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 am deleting my Facebook account.

There’s been a lot lot of noise about privacy and what have you on the Web, and I really don’t feel the need to add anything to what anyone else says. They’re a company; they sell information–and that’s life in the 21st century. The myth of privacy at this point is just that: a myth. To be really honest, I don’t know how much that bothers me. What does bother me, however, is that I’ve noticed a huge surge in spam since I signed up for the service. Stupid me for not using a junk e-mail address. Now I’m not saying that they are the reason my e-mail address has been released into the hands of spammers–but I have noticed that in their Privacy Policy , they do not, at any point, ever, nowhere, nohow state, “We do not sell your e-mail addresses.” What they say is:

Facebook is about sharing information with others — friends and people in your networks — while providing you with privacy settings that restrict other users from accessing your information. We allow you to choose the information you provide to friends and networks through Facebook. Our network architecture and your privacy settings allow you to make informed choices about who has access to your information. We do not provide contact information to third party marketers without your permission.

What that says to me is that you have to jump through hoops to make sure your e-mail address isn’t sold. And I’m pretty sure I set my privacy settings at a high enough level–though it was long enough ago that I don’t remember.

And here’s the thing: I don’t like Facebook enough to deal with it. As I mentioned a few posts ago, I have, like, zero interest in being a werewolf or a vampire, I don’t want to fly some fighter jet, and I think writing on someone’s wall is a complete and utter waste of time. And trust me when I say that I’m really good at wasting time without someone else’s help.

it may seem like I’m a naysayer, but that’s not it at all. I love technology as much as the next person. Here I am, after all, blogging. I write about technology (granted for pay). And maybe that’s the point: I’m freelance, which means that I spend the majority of my workdays sitting alone in the shack in front of a computer. 90 percent of my communication during the average day is by e-mail. I work with people I’ve never talked to on the phone, much less met in person. I don’t complain–indeed, it’s a-okay with me. But free time? Well, I don’t want to write on someone’s wall.

Facebook puzzles me because it doesn’t have a clear purpose. I mean, linkedin connects business people; youtube lets you post videos; flickr is for photos. Facebook rolls a whole bunch of functions into one uber site, and while yeah, it’s the natural progression technologically-speaking, I think in some ways social networking has become a concrete example of the way technology has fractured interpersonal relationships. It’s bad enough when I tell Steve to e-mail me his racing schedule when he lives in the same house. It’s worse when the only time I hear from people that I’d like to hear from is when they invite me to plant a peapatch. Or whatever. The point is that yes, I’m now in contact with friends I haven’t heard from in a long time–but when it comes down to it, I’m not really in touch at all. Instead, I’m still sitting in front of my computer without any real connection to who they are as people.

I got cocky.

For a couple of months, it’s seemed like the area over my eyebrows is a little lighter again, and I have studiously been avoiding it–but dreading getting tan in the summer all the same. Now it looks like it may be getting worse, and to make matters even more distressing, there’s some hyperpigmentation above the lighter areas. It doesn’t look all that bad to anyone but me. With my hyphochondriac tendencies, however, I am stressed over it.

It’s also interesting because I’ve been very stressed and overworked for the past couple of months, and it seems like some of the spots (under my left arm, one spot in an unmentionable space) that were closing in have expanded again. Again, it’s not that big a deal, but I do wonder about the role of stress. I also have not been consistent with taking my supplements every day; I probably average about 3 or 4 times a week. So I need to be better about that.

I hate this thing. I keep telling myself that what I have is minor–and it’s true–but I still feel as though my body has betrayed me. I have always been a little bit of a hypochondriac, but I find that I’m really stressing out over pretty much anything that seems out of the ordinary. I wonder how much of the vit anxiety I’ve transferred to other things, and I need to redirect all this energy that I spend on fretting to something more productive. I just don’t know how.

Now doesn’t THAT sound all art gallery-ish.

I have a ton of unframed prints I haven’t posted up at the house. Those that come with frames, I lug down to the shack and put up on the many bare walls. Which is where I am, and where my digital camera is, so ….

Eichii Kotozuka. I’m not a huge fan, with the exception of a couple of prints. She looks so young and tense, and the way her kimono is depicted is lovely. That said, if this hadn’t been dirt cheap, I probably wouldn’t have bought it:

Another one I wouldn’t have bought if it hadn’t been dirt cheap. But I have another print with a girl and rabbit, and it appealed to my whimsy to have two. The frame and glass are terrible, but the print itself is in good shape, notwithstanding the fact that someone folded the margins to make it fit in the frame. It looks much better outside the frame–but I have other prints I would rather spend money on framing, so back in it went.
Oh yes, this is Shuzo Ikeda.

Sometimes, one (that is the royal one, one understands) does not pay very close attention to the size of what one is bidding on–and one ends up paying a lot for two little “nothing” prints rather than not very much for two prints one knows nothing about but likes.

Sigh. I love Toshi Yoshida’s less representational stuff. Pencil titled, signed, and dated 1954. It needs to be reframed at some point, but I rather like it as is:

Nor do I want to be a werewolf, a slayer, a fleet commander, or santa. I do not want to plant a green patch or get a free aircraft. I don’t really care all that much about six degrees of separation or solving other people’s online jigsaw puzzles. This is all to say that Facebook is great for getting back in touch with people, but I’d rather stay in touch the “old-fashioned way.” Yep, send me an e-mail.

She has the rather unfortunate name of Peaches, but she’s really a love.

Tramp stamp: This is what all the guys on Steve’s construction site call those big tattoos that cover a woman’s lower back. Sadly, this came about because of the “base girl,” a woman whose job is to install base trim, and who is obviously always bending over. The cause is not helped by the fact that she’s a retired stripper.

I was going to write a post about my adventures in shackitude, namely the 50 bazillion cars in front of the apartment building next door and the almost constant traffic. I think I’ll bypass all that for now, and cut a long story short. I wasn’t there–had left about an hour before–but there were shots, a police officer hit, and a hole in one of my windows that went straight through the curtain and straight into the opposite wall.

I have actually let a whole month go by without blogging. Actually, I’m pretty sure it’s longer than a month, but I’ve been focusing on the fact that my February 2008 listing in the archives will be … missing. Oh well, such is life. And life is good. The shack is shacky (more on that later). The kitchen is still far from being finished. Steve put two windows in my former office, but other than that, it’s still down to the studs. The dog is cute and furry. Steve is cute and furry too because he’s growing a beard. My soapmaking obsession continues, which means that my essential oil threshold (i.e., the most I am willing to spend for a single oil) just keeps increasing. Anyway, I’ve been working all day and my eyes are starting to blur; it’s time to rouse the snoring pug and go for a walk. Good night, sweet blog, good night.

(I hope not, but it seemed a fitting end.)

I slung my briefcase over my shoulder this morning, whistled for the dog, and commuted down the alley.

This white thing is the official Chez Munshi Shack:

Admittedly, every time I come to the front door, I feel like I’m being incarcerated:

But it’s not so bad when you walk in:

Hard at work:

Within 20 minutes of moving out of my office–and we’re talking about before my body heat even dissipated, Mr. Demo started his favorite thing.

I still have to get curtains up, finish hanging pictures, rearrange rugs, etc. But it’s starting to be quite habitable.

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.

Arthur Blume is a mediocre creative writing professor–and an accomplished serial murderer. The novel takes the form of his “true record” after he has been caught and is in prison; Blume is outraged that he is depicted as a monster even though he calmy states that he has killed 17 people and attempts to set the record straight. Alternating between his childhood with a psychotic mother and the story that precipitates his being arrested, it’s well-paced and thoroughly creepy. Blume is a cold, punctilious man, yet we still have sympathy for him. Ironically, it is Kinder’s success in depicting him that brings her into dangerous territory; it invites comparisons to that ultimate in sympathetic villainy, Humbert Humbert. And of course, one loses. His voice sometimes falters too, particularly when it comes to talking about women, and I couldn’t help but imagine the author sitting at a desk at a loss for words. Indeed, the footnote explaining the typical behaviors of serial killers shed a better light than his own explanation. But credit where credit is due: It must be hard to get into character, and 90 percent of the time, this is convincing.

I think this might be the year that I get back into blogging regularly. I kind of lost patience last year, for a variety of reasons. But now I have a new three-column template that I’m finally happy about (except for the fact that it has fixed columns)–and I’ve decided that I’m going to start posting book reviews again. And of course, I have this huge backlog that looms larger every week. So first, I need to play some catch up.

Last year, there was a plethora of books about England, starting with Edward Rutherford. He writes these long, sprawling tomes that span centuries. They’re a little like Valerie Anand’s Bridges of Time series , only in a single volume. I started with The Forest, continued with Sarum, plodded through London, and then lost all patience with The Princes of Ireland: The Dublin Saga (which I include here despite the fact that it’s not England). Reading these is fun and like a little history refresher–but they’re also disjointed because they consist of a story in this time period, then a story in the next, and so on. Some of the sections are really short, and I often felt that just as I was getting into them, they were over.

Anyway, I then read my way through a whole bunch more books set somewhere in the long span of English history. Philippa Gregory, Diane Norman, and so on and so forth. They were fun and entertaining, but not really much more than that.

Two stand out.

First, Tom Bedlam: A Novel (George Hagen), which tells the improbable, but no less compelling for it, story of a Victorian boy who starts out as the son of a factory worker who is plucked from obscurity by his grandfather, educated, sent to medical school, and eventually ends up in South Africa. I enjoyed this Dickensian story mainly because I really grew to like the characters. It didn’t even bother me that Tom’s later years aren’t nearly as informed by his early ones as they should have been.

Second, Mistress of the Art of Death (Ariana Franklin), which managed to be both a thriller and historical novel–as well as surprisingly literate for either genre because it starts off with a twist on the Canterbury Tales. When children are brutally murdered, people start accusing the Jews–auguring ill for the crown’s coffers. Henry II sends off the Salerno for the best coroner in order to determine who the murderer really is. And instead of a man, they get a woman. The 25-year old Adelia sets of for England under some duress, and she finds the place to be brutal. England is not sure what to make of her either. Of course, she solves the mystery, finds some love along the way, and pretty much every other plot point required–but this was very fun and truly a joy to read.

of my home office.

I’ve had such fun saying that with a pregnant pause and watching the perplexity on people’s faces because I sound so happy about it.

He’s been making this push for a couple of months, and I’ve been resisting. About a month ago, we were sitting in the hot tub, and he brought it up again. I, as usual, resisted. But he was getting more and more frustrated. First, our house is small and he feels cramped, because he really doesn’t have a place of his own. Which is completely fair. Second, his Mr. Demo-ness has been thwarted, because more than anything, he wants to start tearing into the walls in the bedrooms–and he can’t when one is a bedroom and one is my office.

The thing is, 90 percent about what I like about working for myself is being here–being able to work, then futz around the house, work some more, run errands, go to the gym, whatever. He kept on saying that I need to get over that … and drive somewhere. That was a complete non-negotiable for me. If I had to drive somewhere, I’d still end up working from home–only much less comfortably.

What to do?

I was driving home one day and passed the shack right around the corner that’s been for rent for ages. A light bulb went off.

Long story short, the owner has rented it to me. He’s thrilled to get someone with good credit who won’t deface the walls. I’m thrilled that my commute now consists of walking down the alley. It’s a great solution all the way around. And while the house is nothing on the outside, it’s perfectly functional on the inside. Nothing special, but I’m feeling pretty spoiled that I’ve managed to get a 770 square foot house for about the cost of renting a decent office somewhere (if not less). It’s a great solution on a variety of fronts. First, it’s an office space. Second, it has two bedrooms. I can sublet one if I want, and anyone who comes to stay with us can stay down there. Third, it has a kitchen that I can devote to soaping.

I’m in the process of moving this week; should be completely set up next. Will post pix soon.

NOOOOOOOO…..

Now I don’t sell soap, but wouldn’t these be great Pug Sudz product shots?

Mr Demo didn’t like the old windows he installed, so he put in new ones. It’s hard to tell from my pictures, but this is a huge improvement. I didn’t even mind the old ones, but then again, I didn’t have the vision. As I keep being reminded.

And while I’m uploading pictures, here’s a snap of Harry on Christmas. The ribbon traumatized him.