The thing that surprises
me most about the time I’ve spent at Hawks Inn in Delafield Wisconsin is that I
find myself still breaking one of my cardinal rules of material culture
studies. I’m not supposed to judge, evaluate, or experience objects through my personal
set of experiences. I’m supposed to greet every object I meet openly and
without seeing it through my culture lens. While I am very conscious to avoid
that mistake with objects, I’m constantly breaking that rule when it comes to
people. I’m shocked when I meet people who don’t like chocolate. I can’t
understand why anybody would rather watch golf than football or pass up candy
for anything savory.
I digress.
The Inn was built in 1843
as a stagecoach stop for folks settling in Wisconsin and those seeking shelter
on their way West. However, this missive is not about the building…it’s about
the folks who keep it alive. The first time I spoke with lead volunteer Jim
Babcock I was struck by the sound of his voice. It’s a mixture of soil,
sawdust, and happiness. It sounds like history coming through a filter made out
of an antique cheese grater. The man’s got some serious pipes, just right for
story telling.
After our introductory
pleasantries, I explained to Mr. Babcock that I was an independent radio
producer with twenty plus years under my belt. When he asked me what my plan
was for the summer learning project, I gleefully explained that I was on a
mission to record his connections with the many objects, that when combined,
create the Inn's historical narrative. I asked him to pick out three objects
that he thought were crucial to telling the Inns story. Out of the three we
would pick one, I’d record him talking about it and I would then…wait for
it…teach him how to edit the tape himself. You know because EVERYBODY loves
editing tape, right.
I can smell the hubris
right now as I’m writing this.
Anyway, Mr. Babcock didn’t
flinch, bless his heart, and suggested that I attend the Inn's weekly Wednesday
coffee clutch. That way I could meet all of the volunteers at once, go over the
project, and get a feel for the place. We met in the meeting room next to the
Inn. It looks like a giant dining room with a galley kitchen. Each of the long
tables appeared to be held in place by Windsor kitchen chairs painted black.
The brightness of the rooms paled in comparison to the smiles of the
volunteers. These women are so vibrant; their glow denies their age. I would
never be so boorish to reveal the number of years they have under their belts.
However, I will say that they have been retired from their chosen professions
for some time now and were thoroughly enjoying their Golden years.
When I walked in Mr.
Babcock was talking about driving down Johnson Street passed the Presbyterian
Church in Madison and finding a beautiful carpet cast out by students leaving
town for the summer. “It’s still amazing to me how many beautiful things they
throw away,” he said. Slightly changing his tune, he introduced me to the other
volunteers and asked me to explain my reason for being there. I waxed on about
my intention to record audio about the objects that help weave the Inn’s
narrative. Mr. Babcock would be the voice of the Inn.
When I got to the part
about teaching them to edit the audio, I could feel a shift in the room. While
their smiles never dimmed, something changed.
So I asked “Would any of you be interested in learning how to edit the
audio for the segment?”
No.
Not I don’t think so or
probably not or any excuses about not having the time
It was a simple, sweet,
and very direct no. It was a very real “What do you mean you don’t like
chocolate?” moment. That wasn’t the only thing that changed the direction of my
project. Mrs. Seltzer was talking about how much Delafield had changed since
she and her husband moved to the area. The others chimed in, telling stories
from their childhoods. They talked about places they remembered and more
importantly, the questions they forgot to ask their parents, while they were
still alive. The more I got to know them the more I realized that that my being
there was bigger than things.
After writing this, I’ll
plug in my audio editing equipment and finish editing the stories told to me by
the volunteers. In the coming weeks you will hear from a woman who started her
relationship by folding quilts and now gives guided tours of the Inn. You will
hear from a woman who works in the gift shop and though she’s a little unsteady
on her feet, comes to the Inn as much as possible. The woman who is in charge
of the place will tell you how she got her start pulling weeds and identifying
plants in the garden. Then there is Mr. Babcock who will spell bind you with a
voice made of soil, sawdust, and happiness all filtered through an antique
cheese grater.
--Gianofer Fields
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| Volunteer Mary Daniel tending flower beds at Hawks Inn. |
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