I'm sure I've reported many examples of why I love the Internet. This is probably Part VIII. Or Part LXXXVIII.
Anyway, another example happened this week. A couple of years ago I got involved in a discussion of old silver on an antiques forum, and inquired if it was possible to date souvenir spoons. I posted lots of pictures of spoons from my grandmother's collection. She picked up spoons in her travels as an opera singer.
Today, a Ph.D. candidate researching tourism in Arizona was very excited to find one of those photos. The picture confirmed for him that Casa Grande Ruins souvenir spoons were in fact sold in 1891. He wrote to thank me.
The world was so much bigger when I was a child. I like it better this way.
5 comments:
I know what you mean, Susan. I love the Internet too. This is so cool!
Fantastic. And I kinda love that spoon.
I need to get to a desert.
That's so bizarre that someone would care. That's what I love about the internet. I have an old Ullman loom, not made anymore, and I received it in pieces. Looking around the internet, I found a woman in Minnesota who collects loom instruction manuals. Who would do such a thing? But thank goodness someone does, I suppose...
Bridgett, I have such a similar story! I use an old wool cutter, inherited from a relative, for my rug hooking. Last week I wanted to change the cutter head. The procedure seemed pretty straightforward, but I couldn't manage to do it. Suddenly, what should appear on a rug hooking forum I frequent but the instructions for changing cutter heads in my 1950s model cutter. A woman had come across the manual and scanned it, in case anyone owned that model. I hadn't asked, I swear!
Are you a weaver? How lovely!
Hi Dona and IB! I've been to a desert. Now I need a dessert.
Yes, long live the internet.
I have a little thingie someone brought me from Arizona that looks exactly like the top of your spoon. I love it. I never understood spoon collecting (and does anyone do it anymore?), but seeing this kind of makes me understand why it was popular at one time.
(P.S. And a grandmother who was an opera singer... was she full of stories?)
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