcels of land and to build their own churches and schools. Today, ancestors of the slaveholders and ancestors of the slaves live down the road from each other. They are all watching the archaeological dig with great interest.

Harriet Lowery, a local resident and descendant of Wye House slaves, wholeheartedly supports the dig. She says (and the written quote doesn’t do her words  justice – you have to listen to the broadcast):

It’s very hard for us to find out our roots a lot of times and so to see something so real – to hear about something so real – gave me a sense of pride…it gave me a feeling of being in touch with my ancestors.

NPR journalist John Ydstie writes that:

Lowery has been tracing her family history in the area, hoping to find some small consolation that the lives of her ancestors contained some joy.

In his memoirs, Douglass recounts the killing of a slave named Demby — likely one of Lowery’s ancestors — by an overseer at Wye House Farm named Gore. Douglass wrote that Gore whipped Demby, who ran to the river to soothe his wounds. He refused to come out, and Gore shot him.

Lowery says she was deeply touched by a few small beads and pieces of pottery excavated on the Long Green and brought to St. Stephens for display.

“It was amazing to me that they had a necklace or earring. And there was one particular bowl … it reminded me of a bowl my mother had,” Lowery said. “It’s comforting to me to know at least there were some peaceful times.”

You can read more Maryland slave narratives here.

Sketti dinner

Tonight I attended the Montessori School Spaghetti Dinner, a gala fundraising event that the children call a “sketti dinner” or alternatively a “spasgetti dinner.” We drank powdered lemonade out of paper cups and managed to maintain adult conversation over the din of students pretending to be either monsters or vulnerable peasants being attacked my monsters. Montessori has the world’s prettiest, most tattooed teachers, but they were tired from a day of molding young minds and cooking noodles. They were probably a little disappointed that no parents thought to bring a keg of beer to hide in the playground. I had a great time because I’m crazy about 1) dessert buffets, and 2) small children that other people have raised to be adorable. I heard one little girl on the jungle gym say, “I’m so shwetty from all this running.” After dinner it got dark outside fast and the kids sprinted back and forth like echo-locating bats while Darren and I stumbled around trying not to crash into playground equipment or cute outfits emerging from the night. It was like a scene from Children of the Corn but instead of a cornfield there were swingsets, sandboxes, and parents trying not to drop their cupcakes on the ground. Lastly, there were two canaries living in the dining hall and one little boy tucked himself under the blanket spread over their cage in order to stress them out to within an inch of their lives. I saw the back of his short legs and a convulsing blanket where his head should have been and I knew I had to do something. I caught the boy right before he tipped the cage sideways in order to grab a canary tail through the bars in his marinara-stained fingers. By saving the canaries, I felt like I did my good deed for the night. However our attempt at singing the birds to sleep was foiled because the little boy kept sneezing into the cage.

Excellent dinner, Montessori! May your children go easy on you Monday morning.

Gay wizards

Dumbledore is gay. Leno is going to have a field day with that one.

A list of requests for my gentlemen callers

Dear gentlemen callers,

I have already established that I don’t want chocolate bouquets, but I think you deserve a more extensive list of acceptable tokens with which to express your feelings.

1. Mix CDs. Here is your chance to make me think of you every time I sing in my car. Selvi gave me a mix CD for my birthday, and I would marry her right now if I were a handsome Indian doctor.

2. Paper towels, organic milk, broccoli, hand soap, frozen pizzas, crackers. You know I hate going to the grocery store.

3. Gift certificates to fancy restaurants. This way I don’t actually have to eat with you to get a free meal.

4. Here is something I don’t want – diamonds. Yes, I’ve seen the commercials, and I found them really touching until I got on the meds that kicked most of my crying jags, but I don’t buy into diamond culture. Don’t get me wrong – I buy into gentlemen spending two months’ salary on me, just not on diamonds. The diamond cartel and its ad campaigns have been plugging away since the 1930s, telling us that their immortal product is a girl’s best friend. It’s not true. Diamonds are pretty, but they’re sold by scam artists. Edward Jay Epstein is one of the most eloquent voices of the anti-diamond movement (after me, of course). He wrote this piece in The Atlantic that delves into the trade.

The diamond invention is far more than a monopoly for fixing diamond prices; it is a mechanism for converting tiny crystals of carbon into universally recognized tokens of wealth, power, and romance. To achieve this goal, De Beers had to control demand as well as supply. Both women and men had to be made to perceive diamonds not as marketable precious stones but as an inseparable part of courtship and married life. To stabilize the market, De Beers had to endow these stones with a sentiment that would inhibit the public from ever reselling them. The illusion had to be created that diamonds were forever — “forever” in the sense that they should never be resold.

Lots of other folks have written on the subject. From Meghan O’Rourke’s “The Trouble with Engagement Rings“:

In 1919, De Beers experienced a drop in diamond sales that lasted for two decades. So in the 1930s it turned to the firm N.W. Ayer to devise a national advertising campaign—still relatively rare at the time—to promote its diamonds. Ayer convinced Hollywood actresses to wear diamond rings in public, and…encouraged fashion designers to discuss the new “trend” toward diamond rings. Between 1938 and 1941, diamond sales went up 55 percent.

Lastly, so you know that this post is just an excuse to sermonize, an interview with Janine Roberts, author of Glitter and Greed: The Secret World of the Diamond Cartel.

Eighty years ago, your great grandparents didn’t do this when they got married. They gave each other big wooden boxes and simple things like promise rings and hope chests. The allure of diamonds is part of a huge, century-long conspiracy by the diamond industry, namely giant De Beers, which controls stockpiles and sets the price of stones, which aren’t the rarest in nature, even though they’re the most expensive.

I am hoping that the word “conspiracy” will increase traffic to my blog.

5. Gentlemen callers, just give me the cash that you would have spent on a diamond.

6. I’m also fresh out of toilet paper.

Aww…Men from the 70s steeped in catnip are so cute

Lion reunites with her two gay daddies.

Princesses on Ice–or, Why Charlottesville Is Not Like Las Vegas

Has anyone else in Charlottesville seen the billboard truck that has been driving up and down the 250 bypass advertising Disney Classics: Princesses on Ice? I suppose the show needs an ad-mobile when someone on the Disney team is writing copy this seductive:

For the first time ever, Disney On Ice combines exceptional moments from Disney’s Cinderella, Aladdin, The Little Mermaid, Sleeping Beauty, Beauty and the Beast, Mulan and Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs in one captivating production filled with amazement and wonder. Dreamers of all ages will take flight on a heart-warming tale filled with sizzling special effects, dazzling set designs and elegant artistry on ice. Families will share moments of laughter, romance, struggle and triumph as each Disney princess has her dreams come true.

I wonder if the ad-mobile fills its gas tank with amazement and wonder and that’s why it never gets tired of driving down my road, annoying the hell out of me. When I went to Vegas this summer, there were two of these billboard-mobiles to every car on the Strip, and they were all embellished with giant Russian prostitutes and their personal phone numbers. These women invariably had bad teeth that were blown up to the size of sheet cakes in their photos. Walking down the Strip, hating life and sunshine, the billboards actually cheered me up. No matter how miserable I was in Vegas, those Russian whores were uglier and more miserable, plus they had to talk to jerks on the phone all the time whereas I can screen my calls. These giant ladies did wonders for my self esteem. Meanwhile Charlottesville has larger-than-life, cartoon princesses populating its city streets, making me feel inadequate. I suck at ice skating, I have no poofy dresses, and my boyfriend isn’t royalty. I drive a tiny car that would probably be incinerated in a head-on collision with those virgin princesses, and only the cartoons would get out alive.

Ode to my baby sister Margaret

It seems like only yesterday

you taught your stuffed animals to read.

Now they are in college.

Your hair is so long

like a mermaid’s.

I borrowed your running shorts.

I’ll wash them before I give them back.

I’m glad your bed is high

with a net around it

so the boys can’t get in.

Since when do you play the banjo?

Rose Petal Cottage

Am I the only one who would kill to live in a house like this? Think of all the pretend chores you could get done. I would probably be a creative genius today if I had grown up with a little fake washing machine to stimulate my imagination.

I want to put a Rose Petal Cottage in the living room so I can teach a certain someone how to do the dishes properly.

These pictures remind me of high school

Giant girl crushes small village and everyone in it.

The photos capture my obsession with dollhouses and being depressive.

Halloween is coming up

Time to dress your dogs and cats in funny costumes.