The Times They are A-Changin'

Wow! We have been glued to CNN since about 4:00pm this afternoon, watching as events unfold with the Inauguration of the new President of the United States of America.

It was a bit much for we, who are still a little homesick every now and then, to digest as we saw flags and ceremonies, and speeches and oh-so-much America!
It made one want to be there and relish in the excitement of it all!

Now anyone who knows me knows I am so very non-political and tend to shy away from any conversations in which one might become embroiled in some sort of political debate.
But this today was different.

It didn't matter if you were Republican or Democrat, young or old, black or white or somewhere in-between.
It only mattered that you loved your country and wanted the best for it.

It was so wonderful to see people united and peaceful and everyone looking forward to a new era in America, no matter what the age, race or political affiliation; the news was good: here we have a young, energetic, diplomatic, President, and he wants what we all want: peace, prosperity, and sharing of pride in America.

Dylan has the last words: The times, they are a-changin'.
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And now a bit of trivia for you that came up as part of a discussion we were having about the US Capitol. After literally years in school studying US History, it is amazing that we knew Washington, D.C. was not the original capital of the US, however, none of us could recall which city was the first.
My vote was for New York City because I seemed to recall that everyone thought it was Philadelphia, but they were incorrect.
Katie's guess was Philadelphia because she remembered studying about the Continental Congress meeting there, and of course, who could forget the Liberty Bell?
So what do you think?
Have a guess and then go here to find the answers.

Virtues of String

A package arrived in the post, all the way from America.
I had purchased an assortment of vintage laces and trims and was excited to find it had been deposited on my front porch during the wee hours of the morning.
As I unpacked the various bundles contained within the package, I noticed that one of the bundles of lace was held together with a bit of imperfect string.
Dirty and damaged, it was wound around, and around, a handful of lace.

As I looked at it, I began to think about string and its uses and purposes and wondered, "When was the last time I used string for anything?"
If it had been me who had packed away these various bits and bobs, I would have used a rubber band or perhaps a bit of ribbon to secure the bundles. Or more likely, I would have stored away my precious trims in tiny ziplock bags to keep them organized and dirt and moisture free.

As I examined it, I began thinking about that little piece of string and the person who may have put it there.
String, and the importance and relevance it must have had to our mothers and grandmothers, seems to have been all but forgotten.
Previous generations didn't have plastic bags or ziplock anything. They didn't have the advantage of twist ties and velcro. They knew nothing of plastic ties and the gadgets that fastened them.
They tied things with string.
Everything.

Packages in the post came bound with cording; parcels bought at the local shops were tied together in bundles with twine or string; and the loveliest of yummy treats from the bakery were bundled-up in fresh-looking white, cardboard boxes, and tied securely with red and white striped string.

When I was a young child, I can remember standing at eye level with the top of the counter, waiting to be served, at our local bakery. Huge white sugar cookies dotted with raisins and topped with granular sugar and trimmed with scalloped edges awaited me if I were just patient enough. I could buy one or a dozen for the family, or just about any amount, could be ordered-up.
If I purchased just one cookie, it would come in a slick, clean, white bakery bag.
But, purchasing a dozen (which would mean the clerk would carefully pack 13 - a bakers dozen - a common tradition in bakeries of my youth) would mean they would be packed in a white box tied perkily with red and white string. Oh and to see how the clerk accessed the string - that was the best!
A huge cone of the smart looking, festive, red and white striped string was not visible to you in the shop, oh no! All you saw was the string, looking rather plain against the counter looped through an eyelet screw, fastened to the wooden surface. But follow it with your eyes and find that it traveled up the wall and across the ceiling and back to the bakery room, out of sight, where somewhere in the depths of the shop, it finally wound its way to a huge cone of string, permanently affixed to a spindle, waiting for the next tug, for decorating and securing the next pristine bakery box.

And at home, every junk drawer, garage, and broom closet held string. String was a common staple in every household.
It might have been thick and heavy, in the form of jute rope. Or, thin, yet strong, in the form of kite string. And every weight and material in between, necessary for a life where string was an everyday necessity.

Our grandmothers even had special containers for keeping string at hand; safe and ready for use in an instant. These string holders came in many shapes and sizes, in many different materials. I decided to purchase one for myself and begin a new tradition of using string in my home.
I now have the holder, which also holds a pair of scissors, but I do not yet have any string! I am looking for a source of red and white striped string, like the kind the bakeries use, but in a much smaller quantity. Once I find some I will mount my holder on the wall, complete with its own pair of scissors, and use it in place of other, less earth-friendly closures for packages.

Kitty String Holder with Bow at Neck for Scissors

Looking back, upon the virtues of string, and its uses in the lives of women that came before me, made me reflect on its merits over our plastic world of today. And all because a bit of it came to me in a 3000 mile journey from the American past.