I am very excited about The Testament of Ann Lee, the new film about the Shaker founder, because its sounds like quite the experience and I am descended from a Shaker family. I know that sounds like an odd thing to say, because one of the most conspicuous characteristics of the Shakers is their celibacy, but my great great great grandfather James Valentine Calver sold off all his possessions and left his (rather large, I've seen it) home in Diss, England and traveled to America with his wife Susan and nine children, Ellen, Maria, Henry, James Jr., Thomas, William, twins Mariah and Jane, and Amelia, to take up residence near the Shaker community in New Lebanon, New York (generally called Mount Lebanon) in 1849.

Salem is not particularly known for its folk art, I think. The standard for craftsmanship during the later eighteenth and early nineteenth century was so high, and production so prolific, that the curatorial and collecting emphasis always seems to be on the best and the brightest of the decorative arts rather than the more idiosyncratic. But I'm always looking for interesting examples of folk art, and every once in a while I do a round-up of samplers, silhouettes and signs.

You hear my title phrase all the time in Salem now, with increasing frequency. It's a way to acknowledge the fact that residents of Salem have to (or want to): go to work, drive to their appointments, take their kids to school, walk along the sidewalk or sit on their front stoops in the prolonged Halloween season of September and October (and a bit of November, and.......) when a million people shuffle around our very small city taking pictures of each other.

I've engaged in lots of different history here: a lot of public, some world, American and European, but above all, local. I'm always looking for new ways to delve into and present local history. I follow the sources, I chase down new perspectives and approaches whenever I catch a trail, and because I'm operating in a digital world, I always look for striking visuals.

The Historic New England season is closing this Columbus/Indigenous People's Day weekend and as I am up in York Harbor, I went to visit one of HNE's oldest houses (both in terms of sheer vintage and time under its stewardship): the Jackson House in Portsmouth, built circa 1664. This is an extraordinary house: I'm sorry to be posting at this time when you won't be able to visit it until next June, because I'd really like to urge everyone reading to go.

This post is about the work of a venerable but new-to-me graphic designer, Seymour Chwast, but before I get to him I have to explain how I got to him. If you have been reading the blog over the past year or so, you might have perceived that I have become mildly obsessed with two images associated with Salem: the official Salem City Seal with its Sumatran trader, now likely on its way out after 180 years or so, and more recently a cartoon cat mascot chosen by the Mayor of Salem and the Salem 400+ Committee to represent our city's "unique identity" for our upcoming Quadricentennial.

I had some obligations here in Salem so could not leave the Witch City for the weekend, but I did spend yesterday driving around a little part of our county stopping in at open houses for the annual Essex Heritage Trails and Sails event series, which features an array of heritage, cultural and nature events over three weekends every September.

I had yet another "symbol trauma" (I have no other way to refer to it) on Friday when people starting sending me images of little anime cats with notes indicating that this was the new official mascot for Salem's 400th commemoration, Salem 400+. Was this a joke? Apparently not. Here's the press release text and the cat (in front of 1910 City Hall just to emphasize his/her official status).

I wrote the chapter on Salem's Colonial Revival movement in our forthcoming book Salem's Centuries, an effort that I think was pretty ballsy given that I am neither an American historican or an art/architectural historian. You can be sure that I had both types of experts read it before submission and it has been peer-reviewed several times before publication! I felt confident because I took a biographical and cultural history approach, utilizing the work and lives of Salem exemplars Frank Cousins, Mary Harrod Northend, George Francis Dow, and Caroline Emmerton.

Last week I was thinking about all the things that annoy or concern me about Salem now, and the list seemed endless, which depressed me, and then I suddenly thought, why don't I focus on the things that I love about Salem so I won't be so depressed? This seemed like a good idea, and an easy realignment. Why did I move to Salem?

The stars seem to have aligned and I am all set for a fall full of reading. Salem's Centuries is in production (and out on January 6), my new saffron project hasn't taken flight yet, and I have a course release for the semester. I've written two books in five years and now is the time to ingest. Escaping into book worlds is another way of avoiding my least favorite season in Salem as well.

Sorry for the longer time between posts; I generally try (and succeed!) to post once a week but I was on vacation up in Maine and forgot my power cord, which might have been a good thing. I had my Fall Reading List all ready to post, but now I think I'll save that for next week and just post my Maine pictures this week.

Last week was a little challenging here in Salem, with news of two local businesses closing: one decades old, the other an extremely popular retail shop which caters to residents rather than tourists. Such businesses seem fewer and fewer present along the streets of Salem, and it's a bit disheartening. The slide towards all-year-long Halloween seems relentless, at least to me, and you can see little black witch hats everywhere you walk even on the hottest days of summer.

I had a more substantive post planned for this week but I took a little detour and so here I am with menus. I started to write about my experience as a tour guide at the Phillips House of Historic New England, as I'm in my second year and I thought it was time for some reflection. But in doing so, I became fixated on a moment during my tour (well during all of my colleagues' tours, I'm sure, as it's definitely a great device) when I show our guests a menu from July 1919 in order to interpret both the dining room and one of the ways in which the household…

This is one of those "writing it out" posts. It starts out with confusion in the hope that I can work it out, but I may not so it might end in confusion as well. I'm confused about the symbolism of pineapples. Of course everyone knows that pineapples represent "hospitality," but do they really? What else might they represent? I started out with the question as to whether pineapples are Colonial or Colonial Revival, and it seems that that they are both.

This week marks the 100th anniversary of the opening of the Hawthorne Hotel, which has been the center of so much of Salem's  social and civic life for a century. One thinks of a hotel as a place for visitors, and I suppose that has been the Hawthorne's primary function, but its hospitality has long been extended to Salem residents as well through its many public spaces and busy calendar.

I met several work deadlines last week so now it's officially summer road trip season: about time! So yesterday I drove south to Rhode Island to see a very distinct form of its early architecture: stone enders. This is a very descriptive term: stone enders are late 17th century houses which feature one exterior and interior wall consisting entirely of an expansive side chimney.

I'm in the history business, so I rarely dwell on visions, unless they are in the rear-view mirror. But last week I happened to take two photographs while running around in downtown Salem, and when I looked at them later on my phone I realized that they represented two visions for Salem, at least to me. Here they are and then I'll explain.