Musings about life, love and genealogy.

Saturday, August 23, 2014

A Picture is Worth... Two Cents?

One of the saddest things I do is wander antique stores and find boxes of discarded ancestors, those tintypes, dauerreotypes, cdv and cabinet card photos of the names relatives some genealogist will never know. These men, women and children, unnamed and unknown, languish and wait for some creative crafter to snap them up and use them as art. As a crafter who has done just that, they are a great resource; as a genealogical researcher, I wish more people had A.) identified these relatives, B.) dated the photos and C.) saved them for future generations.

In the 1860’s, when the first practical paper photographs were developed, Matthew Brady, one of the most celebrated 19th century American photographers, and his counterparts made photography affordable for the masses. The American public and Civil War soldiers flocked to the small Main Street studios to capture their likenesses as keepsakes for loved ones, leaving behind an extremely valuable record of their anonymous, if not invisible, lives.

During the Civil War, a wide variety of revenue taxes were imposed to help pay for the war effort, and in 1864, as the war raged on, Congress passed an act that also taxed photographs, ambrotypes, and daguerreotypes.

From 1 Aug 1864 to 1 Aug 1866, tax stamps were required on all photographs. Photographers were instructed to affix a revenue stamp of the appropriate denomination, determined by how much the purchaser paid for the image, to the back of each photograph, then cancel the stamp with their initials and the date. Tax stamps came in varying denominations but the most common stamps were the 2 cent and 3 cent stamps because most cdv's and tintypes cost between 25 cents and 50 cents.

The boom of the cdv photo made this very profitable for the North, as the new 'multiplying' camera, with nine or more lenses, could produce as many photographs with a single click. Any number of exact copies of the same image could be produced from the original glass plate negative, and photographers advertised discount prices for purchases by the dozen.

However, it was the same duplicity of photographs that made affixing revenue stamps time consuming, and many photographers took short cuts, like canceling the stamp with an “X” instead of their initials and date, or pre-cancelling entire sheets before they were even affixed to the photographs. It is also plausible that some photographers may have stopped using the stamps at all to save money, if they thought they could get away with it.

In 1865, Congress reduced the tax on images costing less than 10 cents to a 1 cent tax. The tax on photographs was repealed in 1865 and tax stamps on photographs were no longer required.

While the presence of a tax stamp narrows the likely date-range for the image, the absence of one is not necessarily proof that the photograph falls outside the 1864-1866 time frame. Stamps often fell off, or were removed by stamp collectors. Sometimes only a discolored stain remains where a stamp used to be, but other times there is no visible evidence. And since the Confederacy did not impose a tax on photographs, pictures taken in those states did not have a stamp.

Moral of the story - the sharpest minds and the most brilliant photographs both fade. Identify the smiling faces and date your pictures. Future generations will thank you for it.

Saturday, July 19, 2014

This Onion's the Bomb!

I’m at the end of week three of my diet and I’m happy to report I’m down 14.5 pounds. I’ve definitely eaten more vegetables in the last three weeks than I probably have in the last 3 months, I don’t miss the carbs, and Jason and I are eating healthier overall. I will admit, I did long for a glass of wine while out with co-workers last week, but opted for water with lemon instead.

So, in the category of eating healthier, I’ve found better ways to use spices (I’ll post a homemade chili spice recipe shortly), have tried about 6 different non-dairy coleslaw recipes and am constantly on the lookout for new opportunities for chicken and turkey.

And then this bomb dropped. Well, figuratively anyway.

I found the recipe for Grilled Onion Bombs on Sweet Pennies From Heaven, It seemed simple enough, and since the grill is the cooking device of choice these days, I figured what the heck. If all else failed, there was an emergency turkey burger backup in the fridge. The original recipe called for catsup, bread and more than a cup of cheese, so I made some modifications to work with my diet.

 

Ingredients

  • 1 large onion
  • 1 lb. ground turkey (the original called for beef)
  • 1/2 clove of garlic finely chopped (or 1 tsp of minced garlic)
  • 2 tblsp. Worcestershire sauce (This was my substitute for catsup)
  • 1/2 tsp. onion powder
  • 1/2 tsp. paprika
  • 1/2tsp. parsley
  • 1 bag IP garlic & herb chips crushed (Replacing the saltines and bread)
  • Salt and pepper to taste

I thought about throwing some Frank’s Red Hot sauce in there because like the commercial says, I do put that s*** on everything, but since Jason doesn’t share my enthusiasm for all things spicy, I decided I’d add it to mine after it came off the grill.

The process is easy and makes 6 nice sized bombs:
1. Mix the meat and all the other ingredients together until well combined
2. Create large meatballs with the mixture
3. Cut onion in half and then in half again
4. Cover each meatball tightly with onion quarters
5. Wrap each onion bomb individually in aluminum foil, leaving a little stem at the top (for gripping)
6. Grill 8 minutes, flip and grill another 8 minutes longer.

Keep a close eye on them to make sure they're not overcooking. Once the meat is cooked through, they're ready to serve.

These little puppies came off the grill piping hot and juicy, the onion soft and fragrant and mmm, mmm good. As planned, I added some hot sauce to mine for extra kick and served them with a great green salad chock full of veggies.

This bomb definitely was not a dud!

Sunday, July 6, 2014

An Ideal Diet?

July 6, 2014

I’ve wrestled with my weight most of my adult life, and the evils of menopause have only made a bad situation worse. For years, I’ve been telling people I’m still losing baby weight. Of course, my baby is 28.

In my early 20’s, struggling with the stress of a less than optimal marriage and a small child, I faded to 105 lbs. which prompted both my mother the nurse and my Italian grandmother, each drawing on their own rationale and wisdom, to declare me anorexic.

Grandma’s cooking and two more kids later, I was a comfortable 130 pounds. A size six and a perfect 7-1/2 shoe. My confidence was high, closet was full, and both Grandma and Mom were off my back. As the years piled on, so did the pounds; my weight fluctuated like the seasons and the fashions I could and couldn’t wear. There were shining moments of victory – a 25 lb. loss for my second wedding and years later, the same 25 for my daughter’s wedding, but like a bad penny, those pounds kept coming back and they started to bring friends. Sure, I could have eaten better and exercised more, but I was enjoying life. (Did I mention an Italian grandmother? Food is like oxygen.) They say the view from rearview mirror is always 20/20; sadly, the view of my backside was bigger.

Trust me, I’ve tried every exercise option, pill and diet out there – Atkins, South Beach, Weight Watchers, Billy Blanks Tae Bo, Curves and more (thankfully, I don’t have to suffer the embarrassment of admitting I ordered a Suzanne Sommers Thigh Master or a Richard Simmons ‘Sweating to the Oldies’ video), but I couldn’t seemed to escape the pendulum swing of numbers flashing at me from the bathroom scale. I know there is no magic bullet - losing weight and maintaining that loss is about lifestyle and exercise – but a girl can hope, can’t she?

But right now, hope – high hopes actually- is what I have. I ran into a colleague at work one day, someone I don’t see all the time, but immediately recognized that something was very different about her, even in the dim lighting of the stairwell (another exercise option – stairs instead of the elevator). She was glowing and I commented that she looked great. “I hope so,” she giggled. “I’ve lost 37 pounds.”

What?!?!?! And then she told me she did it in 6 weeks. Without exercise. What?!?!?!?

I begged her for her secret. Ideal Protein, she told me, and sent me the information. Jason and I were leaving on vacation the next day, so it wasn’t the best time to start a diet, but we got back home on Thursday and I made the phone call on Friday.

The program focuses on cutting out carbs (and wine, sadly) while increasing your veggies and protein intake. Sure, you’ve got to buy their food to support the process, but seeing someone I knew as a live success story, I was willing to try it. In my first full week, I’m down 8 lbs. I’ve got more energy, my skin looks wonderful (all the water you need to drink) and I’m more than excited about the results. All the food I’ve tried, with the exception of the herb and cheese omelet – powdered eggs are powdered eggs, even if you try to doctor them with your own veggies – has been palatable, and dare I say in some instances, actually good. I’m not starving, I don’t feel deprived, and I may even get back on the treadclimber to help expedite the process.

And as a reward for good behavior, at the end of each week, I add $10 into a jar for every pound I’ve lost. How else am I going to be able to afford that new size 6 wardrobe at the end of the summer?

Stay tuned for progress reports.

Thursday, June 26, 2014

Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

June 25, 2014

Mother Nature giveth, and then she unceremoniously rips things right out of your hands.

Tuesday was a gift. Despite prediction after prediction of a day fraught with thunderstorms, we had a beautiful, sunny day exploring Niagara Falls. I guess you can say we were lucky; other than the walking day in PEI, our days have been crisp, but rain-free.

And then there was Wednesday.

From the moment we left Niagara Falls, it was a race against the rain and we were losing. Badly. What started out as a mist shortly turned into a rain we couldn’t ignore, forcing us to find somewhere semi-dry and covered to climb into our rain gear. That’s never easy on a rural route and definitely one of the drawbacks to vacationing on a Harley. You’re vulnerable to the elements, often with no place to hide. Scenic Route 20, a terrific ride that traverses the farmlands of upstate New York, lost some of its luster as I watched the landscape roll past through a rainy haze and water-speckled glasses.

Shortly before noon there was a break in clouds, and while the sky was never actually blue, the rain did stop. With nearly 60 minutes of rain-free riding, and what looked like clearing on the horizon, we found ourselves lulled into a false sense of dryness. With my trusty Canon slung around my neck again, I happily snapped pictures of the vivid green scenery glistening with the remnants of earlier showers.

Our happiness was short-lived. In Morrisville, the skies above us exploded. I quickly shoved my camera inside my jacket, pushed my ungloved hands into my pockets and hunkered down behind Jason, as though that was going to do much of anything against a pounding, sideways downpour. A breech in the Velcro that secures my jacket sent a river of rain down my shirt, soaking me from neck to navel. It was a bit like the soaking we got on the Maid of the Mist, without the beauty of Horseshoe Falls.

We rode for more than 30 miles in this punishing rain until the skies cleared over Richfield Springs. It was the first dry stretch of road we'd seen all day - no rain and more surprising, no visible signs that it had been there.

We were rain free, if not necessarily dry until we reached the outskirts of Albany. The sinister-looking cloud that had been loitering off to the north for miles suddenly unleashed its fury over our heads giving Mother Nature one last hurrah – a final rinse and repeat cycle – just 10 miles shy of the hotel. When we finally arrived we looked more like victims of a shipwreck than cheerful vacationers traveling on a motorcycle.

A cup of coffee and a towel drying later, we peeled off the wet layers and regrouped, making the 3 minute walk (yes, in the rain) to the bar & grill across the street. The food was good, the drinks were better, but we soon learned it was karaoke night. While karaoke has its entertainment value, I’m still not sure what was more painful – the pounding rain or the pounding in my ears after a heartbreakingly awful rendition of Bruce Springsteen’s “Born to Run”.


Wednesday, June 25, 2014

Falling for Niagara

June 24, 2014

Niagara Falls State Park is America’s oldest national park and at its centerpiece is one of the iconic wonders of the world – Niagara Falls. The majesty and mystery of the three thundering waterfalls – the Horseshoe, Bridal Veil and American Falls – have enticed millions to experience this environmental phenomenon more than 13,000 years in the making.

The park was designed by landscape architect Frederick Law Olmsted, best known for New York City’s Central Park and includes a network of footpaths through wooded areas and along the banks of the Niagara River. Some of the most amazing views of the falls are available from the observation deck and Terrapin Point. But there are also opportunities to get up close and personal (and really wet). So we did.

The Maid of the Mist has been operating since 1846 when enterprising merchants decided that a steamboat would make a great profit ferrying people, luggage and cargo across the Falls. When the suspension bridge was erected in 1848, the Maid of the Mist was rebranded as a tourist adventure, and has operated as such ever since. You can soak up the scenery - literally - as you journey into the center of the Horseshoe Falls.

Want to get even closer? The Cave of the Winds starts with an elevator ride 175 feet down into the Niagara Gorge. Donned in special sandals and rain ponchos, we climbed up a series of narrow wooden stairs and platforms and were able to see and feel the torrents of the Bridal Veil Falls rushing past us. We watched more than a few brave souls climb all the way to the Hurricane Deck and get absolutely saturated in the process!

Since a picture is worth 1,000 words, I thought I'd save a few and let the pictures do the rest of the talking.

Click here to see them!