Monthly Archives: May 2019

We Were There: A Visit to “You Are Here,” in Jeannette, PA

#YouAreHere, travel, ,

Jeannette, Pennsylvania is a small city east of Pittsburgh, which I probably never would have even considered visiting before. But, then, at a meeting of Pennsylvania folklorists last year, a friend and colleague formerly from Arlington, Mary Briggs, reported on the community art space she was involved in downtown Jeannette called “You Are Here.” And, I wanted to be there.

Downtown Jeannette

It took about a year, but I finally achieved that goal this past week. I brought with me my husband (who said, more than once I think, “Why are we going to Jeannette again?”) and three boxes of used but serviceable art supplies for their resale shop.

Mary greeted us at the door of the narrow storefront on the main drag, and introduced us to her “partner in crime,” Jen Costello, and they gave us the tour. The first thing one notices in the entryway is a colorful display of carved and painted canes, part of the “Lean on Me” project that Jen initiated to provide canes to those in need, mostly the elderly. The canes are works of art and stories in themselves, and are often customized for their new owners.

  • Carved canes, each one unique.
  • Gallery space featuring work of local artist Larry Beaver.
  • Mary looks through my donation of used art supplies.
  • Jen shows off one of her favorite canes.

The second thing you notice is a big chalkboard with upcoming events: gallery openings, free movie showings, classes and workshops, and other fun stuff. (Mary joked about their taste in movies, reflected in the most recent offerings, “The Blob” and “Son of the Blob.”) Next up, the gallery, an open space that doubles for movie showing and other public events.

Tucked behind the gallery is the resale shop, whose name further illustrates the quirky humor of Mary and Jen – it is called “Oh, Scrap!” At the very end of the row is office space and a couple of small artist studios. The second floor, which is undeveloped so far, will eventually hold a couple of apartments for artists.

In short, there is a lot of “there” at You Are Here. If you find yourself in southwestern Pennsylvania, you should go there, too.

Yarn bombed parking meter out front.

Ramping it Up in West Virginia

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When we told the uninitiated that we were going to attend a “ramp dinner” in West Virginia a few weeks ago, they looked at us funny. “How can you make a dinner out of a ramp?” my husband asked, thinking of those slanty metal things that you use as an alternative to stairs.

Ramps, for those of you who also don’t know, are a type of wild leek found in the hills of Appalachia, in some of the same places you find ginseng. They are not worth as much money, but they are tasty and becoming a delicacy that fetch fancy prices in gourmet circles. But for most West Virginia’s, they are just an edible sign of spring and a way for some local organizations to stage a fundraiser.

My intrepid fellow traveler, Arlene, and I set off on a rainy Sunday morning from my house in Arlington, VA, speeding toward Bomont, West Virginia to make it to the ramp dinner at the H.E. White Elementary School before all the food ran out. When we pulled up in our rented VW bug convertible (it was the only compact car the rental agency had left), there were hardly any parking spaces left in and around the school. We knew we were in the right place, because: 1. Bomont is a very small, 2. There was a very large “Ramp Dinner” sign attached to the chain link fence of the school’s playground.

We payed our $10 and got in line for our ramp feast: ramps sauteed in bacon fat, ramps in fried potatoes, and a host of accompaniments, washed down with sweet or unsweet sassafras tea. We chatted up some locals, and soon our friend and colleague, Emily, who lives and works in Charleston, joined us. (Read more about her in my entry on Helvetia.)

We were in ramp heaven! Since we were going to be traveling around WV for the next few days, we were not tempted to bid on the leftover raw ramps which got auctioned off toward the end of the dinner. But, later in the trip, near Elkins, we did come across a large sign along the highway, outside an outdoor store: “Ramps Now Available.” Arlene doubted that they meant the edible kind, but we turned around to investigate anyhow. There, in the glass-fronted refrigerator in the corner, were plastic garbage bags full of the kind of ramps we still craved and wanted to try cooking ourselves.

In downtown Elkins, we noticed more ramp evidence on several t-shirts on display or offered for sale at some of the shops, one stating that “ramps don’t smell, people do.” As we had found out from eating big helpings in Bomont, ramps do cause you to – how do I say this delicately? – emit smelly fumes after their consumption.

Regardless, we highly recommend them. I sauteed mine in butter, not being a really big bacon fat fan, and scrambled some of them with eggs. Yum. Also, thanks to Marion Harless the “herbarist” we visited and interviewed before returning home, I learned the rudiments of planting the bulbs, which are now safely nestled under shrubs in my backyard. Tune in a couple of years from now to see if the ramp saga continues on home turf.

Swiss Sojourn in West Virginia

#HelvetiaWV, tourism, ,

West Virginia may seem like an unlikely place for a tiny Swiss American town. But, as a folklorist, I often expect the unexpected. Cultural adventures that might surprise other people don’t faze me and my colleagues.

So, it was with delight that my friend and colleague Arlene and I set off, after interviewing ginseng trader Tony Coffman, for an evening in tiny Helvetia, WV, which was a stopover highly recommended by former Smithsonian co-worker and current head of the WV Folklife Program, Emily Hilliard. Emily was so excited about our visit to Helvetia that she helped, via email, to rally a bevvy of locals, which led to an impromptu creek-side party.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. First, we had to make sure to reach the town before five p.m., when the Kultur Haus (sort of general store and museum, as well as post office, rolled into one) closes for the evening, and in order to have enough time to eat dinner before six, when the Hutte (the town restaurant) shuts down for the night. The Kultur Haus is the home of a charming collection of Fasnacht masks – well, if you find giant leering faces and fancifully menacing creatures charming. Fasnacht is the Swiss answer to Mardi Gras, and during that wintry celebration, hundreds of people descend upon Helvetia.

But it was sunny and warm on this May evening as we parked near our abode for the night, the Beekeeper Inn, and there was hardly another person in sight as we took the short walk between the historic wooden buildings. After visiting the Kultur Haus, we settled into our dining experience. We met the keeper of the town web site, Dave Whipp, for dinner and he offered advice on menu choices, historic background on the town, and told us stories about some of the inhabitants, past and present. I had homemade sausage, which was covered in tasty tomato sauce and accompanied by sauerkraut, a potato pancake, and hot apple sauce. Arlene went for the bratwurst. Just when we thought we could eat no more, we surrendered to warm buttery peach cobbler.

Rolling out of the restaurant, we walked the short distance back to the Beekeeper and were greeted by Clara Lehmann and her husband Jonathan Lacoque, filmmakers, and their five year old twins, and Clara’s mom Heidi. Clara grew up in Helvetia, went away for awhile, but returned to raise her family. Thanks to the internet (which apparently they get there, although cell service was blissfully nonexistent for us during our whole visit), they can do work from this most isolated spot for big clients like Google. They are currently putting the finishing touches on a film about her grandmother, one of the biggest movers and shakers and promoters of Helvetia, who passed away recently.

Soon we were joined by the next door neighbors, a concert pianist/composer (originally from England), and his wife, a nurse (originally from Louisiana). Wine, beer, more food materialized, and the cheerful conversation punctuated by the babble of the creek stretched until darkness, the evening chill and some early mosquitos drove everyone toward warm beds.

The next morning, a sumptuous breakfast at the Hutte set us up for the whole rest of the day. Reluctantly, we pried ourselves away from the table and left for more West Virginia adventures. But the memory of the good company, local charm, and global connections lingers on. Aufwiedersehen, Helvetia. Hope to be back some day. There are still plenty of choices on the menu of the Hutte to try!

Arlene resorts to reading the paper map over breakfast.
  • Some of the many Fastnatch masks at the Kultur Haus.
  • View of the Beekeeper Inn from the Hutte.
  • One of the Hutte room views.

Museum Moments in Western Massachusetts

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I am privileged to have some old women friends (literally, now) who date back to high school, and even most of them to elementary school. It’s a small group, and we have done very different things with our lives, but we still enjoy getting together, doing stuff, and laughing over a few glasses of wine when we can manage to find a weekend to gather.

Back in late April, six of us converged at our friend Linda’s home in Western Massachusetts. We had all sorts of great plans to go on a hike, sit on her back porch, etc. but the weather was rainy and in the 40s. (At one point it even started spitting snow.) So much for the out of doors. Instead, we visited a couple of museums. And ate a lot. And drank more wine.

First up, the Norman Rockwell Museum in Stockbridge. The iconic portrait artists spent the last part of his career and life in this quaint Western Mass town, and this large spiffy museum has an impressive collection of his work. A separate building houses his studio. Special exhibitions highlight other American artists – when we visited, one of my personal heroes, Rube Goldberg, was also celebrated in a smallish side gallery.

One of Norman’s most popular paintings (at least for Stockbridge fans) is a Christmastime portrait of the town of Stockbridge, which is located a few miles down the road from the museum. He took some liberties in painting in the local mountains, which cannot actually be viewed from downtown, and also included a couple of buildings that are not really visible from the vantage point of the painting. But, otherwise, as witnessed by my own attempt to capture the town photographically, it was an accurate depiction. We ate lunch at the Red Lion Inn‘s pub, a step back in time for sure.

After an evening of camaraderie, and making plans for our next gathering, most of our party split for their respective homes in Vermont or Virginia, leaving only three of us to find a still-rainy day Sunday occupation. We decided (by process of elimination, since most local attractions were either not open for the season or not open on Sundays) to visit the Berkshire Museum in Pittsfield.

This is a very eclectic collection of art, history, and nature, which includes an aquarium in the basement, and a huge open room in on the second floor featuring a sort of “cabinet of curiosities” highlighting their vast holdings of – well – miscellany. Mummies vie with moose heads, full sized plaster reproductions of famous works of art like the Winged Victory, and a few examples of Bragg Boxes, a sort of early educational kit developed by the museum’s first director, “who believed that museums hold the power to educate and uplift the masses.”

I was personally uplifted by a multi-room exhibition of the machines of Leonardo daVinci, also inhabiting the second floor until next September. Leonardo is another of my personal heroes, and although most of these machine models were instruments of war, they were fun nonetheless. Many were working models that one could try cranking, lifting, or otherwise manipulating, which delighted visitors of all ages.

Good friends, good museums, and a great weekend all around. Here are some photographic highlights.

  • Norman’s view of downtown Stockbridge
  • My own attempt to capture the same scene.
  • Old friends looking cold outside Rockwell’s studio.
  • Posing in front of Leonardo’s elegant tank.