In which I say TTFN to Philly

Tonight is my last night in the city of brotherly love -- and since I am an A+ procrastinator, I'm writing this blog post instead of actually putting my clothes in my suitcases. I'm kind of just hoping I can acquire telekinetic powers, blink, and my room will be packed. I'll let you know how that goes. Nevertheless, I'm going to do a recap of my favorite moments from the last few days, followed by the last installment (at least for now) of the Bromance of 1801.

So, some of my favorite moments this week included...
1) Going to another secret history salon and watching notable historians get progressively more tipsy whilst discussing loyalists in post-revolutionary America. Also, food of choice at said swanky get-together = doritos.

2) Today was a series of goodbyes, but my hands down favorite one was with my historian buddy (Mister Rogers). This conversation happened as he walked by my desk this morning.
HistorianBuddy: So....today's your last day.......bye.
Me: OH! Yea. Bye?
HB: *lingers around desk* So.......do you think you're going to grad school soon?
Me: *long rambling answer that basically said "I don't know"*
HB: Oh.....ok......well, come back soon. We'll miss you. *walks into office and closes door*

I was both confused and endeared.

3) All my favorite people at work decided to take me to out for happy hour today (woo being a quasi-adult!). They then gave me some goodbye gifts, which consisted of: a necklace, a cupcake AND cupcake case for future cupcakes I need to travel with, and a "Join, or Die" colonial political cartoon t-shirt.....may have been the best triumvirate of gifts ever received.

Now onto the final installment of the Bromance of 1801! I must admit, I've become oddly fond of Weems and Mathew, so I'm hoping I can write about them again soon. But, until then, I'll leave you with this last interlude, which happens to be the last letter Weems wrote to Mathew....at least until they rekindled things a few months later. Oh, the drama. This letter had many gems, my particular favorite being when he pulled a "we're like Brutus and Caesar!" but somehow tried to turn it into a good thing. It's unclear if Weems actually listened during history class. Nevertheless, here is the final paragraph of said goodbye letter....

Oct 5th, 1805
But though I trust I shall never cease to feel a joy, in secret, whenever I think of Mathew Carey and the smiles that brighten his face whenever I enter his dwelling, yet I deem it my duty to remind him of one fact which may dispose him at our coming settlement, to do me that justice which I believe ever to have been your wish. I said that you have been unjust and offensive to me – not intentionally, for my abandonment of everything to your integrity is proof that I never dream you capable of injuring me intentionally -- but efficiently, you certainly have.

Perhaps in the ultimate result, all things may work together for good to M. Carey and to M.L. Weems. Compliments to Mrs. Carey.

-ML Weems

And on that note, I leave you with an AHFOD! In reading random documents, I've come across a few words and phrases that I feel we need to bring back in 2010. Because, really, who wouldn't want to spice up their lexical toolbox with these unfortunately-forgotten 1830s phrases. I think I'll try to slip these into conversation on the plane tomorrow (I know, future-seat-neighbor, get excited.)

Huckleberry above a persimmon: a cut above
Example: Ben Franklin is a huckleberry above most people's persimmons.

Honeyfuggle: to deceive by flatter or sweet-talk.
Example: Politicians.


Talk with you from the left coast!

In which I have some updates.

It's March! Unclear how that happened, but apparently Philadelphia has decided that it will stop blizzarding for a few days, and pretend it's California in winter. That is, until it starts snowing again on Wednesday. Makes getting dressed in the morning a fun challenge.

Nevertheless, I have some kind of unfortunate updates. I've been starting to realize that, though Philly and my internship may be beneficial for my full initiation into historical nerd-dom, they may not be so great for the actual completion of my thesis (oh, that.). So, in an attempt to prioritize, I've decided to cut my internship a bit short, and head home this Saturday. I'm beyond bummed that I'll have to wrap up my projects at the archive (I may or may not have had a 'moment' whilst perusing some census documents today), but turning in a thesis I'm vaguely proud of is important. Also important = graduating. So, I'll be off to California to burrow in library books, and perhaps become less blindingly pale.

In case you were curious, I DO plan on continuing to blog, since I'll still be researching and amidst historical documents galore. And I'm having a hard time letting go of the AHFOD. So, if you still want to check in, I'll be here!

On that note, I decided to go to work today, so I can finish up my projects and enjoy a full last week at the archive. We're full swing in fellowship application season, so I helped today in the office with data entry of applications. And yes, it was as exciting as it sounds. But, I decided to play a little game (lesson #1 of only children).

All applications have project titles -- most fellows are PhD candidates finishing their dissertations -- and their title should be reflective of all the amazing research they have done and will do. And though all applicants have stellar backgrounds and stellar credentials, some titles were just plain unfortunate. As I perused over 150 applications, I started noticing a trend, which I have broken down below. While some titles were catchy, provocative, and smart, others were...well, not. Though I can't provide actual titles, I've established 4 categories that tended to be the most common, and examples of titles that would fit into them (note: these are not actual titles. I did in fact make these up...but I feel they capture the spirit of some of the actual project titles). Without further ado, I present the Titles: Bringing Smart People Trouble since 9th Grade awards. [Note: To be a legitimate academic work, my professor once told me that you must have two somewhat related phrases, connected by a colon. Wise words: I followed her advice.]

1) The "Uh huh. Uh huh. What?" category
Example: The Sole of the South: Exorcism and Shoe-making in Antebellum New Orleans

2) The "No, really, make this sound MORE thrilling" category
Example: Account Books, Pencils, and Erasers: A History of American Credit

3) The "Just....too much." category
Example: Mayhem, Crafts, Explosions, and Wenches: A History of Glitter, 1776-1860

4) The "Please, make it more obvious that this will only be circulated amidst academics" category
Example: Hegemonic Intertexuality Betwixt Bodies: A Geo-Historical Study of the Otherized Canine Community

Now, I leave you with an AHFOD! I was talking with one of the fellows the other day, and we got on the topic of yellow fever, as you do. Anyway, he told me that yellow fever may have been responsible for America being the vast country it is today. It was a pretty big deal at the turn of the 19th century (it killed over 10% of Philadelphia's population in a bad epidemic in 1793), and in 1802, it killed nearly 30,000 French soldiers in the French territories near New Orleans. Thinking it would be too costly and too much effort to maintain posts there, Napoleon sold the land for four cents an acre, doubling the size of the United States in what would become known as the Louisiana Purchase.

And with that, I'm off to my second historical salon/cult gathering tomorrow night - will most certainly report back.

In which I make a simple request

Dear Italian man who rides a vespa into center city,

Can we carpool?

Love,
That blonde girl you keep passing


P.S. I'm not actually doing renegade blogging -- we entered blizzard part THREE last night, so when I stepped outside this morning with my bedraggled attempt at an outfit and looming sore throat, and then saw my Italian friend zooming past, I decided to call it a day. I'm trying to convince myself this is in fact not "giving up" or "losing" but rather "being smart". However, as the kid who prides myself on the fact that I never missed more than two half-days from K-12th grade (half the fact I have freakish nordic genes and rarely get sick, half the fact that I loved school too much), it's a bit of a hard sell.

P.P.S. I realize that, in my haste, I forgot an AHFOD last time. The horror! SO, I'll make it up to you by giving you a super awesome one (again, "super awesome" in the context of historical facts, so...it's all relative). Nevertheless, as my thesis is on newspapers and I'm currently knee-deep in thesis-ing, this one will be newspaper themed: In case you were ever wondering, the terms "cliche" and "stereotype" actually come from the early printing days, and were synonymous back then. When a phrase or whole block of words was used repeatedly, printers would make a ready-made plate cast of the text, so they wouldn't have to set things letter-by-letter each time. So, any over-used phrase was then quickly called a "cliche"!

Anyway, just a penny for your thoughts. Here's hoping these blizzards won't continue to rain on my parade. I'm not holding my breath, but perhaps third time's a charm?

In which there are birthdays and bromance break-ups

For the 18 years that we've been friends, February 19th has been Queen Lauren day*. Because it usually fell during President's Week (mm I miss random vacations...), Queen Lauren "day" most often became Queen Lauren "week". But, sadly, as we are now in the quasi-real-world, the whole week thing doesn't really fly anymore, and we have to confine all sorts of merriment and queen-ness into 24 hours.

*In case that isn't clear, today is Lauren's birthday.
**Lauren is one of my oldest (long-term-est? whatever that phrase is) friends from home, and happens to be at Penn too. We have a weird habit of not straying particularly far from each other.

SO, tonight we're off to dress up fancy and inhale vats of melted cheese and chocolate (separate vats). We've always enjoyed that the least classy-sounding meals can turn into much classier-sounding restaurants when you call things "fondue".

But onto the archives! Today, once again, I had a run-in with Parson Weems and the ongoing saga of the Bromance of 1801 (which really, is no longer 1801, but 1803). And, unfortunately for Weems and Carey (but ever so entertaining for the rest of us), this Bromance is fast becoming a hot mess of epic proportions.

It seems that Weems got a little carried away with his own writing (the cherry-tree George Washington biography), and a little distracted from his actual job (vagabond book selling for Carey). He also somehow misplaced about $500. However, the most hilarious moments of 1803 involve Parson's many passionate attempts at quitting before he got dumped (...fired). It kind of becomes a case of the man who cried "I QUIT" but keeps writing you letters anyway. And, in this case, "letters" were really unsolicited monologues with over-the-top exclamations about the depths of his misery. As you can imagine, they are quite longwinded, and oftentimes nonsensical (I think he was rather overcome at the prospect of losing the man it seems was his only friend...). SO, I will offer you my two favorite snippets, which I feel capture the desperate tizzy of 1803, as Parson tried to hold onto a friendship (and a job) that was epically failing.

August 24th:
"Let me assure you that I never for a moment lose sight of your interest. Even now I am broiling on the red coals of torture on your account! Even now! I have so been for a fortnight."

Dec 7th:
"I shall lose much more than you are aware of, and very much more than I know you like that I should lose. I have greatly offended the Mount Vernon Family."*

*This was by far my favorite. Not only is it incredibly random, I enjoy that he thought "Mount Vernon Family" would somehow be less obvious than just saying "the President". Well played, Parson.

Nevertheless, I was a little distraught at the prospect of an absolute break-up (in his typical flair for drama, Parson opened every letter with "this will perhaps be my last..."), so I breezed ahead a few years (I've become oddly invested in their friendship), and can happily report that they patch things up in time. But, it's a bit of a bumpy road till then. More on that next time, in the next episode of (get ready for the newly expanded name) the On-Again-Off-Again Bromance of 1801 and Beyond.

In which I officially become a history nerd.

I have 2 very important developments to report on:

1) I've made a friend.
2) I may have been inducted into the most awesome secret society ever.

I feel these may require explaining. SO...

1) I have a new neighbor in my suite, and when she moved in....(drum roll) she smiled at me and said "hello!" Based on the lukewarm enthusiasm of the rest of my suitemates, I jumped at the opportunity to make a neighbor-friend. Desperate times, people. Turns out, we walk to the same part of the city in the morning, so she joined me yesterday (and she walks as fast as I do. She's a keeper.) She's Brazilian, works as a flight attendant, and is here for a month to improve her English for work. As we walked, I helped her with some new phrases. Somehow, our first English lesson involved me explaining what a "nerd" meant. Apparently pointing to the archive and then pointing to me didn't suffice. Nevertheless, she eventually caught on, and has decided that she'll cook me Brazilian food and I'll help her with homework. I may have added in the cooking bit. But, I'm liking the arrangement.

2) After work yesterday, I met up with my professor/grad student mentor from my fellowship this summer. He was in town, so we grabbed dinner, and then he took me to what has now become my nerdiest pastime ever: a secret historians gathering. It was in the house next door to the archive, and basically involved wine, cheese, and a few too many jokes about Ben Franklin. Lots of professors and grad students in the Philly/NY/DC area get together each month, location TBA, and have someone come and talk about their upcoming book or project. We sat in a candlelit living room, enjoyed some healthy intellectual sparring, and finished around 10. Though I didn't actually speak during the talk, I did awkwardly mill about in the beginning, jumping into conversations with things like "Hi-I'm-Casey-I'm-the-Library-Company-intern-and-I-was-a-fellow-there-this-summer" to somehow prove that I was legit enough to be there. I think it worked. That and I had a pencil in my hair.

And now onto the AHFOD! I've been doing some fun research on the artifacts in the collection, and I'm putting together an exhibit on neoclassical influence in Philly, which, surprisingly enough, is quite extensive. Little did I know, Philadelphia was once known as the "Athens of America" (Boston also claimed this title, but we'll just ignore that.) Starting in the 1810s, people complimented Philly for its classical architecture, and its longtime dedication to education and free public services (score one for B.Franks!) And, Philadelphia's nickname "brotherly love" is actually what "Philadelphia" means in Greek. So it all comes full circle! However, the whole Philly-is-just-like-a-beautiful-ancient-city thing didn't last long. Example: there was once an ad campaign in the 1970s to convince people that Philadelphia was worthy of visitors. Its slogan: "Philadelphia isn't as bad as Philadelphians say it is." Ah, how far we've come.

In which I learn how to spend a snow day (or three).

Hello from a brief blogging hiatus! Given my somewhat foreboding snowmaggedon-part-two post from last week, I gathered I should at least say that I am in fact a) in one piece and b) not frostbitten. Wednesday’s citywide snow day quickly turned into a Thursday snow day – and the Friday before a 3-day weekend then became a basic non-workday for any self-respecting lazy Philadelphian.

So, my Friday at the archive consisted of me awkwardly dawdling about as most people were stranded on various trains, and my Mister Rogers-historian going into a tizzy as he tried to figure out how to answer the phones (our front desk person was gone). Not a very historically productive day, but amusing nonetheless.

Since I haven’t really gone to work in a week (I’m rather giddy at the prospect of going back tomorrow. Strange, or awesome?), I’ll briefly summarize how I’ve ever so lazily managed to pass the time.

1) Lauren and I have quickly established this very basic equation for snow days/being camped indoors for more than 24 hours. Cereal + BBC/PBS Masterpiece Theatre, preferably of the Jane Austen variety + Cookie Dough + Naps + NPR’s Wait Wait Don’t Tell Me = MAGIC. It’s a wonderful thing.

2) A snow day when it’s not actually blizzarding is perhaps the most glorious invention ever. My friend Priya and I took our artsy cameras for a spin on Thursday, traipsed into West Philly, and stumbled upon an EPIC sledding hill. We decided to pretend we were either a) journalists or b) parents in order to justify the amount of pictures were taking of giddy sledding kids. It seemed less creepy when were amidst the jubilance.



3) I trekked up to New Haven to visit Sara and her friend Victoria for the weekend, and very shortly realized one thing: Victoria has an amazing ability to cook epic feasts, we have an amazing ability to eat them. We make quite the triumvirate. We also did classy things like see the opera and spend the whole weekend in the same clothes (that may have been just me).

And, in honor of today’s “holiday”, the AHFOD will be a fun fact about Presidents Day. Because of a Uniform Monday Holiday Act from the 70s, Presidents Day was moved to the 3rd Monday of February, and now never actually falls on George Washington’s birthday, the man it was intended to honor. Hooray! Nevertheless, each state acknowledges the holiday differently. Some, like Washington’s home state of Virginia, officially celebrate the day as “George Washington Day” instead of its now more generic counterpart. Massachusetts celebrates GW, along with all Massachusetts-born former presidents. My favorite, however, is Alabama, who decided to observe the day as “Washington and Jefferson Day.” Somehow Alabama missed the memo that Thomas Jefferson's birthday is, in fact, in April.

And with that...back to the archives tomorrow!