Notes From The Curator - 05/07/07

· It seems almost superfluous to discuss the fire that destroyed the old Company Store at the corner of Wall Street and Washington Avenue; but egregious not to mention it. While we all hope that the perpetrator(s) are caught, only about 30% or so of these crimes are ever solved. This might be a good time, though, for everyone connected with a historic structure to reexamine fire safety at their site, wiring, HVAC, storage, etc. We can’t control evil intent, but we certainly can do our best to avoid accidents. “It’s been this way for years” isn’t good enough…

· Sally Shutler, our Colonial cook, let us sample a mushroom pie that she created here one Sunday, despite some trouble with the dampness of the wood I brought in for her fire. Everyone enjoyed the unusual savory taste. Sally has since revealed that her secret ingredient is port wine, though the original 18th century recipe called for Madeira…In accordance with county regulations, she prepared the pie filling at home, and partially cooked it, so no bottle was on site…

· Distant Drums, our school/scout/summer camp/special group program about Revolutionary-era Oxford, is being offered for it’s second season, from May through September. So far, we have over 150 participants scheduled.

· Anyone who missed the soup sale at the Oxford Methodist Church on March 31 really missed some great stuff. I should get up Washington Avenue more often, though, and see what the fine folks at the other churches are cooking.

· April 6 marked the 90th anniversary of the U.S. entry into World War I. Oxford industry was humming in those days, and the Manor was home to Empire Iron Company superintendent Dr. & Mrs. Sterling Galt Valentine, relatives and friends of the First Lady, Edith Bolling Galt Wilson. At least sixty-two Oxford boys answered the call... We note that, as of this writing, in the entire country there are only two American veterans surviving from that conflict, three if you count a gentleman who served in the Canadian Army. There is nothing really romantic about any war, but the Doughboys were such a tremendous part of 20th Century American culture. Nearly gone now are the days when men spoke first-hand of seeing artillery pulled to the front by horses, of biplanes overhead, of Armistice Day. I can only hope that these last few, along with the fine old men of my youth, go to a place somewhere beyond the sunset, where they are reunited with the lost buddies of their youth and where they too are young again. I hope there is plenty of champagne, mademoiselles, dice games, and lots of singing around a piano. Goodbye for now, old friends. Please watch over us…