Letters

Jascin N. Leonardo Finger • June 10, 2013

I am often worried about the fact that we are now, for the most part, no longer letter writers or journal keepers. This is even more pronounced for me as I work with Maria Mitchell’s papers and letters or I work with those of other people as I conduct research. What will people know about us? What will they have to read to learn about us? E-mails are deleted, text messages or Tweets are a few words long and deleted as well and with changes in the Internet and computers, what will happen to blogs? None of this is stored in a more stable and permanent way – yes, paper can have its issues with time but still.

I glean so much from a letter, a journal, or even a newspaper clipping. It’s kind of like gardening. I can simply read through a letter or journal page enjoying what I read and not taking notes but just absorbing the “surroundings” much as I might enjoy walking around my garden to see what is blooming at the moment. Or I can take a few notes about things that I might be looking for or something else that is interesting and I was not aware I would find – sort of like picking a bouquet and finding other flowers I did not realize were blooming and adding them into the bouquet or making a new small one. And then there is gleaning or maybe full on harvesting. Where I find exactly what I was looking for and loads of information which will assist me in my research.

But what about now? In the twenty-first century? I sometimes feel like I am one of the last letter writers. I have a few friends who I correspond with by writing real, put them in the mailbox with a stamp, letters. One of those is a friend I have had since I was fourteen years old. Her name is Sonja. She is from Germany and we have been pen pals since we were in junior high school. Now, how many children have pen pals today and how many will continue to write them letters well into adulthood? (It’s about twenty-six years for us.) This experience – writing to one another regularly, sharing information about oneself and one’s family and country and school, and what life is like in that country is an important one.

Someday, if we should be so lucky, maybe our letters will wind up in an archive, and someone will use them to learn about us, our daily life as teenagers (and now adults), our families, and our everyday life and surroundings. I think our correspondence has certainly made an impression on Sonia’s nine year old daughter who travelled with her. You see, Sonja and I have never met face-to-face and we did so just last week for the first time. We already knew one another so well it seemed from twenty-six years of letter writing (and now a little email thrown in – though we still write our letters!), it was almost natural to have her come and stay with us for a few days.

It sounds mundane but you learn a lot from letters or journals. So please, keep a journal, write some letters – you will make the post office happy! – and try sharing more than just a fleeting Tweet. Your descendants and others will thank you for it!

JNLF

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Mallow!

By Jascin Leonardo Finger • August 31, 2026
I’m sure you’ve seen it as you trek about the island – near the beaches and ponds. This image is of the swamp or marsh mallow that we have on Vestal Street in our garden out front of the Observatory. It can grow in drier places – though it’s not as lush as at Capaum Pond or out in Quaise. It’s in the Hibiscus family – and is fairly tropical looking and always a delight to see.  “When in bloom, one of the most showy plants of the Island, for a mass of the magnificent, large flowers on the edge of a blue pond causes one’s heart to thrill at the wealth of deep pink colour . . .” from Nantucket Wild Flowers, Alice O. Albertson (cousin of Maria Mitchell), 1921. JNLF

A Piece of a Clay Pipe

By Jascin N. Leonardo Finger • August 24, 2026
I have always wanted to find a piece of a clay pipe. I know – weird – but if you have ever read any of my blogs here for the MMA then you know I have a thing for pottery shards. I sort of figured I would not find a piece of a clay pipe – not even a piece of a stem. But the other day, walking in a place where I have found quite a few shards, I found a piece of clay pipe! Now, I’m not talking about water pipes – I am talking about tobacco pipes. And I know very little about clay pipes. Yes, I am a curator of a historic house museum, but this family did not smoke. They were Quaker and among the many things they abstained from, tobacco was one of them. Therefore, I am not up on clay pipes so I am doing a bit more research.  For one, age can be determined by the width of the hole inside the pipe. So based on this one, I would say it’s fairly late. Since they were so fragile, and those holes pretty small, if it got filled with tobacco, the person just broke off the stem creating a shorter pipe and one that was not clogged with tobacco. Apparently, stems could be recycled – in fact, 15,000 broken stem pieces were uncovered at a historic walkway at Colonial Williamsburg – they were used as fill! And pipes were made into the early twentieth century – falling out of favor around World War One. It makes sense – they were cheap, easy to make, and affordable. Typically, one could last a few years – unless you dropped it of course. An,d pipes were used by men, women, and (eh, em) yes, children. I can see that Nantucket may not have had a lot of tobacco smoking residents – not just that some were Quaker – but because of the Quaker influence. I t does not mean people here do not smoke – I just think there may have been fewer smokers on the island in the nineteenth century and earlier. JNLF

Maria Mitchell In Her Own Words

By Jascin N. Leonardo Finger • August 17, 2026
August 19 {1857}. There are four great men whose haunts I mean to seek, and on whose footsteps I mean to stand: Newton, Shakespeare, Milton, and Johnson. To-day I told the driver to take me to St. Martin’s, where the guide-book says that Newton lived. He put me down at the Newton Hotel, but I looked in vain to its top to see anything like an observatory. I went into a wine-shop near, and asked a girl, who was pouring out a dram, in which house Newton lived. She pointed, not to the hotel, but to the house next to a church, and said, “that’s it – don’t you see a place on the top? That’s where he used to study nights.” It is a little, oblong-shaped observatory, built apparently of wood, and blackened by age . . . .” Blackened no doubt by the wood ash and soot found in the air throughout over-crowded nineteenth century London. We always think about London being very foggy in the nineteenth century but frankly a lot of it was wood and coal ash as the nineteenth century grew older, particularly as factories developed and belched all of that into the air – think Sherlock Holmes in the 1880s. But Maria Mitchell, while starting in Europe as a young woman’s chaperone, also knew that this tour of Europe was a great learning experience – the equivalent of a college education she could not have. Doors were thrown open to her around Europe – in particular at all of the observatories that dotted the continent. She was not just well-known – she was famous. JNLF
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