Mushroom Hunting Day

Posted on May 17, 2025 by arwenbicknell

Until we moved here, I never lived where this was a thing—or if I did, I didn’t know it was a thing, because it wasn’t a thing for us. The only person in my family who liked mushrooms was my dad, and he pretty much only had them on pizza, so the idea of going out and actively looking for fungus was not on anyone’s bingo card.

I take after my dad. Want mushrooms? Go to a Japanese hibachi restaurant. They’ve got plenty of mushrooms and they do wonders in making them delicious.

My husband, on the other hand, apparently went mushroom hunting on the regular, albeit without much success.

“My mom and I would go out on Simpson’s Hill. She would find more than I would, but it was nice just walking through the woods. That’s probably where I learned to like doing that.

But we’d take these empty bread bags to carry what we found, and mine would be, like, 40 percent full, and we’d feel like that was pretty good. Then the neighbors would come back with, like, 40 lbs. “Where did you go?” “Oh, Simpson’s Hill.”

Then my mom would dredge them in flour and fry them. I never cared for that. Finding them was more fun than eating them.”

I dunno. I can, on a good day, see the appeal of walking in the woods. But walking AND hunching over poking through moss? Meh. Who can tell me the appeal of this pastime?

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Biographer’s Day

Posted on May 16, 2025 by arwenbicknell

National Biographers’ Day is celebrated annually on the day that Samuel Johnson met his biographer, James Boswell, in 1763.

I have somehow never read Boswell, but I have pretty much always loved biographies. The school library at my grade school had an extensive collection of the Bobbs Merrill Childhood of Famous Americans series, and I read pretty much all of them—Jane Addams, Harry Houdini, Zeb Pike, it was a motley crew. My mom gave me her old set of Britannica Bookshelf: Great Lives for Young Americans, and I learned about a whole other crowd: Queen Elizabeth, Horace Mann, Walter Reed. An outlier from either series was a book I especially adored about Sarah Siddons.

I still prefer stories of people to stories of events. Lucky for me, my husband writes stories of events framed by the lives of people; it makes editing more enjoyable.

To my way of thinking, all the best histories are really biographies. War, politics, crime, romance—all stories about people. What made that person do that thing in that situation? Where did this person come from?

One of the liveliest biographers out there is Abbott Kahler, formerly Karen Abbott. Liar, Temptress, Soldier, Spy is a great book; I highly recommend it. Four biographies in one.

The hubs is a big fan of David McCullough. But he says his favorite is Andrew Roberts (and his biography of Churchill is brilliant four big thumbs up in this house for that one).

Candice Millard is another favorite, although I had a hard time eating when I was reading her book about Garfield. Lots of gore in that one.

Who’s your favorite biographer?

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Nylon Stocking Day

Posted on May 15, 2025 by arwenbicknell

Does anyone wear stockings on the regular any more? I haven’t, not for years—not even to my cousin’s wedding last year.

And for  a while before I quit wearing them, I sprang for silk over nylon. They felt nicer. I admit, I kinda liked garters. But bare legs were always my preference.

My grandmother wore panty hose all the time. She was also tiny, so she routinely wore heels that gave a couple inches’ advantage. When I was younger, I coveted a pair of her bright red stilettos that had a matching purse. Unfortunately, my feet got too big for her shoes around age 13, so I didn’t inherit those. (And I realized later that the purse was much too small to be practical, but oh, it was so pretty.) Eventually, my grandmother shifted gears and switched to wraparound skirts and sandals and went bare-legged.

My mother, whose native state is T-shirts and blue jeans, wore nylons when she had jobs, and my vivid memory of those times is her peeling them off the minute she hit the kitchen door—if they were still on after her car ride home. I know there were hot, sticky days when she picked me up from school driving barefoot, with her shoes and balled-up stocking in the back seat.

When I was in junior high and high school, patterned stockings were a big thing. Black ones with diamonds or polka dots. Pink lacy ones with hearts. I had a pair of iridescent white stockings run through with silver thread that I thought made any outfit look better, although my mother said white stockings were for nurses and strippers. 

But even when I liked how they looked and was willing to make an effort, I didn’t wear them very often. I was too hard on them. I’d snag them just by looking at them, and I had great sympathy for when it became a fashion thing to wear ripped jeans and laddered stockings, even if it did look slutty even to my broad-minded thinking.

I remember the day I pretty much swore off nylons for good except for special occasions—it was the last day I worked as a bank teller. The bank had a dress code, and even if you wore slacks, you still had to wear nylons and dress shoes. I don’t recall if socks were also allowed; all I remember is buying bulk boxes of nylon knee-highs that I’d wear once, get full of runs, and toss out. The day I quit the bank was the day I said “nope, no more jobs with socks in the dress code.”

I wear a lot of sundresses now—with sandals, like my grandmother. Or skirts, with socks and boots. I still wear tights and big sweaters when it’s cold.

But nylons? Bygones.

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Stars and Stripes Forever Day

Posted on May 14, 2025 by arwenbicknell

I don’t know where it comes from, but I am a sucker for patriotic marches, and I would argue that this one is the grandaddy of them all. It’s rousing, it’s fun to play, and as far as I know, it’s the only march to be shifted into a parody that was arguably more familiar than the original song. (How many of us learned to be kind to our web-footed friends before we knew this was a whole other song?)

Congress made it “the official national march” in 1987, but the song dates back to 1897 and apparently was a hit right off—with the first public performance on this day in that year in Philadelphia, Pa. Sousa played it at every tour stop for 25 years after writing it. Sousa composed more than 100 marches (plus some other stuff, including operettas).

I grew up playing this song in marching band (and I will say that, maybe second to the actual Marine band, the USC version is by far the best; I will fight you on that). And I will freely admit that part of my fondness for this song is that it has a piccolo part that you can actually hear, which is not the case with so many other marching songs. And I knew that the song had Actual Not Kid lyrics, although I’d only ever heard the “Hurrah for the flag of the free” trio part. But apparently there’s a whole passel of lyrics I’d never heard:

Let martial note in triumph float
And liberty extend its mighty hand
A flag appears ‘mid thunderous cheers,
The banner of the Western land.
The emblem of the brave and true
Its folds protect no tyrant crew;
The red and white and starry blue
Is freedom’s shield and hope.

Let eagle shriek from lofty peak
The never-ending watchword of our land;
Let summer breeze waft through the trees
The echo of the chorus grand.
Sing out for liberty and light,
Sing out for freedom and the right.
Sing out for Union and its might,
O patriotic sons.

Other nations may deem their flags the best
And cheer them with fervid elation
But the flag of the North and South and West
Is the flag of flags, the flag of Freedom’s nation.

Hurrah for the flag of the free!
May it wave as our standard forever,
The gem of the land and the sea,
The banner of the right.
Let tyrants remember the day
When our fathers with mighty endeavor
Proclaimed as they marched to the fray
That by their might and by their right
It waves forever.

And now that I’ve firmly planted this song in your head for the day, have a good one! 

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Cough Drop Day

Posted on May 13, 2025 by arwenbicknell

Does anyone remember Luden’s? More candy than cough drop? I guess you can still buy them, but I don’t recall having seen them for ages. I loved those things in grade school—probably because my mother never, EVER bought them; I had to cadge them off friends like an addict.

No, in my parents’ house, if you had a sore throat, it was salt water gargles twice a day for you! And on the off chance you got medicine, it was gonna taste like medicine, by God. Halls or Vick’s. None of that cherry nonsense.

When I hit college, you’d think I’d have binged on cough drops, but I didn’t. My mom’s habits had become my own, so medicine taste persevered—but on my own, I bought Nyquil, which packed a much stronger punch than anything my mom ever gave me.

But the interesting thing is that I almost never developed a persistent barking cough anyway. Sore throat, yes. Clogged head, boy howdy. But a cough? Maybe once every two years or so, and I tended to hydrate those away.

My husband, on the other hand, is a cougher extraordinaire and cough drop connoisseur who has settled on Halls cherry for the duration. Lozenges are all over our existence. A stash in every nightstand, a bag in every glove box. At least two in his pocket when he leaves the house. All of them in varying degrees of gooiness; I have no idea how much paper he ingests with those things.

I branched out last time I bought cough drops and got Cepacol, which comes in those blister packs. I’m not sure how long ago, but I know I’ve had a baggie of those in my purse for at least a year. I will say they hold up better, but I think the hubs was not sold on them.

Maybe I should go back to Luden’s?

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Limerick Day

Posted on May 12, 2025 by arwenbicknell

Someone once said puns are the lowest form of humor. Are limericks the lowest form of poetry? Maybe. Are they the funniest? Often.

When I was in high school, I won a newspaper contest by writing a political limerick that matched “tart” with Gary Hart. I don’t consider that a defining moment in my journalistic career, but I was pleased to be singled out.

I remember seeing an interview with Billy Joel where he pointed out that “Piano Man” is a limerick, just set to a different rhythm. That blew my mind.

So, OK. Here we go.

When it comes to writing a limerick
You couldn’t come up with a dimmer chick
Few things are worse
Than a challenge in verse
Thank goodness it’s over with quick.

Your turn. Send me a good one, I’ll send you baked goods or a book; take your choice.

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Hostess Cupcake Day

Posted on May 11, 2025 by arwenbicknell

Growing up, these were a huge treat for me. That frosting you could peel off and eat separately, the chocolate cake, the creamy middle. Excellent with milk.

I was lucky that they came in packs of two. If they had been sold singly, it is entirely possible that my mother would not have shared.

When I was very small, we lived in California and I almost never got these. Instead it was a parade of Mother’s Cookies—Chocolate Chip, Circus Animals, and Flaky Flix. (I will sign every petition I see to bring back that last one!)

Then we moved to Illinois and the cookies shifted to almost exclusively Nabisco. Chips Ahoy. Gingersnaps. Rarely, Oreos.

But across the river, in Davenport (or maybe Bettendorf?), there was a Wonder Hostess outlet. I guess those are all gone now, and it’s a shame, because that place was magical. Cartons of Twinkies stacked to the ceiling. Ten doughnuts for a dollar.

And the smell. Oh. My. God. It was carb paradise and smelled like heaven. You’ve probably heard women say they can gain 10 pounds looking at a cake? Yeah, inhaling the aromas at this place for a few minutes would break the scale. But so, so worth it.

Of course, we were there for “grownup” food. Sandwich bread. Dinner rolls. Things that you eat in measured doses and that stretch the budget.

But even my mom—who probably preferred Dolly Madison—couldn’t contain her drool entirely, and with a nod to the gods of sugar, she would give in to a moment of weakness and would buy one two-pack of cupcakes. I got one, she got one. Sometimes she made me wait til we were home to eat it. Sometimes we didn’t make it out of the parking lot.

It’s odd, I don’t think she ever got my dad anything, I guess because he wasn’t along on the outing. I know he liked Twinkies. I suspect given his druthers, he would have been a Fruit Pie guy. But I can’t say for sure.

It is probably nostalgia, but I think these treats are not as good today as they were in my youth. I can’t say for sure, but the taste seems different. I am positive that they are smaller. And I know these things are supposed to be able to survive nuclear holocaust, but they actually are better before their expiration date and when they haven’t suffered climate issues. You need to be mindful of what you pick up in the convenience store. The little white scroll on the cupcakes turns a sickly shade of beige and starts to look really unappetizing after sitting on the shelf a while. Twinkies dry out. I can’t speak to SnoBalls. I’m anti-coconut. But I suspect they have their issues, too.

And yet—I’ll still peel off that frosting and enjoy the bejeezus out of them. And I’m rich now, so I’ll even buy enough that everyone can have their own full serving!

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Clean Up Your Room Day

Posted on May 10, 2025 by arwenbicknell

I have a litany: Laundry, dishes, trash, misplaced.

This is how I clean rooms. I look for and deal with each of those things in turn.

There’s almost always a lot more “misplaced” than any of the others, which is why it comes last.

I tried to teach this to my kid. He memorized the litany but rarely applies it to practical use. The game he spent more time playing was “keep or toss”: Do you keep that toy? If not, is it a giveaway or garbage? It felt like we played this game at least once a month when he was a kid. I was hopeful that it might teach him to keep things tidy and organized—or, short of that, to get things tidy and organized in a reasonable amount of time.

Yeah, that didn’t work. He won’t even show me his dorm room on FaceTime these days. I can only pray there’s a little path from his bed to the door that isn’t littered with Legos or broken glass or other hazards to bare feet.

Do you have an approach to cleaning? Share it with me! If you have a suggestion on how my kid can tackle his living areas, I’ll send you a book!

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Alphabet Magnet Day

Posted on May 9, 2025 by arwenbicknell

I loved these as a kid. When I was 2, I got a little green Playskool desk for Christmas. It had a desktop that was also a chalkboard and then when you lifted it up, it was a magnet board on the other side. My parents made sure I had more letters than I knew what to do with. I loved the vivid colors and the sort of squishy-yet-firm feel of the letters. More than Sesame Street, this desk was probably what made me a Word Person. It was my first piece of furniture that was uniquely mine and nobody else fit in it. (This might explain my questionable taste in fashion and furnishings, come to think of it.)

My mother loved that desk because it kept me occupied and out of trouble, but her favorite thing was that it marked a turning point with my grandfather. This man was not remotely enchanted by children, and he had spent two years being appalled that my mother had me while still in college and barely out of childhood herself.

So it was gratifying to her when he came to see us at Christmas and I was in raptures over this desk. He leaned over and stuck a letter on the board.

“What’s that?”

“The big letter M.”

“Huh. OK, what’s THAT?”

“The small letter y.”

This went on for several more letters and numbers before he muttered that I was “a goddamn prodigy,” and stumped off to get a glass of iced tea. When I was older, I remember my mother and grandmother used to tell that story and laugh at him, and he would shrug and ask me what book I was reading this week.

I never got the prodigy compliment again, and I certainly didn’t live up to the hype. But by the time I was 11 or so, he and I were able to have some fairly entertaining conversations, and I got to keep having them until after my son was born. That’s a pretty good run for a rocket scientist and a copy editor.

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Jamestown Day

Posted on May 8, 2025 by arwenbicknell

How much do you know about Jamestown? My first brush with the topic was when I was four or five and got a book about Pocahontas. Learned all about the English settlement and then about the Pilgrims and the Mayflower, and then a bit about England and the 1600s.

I learned more as I got older, but my main take-away was that I was super glad to have skipped all that and showed up in an era of plumbing and antibiotics and soft living.

When my kid was in grade school, we lived in Virginia. His school held an annual field trip to Jamestown for fourth-graders. For some reason or other, my kid missed it. So we went as a family.

It was great. We would go on these trips a lot, but this one stood out as a day when nobody was bored for any of it. But it absolutely reinforced my preference for modern living.

I highly recommend going if you are in the area and even remotely interested in history. The visitor center is gorgeous, and it’s a nice walk from there across a bridge to Jamestown Settlement, where all the action is. Thomas wandered around most of the day with a toy musket in hand, learning about furs and inronworks and about Pocahontas and the first General Assembly. The actors are friendly and engaging and happy to tell you more than you thought you wanted to know.

There is also a separate area to go look at ruins (Historic Jamestowne), and a third site where you can watch glassblowers, which was probably my favorite part. You can also just hang out and enjoy being next to the James River, which is quite pleasant!

While you’re at it, make a long weekend of it and also go to Yorktown and Williamsburg!

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