All Your Letters In the Sand

With great fanfare, the government announced recently that the 1940 census was online and searchable in its entirety, except that it wasn’t and isn’t. Two states are completely online. Rumor has it one of them is Delaware, which almost doesn’t count unless the other one is Rhode Island. I tried searching New Jersey and found only census maps that told me nothing I didn’t know because I can see New Brunswick from, well, New Brunswick’s backyard.

While I was clicking on links that went nowhere, I accidentally clicked on one that did go somewhere. The National Archive was offering some version of 1940 alien files, so I searched a very rare family name on my father’s side and got a hit. I almost fell out of my chair when it turned out the National Archive in Kansas City had some papers related to my great-grandmother. The website asked for an email with a long list of specific numbers, my relationship to the person and what exactly I wanted. Also, the public could stop by and copy these documents for itself, which seemed downright homey. I asked for copies, gave the archivist a credit card number and a couple of days ago, these documents arrived.

When filling out forms your great-grandchildren will see copies of seventy years later, please write in heavier ink.

In 2011, I put up on Facebook a picture of my father as a small boy sitting on a dock with a woman I didn’t recognize. I’d found the picture in a box and scanned it. That woman was lush and curvy and had an intricate hairdo piled high on her head. My cousin’s mother looked at that photograph and said it was this woman, whom we’ve always called Nonna. She died, as I recollect it, just about the time my sister Daria was born. The story I heard was that she was on a bus, it stopped short and she hit her head, which may or may not be malarkey. Since I have no memories of her, the picture you see on the table is the one that’s always been in my head: slim, severe, critical, unhappy. But since I have no other pictures of her, when did I see this one? And why is it so different from the one on Facebook? Are the two pictures even of the same person?

I’d like to be able to get back to the page where I found the alien file search, but I haven’t been able to find it. If you figure it out, clue me in. I have lots more Italian relatives to search for.

The Street Pass Under Your Feet

For Pete’s birthday, we got a family membership in the American Museum of Natural History. It was kind of a lot of money for us, but we talked for years about how we’d like to go, but never did. Today, we went, just to scope out the building since neither of us had been there since the seventies and good thing! It is humongous.

DUCK! THE GIANT FAKE PLANETS MIGHT SEE YOU!


We discovered that if we take the train from New Brunswick to NY Penn Station, we can take the Subway directly to the museum. The museum has its own stop at 81st Street. The new membership allowed us to proceed directly to the lady searching bags. I don’t know what she was looking for, but she didn’t seem surprised when she found empanadas in my Angry Little Girl book bag. We sat down in the basement food court and studied the floor map, which didn’t help much. Neither of us ever got our bearings, which allowed us to stumble onto many delightful discoveries.

It must take almost superhuman restraint to make museum signs without punch lines.


The trip was very physically demanding. I nodded off on the train near Newark Airport. We cannot wait to go back.

Promote the General Welfare And Secure the Blessings Of

I’ve been standing around with my hands stuffed in tighter and tighter pockets, waiting for my lungs to feel less furry after that bizarre plague while all around me spring is springing. The thought occurs: Hey, Princess, remember that time you blogged the Constitution? No? Well, maybe you should. Also: where’d you hide the remote?

So. In the fall of 2006, right before the site I was storing Poor Impulse Control’s images on went kerflooey, we undertook this undertaking, intended to enhance understanding.

Bill of Rights
Part 1, including yogurt
Part 2, including NyQuil
Part 3, now with less snot!
Part 4, and yodeling
Part 5, extra cringy

The Meaty Stuff
Part 1, hot and cold
Part 2, a painful history
Part 3, bubbles that scrub
Part 4, plus shape-shifting
Part 5, shiftless
Part 6, including Johnny
Part 7, perilous produce
Part 8, including Fifi
Part 9, with mood lighting
Part 10, costume drama
Part 11, with feelin’

Back to the beginning
Part 1, autumnal
Part 2, an IQ test
Part 3, hairdo and don’t
Part 4, cattle
Part 5, togetherness
Part 6, voterosity
Part 7, cat bath
Part 8, a pricy prize
Part 9, spiral
Part 10, cucumber
Part 11, organ music
Part 12, crackpottery
Part 13, most papery
Part 14, compulsion
Part 15, listy
Part 16, clam bar confab
Part 17, starboard
Part 18, Oscar

Omigod, it’s a miracle my laptop didn’t sustain friction burns!