Collecting Addiction

Jascin N. Leonardo Finger • March 18, 2013

I must confess, I have an addiction.


I like to...


...collect.


Not so surprising for a historic house museum curator. My “addiction” encompasses several specific areas. I am not a hoarder, I do not collect junk in my backyard and the basement is not filled with “things.” Some people might find what I collect useless, but sometimes the simple everyday item, from a nail to an old railroad spike, intrigues me for its simplicity and its beauty.


If you know me, or if you have read the “Portrait of the Curator as Darth Vader” entry for this blog, then you realize that I don’t preen in front of the mirror. Given the fact that mostly just the books and archives see me all winter, my hair typically looks like it needs a good combing (since I am pulling goggles and respirator on and off all day) unless I have a meeting or I am out in public.

But I do have a thing for a good “kitchen” mirror. Typically a mirror of the mid to late 19th century, it is rectangular in shape with rounded corners and hopefully some nice grain painting on the wood frame. Oftentimes, you will find crazing in the glass and black marks or missing “mirrored” areas caused by the loss of the silver painted onto the back of the glass. I like these mirrors for the simpler time they speak of and for the simplicity of their style, but also for their patina of time. In the Mitchell House, we have a mirror of a similar age and shape used by Peleg Mitchell Jr. for shaving.

 

Enamel is another fascination of mine. Enamelware could be found throughout kitchens in many parts of the world. Enamelware took off in popularity in the United States in the latter half of the nineteenth century – all shapes and sizes, all sorts of domestic uses from slotted spoons to cups, pitchers, strainers, plates, or basins. Think of it as 19th century Tupperware and the child of tinware. You might even be familiar with the enamel numbers for homes or streets. Enamelware can be plain, mottled, or marbled – the marbled being much harder to find and thus more prized. In my collection, I have one cup that was once part of a four piece set that belonged to my grandmother’s family. They used it when they went camping. I guess when family camping stopped, the cups got used for other purposes until only one was left. This one had become a birdseed scoop until it was given to me by my Mother who knows of my enamelware fetish. But even as a scoop, it was still being used and thus memories of family camping persisted and memories of those who used it were an everyday thought. Now on the top of an old jelly cupboard, it is still a daily memory of my grandmother, her parents, and her brother as I see it each day in the kitchen.


Depression-era glass (Depression Glass), 18th and 19th century pottery shards – yes, I have been known to dig in dirt piles – old bottles that I have unearthed in same named piles or at the ̓Sconset dump, seaglass, and historic postcards specifically of the Mitchell House are also some things I collect. (When my husband found out the price I paid for a vintage postcard of Mitchell House on eBay, I thought he would faint.) I also collect other images of Mitchell House, such as paintings and old photographs – I myself am a photographer of historic architecture with a focus on forgotten buildings especially those facing demolition by neglect – and McCoy wear. Since I am also a gardener, one can never have too many pots for plants and McCoy made many styles of pots including those with attached saucers! And then, I also love a good mid to late 19th century simple wood chair...



All of these items are used in a myriad of ways and continue to function as they were meant to be used or in new ways. Each item has some personal memory for me or my family depending on whether it was something I found while on a walk along the beach, digging in the dump, or a shop in New Orleans or something that belonged to my grandmother, great-grandmother, or a great-great aunt. These pieces connect us to the past and connect us to family members who may not be with us any more – but they are with us each time you use that cup or look into that mirror, they are there and you think of them. The past and the people of the past continue to live on.


JNLF

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By Jascin N. Leonardo Finger • October 26, 2026
I grew up, quite literally, with hot water radiators in a Colonial Revival from the 1920s.  There was a huge boiler in the basement that chugged and blew hot belching air. It took up one whole area of the basement and I avoided it. I could hang over on the stairs and stare at its flames at the bottom. It scared me. It not only kept the basement very warm but also very dry. While the house had been built in an area that began to slope at our property, between the furnace and the clever drainage system installed by the builders of the house in the 1920s, our basement was always dry. My mother, the queen of rebates (this is the 1970s and 1980s), had her “rebate and coupon table” right in front of this furnace. I remember it always glowed – and I would not doubt that it still had some asbestos around some of its pipes. Maybe another reason I stayed away – perhaps I was warned away at an early age not just because I could burn myself! One of my fondest memories of this house was the clang and hiss of the heaters in the winter. It made me feel instantly cozy, as if I was wrapped in a nice warm quilt. If I was in bed at night and it was snowing, all the more warmth and cozy feeling. It was comforting and a sound and feel I still associate with snow and winter. The street light and the snow falling, spiraling down in that pinkish gold of the light – and the hoped for snow day to come! Forced air systems just don’t do the same thing. And, they suck all the moisture out of the house to boot! They do keep a house quite warm though – but still not the same – and I miss that humidity as do my plants. I reflect back on the hot water radiators – those old cast iron loopy radiators with the valve and perhaps a radiator box to cover them – as it if they kept me super warm. They didn’t. We kept our house at 63F – a lesson I still follow – and it was a big old Colonial-style house so it could be drafty. One reason we had a Franklin stove in our family room and quilts for nighttime television watching! So many times over the course of a winter, I think of that house where I spent about twenty years of my life, and remember the, “Bang, Clang, Hiss!” of the radiators and the coziness they projected. And while, it wasn’t always warm, it was a lot warmer that the Mitchell House would have been in February! JNLF
By Jascin N. Leonardo Finger • October 19, 2026
October 1. {1857} No place that I have yet seen in Europe has interested me like Abbotsford; no palace has held such royalty. I sat down in the chair which Sir Walter Scott had occupied, and I almost felt his presence; his power I had known nearly all my life . . . . It was rather a sad visit as all such visits must be . . . I had half a mind to sit down and cry, perhaps because the “wizard” was dead, perhaps because I was a little homesick. This date marked the anniversary of Maria Mitchell’s comet discovery on October 1, 1847. At least one of Scott’s books exists in Maria’s personal library today – and I am sure there were more – handed about among family members, as well as available at the Nantucket Atheneum. This was truly an experience and education for Maria – touring through Europe. It was also the first time she had even been away from home for any length of time. She was entering into her third month away from her family and Nantucket – it must not have been easy. Keep in mind – no easy communication – letters only, do not forget. At least a voice at the other end of a phone line can help a bit when one is homesick. (Yeah, no, I’m not a Facetime/Skype kind of girl. I do “live” in the 19 th century!) JNLF
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“If you don’t look, you don’t see. You have to go and look.” -Edith Andrews
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