If you write to impress...

Photographs of Thornton Wilder by my Father, Late 1960's

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“If you write to impress it will always be bad, but if you write to express it will be good.”  

- Thornton Wilder

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Our Town, for which Wilder won his second Pulitzer Prize, took place in a fictionalized Peterborough, New Hampshire.

Apparently I'm a style icon. For men. Prep androgyny and Amelia Earhart...

Click on the picture to see the article. How could I not put this one up?

New England Clam Chowder: The Preppiest Food?

We enjoyed our chowder today with some cider.

I have been asked, what is the preppiest food?  It could easily be New England Clam Chowder.  Admittedly, the preppy culture's contribution to the world has not been overly gastronomical, so it may win this moot court simply by default.  However, a better case can be made. It is traditional.   It tastes best using fresh, local ingredients.  It can be served on the dock or at a wedding.  Or, ideally, at a wedding on the dock.

And it invites conversation.  One of the oldest and most hotly debated New England questions is "What kind of clam chowder is the best?"  This can elicit not only the digging up of old recipes, but a weekend-long road trip to taste samples first hand.

Some swear by Cappy's in Camden.

Cappy's, 1991

Others say Black Pearl in Newport serves the best.

At the Black Pearl

Some inevitably prefer the "variety" that was first created in Rhode Island, and was the subject of such state-wide pride that they quickly named it "Manhattan Clam Chowder."    But this "chowder" was so offensive to so many New Englanders that in 1939 a bill was put forth in the state of Maine that would have made calling clam chowder made with tomatoes illegal.  It came close to passing.  (Some New Yorkers deny all knowledge of it, and swear they've been framed, wrote CooksInfo.com).  I agree with the position that puts this in the soup category.

There are many foods I could give up.  New England clam chowder simply isn't one of them.

Life Post Crown Pilots

We start up again in March...

At this time of year one can see the tiniest foreshadowing - even first glimpses - of spring.   The uptick of activity along New England's harbors is as welcome as the first snowdrop sightings and the changing angle of the sun.

Docks are still about a month away from being put in.

We swung by en-route to visit friends.

Island houses are still closed up.

The only boats present are the backbone of working boats.

On a Trailer Waiting to be Launched

But there are ripples of activity.  Mild days between storms presented a window to haul some old furniture from an island house.

This landing craft type of vessel was ideal for such work. 

 This boat and others like it - many with drop-down bows - will soon be used to move supplies and vehicles for work on the island homes.

A Thrifty Radar Reflector

This activity reminded me of the last line of this wonderful two minute video that I am re-posting of our favorite lobsterman, and fellow Puritan genealogy buff, Buddy Poland.  (The Polands were in Lynn, MA in 1642.)

Guest Post: A House in Winterport, Maine

From the Bank of the Penobscot River

I asked an old and dear friend who had lived in Maine for 10 years and then moved down to Connecticut to share her thoughts.  These are her words and her pictures.

Muffy and I both love Maine.  So when she asked that I write a guest post, I was happy to oblige. May it serve as a thank you for the many gifts she has given me, including her sense of humor, clothes and accessories (in exactly the right shades of pink, green and blue) and a gift of apples and cider left on our porch.

Most of the Nutmeggers I know who travel to Maine are familiar with Ogunquit and its sandy beaches, but the best is saved for those willing to drive, at least until the Wiscassett bridge on Route 1. It is there that the rocky coast and weathered towns just begin to come into focus as the modern landscape recedes into the rearview mirror.

It is hard to put your finger on exactly what Maine offers that other places do not. The most obvious is the beautiful scenery and lack of convenient shopping, although that is changing (a section of Rockland now has a Home Depot and looks as if it’s in Connecticut). But I know I miss it and haven’t found it anywhere else.

I now know that whenever a choice is made, such as between a beautiful setting and modern malls, that something is gained and something lost. You have to decide what you are willing to sacrifice.  I’ve gained friends in Connecticut, but dearly miss the sense of peace and awe inspired by the Maine landscape. I also miss the diversity of lifestyles – there are individuals who intentionally choose to live without much material wealth and the wealthier residents don’t make a show of it, if they have any sense.

Last summer, I was fortunate to visit some relatives in Maine who don’t live on the coastline, but are in close proximity to the natural beauty the state offers, including lakes, rivers and the sea. My hostess, Jane, lives in an 1820’s colonial on a hill, white with black shutters, built by a sea captain, reached by a long driveway, lined with trees.

Jane appreciates the history of the house and says she often imagines long skirts rustling against the bannister as she ascends the main stairs.  Jane has a particularly close attachment to her house as it was the one in which she grew up as a girl, when not living overseas as a young woman and adult, and is the place that she and her daughters, also world travelers as adults, call home.

Jane’s parents now live down the road in a smaller, more manageable dwelling, but they were the ones who first noticed the house on the hill, before it was even for sale. Jane says that her father, who was at college at the time, used to come home every weekend to visit his wife-to-be in Monmouth, near Augusta. He set out one Friday, hitched a ride with a man who “took him as far as the driveway.” The person driving the car was Mr. Jones, who sold the house to Jane’s father 30 years later.

Jane said that Mr. Jones worked for a paper company and did all the renovations. He put in the bathrooms and created a summer room, once a carriage house and woodshed. Before him, the previous owner created an apple orchard, remnants of which exist today.

Two summer’s ago in Maine, there was a happy reunion of all three of Jane’s daughters. The youngest, Quincy, was having a birthday, as well as celebrating a new job and apartment in Belfast (which has changed drastically since I first rented there in 1989, but still retains a rough-around-the-edges charm) and the second oldest, Caitlin, was home for a visit from the Netherlands where she works and studies. The oldest, Molly, was also home and lives in Maine, but often travels to Asia for work. There were also two couples from the Netherlands, one couple working in the states, while the other was taking a vacation, which all four often do together.

The house, decorated with its treasures from away, reflects the values this family holds dear. They are not afraid to experience the world, but they also know that there is a safe harbor waiting for them to which they can always return.

And isn’t that something to which we all aspire, no matter what your style of car, clothes, home or accessories?

Valerie Bannister is a freelance writer who lives in Chester, Connecticut with her two daughters.

The Roll Top Junk Desk

We don't have any junk drawers in our house, and our attic and cellar are pretty much empty.  But we do have a junk desk.

I am not a fan of oak, but when old enough, it is a little better.   This roll top desk was made by Macey in Grand Rapids, Michigan somewhere between 1896 and 1908.  It was always in my parents' house growing up and they apparently got it from the back of a friend's old barn.

This is for items that either

• are transient, like the older of our two Lotuff briefcases between trips out, and a borrowed book (1914) 
• just don't have a real home in our house, like this decoy my grandfather carved.  

This is a purgatory more in the Tim Burton than Dante sense.

Various trip artifacts: Valued or impediment for future generations?   The labels are from the MFIT Ivy Style exhibition.  The tiger was brought back from India.

My old riding helmet: It must be HEPA certified.  It doesn't just collect dust, it sucks it from adjacent rooms.  I need to find room for it in a bookshelf with glass doors.

These cast iron Maine Fisherman bookends from the 1920s or 1930s first belonged to my great grandmother and can be seen in our family photographs over four generations.

The glass insulators were each a thank you from the 90+year old farmer whose field abutted ours.  As a young girl I would bake apple pies and walk them over to him.  He never failed to reciprocate promptly with the glass pie dish spotless, an insulator or silver coin in hand, along with a bag of his potatoes and a dozen of his eggs.  He never went to the front door, always the back,  and he never came inside.

Monogrammed Tiffany silver baby cup, gift from the Chancellor of Brown, is for now perfect for paper clips.

Brown v Princeton tickets.  Our team won that game. Or lost. Or tied.

Ferry schedules and reservations.

Alumni magazines from our prep schools, colleges and summer camps, all looking for money- with profiles of friends and this round, family.  My husband's day school profiled him in their latest issue.

I could not not include the attire of last year's graduating  class.

Little Clogs Brought Back From Delft

Back up Leather Man key chains. I am still working on one from 25 years ago, but it will wear out eventually.

DVD of On Golden Pond: great boat, nice clothes, and overall not bad for inland.

This little plover was purchased years ago from the Sea Gull Shop in Pemaquid  (labelled for Sartre).

My day school letters for field hockey.

Nantucket Knotworks bracelets: The real deal.  Every year I wear them to increasingly less informal events.  So far so good.

The Orvis dog collar which is basically put on only once a year for his annual trip to the vet.

Checks from Lands End for numerous khakis returns.

Moleskine notebooks: Folio A4 Notebook Squared.  Data will survive EMP.

Refill coins for Lotuff coin purse.

Little rocks from the shore on a bigger rock from the shore.

Decoy notecards: Put out by Dukes County Historical Society in Edgartown and on sale on Vineyard (off-season) for one dollar a pack.  I bought all 36 packs. Now, I am down to 17.

Vineyard summer house pictures taken about 20 years ago - Not good enough to scan or preserve, not bad enough to throw away. So here they stay.

And then there is the dear old friend who, while exceptionally generous to me, also mercilessly mocks the blog.  Evidence of this can be seen in how he addresses the envelopes.

He sends me photos of his newest acquisitions and interesting people that he knows/we know.

...was just featured in this article from the Bowdoin Orient.

And the wonderfully old fashioned post cards that I so love to receive.