Nom de Plume

Not nearly as heartwrenching as Henry Hoover’s but interesting because it conjures up an era. I have NO idea who this is.

Addressed to:
Mrs. Sarah Hunt
Springfield
Clark County
State of Ohio
Cincinatti August 17th 1829
My Dear Sister
I am just getting so that I can enjoy a little comfort in breathing & move about, yet I am in some pain all the time_I hope it will not be long ere I am well though I fear I may never be entirely free from the effects of my fall_last wednesday I came to the Silvers’ house for fifty cents they owed me and as I stepd out the door, I was in haste & gave a smart [can’t read] on the step_it turned and threw me with violence on the edge_ I fell with my side against it—just above my hip—my ribs are very sore, hou the Doctors Slayback and Woodward, both agree they are not broken. Mr, James Loder (?) helpd me into the house and others sent for help and the above Drs both came they dare not bleed me—my pulse was so low—but gave me a dose of laudanum, ordering camphor & c (?)after U had taken about three times of laudanum I was more easy & the bathe I had applyd relieved me that on Saturday I could stand on my feet—sabbath I was in [can’t read]—today I am better, tho now I must be ery careful how I turn—or [can’t read]—It has unnerved and debilitated me like a severe spell of sickness! I was nursing Mrs [something] & only came out for an hour to two to meet such a disappointment with suffering required all my fortitude.
I cannot tell you when I wrote to you last or what I told you for fear you had not receivd I will tell you I had a letter from Mother write the 12th of May—said in both friends were well—Daniel was in Millville on business but has married in McKean [?] a wife had a son called Julius Hermon-was Justice of the Peace two years past in that County. Edwin was married they had learnd and lives in Philadelphia but none of my family has seen him since—Mother wrote me very tenderly of you and yours spoke of her children’s children with love and desiring to see them—Jerem.I. [?] has very delicate health his son is in Millville at school—E.B. has relinquished his business there & settling up accounts he states—his mind unsettled as to where, or what he next shall enter into—I have answered their respective letters and shall look for another communication from them soon – Mr. Bateman has been gone to Jersey about five weeks when he returns I shall expect he has seen our beloved Mother & can tell me of her as he said he would call and see her himself—Moses Burt and wife I saw at Ogdens a little while since they have moved to this state Mrs B is very portly that I should have scarcely known her—I want to hear from you very much and Lydia Ann I hope you are all well—oh do not neglect writing an account of my situation—I hope I have no [something] as sure of your to Greave me for it—rest assured I shall esteem it one of the Greatest comforts [something]regards this [world? Word?] to receive from your hand written communications and too often they can never be–! to be wellcome to my heart! I still have much cause for Gratitude and Love to God for His mercy and Grace to me—a convincing proof I have had at this time of His Heavenly care and Kind protection! in providing friends and preserving power! had I fell with the small of my back instead my side—I think I never should breathed now I have been sadly hurt, as it was my vitals that received so heavy a shock—my Liver Dr Woodward said was so Jarred that it would be sometimes before I should Get entirely over my fall! The kind attention and care of my friends has been all to me that could be done—I have not seen any of Ogden’s family –as I was so far them. Isaac Frame (?) next morning so yesterday to see me I am at Mr Loders—hall to go the Mr Kreamers soon as I can, they sent for me every day to enquire, or request me to come there—I have not seen Eveline for three weeks—she does not know where I am I expect so she could come to see me soon as able I shall see her—there is a Great commotion about the Blacks in this place at present. We none of us know where it will end—I must say to you my love to all—don’t forget Mrs Fishers—both. (list of names) Yours your Amy Foster

I went to visit my mother about a month ago. She handed over a whole pile of old letters she had found–dating from about 1825 to 1870–which I am slowly transcribing. Alas, some are just tiny scraps of papers, but there are some real gems in there. This is really exciting for me, because it’s from the Hoovers in Hennepin, IL (my grandmother’s mother’s family) and I had hit dead genealogical ends with both Henry Hoover (my great-great-great grandfather) and his wife Sally.

Henry Hoover apparently went out to California to make his fortune. There are three letters from him back to his family. I have transcribed them exactly as they appear–spelling, capitalizations, and all–but I have added punctuation, which he omitted entirely. I did this so the letters are easier to read.

The first letter:

Addressed to:
Sally Hoover
Hennepin
Putnam Co. Ill

St Joseph April 12 1840

Dear wife I take this opportunity to let you know I am well and I hope you are the same. We have had worry cold and wet for the last ten days. We got here the 11. I have been down in town all the time since looking for Sam but I don’t find him. I saw Joseph Stephens to day. He says he saw Bart in Iowa all well and now is Sam a going to come with how or note. How’s team will be in to morrow, we will load up and [something] the river and wait about a week before we start. I have wrote three times to your before this. I have been Develing [ the Post master all the time I have been here for a letter but don’t find any. Brook is well and high treaded. Otterson was well last Friday we parted company they have not got in yet. I have no news to write it is tolerable healthy in St Joseph. There has been some cholera here but not so bad as we heard. My health so far has been better than common and I am going to keep in so it is rather lonesome here. There is about one thousand [something] for California but still I lack one thing [something] from home. Now wife and children are you all well and doing well. What I don’t write you must think for I cannot think of everything to write so I will wait and see if I don’t see Sara or get a letter before I leave fore the plains. I will let you know if sam comes and what we are a going to Do so I will stop for the present
H. Hoover to S.W. Hoover

April 13
Well Sally here we are in St Joseph but no sam yet. We have got all ready for starting over the river but we won’t start over the plains for ten Days yet so I will wait for a letter. This is a solemn Day with us here for we have buried Leny Zerek [?] this afternoon. He died on the Boat Elpasso yesterday about forty miles below here. He died with the inflammation on the bowels. James Simson and Louis Purley was with him but Lou has not come yet. We are looking for him and sam with him. We are all well so far and in good spirits. Tomorrow we cross the river and camp for a spell. Now Sally you must keep your courage and take good care of the blesed little children for I will be back. I need not tell you what to do but do the best you can. Take good care of your self and stay til I come back their. I will tell you more than I dare write now. Sally you must write about the first of June and July and August and direct it to Sacramento City uper California. Now Melissa, how are you, I hope you are well and a good girl, then I will bring you something nice I will yes. Well George John Miles Martin David Julius all be good boys and help your mother and be good to her then I will bring you something fine. Now mind well. Bart has not come yet. I have Nothing to write now but if I get a letter before we start I will write again before we leave. I saw Mr. Donald he got here to day. He says he saw you and he lost the letter you sent. Give my respects to all and every body so fare you well Sally Dear.
Henry Hoover

Jane I will say a word to you. I am well and full of fun and I hope you are. I have not seen Bart yet but am looking for him to night and then I will tell you how he likes Calafornia. I would like to know how you get a long with selling wood. Jane be a good girl and help sally this summer and keep good courage and then I want you to write to me about the first of June. Direct it to Sacramento City uper California. Jane if you go east give my love to Abiah and Merry and all that will enquire for poor me. Dont forget to write for it will be lonesome so far you well at present. Now dont forget.
Henry Hoover to Jane Dellen? Deln?

Here–after a period of eleven years–is the second letter:

Dear Sally and more,
I will try to write a few lines to let you know that I am alive and enjoying first rate health but I feel very uneasy about home for I have not heard from you since Mrs Lyn brought me letter tara[?] at work. At present on the south fork of the American reiver. I have bought a claim and paid five hundred Dollars for it and the river has raised so we cannot work it this fall so I will have to give it up this season. I was in hopes I could come home this fall but things has taken such a turn. I shal have to try the mining one more year all though it is a hard life to live but Don’t you be discouraged for I think I shall soon be home with plenty of Gold to cheer up. Dear Sally I want to hear if you got that money I sent to you by P Durly for I have not heard from you or those since the 13th of March last saw[?]. I wish you would write to me for I fear you are not happy but Sally don’t worry your self about me for I will try to do well and I think I can but I do get home-sick some times. You must take good care of your dear self and the children all. Bless them. As for the B Allen and the rest of the Hennepin boys I have not heard from them since last fall. I suppose some of them has gone home. I wish you would write and let me know who has got home and what luck they have had +[?] the two Mr Barbers in particular as they was of B Nervels Company. I understand they started home last winter with but very little money & I should like to hear how they have made it with Mr Nervel as they did not stay their time out.

Dear Daughters Charlotte I must write a few lines to you and I thank you for the few lines you wrote to me. You said you had kept your promise. Well I want you to keep it one year longer and take care of your dear ma and the little boys and I will be back and you shall be rewarded for all your trouble. Be a good girl and write to me often for I want to hear from you for Jane Larsen [?]
No more at Present from your old Dear Henry Hoover

Now Sally Dear I want to know how you get along with our large family of boys and if you want more money I have about enough to take me home but I want to try the mines one more winter and see if I can make my pile. I think I can. You must not mind the bad storys you hear from Califronia all though they do hang a great many men here but I have got along so far verry well with out difficulty. Well Sally next Sunday I am a going to start to the north run mines in ??? with five men and expect to remain there until some time in the spring and then if I can sell my claim here I will come home if I have money to beare my expense and well little Boys George John Daniel James David and little Julius you must all be good boys and be kind to your Dear mother and help her and I wil soon be back with you and there we will take comfort to pay for all this hardship. Dear wife and Children take good care of our selves and [can’t read] you take comfort while I am nicking about in the mountains.
No More at Present But I Still Remain Your Henry Hoover to Sally W hoover and Childern

And this is the the third letter. I confess that I got tired of transcribing all the “take care of your mothers” so I omitted them. Also, I couldn’t read the date. However, this is my very favorite letter:

Vichel?? April 14, 51?? 57??

To Sally W Hoover and the Boys
I have jest received a letter from you stating that you have Moved. Well I am glad to hear it for I have thought of you a great many times. I rote you a letter the day before I got yours and directed it Bureau Junction but I can tell you what is in. It it’s filled up with my hard luck. James has sold that 40 acres that I bought for him last fall so that taks 125 dollars. I have 250 dollars in debs a comming to me that I expect to loose and we have had to by a span of horses this spring. It will leave me behind a bout 400 I dar not no how I will git a long I did think that I [something] you soon this spring. But do not depend on me and if it is possible I will due something our girl Hannah has left us and Mother and the 2 Hellents has to do the work. Mother’s Helth is very good this spring and we are all able to eat our Pankake. Mother want to [something] Charlott is a going on the Ca nall?? this summer all well is your friends you must exersizing short letters for I want to rite a line to Bart. I want to congratulate him because he has got a BABY and the first that I git to a tavern I will take a snort of jingjaw on his expense and when I se any of Larris friends I will tell them that she has got twins.

Yesterday, I ran up to the house for 20 minutes. Came back, door had been broken into and laptops stolen.

Yes, these are adventures in shackitude.

I read this while we were in Rockford over Thanksgiving, and to be honest, I can’t remember that much about it except for the fact that the protagonist’s aunt used laurel soap, which sounded lovely and refreshing, and reminds me that I want to order some laurel essential oil to make the soap for myself.

Now that I’ve refreshed my memory, I do remember this. It was your typical coming-of-age story, only it centers around a Syrian girl growing up in 1970s Indianapolis. She starts out as a strict Muslim, finds she needs to go outside her community and religion to find herself, and ends up striking a happy medium. Blah blah. Sections of the book were howlingly funny–I remember chuckling on the plane–but Kahf lost me on long passages of political and religious commentary. It was one of those books in which you ask yourself, “Okay, now that she’s written about herself, where does she go from here?”

Which is all to say that this was okay, but nothing spectacular.

Steve is a gearhead. He prefers to take on new sports that require massive amounts of gear–and when he’s collected it all, he finds a new sport. For instance, he bought a new surfboard. And then he started sailing and completely lost interest in surfing.

He also has one regular kayak, three whitewater kayaks, two mountain bikes, a small single-person sailboat, two sets of downhill skis, and four windsurfers (all of which feature hot pink as the primary color).

This tally does not include the other gear required: wetsuits, booties, rashguards, helmets, life vests, nose plugs, or paddles.

So yesterday, I ran to the store and when I got home, he was unfurling the sail of yet another windsurfer. Apparently, he traded one of his kayaks for it. But hey! It isn’t pink!

and I need to get a new one.

The only problem is that most cameras are so complicated and I have no idea how to go about choosing one. I would rather not have to get a PhD in how to operate it. Any recommendations for a simple point and shoot? Pretty please?

I was going to post a bunch of demo-in-progress kitchen pictures, but really … why bother? This is what it looks like now:

The plans are:

1) All new appliances, for one.
2) A really funky farmhouse sink that we got at Re-store. It’s being reporcelained as we blog and is going approximately where the existing sink is–though at 51 inches will take up a considerably larger amount of space.
3) You see that taller window at the end? That’s going away, and the fridge is going there. But wait, you say! Getting rid of windows? Actually, we’re adding a bank of four windows over the sink instead.
4) The stove is staying where it is, but will be flanked by cabinets.
5) Steve’s brother is coming out next week to do some of the above, and will also tear out and replace the ceiling.

There are lots more ideas floating around Chez Smunshi, but we’re not terribly organized about the process. Some neighbors are also redoing their kitchen and we goggled at their beautifully rendered plans. Ours consist of some chicken scratch on graph paper.

This was the kitchen before we moved in.

To tell the truth, we added a lot more color to the room–but it probably looks its best here. The tenants who lived here were apparently anal (to put it politely), and were a LOT cleaner than we are. We painted the walls and put down slate floor. Also added wainscot around the room.

And the problem is that you can see how crooked everything is–and if it’s not crooked, it’s just crap. when everything was white, it at least looked, well, clean. We’ve been living with this for two years now.

Until two weeks ago, at which point Mr. Demo decided it was “time to commit to redoing the kitchen.” I can’t complain about Steve having problems with commitment; he dragged out a chainsaw and sawed off half the counter.

Keep posted, and I’ll show you what the kitchen is looking like today.

The Easy Transfer cable for Vista? It’s a whopping 40 dollars. 40 DOLLARS.

I’m doing it the hard way.

Another kiddie lit novel, in which Tom Ward–who is the seventh son of a seventh son–starts his apprentice with the Spook, whose job is to rid the countryside of various supernatural beings. The story itself wasn’t that thrilling, but the illustrations–done by the same guy who does the covers for Gregory Maguire’s novels–were fantastic and truly creepy.

It’s a long story and I don’t want to jinx it. In any case, here’s a very blurry video of the two puglets who are, uh, enthusiastic for one another.

Pug Love

I think this was my favorite Diana Wynne Jones book. It draws on her popular conceit of alternate worlds that are tied together by magic. In the magical Isles of Blest, Roddy Hyde and her friend Grundo start noticing odd phenomena and behavior in the court when a new Merlin is appointed (the Merlins manage magic for the kingdom). At the same time, Nick Mallory gets pulled into these alternate worlds from the non-magical Earth. Roddy is convinced that Nick is the answer to Blest’s problems, while Nick himself doesn’t think he is magical at all. The two stories converge amid a host of wonderfully eccentric characters. Through it all, Wynne Jones displays her customary humor and incredible imagination. Very fun.

Elegy to a Great Aunt

She asked what we wanted, gesturing from the table
where sunlight slanted into oblong squares,
and though it seemed wrong, I picked the crystal—
because her ice water glints like diamonds
and she’s always used the sterling and good china,
not knowing dishwashers cloud.

My mother chooses the watercolor over the fireplace,
the other niece the teak cabinet, delicate
as lapsang souchong in Wedgewood.
Other items chip and split in the rinse cycle:
silver spots, gold leaf fades. My own hairline crack
is barely visible under detergent words,
but months pass.

Regret is inevitable, I think. It lurks
in the conciliation of a cardboard box,
rustles in styrofoam peanuts, yellowed papers.
And it sits there gleaming in my cupboard—
finer than anything else I own.

I’ve been reading a lot about Poetry Friday on the blogs lately, in which bloggers post a poem written by someone else. How about Poetry Wednesday, in which we post a poem we wrote? Hey, there’s got to be some use for all the really bad poetry I’ve written that’s languishing on my hard drive. So I’ll start. Here goes:

The Last Trip

We hurtle to the coast
so a fierce tide
can pound transgressions
into something
fine and powdered
we can let glitter
through our fingers
tomorrow,
laughing in our castle—

its windows
freshly-washed.

Your hands
are steady on the wheel,
my eyes fixed
on scrubbed sandstone
until darkness washes us to
a silent shore,
where—in moonlit abeyance –
we pad past
salt-rippled sand,
crusted seaweed
trusting our breaths will hold
under the weight of
in-crashing waves—

their shimmering
collapse.

Once again, it’s that time of year. Find the first entry of every month and post an excerpt. Tag, you’re it — consider yourself memed!

January:
Of COURSE I ignored rain warnings and left a day later than I should have. I-5 was closed between Yreka and somewhere in Oregon, and traffic was diverted through Route 97. Which goes over the mountains and into the woods and deep into a penetrating freeze.

February:
How does one broach the subject of e-mail forwards with very nice, sweet relatives and acquaintances of a certain age for whom e-mail is the best thing since sliced bread?

March:
From 1981 to 1983, we lived in Nigeria. Embassy housing put us in a three-unit complex, each of the identical apartments stacked on top of each other in a compound with a huge magnolia tree and a guard who spent most of his time napping under it. We lived in the middle unit; Nuel lived on the top floor and Laura lived on the bottom. Nuel just visited my mother in North Carolina, and strangely enough, Laura just retired to Bellingham and spent a long weekend with us.

April:
There is, of course, nothing quite so tiresome as someone explaining why she hasn’t been posting more regularly — so I won’t bother, except to say that it’s been a crazy week with no end in sight. But spring is really here!

May:
Pathetic! That’s what this is. I have stacks and stacks to write reviews, great visit with Pammy, lots of e-mails from my insane mother to share, and unfortunately, lots and lots of work to keep me from updating. One day I will return!

June:
It’s pouring, just a solid sheet of rain. The skylight over my desk is leaking once again, even though Steve has attempted to fix it three or four times.

July:
The anti-net neutrality Senator Ted Stevens (R-Alaska) offers his own version of version of how the Internet works. Scary, huh?

August:
Steve is taking a two month sabbatical from work, and is dedicating himself to projects around the house. The problem is that he’s much more excited about destroying than rebuilding.

September:
“Can you think of a reason to come back to Long Beach?” asked Steve. We were hurtling down the 28-mile long peninsula back to the mainland.

“No.”

October:
Saturday night, Steve and I went to La Medusa for dinner — a restaurant in Columbia City that we’ve been meaning to try out for a long time. Every time we’ve gone in there on a whim, they’ve laughed when we say, “A reservation? No, we don’t have one.” So I finally made a reservation. It was worth it. We even splurged on dessert. We left fat and happy. On the way home, we passed our local Safeway and wondered why the street lights were out.

November:
I was probably a little hasty in creating an entire category dedicated to soapmaking. A better category probably would have been “passing fancies.” Or better yet, “passing fancies on which I spend tons of money and then get bored.”

December:
It’s been a loooonng week. S and I have decided to take up cross country skiing. First jaunt tomorrow.

It’s been a loooonng week. S and I have decided to take up cross country skiing. First jaunt tomorrow.

Steve is being quite industrious in the kitchen today.

Awwww, look at that cornbread.

My skylight is leaking again after Steve fixed it the other night, the dog’s eyeball is puffy again, and I came perilously close to pulling an all-nighter. All this is to excuse the fact that I am going to do something I hate. Yes, that’s right, I am going to join the ranks of the literblogi and post a review of a book review.

First, a little history.

Becky over at A Book a Week just read Sittenfeld’s Prep, a book that she had avoided because it looked like chick lit. But then she read something something called This is Not Chick Lit, which Sittenfeld had contributed to or something. So she changed her mind and read the novel anyway. She was not impressed.

This sparked an interesting conversation with Nonfiction Readers Anonymous about the chick lit/not chick lit debate. NRA also pointed out that Sittenfeld wrote a scathing review of Melissa Bank’s The Wonder Spot.

So naturally, being sleep-deprived with a damp keyboard and an impending vet bill from hell, I googled the review. Sure enough it was the NYT Reviling of Books, which lets face it, is essentially a temptation for writers to write horrible reviews of other writers they are jealous of or that they’re afraid they’ll become. It was beyond scathing. She even admits it:

To suggest that another woman’s ostensibly literary novel is chick lit feels catty, not unlike calling another woman a slut — doesn’t the term basically bring down all of us? And yet, with ”The Wonder Spot,” it’s hard to resist.

Hoo boy. It goes on.

A chronicle of the search for personal equilibrium and Mr. Right, Melissa Bank’s novel is highly readable, sometimes funny and entirely unchallenging; you’re not one iota smarter after finishing it.

Isn’t this GREAT?

I’m as resistant as anyone else to the assumption that because a book’s author is female and because that book’s protagonist is a woman who actually cares about her own romantic future, the book must fall into the chick-lit genre.

Don’t you love how woman are always women’s worst enemy? Here’s the kicker:

So it’s not that I find Bank’s topic lightweight; it’s that Bank writes about it in a lightweight way.

Good freaking LORD.

You know what? I liked Prep. I liked it enough to read her second novel. I liked that too, though not as much. I also don’t really care if people know that I have weakness for well-written chick lit novels or regency romances. They’re like candy. They’ve got to be better than TV. And there’s no doubt they’re a LOT better than the US Weekly subscription Sittenfeld admits to having in one of her Salon.com articles.

If our argument is sexism in the literary world (which is what This is Not Chick Lit is all about), I have no quibble. One need only look at any copy of the New Yorker or any bookstore display to agree.

But if, on the other hand, the underlying argument is that Sittenfeld herself is not chick lit, well, that’s another story altogether. Because that’s just obnoxious.

The thing is, I wouldn’t characterize Sittenfeld as being a chick lit author … yet. Her first novel certainly wasn’t. But if she follows the trajectory she’s set forth with her second (self-obsessed, neurotic teenager to self-obsessed, neurotic twenty-something), she might have a problem. That’s why she is so dismissive of Banks’ novel.

In my original post, I wrote that there were peeps of maturity in her writing and that I am interested in seeing where she goes from here. I took out the first part because it sounded so condescending, and have I published anything? No.

I hereby put it back in.

But with a caveat, because I am completely vindicated in my theory that Sittenfeld’s two protagonists are really herself: completely neurotic and utterly self-obsessed.

“Pull up the blog,” I said. “See the picture?”

“Oh, God.”

“I really want it.”

“Oh, God.”

“Does that mean you don’t love me enough to spend $400 on something I will use twice?”

Silence.

“Okay, I’m kind of thinking about just buying it for myself.”

“That’s just crazy.”

“You can make booze in it.”

“Buy it!”