Favorite Things Monday - My Hoosier

For a long time, Favorite Things Monday has languished. The original concept was to focus on the positive, but FTM quickly morphed into whatever sparked my interest on that day. Positive? Yes. Focused? Not so much. Then it fell off entirely. But since it was such a favorite in my little reader survey, I'm going to revive it. Here goes:


This is my Hoosier cabinet. I love it. I love it dearly. My Mom found it at a yard sale in about 1990. It was painted red. [Yes, someone painted it. Oy.] In addition to it's overall charm, Mom noticed the original Sellers tag, most of the original hardware, the sugar dispenser, the covered tin bread drawer and several original glass spice jars. Recognizing the value of the piece, MafiaMom found a talented restoration pro, had it stripped and refinished, and had one of the glass doors replaced. While the restoration may have diminished its value in the official antique marketplace, it revived this old lady, and brought an antique gem into our family.

Several years ago, MafiaMom visited my apartment in J.P., saw the perfect spot for the cabinet, and offered to sell it to me. At first, I was conflicted. I didn't love the style. It was heavy and old and expensive and fiddly. But Wifey loved it, so we bought it (and spent the next several years paying Mom in dribs and drabs).

I've had Hoosier Cabinets by Philip Kennedy on my Amazon wish list and someday I'm going to buy it. Among other things, it'll tell me what year my Hoosier was built, which parts are original and give me a roadmap for maintaining my little antique gem. I've started hunting eBay for replacement hardware because the old hardware on Ms. 1890's kitchen cabinets is similar, and when we renovate the kitchen, I'd like to use antique hardware that matches my cabinet. In addition, I'm saving digital copies of vintage ads so I can design my kitchen with the period in mind. Without that classic text about my cabinet, I've been completely ignorant of her history. Even without the book, I've very recently started to find her history here and there.

Hoosiers are generally considered 'depression era' pieces, so I always assumed it was built in the 1930s. But I've recently discovered some Sellers advertisements from the early 1900s, and I'm fairly sure mine was built in 1917. I used to envision the kind of family that could afford such a beautiful cabinet during the depression, and I couldn't relate to their life at all.

But now that my cabinet was born in 1917, I envision a world of possibilities. Was her first owner a wife and mother? A wife and mother and activist? A lady in a boston marriage? Instead of envisioning a woman kneading dough to feed her family, I envision Mrs. Agnes Moray, Miss Janet Fotheringham and Miss Lucy Burns perched on stools over the porcelain counter, writing letters, planning demonstrations, coordinating support for their jailed sisters, succeeding in NY State -- not realizing that they would be jailed together at Occoquan. And then I envision them, three years later, setting glass goblets on the porcelain counter, pouring cordials, and toasting their victory.

Little did these ladies realize that 90 years later the same porcelain counter would hold poster paint belonging to the boy child of lesbian moms, and the glass cabinet would house a porcelain mug inscribed with Votes For Women in honor of Alva Vanderbilt Belmont's sassy hospitality:

Mrs. Alva Vanderbilt Belmont (1853-1933), born in Alabama, grew up as a Southern lady. Upon marrying into the wondrously rich Vanderbilt family, Alva focused her impressive energies on winning over New York Society. Her divorce from William Vanderbilt and ensuing marriage to, even richer, Oliver Belmont caused a sensation. The scandal forced the hitherto sheltered society dame to reconsider women's position.

When the Women's Trade Union League in 1909 supported the garment workers' on strike. Mrs. Belmont personally went on the streets of New York City; into the city's jailed and bailed out the arrested strikers. This strike was her initiation into the woman's suffrage movement. She established her own Political Equality League, paid for the office space for a national NAWSA office in New York City, and underwrote a national press bureau for the association. While her sudden plunge into the movement aroused some skepticism, her commitment proved enduring.

When radical Alice Paul broke off from NAWSA, Mrs. Belmont left the NAWSA to become one of Paul's most significant supporters. It was at her famous home, Marble House, in Newport, Rhode Island that Alice Paul and her cohorts formulated their plan to hold President Wilson and the Democrats responsible for the lack of progress on woman suffrage.

Mrs. Belmont commissioned her own set of "Votes for Women" china for a major Suffrage dinner party at Marble House. When the dinner was over, each guest was given a place setting to take home. "

source

Since I will not be spending $6500 on 4 pieces of the original china ( ... don't think I didn't consider it ... ), perhaps I should start collecting the reproduction Votes For Women china. Wouldn't that be a wonderful way to honor the history of my Hoosier?

Guest Loo & How to Electrocute Yourself 101

Guest Loo

How much does my Mom love me? Or how crazy is my Mom? You decide. During her Christmas visit, she could barely sit still because she was jonesin' to rip something apart in my house. One evening, I came downstairs after putting Little Man to bed and found her in my downstairs bathroom, doing this:


Only the world's best Mom would strip wallpaper when you weren't paying attention. That's love. After the wallpaper came down, we discovered a corner where some old floor-to-ceiling beadboard was covered with plaster. [who would do that?] So I joined MafiaMom, and reclaimed the beadboard.


This involved running the sharp tip of my multi-purpose putty knife down the ditches between the boards. But in doing so, I created a lot of texture where the old layers of paint were uncovered. I can't just sand it, because it's no doubt lead paint. I don't want to putty over it again, because I will have wasted 2 hours of hardcore scraping. So I'm ignoring it until I decide what to do.

In the meantime, Wifey and I skim-coated and sanded the walls, harkening back to these days. Then Little Man and I primed the rest of the room. He was delighted to be a part of this activity. He learned to put only a small amount of paint on the brush, to tap it gently on the tray, and to paint up and down. [wax on, wax off]


Then Wifey I finished the job with a nice coat of American Tradition in "Spring Spirits" green.


How to Electrocute Yourself 101

Step 1: Decide to replace a light fixture when noone else is home.

Step 2: Disconnect fixture from the ceiling, discover wires covered in black linen, and still continue with your project.


Step 3: Find a cast iron mounting brace, make a mental note that you've never even seen one of those, and continue with your project.


Step 4: Disconnect all wires, notice that they're not copper, consult your giant manual, read the warnings, and continue with your project.


Step 5: Go to the basement, turn the electricity back on, and decide to test for "juice." Touch the black end of your electricity tester to the metal tube surrounding your wires, the red end to a bare wire, and act surprised when it jolts, sparks and melts the metals tips of your tester.


Step 6: Rejoice when you finally call the electrician because you can clearly state which of the wires is "hot."

History of a House

As I begin the labor-intensive phase of renovating Ms. 1890, I'm consistently surprised at how these seemingly simple actions, requiring little more than brute strength, actually engage all of my senses. 116 years of history surfaces in the layers of color, the smell of water damage, the texture of worn wood, the taste of lead paint, the rhythmic sound of metal scraping off time.


What was the rest of the house like when the the downstairs bathroom was dark chocolate, shiny teal, sand, or tutu pink?