


Today Boing Boing led me to this delightful Edison Electric ad.

Man, I love old-timey things. If only I could find a job that supported my interests! Oh well.
What I especially love about this are the reassurances in the ad. Electricity was a very new and very foreign thing in the 19th century, after all, and not everyone was ready to drink the Kool-Aid. Or, since Kool-Aid didn’t exist, toddies.
Believe it or not, Mr. Joel Chandler Harris himself was one of the wary.

Above is the gasolier in the West Parlor. Our gasoliers - aka gas chandeliers - have gas lamps on top and electric fixtures on the bottom, making them a unique artifact and representing a very specific slice of history.
Now, to be fair, Harris didn’t purchase these (for every room of the house) simply because he thought this electricity business was a fad. When electricity was first offered, it only came in during certain hours of the day, and no one wanted to be left in the dark after the electric company called it a day.
Logic-based, that’s our guy.
Or… not. You see, Harris was also “cautious” about riding a streetcar while wearing a wristwatch, convinced as he was that these two would combine to make him explode. Or stop time. Or create a black hole. We’re not really sure.
So what does a well-respected man do to hide his crazy? Why, he buys identical wrist watches and builds a secret drawer in his desk, of course.

That way Harris could slip off his watch before boarding the dreaded streetcar, and surreptitiously replace it once he got to work.
Don’t worry, Mr. Harris. Your secret is safe with me.
Comments: 5Yesterday my advanced palate and I were interviewed about hot dogs for a column in Atlanta Intown, a monthly newspaper.
Weird? Maybe, but after I had my professional say about ice cream last month (third column, fifth row), I can see why they wanted me back.
Anyway, while we were grilling hot dogs in Piedmont Park, who strolls up but none other than Mr. William King, guitarist and trumpet guy for the Commodores.
This got me thinking.
Who should headline our annual fundraising concert?
Last year we had the League of Decency, a legendary Atlanta cover band that can really boogie. Near the end of the evening, the covered “Brick House” and things went, well, bananas. Was this some sort of sign that we should have the Commodores play “Brick House” the next year?
I can’t say.
Either way, if you’ve got requests for who should headline our concert, fire away.
Factors include–(a) how much it costs; (b) if the neighborhood can get down with it; (c) will folks drive here to see it; (d) if I like them or not; (e) do they bring the funk?
Comments: 7The Art Block is a two-week summer camp we’re trying out for the first time this year.
It’s a partnership between the Wren’s Nest and two arts organizations that are just down the block: Fly-By Theatre, an improv theater company, and Hammonds House, an art museum specializing in the African diaspora.

The camp is for middle schoolers.
The goal is for them to write, design, and perform a unique theatrical production based on a fairy tale. Students will write the play at the Wren’s Nest, design the sets at Hammonds House, and learn to perform and dance with Fly-By Theatre. They’ll be taught by professionals in their respective fields.
At the end of the two weeks, the kids will cap everything off with a performance open to the public.
What do you think?
I’m a little nervous, to tell you the truth.
It’s similar to when we started the Wren’s Nest Publishing Co. last year. We had no idea what we were doing. We had no idea if anyone would even bother to apply or show up. We had no idea if we could pull it off.
The Art Block is a little more ambitious because (a) the kids are a little younger, (b) there are way more moving parts, and (c) our funding so far is pretty minimal.
I mean, we even have to provide a healthy snack! Guh! Talk about high-maintenance.
Plus, the only reasonable place to host these kids is our office. My spirit excluded, there’s not much in here that the average twelve year old can break without trying too hard.
Want more? Check out the page we made for the Art Block.
Comments: 8Today I’ve been pummeled with storytelling stories.
First, an editorial from Tina McElroy Ansa, the author (and now publisher) from St. Simons, Georgia, on Margaret Seltzer’s recent fake memoir hullabaloo.

Amelia and I listened to McElroy Ansa speak at the Savannah Book Festival. She’s fantastic, though I was relieved to see that she uses more periods in her editorials than she does in her talks.
I’d love to hear her perspective on Joel Chandler Harris.
For some, it’s an insult that Harris (a white guy) presumed to tell African-American stories through African-American dialect. For others, it’s not controversial at all.
In light of a memoir that fakes the story of a gang member in South Central Los Angeles, is Harris’ work more legitimate simply because he grew up on a plantation?
–
Next, a post by Malcolm Gladwell. You may remember Gladwell from the hugely popular books Blink or The Tipping Point.

Gladwell’s story (starting at 45:45 minutes in) about manipulating news stories at the Washington Post is probably half-true and definitely funny.
At the same time, it’s a memoir-like story, and while I listened, I believed every word. Is that sort of manipulation okay because it doesn’t involve race? Or is it okay because it’s not a complete fabrication?
–
Gladwell’s post led me to discover The Moth, a storytelling club in New York City.

I am officially in awe of The Moth. Please check out their web site.
The founder, from St. Simons (like McElroy Ansa), looked back fondly of his days telling stories on the porch back home, and decided to start a club in New York City for people who people who liked to tell stories.
This sounds a bit like Joel Chandler Harris, who looked back fondly of his days listening to stories on the plantation, and then wrote them for a mass audience on the porch of his new home in Atlanta.

For those of you who want to know where our organization is going, I think it will look something like this: 826 + The Moth + The Wren’s Nest. Though, um, give it a few years, please.
Edit: I always forget to put the second L in Malcolm. My bad!
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Since we’re in the museum business, our job is mostly to preserve and interpret the past.
Sometimes I wonder just how accurate we are, and I often wonder about the reverse–how someone like Joel Chandler Harris would have imagined the future. Is our interpretation of his era just about as ludicrous as his interpretation of our era would be?
This is a gallery of interpretations of the future from France circa 1910, thanks to the Bibliothèque nationale de France. I figure Joel Chandler Harris, who died in 1908, would have envisioned the future in the exact same way.
Either that, or the exact same way that Conan and Mr. T envision it.
Thanks, boingboing.
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