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Category: History

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Published on 2 Comments on Let Us Eat Cake
Nom nom!

When you get to be my age, 'firsts' get harder to come by. But when my daughter got engaged I had a few, including: I attended my first-ever 'bridal expo'.  She lives on the Left Coast and I live sort of on the Right, So when I noticed there was a wedding-themed event in my town, I thought I would go check it out and send my daughter some pictures of the various offerings in case there was anything she found worthy.

The expo was basically what I expected. Lots of booths devoted to DJs, bridal salons, caterers, cakes, and so forth. Man, there was a lot of cake. Beautiful towering sweetness everywhere I looked. With samples! The pressure to gorge myself was intense. I am happy to report an iron willpower magically asserted itself, the likes of which has not been seen since Bill Clinton gave up fast food, and I avoided at least a 500 calorie hit.

But I digress.

As I wandered through the event, the historian in me marveled at the various traditions on display. Some were relatively new, like the photo booth and the bouquet-tossing-basketball-hoop-thingie. But most had their roots in centuries past. 

Take those wedding cakes, for example. We can trace their roots to just about any time homo sapiens threw a party: there was food involved. Some foods eventually grew to have certain significance at the event. For the Ancient Romans, it was bread. (So glad we moved past the 'wedding bread' era!) In medieval times, the wedding bread evolved into a tower of sweets over which the bride and groom were challenged to kiss without knocking it over. I wish I had known about this 30-odd years ago. I would have loved the challenge of kissing over a 5'-10" cake at my wedding.

Cakes have changed in other ways, even in modern times. Today's cakes are to their 19th century predecessors what Abe Lincoln's log cabin is to the White House. Sure, they both sheltered presidents. But one definitely shows more craftsmanship and refinement!

The perfect groom's cake

At the expo, I saw about two dozen cakes in just about every shape, size and color you can imagine. They were decorated with gift boxes and flowers and ribbons and ducks and shotgun shells and beer bottles (not all on the same cake, mind you, but if you were into that, someone could probably make it for you). The popularity of inventive and elaborate wedding cakes has pushed the traditional white cake aside. Initially, white icing was preferred. White not only symbolized the purity and virginity of the bride. It also indicated the bride's family was able to afford the fancier, whiter sugar, which until the beginning of the 20th century was more difficult to process and therefore was more expensive. Nowadays, white cakes seem retro and quaint, sort of like the purity and virginity thing.

Speaking of quaint, it bears mentioning that of all the cakes on display, only ONE had the little plastic bride and groom on top. I would tell you what my daughter had to say about the little plastic bride and groom idea, but it is NSFW.


These two are not on the guest list

Overall, it was a fun and informative day at my first bridal expo. I escaped without succumbing to shock (diabetic or financial). Some other interesting stuff churned up while I was checking out wedding lore. What's this I hear about someone paying us a bride dowry?

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Published on 4 Comments on February Has A Little Something For Everyone
Februarius panel from mosaic calendar, Roman Africa (Tunisia)

Ah, February - one of my favorite months for many reasons. It's my birthday month. It's my mom's, my former dog's (may she RIP), two cousins, and my paternal grandmother's as well. It's Super Bowl time, and Groundhog Day, and Mardi Gras. And of course Valentine's Day which happens to be my wedding anniversary (yeah, my husband's wallet gets slammed in February). It signals the end of winter (I live in the South) which in and of itself is a reason to celebrate. History nerds rejoice - February is Black History Month which I have blogged about previously, and also features a three day weekend thanks to the fairly recent national holiday known most places as Presidents' Day.

I say most places, as according to the federal government, it is still known as Washington's Birthday, even though his actual birthday is on February 22 and 'his' holiday has been celebrated a week early for more than 40 years. Why the change? Back in the 1960s, legislators (likely with help from labor union lobbyists) decided to shift certain holidays away from specific dates, in favor of moving them to a specific Monday. This created a nice three day weekend that would fall on the same day (not date) each year to make it easier to plan vacations. Retailers loved the idea - an extra day off to shop! And once the holiday was no longer tied to February 22, it could be expanded to include other notable leaders whose birthdays fell in February - like Abraham Lincoln (Feb 12). Indeed, the holiday is now meant to honor all presidents, not just the February babies.

True history nerds may want to take issue with my statement that Washington's 'actual' birthday is on Feb. 22. You got me! Washington was 'actually' born on February 11, 1731. But when the British empire converted from the Julian to the Gregorian calendar in September of 1752, his birth date got bumped to Feb 22 due to the 11 day adjustment. If you are a little math-challenged like me, you may be wondering why he didn't just keep his birthday on Feb 11. But if he did that, he would always be 11 days off from his true solar age. That would bug me almost as much as having to switch birth dates. Washington was not exactly an early adopter, but had switched to celebrating on Feb. 22 before he died in 1799. I envision an elderly Washington doddering around Mt. Vernon every February, asking Martha, 'is it today?'.

The Gregorian calendar - get out your cheaters

There was some initial resistance to using Washington's birthday as an excuse to take the day off and tie one on. Thomas Jefferson, of all people, thought celebrating an individual's birthday was uncomfortably close to the British custom of feting King George on his special day. Jefferson's suggestion to substitute the birth of our nation on July 4 was warmly received. But it wasn't long before Washington's birthday was back on the holiday calendar. Parades, elegant 'Birthnight' (not birthday) balls, and cannon fire marked the February occasion throughout the new country.

This weekend the tradition continues. Folks somewhere are standing on a downtown sidewalk six deep in the bitter cold, waving cheap but cheerful flags at the passing high school marching band. However, I'm guessing even more folks will be waving debit cards at newly lowered prices on holiday clearance items in the comfort of their centrally heated local mall. Whether you prefer celebrating your day off with patriotism or conspicuous consumption, you have that guy on our money to thank.

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Published on 3 Comments on Dreary Days And Icy Nights

Is that dreary, or what?

Today is an overcast, dreary January day in South Carolina. I am sitting here in front of the computer screen, wondering if/when the predicted big winter storm is going to hit. We have made it through to mid-afternoon unscathed. I am hoping the precip holds off until the temperatures dip a little more, and we can skip the ice fest and just deal with the snow. If there's one thing I hate worse than cold weather, it's cold weather paired with a power outage.

It's been a rough winter for many in other parts of the country this year, and we are only halfway through it. Cold weather always has me pining for warmth and sunshine and summer. Some of my fondest memories are of sitting near a body of water in a comfy lounge chair, soaking up the sun on one of those perfect days between spring and summer. You know the day I mean. It's not too hot or humid, not a cloud in the sky, temp about 74 degrees F. Growing up in Texas, I've had this day happen in January a time or two. Definitely won't be happening today.

Whenever the warm weather finally arrives, we should all be thankful for it. It certainly is not guaranteed. Nearly two hundred years ago, much of the northern hemisphere experienced a phenomenon known as 'The Year Without Summer'. New England experienced both the latest recorded frosts (June) and the earliest (August). Daytime highs and lows were well below average everywhere records were kept. The unfortunate congruence of unseasonable lows with planting season spelled disaster. This was long before we developed a national transportation infrastructure, so if local food sources went kaput, you went hungry.

It was nearly 100 years before science and technology caught up enough to render an opinion on what may have caused 1816 to be such a cold year. Scientists determined it was a series of volcanic events, culminating with the eruption of Mount Tambora in 1815.

Mt. Tambora behaving itself.

Before today, if you had said 'Tambora' to me, I would have thought you were talking about a drummer in a rock band. But no. Mount Tambora is a volcano in Indonesia. Its eruption was many times bigger than that of Mount St. Helens in 1980. Tambora was also bigger than its more famous Indonesian cousin, Krakatoa (1883). Tambora dumped so much stuff into the atmosphere, the stuff screened some of our sunlight and had a cooling effect. Weather patterns worldwide were impacted for three years afterward. Famine, floods, disease, and riots swept throughout Europe and Asia as a result.

Here in the U.S., the crop failures of 1816 pressured many to leave the northeast, hoping for better growing conditions and milder weather. The Year Without Summer may have been the final impetus needed to head west and see what opportunities lay there.

As soon as I stepped outside to document today's dreariness and wrap up this post, a raindrop hit me in the eyeball. At least it was still rain - but for how long? Is it too late to request a Year Without Winter?

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Published on 2 Comments on Avoid The Grocery Store And Sin No More
I can honestly say there is absolutely nothing stimulating about this

Recently I stumbled across an entertaining article about the history of snack foods (this is what happens when one of your Google Alert search terms is 'history' - NERD!). Of the five foods featured, three were the result of tinkering with various recipes to make them less sexually stimulating. Yes, that's right: deliberately creating food that had no taste or appeal was a thing. It was thought by some that all types of pleasure were somehow linked. If you got too much enjoyment out of, say, a cracker, all that joy would get you thinking about other ways to keep the joy flowing, and the next thing you know, someone's knickers would be around their ankles. Graham crackers, hot cocoa, and corn flakes formulas were developed specifically to avoid creating snacks that would overstimulate us into raging hordes of pillaging Vandals. In the case of corn flakes, man, did they do the job right!

His resemblance to Joe Camel can't be a coincidence. Eating junk is the new smoking.

Which got me thinking 1) what a bunch of Debbie Downers these early food inventors were; 2) how far the food industry has swung the other direction; and 3) how closely related our eating habits are to other bodily functions linked to survival of the race.

I can see how those early food developers would assume a link between yummy-ness and naughty-ness.  We've all heard particularly delectable dishes described as 'better than sex'. There's even a cake recipe with that name, but trust me - it does not live up to its moniker (although I will admit perhaps my suspect cooking skills were to blame for that). I think their fears were misplaced. My theory is that rather than stimulate more bedroom shenanigans, truly yummy foods are more likely to replace them. I'm no scientist, but I am pretty sure after a certain age, the hunger urge is the most powerful of them all. Ask a middle-aged woman what she would rather have on any special occasion (not just Valentine's Day): chocolate truffles or sex? You already know the answer.

Today, unappealing, bland foods are in the minority. It's hard to imagine anyone in the food business deliberately developing products you have to force yourself to eat - 'better back off on the salt content, Dr. Jones - we don't want to make those crackers too good!'.  

There are a few foods that still manage to sell despite a complete lack of appeal, sexual or otherwise . Oatmeal, for example. I can choke it down for health reasons, but by the time I load it up with brown sugar and raisins so I can choke it down, it isn't all that healthy.  But the majority of food is all about stimulation and attraction and addiction now. Walk down any aisle in the grocery store, and I guarantee you, a little voice in your head will scream 'avoid temptation!' at least three times. Per. Aisle.

Generating fresh how-to tips on avoiding the grocery Sirens has become a cottage industry: Shop only on the perimeter of the store! Avoid the end caps! Look only at the highest and lowest shelves - never in the middle! I am surprised no one has suggested strapping your arms to the grocery cart yet. Maybe a blindfold would be better. I can't be the only one who consciously averts my gaze when I roll by the Krispy Kreme display. A single glance at that sugary temptress with the scandalous peek-a-boo packaging is enough to send my consumption urges into overdrive.

His resemblance to Joe Camel can't be a coincidence. Eating junk is the new smoking.  

The food industry is way out in front on this. Alluring packaging is just the tip of the iceberg. Megacorporations spend billions of dollars on fancy laboratories fully stocked with exceptionally intelligent Ph.D.s. They could be off somewhere developing an affordable and green alternative to fossil fuel. Instead, they are spending their days figuring out the correct mouth feel/salt content/crunch density for the next variety of Cheetos. The Frito-Lay display on the grocery aisle end cap serves exactly the same purpose as that shady character standing on the corner in the sketchy part of town, tempting you with junk you will enjoy momentarily, but that is absolutely no good for you, packaged in carefully calculated serving sizes, priced to sell and guaranteed to keep you coming back for more.

All this talk of eating and sinning has done its job. I'm off to the pantry for a midnight prowl. There better be something salty/crunchy in there. I will settle for something sweet. Oatmeal, no worries - you are safe tonight.

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Published on Leave a comment on A Good Walk Spoiled

Photo from Library of Congress

In honor of National Golf Lovers Day, may I present Miss Katharine Harley, winner of the 1908 U.S. Amateur Golf Championship at the Chevy Chase Club, Chevy Chase, Maryland.

If you have a moment, check out this interview with Miss Harley in the New York Times. 100 years on, and hand-wringing over the future of the sport is the same as it ever was. She holds the popularity of tennis as one of the factors to blame for waning interest in golf. As more of a tennis person, I find her comments ironic. Tennis, like many other sports, is always worried about the 'leaky bucket' of players being lured away by other sports such as golf.

Miss Harley also confesses she did not take up the sport seriously until 'about three weeks' before the championship! Okay, full disclosure: she goes on to explain she had been playing golf for seven years prior to that, so I guess she had some experience to fall back on. Then, as now, the length of time a round of golf takes to play was problematic in attracting new players. Then, as now, the short game proved to be the deciding factor in her victory.

I have dabbled in golf. I had heard it was not particularly female-friendly. I am sorry to report I did find this to be the case. My female golf friends were awesome. But the chauvinistic and patronizing attitudes of the male players and golf course staff put my tail in a knot just about every time I played.

Best of luck to all the gals out on the links past and present. Go out there and represent for those of us who don't have the patience.

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6

Published on 6 Comments on Going Cuckoo Is No Joke

Fellow bloggers, may we all take a moment of silence to thank Google for an endless supply of blog topics.

Insert moment of silence here.

Oregon State Hospital originally an insane asylum

Okay, moving on. Due to circumstances beyond my control, I have been more or less housebound and will be for the foreseeable future. Going nuts is on my mind about now. Thanks to our friends at Google, looky here what I found online. It's a transcript of a survey done at the Oregon State Insane Asylum in the 1890s. The facility may sound familiar if you are a fan of the movie, 'One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest' - part of it was filmed there.

Back to the form - labeled 'Causes of Insanity', it lists lots and lots of causes, parses them by gender, and totes 'em up. There is no other information, such as who was doing the evaluating. Was some doctor rendering an opinion on each one, or were they just asking the inmates, "to what do we owe the pleasure"? And what exactly qualifies as 'insane'? Are they just worn out by the seven rugrats tugging on their skirt all day, or are there human heads in the fridge?

Some of the causes listed are sad. Some are scary. And forgive me, some are hilarious. In a sad way.

We have a total of more than 600 individuals admitted over a two year period (1894-1896). Close to half (275) are listed as cause of insanity 'unknown'. Picture a doctor standing with a clipboard at the front door, giving the poor sods a once-over and a shrug, ticking off a box on the form on his clipboard, then waving them inside to be measured for their backless gown and their straight jacket.

Far distant second place under causes are intemperance (31) and epilepsy (30). One must admire the refined sensibilities of the Victorian era - isn't 'intemperance' so much more pleasant a word than 'drunk'? And p.s. since when was epilepsy considered a form of insanity? Yikes. Also note the men far outnumbered the women in both of these categories. Don't worry, ladies, you'll get to even the score when we get to 'uterine disease' (11-0) and 'menopause' (6-0).

Speaking of substance abuse, we have opium and morphine addicts, plus a handful of overachievers listed for 'morphine and cocaine'.

Asylum circa 1905 - best not to look to closely or you may freak out

Next up with 25 diagnoses is 'heredity', fairly evenly split between men (10) and women (15). [insert mother-in-law jokes here] But the real winner is 24 cases due to 'masturbation'. And yes, it was 24-0 for the gents. Once again I am wondering how this whole check-in thing worked back then. Did they just roll up in the taxi carriage and kick the dude to the curb? Leave him on the front porch in the middle of the night like an orphaned babe? Was there any proof required - palm checking, vision tests? Was there any resistance, or were the poor suckers looking forward to the privacy?

17 patients were admitted due to 'injury to head'. 16 of these were men. Go figure.

The balance of causes listed are scattered among dozens of categories. We have some due to legitimate (sounding) illness such as typhoid, meningitis, scarlatina, and la grippe (flu). This may have been because the asylum also served as a traditional hospital. I hope that is the case. I would hate to think one went to the hospital to be treated for pneumonia and wound up coming home minus part of your frontal lobe.

There are a handful listing religious causes: 'religion' in general; 'spiritualism'; 'Christian Science' specifically; and one guy with the combo platter of 'religion AND injury'. I am thinking snake handler, maybe?

Of course there were a few ladies admitted for causes related to having kids. They included the exotic-sounding 'puerperal trouble', which today we call post-partum depression. Childbirth was still called 'childbirth' back then. Other causes of insanity listed that may or may not have been related to childbearing: 'brain softening', 'fright', 'worry', 'loss of sleep', 'mental strain', and 'overwork'.

Lastly, here are a few head-scratchers:

  • One fellow was admitted for literally smoking his brains out - cause of insanity listed as 'tobacco'.
  • 'exposure and solitude' - not one or the other, but both. As this was in the Pacific Northwest, maybe lost their way looking for a Starbucks?
  • 'overstudy' - gotta be a college freshman.
  • 'disappointment in love' - 2 women, 1 man. List does not indicate whether they were part of the same love triangle.
  • 'domestic trouble' - 4 men, 6 women. I found this strange as it is usually when there are not enough women that trouble begins. . .

Just goes to show, it's all fun and games until someone gets committed for 'disappointment in love'. This list was amusing to me until I started looking at the grim pictures and my imagination got the better of me. Asylum as haven, or prison? Peaceful refuge, or waking nightmare? My gut (and my recent personal experience) tells me it was an unpleasant mixture of both.

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Published on Leave a comment on Mama Wants New Shoes

I saw this chart float through my social media stream recently. Talk about click bait! It's a beauty.

Need a bigger version? It's all over the web. Click here for one source from UsefulDIY.

Like many women, I have loved shoes for years. One of my first jobs was at a department store in downtown Dallas called Sanger Harris. It was a nice store. Not quite Neiman Marcus, which was down the street, but definitely head and shoulders above Sears. I worked in the fabric department, back when department stores still had fabric departments. It was on one of the higher floors, so I had to pass through the street level departments to get on the escalator to get up there. The street level had all the fancy and popular departments, including one of the two shoe departments in the store. The high end shoes were on street level. The everyday shoes were upstairs.

When I first started working there, I couldn't believe the prices of some of the shoes on street level. Especially when you could take a quick escalator ride and find something much more affordable upstairs. But as time passed and I became more familiar with the brands and the workmanship, I became immune to the shoe prices downstairs. What used to seem like an outrageous price for a pair of shoes I would rarely wear, evolved into a perfectly reasonable price for quality workmanship in a pair of shoes I definitely deserved. Yes, they were red and yes, they were spectacular.

Since those days, my tastes have really changed. My closet does not now, nor shall it ever contain:

  • Jellies. With all due apologies to Jeffrey Lebowski, they're a sprained ankle waiting to happen.
  • Forget Mary Janes once 30 is in the rear view.
  • Ballerina flats. Not on a narrow size 9.5 foot, thank you very much - all that exposed skin on top makes my feet look like a couple of barges being pushed down the Mississippi.
  • Crocs. Aren't Crocs the inspiration for the term 'fugly'?
  • Forget heels more than about 3". Too much pressure attempting to stay upright and vertical. I've been trying new things recently, but BDSM isn't one of them.

I see that platforms are back. Didn't care for them in the 70s, don't care for them now. Partly because I am plenty tall enough without them; partly because whenever I see them, I think of strip clubs. Hopefully they are back on their way out again. I have seen a recent resurgence of the spike heel, thank the fashion gods. That's something I would risk a broken ankle for. Everyone looks fantastic in spike heels.

My closet today includes the following from the above chart: flip flops, natch; slip ons; cowboy boots;  wellington boots (sort of, although they are more biker); and a couple of pumps in case of emergency festive occasion. I am intrigued about the Uggs. They are not very attractive, but I hear they are very comfy. Living in a warm climate, I am not sure I would be able to enjoy them very often.

Where are sandals on that chart? They are definitely not the same as 'flip flops' IMO. I have tons of sandals. Warm climate, remember?  And sneakers. Sneakers and 'Converse' are not the same, not at all. I own loads of sneakers. Serious sneakers for walking, grubby sneaks for gardening, and casual sneaker-like non-sneakers.

'Sabaton' mens footwear. Go here for a better quality image.

All this talk of shoes got me shopping online, of course. While shopping, I discovered some interesting shoe tidbits.

  • Shoes used to be interchangeable - there was no 'left' and 'right'.
  • Men had way crazier shoe fashions than women.
  • The good ol' U.S. of A. used to be a shoemaking powerhouse. Companies in the northeast invented machines to automate shoe manufacturing, bringing prices down and making shoes affordable for the masses. Alas, much of that business has now gone overseas, chasing low labor costs. You can still find American-made shoes, but you really have to dig around.

I will close today with some of my current favorites. They are not American made, but I have enjoyed wearing them and feel I have definitely gotten my money's worth out of them.

  • Olukai sandals - not cheap, but amazing comfort and support, good-looking and and long-lasting.
  • Skechers - I have a couple of different styles of just kicking around shoes, not sport-specific. Again very comfortable (great arch support) and casually stylish.
  • Vans and/or Keds casual sneakers. Lace up, slip on, solid, print, you name it. They're comfy, well made, and fun.
  • When I have a little extra $$, I like to sin with Picolinos or Fluevogs. A friend got me hooked on this pricey habit. You have been warned.

And about those red pumps from my Sanger Harris days? Evan Picone. I paid $80 for them in the 1970s, which basically gutted one teenager's part-time paycheck. They sat in a box in my closet for many years, too worn to be worn, until I finally was able to part with them. They were to die for.

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2

Published on 2 Comments on First World Crisis, No Sheet!

I was scrolling through my Facebook feed, minding everyone's business, when this drifted through:

Pardon my juvenile scrawl, but it should be obvious by now why I found it necessary to protect the guilty. My first reaction: stunned silence. Second reaction: what the what??? Part of me wanted to believe the poster coincidentally had run out of Charmin at the EXACT SAME TIME their drawer full of carefee, wanderlust-filled traveling socks chose to hit the road. But I knew in my heart this was not so.

Side note here: someone suggested this solution would be more trouble than it was worth to get the socks clean enough to use as proper socks again. Somehow I think this was a one-way trip for the doomed socks, so don't trouble yourselves too much coming up with extreme laundry solutions.

This TP incident got me thinking about life's necessities and what we do when they are not available. I tried to remember the last time I was out of TP, and couldn't remember EVER being out of TP.  So I tried to imagine a scenario where, if I WERE out of TP, my thoughts would run to socks. Nope, never happen. Paper towels or tissues, maybe. Other less satisfactory paper products, possibly (apologies, Sports Illustrated!). But socks? For the love of all that is holy, when where and how did socks become a viable substitute for toilet paper???? I am eternally thankful I did not get the memo on that one.

Anyway, by this time I am into full-blown Historian Mode. I remember tales of outhouses long past, where corn cobs and Sears catalogs filled this particular need. Sweet Mother of Pearl have I mentioned lately how thankful I am for the American toilet tissue industry?? Imagining wiping with either of those two options has me willing to pay upwards of $20 a roll for my beloved dual-ply Charmin. Maybe $20 a sheet.

The infamous three shells from the film Demolition Man. Image from VH1.

Prior to the invention of a product designed specifically for cleaning one's nether regions, history tells us folks grabbed whatever was locally available. Materials as disparate as leaves, wool, sand, snow, and pottery shards have been used. Some cultures went back to basics and used their left hands and their left hands ONLY, which is why eating with the left hand is still considered utterly repulsive and highly uncouth in some Middle Eastern cultures. Ancient cultures used rocks and shells, which may partially explain the bathroom joke from the 1993 Sylvester Stallone movie Demolition Man.

A little Googling tells us the first documented use of paper for bathroom hygiene purposes was in China. This is no surprise. China seems to be the leader in inventing such first world necessities such as gunpowder and fireworks, so why not TP? Writings from the 6th century A.D. describe sheets of toilet paper for the Emperor's use, measuring 2 feet by 3 feet. This odd size got me thinking: was this a typo? Did they mean 2 inches x 3 inches? Or did they have a piece of paper the size of a modern bath towel just lying about in the loo, waiting for the Emperor to do his business? Doesn't that seem overdoing it to you? Either he was a huge guy, or an average-size guy who made a huge mess. Did he use it once and wad it up and toss it? There was no flush toilet at that time, so it couldn't go down the tubes. And even if it could - 2 feet x 3 feet??? No, I suspect/fear this large sheet was intended for multiple uses. Sweet Mother of Pearl.

So festive. I'd buy that as long as it was colorfast. I swear that top roll is two of Charlie's Angels.

A little closer to home, you may have noticed plain white TP is the new world order.  I vaguely recall solid colors being available back in the day. Apparently a combination of high price and low demand booted colorful TP from most American shelves. I did find a company in Serbia with the unfortunate tagline of 'Family Doo' that may still offer fun colors and patterns. Since I don't speak Serbian and Google Chrome did not offer to translate, I can't tell if they actually sell the patterns shown here, or just think it's a cute picture.

Soon after the Facebook Sock Debacle, I issued an edict here at home: no socks will be harmed, sullied, or otherwise sacrificed in the pursuit of my personal bathroom hygiene. There is now great joy in my sock drawer. But the magazine pile definitely has the jitters.

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Published on Leave a comment on Something’s Brewing

Hunter Gatherer Brewery Columbia SC

American craft beer brewing, home brewing, and brew pubs are experiencing a boom not seen since colonial times. South Carolina is a little late to the party due to some political shenanigans. Now that the laws have been adjusted, SC residents can join in the fun. We have several new breweries in Columbia, and more in the Upstate and Low Country. That doesn't count the little do-it-yourself shops that sell the supplies and teach you how to brew your own. Nor does it count the so-called 'brew pubs' (brew pubs are restaurants that also brew and sell their beers on site).

Beer is by far the biggest selling alcoholic beverage in America. It's been around literally for ages. Some scholars estimate beer's likely accidental discovery at more than 10,000 years ago. Our prehistoric ancestors liked the happy accident so much, they quickly figured out how to duplicate it. The process involved heating water and a starch product together (cereal grains or other sugar sources). Because the water was heated or boiled, the beer was healthier than plain water. Ancient man soon caught on to Water Bad, Beer Good (although it was centuries before anyone understood the connection between boiling and healthy beverages). So beer was in high demand from the get-go, found in cultures around the world from Mesopotamia to Africa to North America and everywhere in between. Prior to the availability of modern containers (bottles and cans) and transportation and refrigeration, beer was difficult to distribute before it went bad. It was enjoyed either at ancient versions of brew pubs, or brewed and consumed at home.

If you do some digging around online you will find a charming anecdote claiming beer was the reason the Pilgrims landed at Plymouth Rock. They were headed for Virginia's milder climate to make colonization easier. But the ship's crew was worried they wouldn't have enough beer to make their return trip. They didn't want to get stuck in the middle of the Atlantic without a safe drinking supply (water, water, everywhere . . . ). They kicked the Pilgrims to the curb 500 miles short of their intended destination and hightailed it back to England.

New World settlers lost little time in establishing a local source for beer. One must have one's priorities! The first documented brewery here was established in 1629 in New Amsterdam, now known as Manhattan. No doubt they did a booming business - American colonists were avid beer drinkers. When he wasn't busy founding our nation, George Washington found the time to jot down a favorite beer recipe. And if you've always wondered why independent brewing behemoth Samuel Adams beers are not named for the more presidential cousins John and John Quincy, Samuel's family was in the malt business (a key beer ingredient). 

As the American population grew, so did brewing. Tastes changed as immigrants each brought their preferred methods and recipes with them from their former homes. Many different types of beers were available, again mostly locally (until Adolph Busch perfected refrigerated transport methods in the late 1800s).

Like Mother Nature herself, the American beer business evolved. The strong overtook the weak. Consolidations occurred. Prohibition laws from 1920-1933 really hurt the small breweries. After they were repealed, large brewers dominated the American market until about the 1970s. That's when we saw inklings of a resurgence in craft brewing. The market had swung too far. People missed their favorite beers that had gotten swallowed up by the big guys during Prohibition. Some decided to try making their own, and craft brewing was reborn.

Today's boom has us circling back to the days of visiting the local corner brewer to enjoy their unique offerings. The American brewing renaissance is recreating the melting pot mentality - free from hidebound tradition, experimenting in exciting new ways. Rather than taking comfort in the knowledge that one can visit most any corner store and find the exact red-and-white packaging containing precisely the same pale lager one has been drinking all their adult life, beer drinkers are more adventurous. They want a pumpkin spice lager at Halloween and a peppermint ale at Christmas and a summer wheat to knock back at the beach. Uninspiring-sounding labels like Bud and Miller are now feeling pressure from offerings like Arrogant Bastard and River Rat. Consumers have rediscovered growlers and happily stand in line to have their little brown jugs refilled with whatever suits their fancy.

I'm not ready to clear a space in the basement and buy some brewer's yeast. But I am a staunch supporter of my local brewers. If you are a beer drinker, consider sipping outside your comfort zone. Seek out your local brewers. Sample their wares. Support their efforts. It's the American way.

** please drink responsibly **

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Published on Leave a comment on Founding Fathers: Who’s Yo (Favorite) Daddy?

History nerds everywhere squirm with delight each year when of our biggest national holidays makes it cool, for 24 hours anyway, to celebrate history. Even the most history-resistant among us pretend to go along with the hubbub because it means they get a day off. So today's blog post will be all history, all the time. For at least one day out of the year, maybe the historical slant will not seem too esoteric. Ostensibly it will be to celebrate Independence Day, but we both know I am a history nerd to the core and prefer to write about it all day, every day, occasion be damned.

Thanks Wiki for the pic

On with the show: who's your favorite founding father? Such a tough call. First hurdle is to agree on who counts as a 'founding father'. For many, that picture of all of them signing the declaration is proof enough. If you're in the pic, you qualify.

Next, what qualities are we looking for? That's also a tricky one - what may be important to me may not matter at all to you. For instance, do we go with politics or military prowess? Legacy or looks?  Smarts or guts?  If that's too ivory tower for you, how about we go with a more tabloid approach: which of them would have been the 18th century equivalent of 'Sexiest Man Alive'? And how would that have been quantified back then - number of progeny (in or out of wedlock)? Duels won? Wig style?

You know you are a big deal when you get on the $5,000 bill (Madison)

History has already done a pretty good job of annointing this group for all the reasons I listed and a lot more. Cities, towns, schools a-plenty are named for them. Two of them have their 60-foot tall faces carved into a mound of granite in South Dakota. They're on our money, for crying out loud.  So how about we decrease the pressure on ourselves of picking the GOAT and pick the one we like best, just because.

I never could warm up to Adams or Madison. Washington is such a cliche - everybody loves Number One - but I admit he did grow on me the more I learned about him. Franklin seems like the Nutty Professor of the group - plenty smart but never President, which proves the smart part, doesn't it? Hamilton had looks and smarts, but his ego did him in. I have to go with Thomas Jefferson. He has always been my favorite. Tall, sandy haired, soft-spoken. He wasn't the first prez, but he seems like the kind of guy that would have been okay with that. I can picture him holding the figurative Presidential door for George and saying, 'oh no, you first, I insist'. I suppose it is his status as a true Renaissance man that holds the most appeal for me. Like Madison and Franklin, not only was he interested in everything, he was able understand and even master just about any topic - music, language, agriculture, architecture, politics, science.

And so it was with dismay that I learned of his alleged relationship with one of his slaves, Sally Hemmings. Naturally the owning of slaves is certainly a disappointment, ditto most of the other Founding Fathers. When DNA testing indicated Jefferson or a close relative likely fathered children with Sally, well, just when you thought owning slaves couldn't get any more distasteful . . .

I haven't seen the recent film about them. I have wondered if their relationship was a master/slave cliche (overbearing white guy forcing himself on helpless but attractive slave girl), or whether it was more a typical midlife crisis scenario (older guy cheating on his wife with a pretty young woman with whom he is in close proximity on a regular basis). No one will ever know. But it does go a long way toward humanizing Jefferson and all the other guys on our money because all the guys on our money have similar stories about them making some bad decisions. Hamilton pissed off Aaron Burr and got himself killed in a duel. Washington went to great lengths to avoid having his favorite chef, his slave Hercules, benefit from the capitol city's antislavery laws.  Ben Franklin's first child was born out of wedlock; mother unknown.

Sure, they were the smartest guys in the room in that picture up there. But they were human. They did some dumb things, too. That's what makes history interesting.

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