Although we hadn’t intended on going to a bookstore we happened by this one between where we parked and where were trying to go and being the nerds we are… in we went!
I cannot tell you how long it has been since I have been in a used bookstore. I am SO happy that some still exist in this eBook world! I was initially struck by the title of the place which seemed to be a pun. Grey matter being the areas of brain where we store information. Plus, the front window had some really odd books in it. Just bizarre.
We walked in and I thought being a college, er university, town this was most likely a textbook swap but alas it seemed to have a bit of everything. It wasn’t enormous but it was lovely! Chairs were randomly dispersed, excited university students prattled in the narrow aisles about buying a book in French for a friend learning French. It was sweet! There was a poster on the wall commemorating Edward Gorey, a rare William Burroughs piece behind glass, and even an old hardcover copy of Poe. And the place smelled of old books. A cart at the front had $1 finds.
I sat at the back of the store cooling off for a bit. That’s where I found a whole section dedicated to gender studies and another on black voices. I skimmed the gender books as it’s interesting to me, giggling at Sapphic Slashers; Sex, Violence, and American Modernity. What a title! I may have bought it but it had no tags, neither did the book my companion picked up. I didn’t see any prices labelled anywhere except for the $1 cart up front and being in a wealthy city but with a modest budget none of us really wanted to ask but we did enjoy the place and I would recommend it if you’re in town and looking for a weirdly specific reference book to something on the unusual side!
This is another odd entry as I don’t do too many stores but there was a sandwich board out front saying it was the only independently owned art supply store in the entire state of Connecticut, so I had to go in and check it out.
This was another modestly sized store but with an eager staff who immediately asked if we needed help with anything. The front was dedicated to little novelty gifts like pencils with funny sayings printed on them relating to astrological signs, funny erasers and whatnot. A bulletin board at the entrance was COVERED in missing cat posters, with a few smatterings of services offered by local artists.
Inside there was a section devoted to every hobby you can imagine – painting, sculpting, model building, framing, diorama and train set building, sketching, wood carving, you name it! And their prices seemed reasonable with a surprisingly large variety of items to choose from. I’d definitely shop here if I lived nearby. I have 300 hobbies and all of them are expensive and time consuming. At least this place made it all look so fun!
So yeah – shop local, support indie, this place is a little gem!
There’s few things more alluring than the chance to see dinosaurs. Add to that the fact this museum was free and we were all on board. To the dinosaurs!!
Of course being a natural history museum there was a lot more than dinosaurs but they were the first thing we saw – specifically a life size triceratops guarding the outside of the building and several pterodactyl fossils just in the lobby. Already I was endeared. From here we wandered into a large room with mostly prehistoric ice age fossils – all the most beloved creatures from the time – a mammoth, a sabre tooth tiger, even a moa which I lovingly call a “12 foot murder bird.” It was a nice display.
This wasn’t the end of the fossils. There was also marine fossils, including a precambrian section with an anomolocarus, a whole dinosaur room, and even a huge sea turtle in a large sitting area near the bathrooms. Also near the bathrooms was a super cool little water bottle refilling station claiming to have saved the world from thousands of plastic bottles. I liked that!
The museum also had a selection of very well done taxidermy of unusual species – my favorite was an aye aye, as well as displays about how taxidermy is done, as well as a living lab with leaf cutter ants and butterflies. For the more technical minds there were displays of the evolution of various technologies, for history buffs there was a very touching display of archeological finds including a Mesopotamian legal document showing a woman selling her own children into slavery to spare them from starvation after losing her husband, and finally there were several rooms dedicated to rocks and minerals that were far more fascinating than I had anticipated. Things I’d never seen – including one that looked like rolls of fabric and another spikey creation that made me itchy looking at it.
All and all we spent a couple hours in this museum and for being free I was quite impressed! I would definitely recommend it to any curious minds looking for something to do in the area.
My usual travel companion is a foodie, history nerd, and unbothered carnivore so when he found out the birthplace of the hamburger was in New Haven we had to go.
We parked in the weird parking lot behind this eatery and paid $2 an hour to stay there as we wandered. It seemed a fair deal, even if it was awkward and I had to back into a space like everyone else. But anyway, onto the hamburgers…
The aesthetics of this place are very European looking, very bright and old fashioned. You can’t miss it. Inside it is TINY. The tiniest restaurant I have ever eaten in, with pew-like booths seemingly fit for a child. Still, a crowd was in here, sitting down in them.
The menu was even tinier. You could order a burger or a cheeseburger with optional tomatoes and onions. They were all to be served medium rare with a soda in a glass bottle and a choice of potato salad or chips. That was the entire menu.
I can only remember eating hamburger once in my life. It was what remained of one of my father’s cows – Holly. Her name was labelled on the package as it came out of the freezer. You can’t really blame me for being put off.
Still, I’m an adult now and in the spirit of trying new things I ambled up to the counter and asked for a cheeseburger with tomato and onions with a side of potato salad just in case. We then sat down and waited the fifteen minutes we were told it’d take. This place was awesome in the sense the cook was right next to the cashier and was making patties to set in a preposterously old cast iron steamer. In all my travels I’d never seen such a thing. They also had an antique toaster just rotating toast the whole time.
By the time the burgers came out I was a bit nervous. They were indeed medium rare, still bleeding, so no need for ketchup, served not on a bun but between two slices of white toast. I took the plunge and took a bite of this thick burger. I think it’s fortunate they were cooked so little – I think that might be why I hated hamburger in the past. By the time it turns grey it’s chewy and gross but this was steaming hot, pink, and just dripping. I was shocked how good it was! Which was awesome because the potato salad was intensely bland and would have made for a shit lunch had this whole burger thing not worked. Should we go again I’m getting salt and vinegar chips and enjoying the hell out of the whole thing!
So, is this eatery worth it? YES. It was even worth the drive. Ambiance, staff, history, and great food. This was a win!
The cemetery was a wonderful little place to explore but what tempted us to come to New Haven was a random restaurant review on FaceBook that just looked so intriguing we had to go check it out.
The Transylvania Restaurant and Bar is a Vlad the Impaler themed restaurant in a former grist mill. It has all the charm of an old historic building and all the joy of misplaced vampires! My whimsy meter was already on overload looking at the bathrooms, labelled bat rooms. This was my companion’s idea to come here. Initially I thought it might be kind of… too gimmicky… but I gave it a chance because their menu online screamed European peasant food and you know what I fucking love? That’s right, European peasant food. And I don’t mean to be at all offensive in saying that. I’ve on occasion tried the froufrou rich people food but nothing beats the dishes of the common man. Those dishes have to exist in a space of actually being good and I mean really fucking good.
We showed up a few minutes after they opened and were only one of two (or three?) parties there in the restaurant part, the other one was a large family with lots of exuberant kids. I think it may have been the owner of the restaurant who tended to us and asked how we ended up here. We told her a FaceBook ad and she excitedly exclaimed, in her adorable accent, that the other people here were also showing up because of the same FaceBook post and she asked if she could take our photo. Suuuuure….? We laughed. Funny enough I get asked by strangers for my picture weirdly often on these travels and I don’t mind smiling for the camera.
Anyway, once we settled in we were over the moon with the menu. It wasn’t an extensive menu but it was intense in its options. I could have chowed down on just appetizers and been just fine! But there was more, so much more. Prior to coming here we found a video of someone pulling apart one of their baked cheese wedges, to which my arteries screamed, “NOOO! DON’T DO IT!” Which is why I had no choice but to try it. It was fairly standard to what baked cheese usually is but they served it with slices of granny smith apple that TOOK IT TO THE NEXT LEVEL. I was going to take a photo but we devoured it in a few seconds long before I remembered to do so. We both felt like pigs after that but DAMN was that good!
I was enamored by their selection of soups and salads, including wild mushroom soup and tripe soup, but I had decided before I even came here that I wanted to try the goulash. I didn’t have a firm grasp of what goulash was but it’s such a fun word and sounds so very peasanty. Only problem was it was beef goulash which I’m really not supposed to be eating due to a mild allergy. I went for it anyway, probably much to my companion’s chagrin, as it’s usually his job to chase me around with bottles of water in a usually futile attempt to keep me alive. I went for it anyway and when they served it… it looked like a bowl of wet dog food with a blop of sour cream on the top. I’m not going to lie. But you know what’s great about peasant food? The uglier it is the tastier it usually is. This was no exception! HOLY CRAP was it good! So tender and moist and full of flavor!! With little chunks of potatoes floating in there. You can never go wrong with potatoes. My companion thought something was wrong but I was just making sure to chew really really really well (as to avoid getting it stuck in my throat which is what my mild allergy to beef does.) I was soooo full after the cheese and half a bowl of this goulash. Complete and utter food coma.
Meanwhile my companion had ordered the Hungarian Paprikash which turned out to be an equally flavorful chicken dish. I know because we swapped a few bites. I would have been happy ordering that too! And he ate the whole thing… which was a lot of food! That’s how you know it’s good. When a foodie with nothing to gain says so.
Honestly, I think we would have both really enjoyed trying their desserts, one of which included a flaming pile of impaled doughnuts which was so fitting, but we were both bursting at the seams. We promised to come back… and maybe someday we will. I usually don’t say this of restaurants, but it was worth the two-hour drive to get there. Highly recommend!
It’s been a funny experience going to all these cemeteries around New England. You never know what you are going to get. This cemetery boasted the grave of Eli Whitney the inventor of the cotton gin which is initially what caught my companion’s eye because who would have thought the inventor of the cotton gin would be buried somewhere that is too frickin’ cold to grow cotton. But this was only scratching the surface. The other claim to fame was this was the US’s first cemetery to claim “city of the dead” in its description. All this means is that the streets and paths throughout were given official names making the gravestones almost have little addresses with which to find them. And of course, there was the imposing Egyptian style gates reading, “The dead shall rise” which wasn’t creepy at all. Apparently, it’s a Bible quotation but that’s not nearly as fun as envisioning it having something to do with the secret society rituals performed here by Yale students or one of my favorite urban legends about tunnels being dug under the cemetery connecting the Yale medical school allowing “resurrectionists” to more easily steal and sell corpses to science. That part did happen back in the day but the tunnels, sadly to say, do not go under the cemetery.
The cemetery is surrounded on all sides by whimsically bizarre buildings, including a church directly across the entrance which has gargoyles on it. You have no idea how much this delighted me. I LOVE gargoyles and they are such a rare sight here in the US! These ones looked weirdly political – an eagle in a suit and a donkey in a suit. No elephant though, so there’s that I suppose. After this initial distraction we wandered in only to find this place is another one of those cemeteries that close at 4PM. This has been an ongoing issue for us as we generally have to drive from pretty far away and by the time we get there sometimes the gates are closed. Today we had two hours and counting to amble around.
There was a bulletin board at the entrance that had not one, not two, but four separate maps of interesting graves. One was generalized, one was of Civil War notables, one was of the people involved in the Amistad, and one was of just cradle graves. Obviously, this was too much for one day so we went with the Civil War notables and the cradle graves, promising to be back for the others when we had more time (as those maps had more on them.)
I had no idea what a cradle grave was but apparently this is what they call the memorials that were popular in the late 1800’s that were shaped vaguely like a cradle. The intention of this design was to make it an easy flower bed connected directly to the headstone. I’ve seen these before but being so old none of them still had flowers in them, but this cemetery decided to restore them to their former glory by planting historically accurate native flowers in them, to bloom at different points during the year. As far as I can remember none of these graves were also on the notables list but they did add quite a bit of charm to the place. We found all of them.
We also found the aforementioned Eli Whitney who was hard to miss and a bunch of Civil War dead. They included people who’d died in some of the first battles as well as the more recognized ones like Gettysburg and Fredericksburg and one man who served in New Haven’s first “colored” regimen. Sadly, although this was super old cemetery I wasn’t seeing the oldest colonial sandstone markers. As it turns out all those were moved to the perimeter of the cemetery from an even older cemetery location. The bodies that went with them are still under the common. But their stones still provide witness, and it was eerie and beautiful to see them all lined up against the walls. So many Death’s Heads and other bizarre colonial era carvings. LOVE IT.
We were also surprised to find two sphinxes! Each looking into the distance to the same spot. I realize that the wealthy had an Egyptian fetish from the mid 1800’s into the 1900’s but that doesn’t make it any less awkward to find. They always seem so out of place and these ones didn’t have any name on them and I have not been able to find any information on them which makes them that much creepier. They probably eat souls or some such.
We left when the clock ran out before finding the “random jazz musician” my companion mentioned which turned out to be GLENN MILLER. I didn’t realize that’s who he was talking about until I got home and now we very much have to go back!! Which is all well and good because I still want to see all the Amistad graves too. And maybe take a few more photos since half the ones I took on this day refused to upload.
If you happen to be in New Haven or love cemeteries I absolutely recommend this one. It’s really lovely. And it’s flat. Which is more than I can say of most cemeteries in New England!
It was another day and another cemetery, this time in the distant land of Stamford Connecticut which was quite the misadventure to get to as for no reason whatsoever the traffic was BONKERS and I ended up in the car something like 40 minutes more than I anticipated due to traffic jams, none of which had any clear cause, especially on a sun shiny Tuesday! But I digress.
At first glance this cemetery did not look worth the trip. It was smaller than the garden cemetery I sort of expected and the monuments were mostly modern and boring. However, things heated up real fast. Upon driving in I came across the biggest hawk I have ever seen just sitting on the ground, looking up at my car with huge saucer eyes as I’d sneaked up on it. Initially I thought something was wrong with it but as it turns out it was just a little strung out after having butchered a pretty fat squirrel. It flew off with its bloody treasure as I found a place to park.
This cemetery was old enough that it did not have any designated places to park and I more or less went to the back and found myself a tree to let the car snuggle under. Luckily no one else was visiting so I wasn’t blocking anyone. We’d come here today because my companion found out that comedian Gilda Radner was buried here. He’d had fond memories of her comedy growing up. I, on the other hand, knew her more or less through a documentary I’d recently watched on the dark side of comedy (which in her case was not…? I mean unless you consider cancer dark but I mean all the other people mentioned were into hardcore drugs, gambling, and whores, so I failed to see the comparison.) ANYWAY, we started our little amble and began to explore.
This cemetery must be in a rich area because WOW was it in a gorgeous, landscaped area, across the street from something called Windemere that looked like if a poor walked up there they might be shot by private police. And the addition of a hawk that was eating only the fattest of squirrels sort of proved my theory. Even the animals here are posh enough for wild obesity. I got immediately distracted taking photos of pretty trees including a cherry tree in full bloom. But as I got too close to a tree near the center something screamed at me and I looked up to see the hawk, it’s half eaten lunch dangling from his talons. He was none too happy to see me again and angrily flew away to the back of the cemetery where he continued bitching until the crows found him and presumably beat the crap out of him and robbed him of his lunch. In fact this cemetery was somehow both amazingly peaceful for people living and dead, and a sight of bloody bird turf warfare. Two cardinals even got into this and divebombed the ground as they were engaging in their midair boxing match – red feathers were flying everywhere like daytime fireworks. Birds. You always think they’re so sweet and innocent until you realize they’re probably all murderers.
These distractions were entertaining but not really cemetery related. I was however happy to find out that the stones weren’t as bland as they appeared upon driving in. Some had quite some charm! Whether it was the most perfect last name ever: Goodenough, or the weird cement stones you used to be able to buy out of a Sears catalogue, or a memorial to what appeared to be a demonic gaggle of children, it was all here. There was even one which read, “We took the road less travelled by and that made all the difference” with an engraving of Valley of the Gods above it. Just the sentiment and graphic on that was so perfect. It was like I was meant to find it. What a beautiful monument!
I was also surprised to see a number of different ethnicities represented here. Some of the stones had Asian characters, some what I think was Farsi, still others were maybe Greek or possibly Russian characters? And there was a very decent smattering of markers with rocks and stones left behind on them denoting Jewish burials (or mourners) as well. I like that. A real melting pot. Maybe if we can’t get along in life we can in death.
We still hadn’t found Gilda Radner though. Turns out this is because her stone was flush with the ground, real humble, although clearly still well visited as she had by far the most flowers and tokens on hers. She wasn’t far from the cherry tree and had her own bench. I sat on it a bit. It was 80 degrees and I struggle with the heat something fierce. Still, it was a nice little break and I felt very relaxed here. I lamented it was sad this one died so young, at the prime of her career, to ovarian cancer.
When we moved on I decided we should go look for Benny Goodman too as he was also buried somewhere in this cemetery. He was near the back, another stone flush to the ground, much harder to find as the only token on it was a single rock. Sad. But I understand jazz musicians, even the most notable ones, weren’t exactly treated well by our society back in the day. Though I have come across several in my wanderings they’re always like this – simple. Not a single one dared to be as outrageous and noticeable as the music of their owners. Thinking back on it I probably should have left a penny.
And that was it, we ambled back to the car and I went back to fighting traffic for three and a half hours. Would I recommend this cemetery? If you happen to really love Gilda Radner or Benny Goodman it’s worth it, otherwise I think I’d mostly recommend it to people who already happen to be in the area. Although it was nice it wasn’t big enough to fill a whole afternoon and be worth a very long drive for most people. But that’s OK, it was still gorgeous and perfect for myself and my companion.
It is November so I guess it was time for another colonial cemetery. This time I was intrigued by a photo of a single random stone someone posted on FaceBook and with as little planning as usual off we went!
I did not expect to find what we did – a small but well packed cemetery with the strangest and most beautiful colonial era stones surrounded by the city itself. Adding to their uniqueness most were sandstone, likely imported from New York (or I guess New Amsterdam as it was called back in the day) rather than the Boston and Rhode Island slate that filled most of the rest of New England. It was… intriguing.
My travel companion grabbed a pamphlet at the entrance and went about in an organized manner trying to find each historical figure. Normally I follow along and listen to him read aloud but today… the ADHD gremlin bit me HARD and I was let loose into that cemetery with all the enthusiasm and lack of focus as a rabid Jack Russel terrier in a pit full of meth addled squirrels. I zipped from stone to stone, squealing in excitement, looking at the strange artwork on each just soaking it all in.
I did an exceptionally poor job of listening to my historical lecture and honestly all I remember by heart is that this was the final resting place of 15 (16?) black mayors of Hartford (who would have been mayors of their own segregated part of the city which sadly had little to do with the rest of the white population) and the first Irish immigrant. What follows is my research I have done after getting home…
Although today the cemetery is quite small it used to be far more expansive with perhaps up to 6,000 people buried here. Up to 90% of those would have not had the financial means to erect a stone and were thus interred in unmarked graves. Since the real estate it is situated on became valuable much of it was eventually built on top of. People buried here include many important local officials, even some who were involved with the hanging of witches back in the day. At least five, not 15, my bad, black mayors were buried here. A new marker was created to honor the black inhabitants of this cemetery and as such it’s on the African-American Heritage Tour. As for the first Irish immigrant he was actually the first Irish immigrant to Hartford not the US in general so I’m much less interested, but his name was Phenias Wilson (1628-1692) if you want to find him. His stone is one of the first to have a skull on it!
My three favorite graves were purely based on needless drama which colonial New England was FULL of. The first was an unfortunate man who was struck by lightning and instantly killed while he was standing in his kitchen. His grave marker reads “Here lies interd the remains of Capt Isreal Seymour who was kill’d by lightning Augst. 14th 1784, in the 49th year of his age. With awful rev’rence GOD adore Whose holy hand with sov’reign pow’r Did in an instant stop his breath And closed his eyes in sleep of death.” The little poem on that is good enough for me but the fact local ministers used his death to fear monger people to god was the cherry on top of the cake. Best be kissing up to god or else he might fry your sinning ass too!
The second stone could have been ripped out of a colonial era soap opera. It was that of Richard Edwards and his second wife Mary. Edward was 20 during his first marriage and his new bride was 22 year old Elizabeth Tuttle. In two decades she gave him six children but the first Edwards always claimed was a bastard as he was conceived before the wedding. In 1689 after the honeymoon phase was long dead Edward, who was a man of means being an attorney himself, tried to file for a divorce saying his wife was insane and adulterous. He may have been projecting just a little because after this petition failed he once again tried to get a divorce in 1691 this time claiming his wife was threatening to cut his throat while he slept. He claimed she was genetically predestined to be a murderess because her brother had once murdered their sister. This time the courts granted his request and the freshly divorced Elizabeth disappeared into the mists of history while her ex almost immediately married 27-year-old Mary Talcott who the town believed he was already playing hide the sausage with. She bore him six more children so he could have an even dozen (or 11 if the first one really was a bastard. Hard to say.) Apparently the two were able to regain composure in the church and eventually have a grandson who’d become one of the most prominent religious leaders in the colonial era.
But my favoritest stone was the triple monument of the Beauchamp sisters honoring Susannah McLean (1711-1741) Margaret Chevenard (1708-1783) and Maryane Keith (1696-1784.) The pamphlet says thusly about this stone: “In an unusual departure from custom these three married women were memorialized first as sisters, next as daughters, and last as wives, suggesting they shared a powerful emotional bond.” Yes, I am sure that’s what this means, and not three women’s last fuck you to patriarchy. Beauchamp sisters, I got your message loud and clear. I hope you’re still floating around somewhere kicking butt.
And so that was my trip to the cemetery! You should totally go see this one if you can. So much charm. So much drama. So much bizarre gravestone art. What’s not to love?
Good news! I managed to post one entry of Catching Marbles for every day of October!!! Granted to reach this goal I did cheat a bit, did a few underwhelming entries and some backlogged stuff, but when you have a crazy migraine for days straight, I don’t think anyone’s going to complain. I pushed HARD to complete this goal and since my body hates me for it, I probably won’t be doing it again, but I have decided the boost in traffic was worth at least trying to post more when I could. (My new goal is to hit 500 destinations before the end of the year!)
Because of the aforementioned migraine I was unable to go out and do something spooky for Halloween. I was barely able to pass out candy to the 12 kids who showed up. So tonight, will be another backlogged entry about a cool new shop at the Olde Mystic Village – The Rustic Relic Country Store. It’s a small and pretty typical country store but very cute, very country chic, very warm. I think it provided a nice compliment to the rest of the village and fit right in. I think this would be a great place to do some Christmas shopping for the people in your life who love this rural aesthetic.
It seems I’m always passing the Two Sisters Trading post on my way to other places. And the outside is intriguing! Always makes me want to drive in as it’s very reminiscent of a lot if antique stores in Maine. But the inside I found terribly underwhelming. It did indeed seem to be a decently sized place with a lot of basement type antiques but nothing really caught my eye. Perhaps I visited on the wrong day but this felt like going through a garage sale…
