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pub-lius · 2 years

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The Schuyler Sisters (Peggy, Angelica, Eliza) for @thereallvrboy

aaaaaaa

this post is a couple weeks late because the research took longer than normal for some reason, so i’m typing it all out on the same day im researching for the next post so you’ll probably see that tomorrow if not next week. a lot of the information for this post comes from this website, and cross referenced with my usual favorites (britannica especially) and Alexander Hamilton by Ron Chernow because i hate myself. but i love @thereallvrb0y so its fine

Margarita Schuyler Van Rensselaer

Margarita Schuyler was born on September 24, 1758 in Albany, and was referred to as Meggy or Peggy, but I’ll be calling her Peggy because that is how she is widely known. She was the THIRD OF ELEVEN children to General Philip Schuyler and Catharine Van Rensselaer Schuyler, which is why I am refusing to do all the Schuyler kids (don’t love you that much, richie /j). She was closest with her sisters Angelica and Elizabeth (who I will refer to as Betsey). She was known for being smart, beautiful, witty, and fiesty.

On August 7, 1781, the Schuyler home was threatened by a Tory mob. There’s this one story that when they sieged upon the house, Peggy came out of hiding to get her younger sister Catherine who was just fucking abandoned, and they threw a tomahawk at her which sliced her gown and was embedded in the staircase. That didn’t happen, Catherine made it up because she didn’t like Indigenous people (probably).

Peggy married Stephen Van Rensselaer III when he was 19 and she was 25. At this time, men were shamed for their mommy kinks, and Stephen’s dad was disappointed that he married an older woman, so they eloped. They would go on to have three children, one of which would survive to adulthood, Stephen Van Rensselaer IV.

More about Stephen, his mom was a Livingston (these three families constantly married each other it was lowkey highkey weird) and his dad was the ninth patroon of Rensselaerwyck which means he was a really really rich dude who owned a big ass piece of land. Stephen was entitled to assume responsibility as lord of Van Rensselaer Manor when he turned 21.

The Schuylers were wealthy, Dutch American, landowning families in New York. Peggy and Stephen’s parents were third generation immigrants, and it was likely that Dutch was a common family language. They all belonged to the Dutch Reformed Church in Albany, New York.

Peggy was unfortunately affected by an illness in 1799, and died on March 14, 1801. She was really close with Alexander Hamilton, and was with her when she died.

“On Saturday, my dear Eliza, your sister took leave of her sufferings and friends, I trust to find repose and happiness in a better country.” -Alexander Hamilton to Elizabeth Hamilton

She was initially buried in the family plot at the Van Rensselaer estate, and was later reinterred at Albany Rural Cemetery.

Angelica Schuyler Church

Angelica Schuyler was born on February 20, 1756, and Ron Chernow shat himself. She was described as educated, intelligent, attractive, and more sociable than Betsey because that is a character trait apparently (solid notes, Henry). She was the eldest daughter so she totally had some kind of complex going on.

She eloped with John Church in 1777 before Alexander Hamilton had time to get into her pants. She was afraid her father wouldn’t approve of Church because he was suspicious as fuck. He came to America to avoid bankruptcy, and was secretly (and suspiciously) supplying the French and American armies, and eventually became Washington’s Commissary General, which is slay, but like you didn’t need to be that suspicious.

Angelica left for Europe in 1783 with her family and didn’t return until 1797 (once again before Hamilton could engage in Amorous Congress with her). She held frequent parties, and was an absolute bad bitch in European social circles. For example, between 1783 and 1785, John was a US envoy to the French government, and Angelica became besties with Benjamin Franklin, Thomas Jefferson (she kinda bullied him but besties nonetheless) and the Marquis de Lafayette. Also, Jefferson’s daughter attended the same school as Angelica’s daughter, and I think that’s cool.

In 1785, she made a visit to New York, but again, left before Hamilton could make whoopee with her. She also went to Washington’s inauguration in 1789, but I don’t know if that was the same or a different trip.

She moved to London after that and became friends with the fucking royal family, specifically the Prince of Wales. Also, Church was elected to serve on the British Parliament in 1790, but this isn’t about him.

She was reunited with her family in New York in 1797 and that was cool. The US wasn’t able to pay Church back for his efforts during the war which is homophobic so they gave him 100,000 acres of land in Western NY (Genesee and Allegany counties) in order to retain their status as allies. They laid out a town with designs reminiscent of Paris, and their son Philip named it after Angelica. The layout is still the same which is really cool!

FINE I’LL TALK ABOUT HER AND HAMILTON.

So Angelica was very close with her brother-in-law Bitchbaby Ham a ton. She told Betsey she loved Hamilton “very much, and if you were as generous as the old Romans, you would lend him to me for a little while.”

“I am sensible how much trouble I give you, but you will have the goodness to excuse it, when you know that it proceeded from a persuasion that I was asking from one who promised me his love and attention if I returned to America.” -Angelica to Hamilton, February 19, 1796

Did they have an affair? Was Hamilton the little slutty man that Angelica makes him out to be in the first quote?

No. *roll credits*

Okay, I’m gonna say this once and never again (jk I probably will), but the idea that they had an affair is bullshit (in my opinion, this is all my opinion, my educated opinion, but my opinion nonetheless). There is like. more proof that they didn’t have an affair than that they did.

The biggest “evidence” there is for the relationship is the flirtatious comments they made in their letters to one another. I think there’s two reasonable explanations to this than just assuming they were fucking or in love: they were joking, or they were just being affectionate. Angelica refers to Hamilton as “brother” in literally every letter we have from her to him, and the two of them, along with Angelica’s sister and Hamilton’s wife, Betsey, had extremely affectionate relationships. The affection in the second quote is a great example of how they all talked to each other.

Now for the actual flirtatious comments, you can tell they are joking. Like in all the examples, they have a lighthearted, joking tone, that doesn’t really come across as actual flirting.

Okay, but let’s say you’re insistent that they were actually flirting. It still doesn’t make sense. Angelica loved her husband (she had to to stay with that fuckhead for that long), and Hamilton was working constantly to balance his job, his family, and the other affair SLFHSKJFH Additionally, they were apart for a large part of their lives, and honestly, I don’t think there would have been any kind of opportunity for romantic feelings to grow between them.

Also, I’m just going to say it, most of the people who argue for this (historians mostly) are homophobic and misogynistic. First of all, if you assume that a man and a woman are automatically romantically or sexually involved because they have an affectionate relationship and make flirtatious jokes, it gives thinking that women are inherently unable to form platonic relationships with men. Especially if you think that same sex friends can make flirtatious jokes and not be in a romantic/sexual relationship, but it’s impossible for opposite sex friendships (that’s also pretty homophobic).

But most of the homophobia comes from the people who will die on the hill that Angelica and Hamilton had a romantic and/or sexual relationship, but refuse to accept the idea that Hamilton and Laurens had feelings for each other. Their letters displayed legitimate jealousy and anger over each others’ marriages, which doesn’t exist with Hamilton and Angelica. Their letters lack the flirtatious humor, but contain legitimate evidence of a romantic relationship. The logic that backs up Hamilton and Angelica’s “relationship” provides basically double the amount of evidence for Hamilton and Laurens’ relationship.

Anyway... she died on March 13, 1814.

Elizabeth Schuyler Hamilton

Elizabeth Schuyler was born on August 9, 1757 in Albany. She was called Eliza or Betsey. Hamilton called her Eliza later in life, but before that he called her Betsey.

She stayed with her aunt in Morristown, New Jersey in 1780 where she met Alexander Hamilton, who was serving as Washington’s aide-de-camp at headquarters which had been set up there for the winter encampment. Their relationship grew quickly, even after he left a month after she arrived. They became officially engaged in early April with her father’s blessing. This was very important to General Schuyler, because his two other daughters had eloped and he was starting to get sad.

They were married on December 14, 1780 at the Schuyler Mansion in Albany. The only person to attend the wedding on Hamilton’s side, James McHenry, a fellow aide-de-camp, wrote them a cute little poem that i don’t feel like looking for, but it definitely exists.

They moved around a lot during the early part of their marriage, but settled in New York City in late 1783. They had an active social life, and became well known. Betsey was very important to Hamilton, helping him often with his work, but had the biggest impact on his domestic life. His traumatic past caused him to really not have much of a comfortable, safe space to come home to, and he often thought of a familial environment (ie Washington’s staff) almost like he was being coddled. Until he married her ofc. She helped him mature and move past, what I call, his “I hate Dad” phase. More on that later, but he had a major change in personality after she met him.

Then there was the uh... the affair. I’ll go into more detail about Maria Reynolds in Hamilton’s post, but I’ll talk a little about what we know of Betsey’s experience. She didn’t believe the rumors at first, until Hamilton owned up to it. It put a strain on the relationship for a little while, but they eventually reconciled. That’s all we know pretty much.

Then he died. Whoops!

This is when Betsey turned on the girlboss and kicked absolute fucking ass. She became a co-founder of the Society for the relief of poor widows with small children. She became the co-founder of the Orphan Asylum Society, of which she was appointed second directress, then first directress in 1821 and served for 27 years until she left New York in 1848.

She was required to pay substantial debts after Hamilton’s death, and sold her 35 acre estate in upper Manhattan, and was later able to buy it back because executors decided she couldn’t be publicly dispossessed. She sold it again and moved into a townhouse owned by her son, the Hamilton-Holly House. She lived there for 9 years with her kids. She left for Washington DC in 1848 where she lived until 1854 with her daughter.

She, along with her children, remained dedicated to preserving Hamilton’s legacy. She re-organized all of his letters, papers, and writing with John, C. Hamilton, and ensured his biography was published. She also helped Dolly Madison raise money for the Washington Monument.

She died in Washington DC on November 9, 1854. She was buried by her husband and son in Trinity Church.

#elizabeth hamilton #elizabeth schuyler #elizabeth schuyler hamilton #peggy schuyler #peggy schuyler van rensselear #angelica schuyler #angelica church #angelica schuyler church #history #amrev #amrev history #american history #dutch american history #had some hot takes in this post #ik this isn't supposed to be about my opinions but i think the angelica/hamilton affair theory is deeply problematic for reasons stated #if i get proven wrong thats great #but i think people's reasons for believing it with the evidence we currently have is gross #also i didn't mention philip or william stephen's deaths because i discussed those in the hamilkids post #i'll discuss the miscarriage in hamilton's post #which actually might have to be multiple posts #because i have by far the most information about him and it's going to take me several weeks to compile it all #so look forward to that #also the next post is john and henry laurens #so prepare yourself for that lol #do it for richie 💪

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lionofchaeronea · 4 months

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Sunset over the Waves, Mauritz de Haas, 1890

#art #art history #Mauritz de Haas #landscape #landscape painting #landscape art #seascape #marine art #sunset #American art #Dutch-American art #19th century art #oil on canvas #private collection

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the-cricket-chirps · 6 months

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Willem de Kooning, Black and White, 1959

Willem de Kooning, Landscape, Abstract, c. 1949

Willem de Kooning, Landscape at Stanton Street, 1971

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moeitsu · 1 month

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The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Summary: Kate is not immune to the dangers of the land. No matter how much she loved it, the land will never love her back.

Ao3 Wattpad Masterlist - All Chapters Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6 Ch.8 Ch.9 Ch.10

Trigger Warning: Graphic depictions of violence and disturbing imagery. If you do not like depictions of war and torture please proceed with caution. I did heavy research for this chapter, but please know it is entirely FICTIONAL. The characters are not real, but the events are based on real American history. Tags: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character, Widowed, Original Character, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Friends to Lovers, Child Loss, Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur Morgan Deserves Happiness, Chubby Arthur Morgan, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

Ch 7 - The Sun Can Never Dip So Low

1890

I knew I was going to die.

If the arrow in my side does not take me, then the man who rides the horse I lay across surely will.

I felt no pain. Perhaps it was the fever of the fight. But it didn’t hurt. I thought of screaming and thrashing, but I thought better of it. As my father would say, ‘The one good thing about problems, is they’ll still be problems later. Don’t need to deal with them right away.’

Either way, I was still going to die.

If only my father had taught me how to survive the frontier. I know now that you must learn to recognize those who won’t survive, and be wary of their doomed decisions. They are to be avoided at all costs. Because their fear is tragedy’s closest cousin. And tragedy is contagious in this place.

My mind was snuffed by a white blanket of fear, but somehow I prayed, and prayed, and prayed. But God had already abandoned me, perhaps he never loved me at all. My life had been an endless cycle of taking, why would it stop taking now.

I had no idea where the man was taking me. I did not speak his language. I had heard stories about the wars between the Indians and Englishman. But I did not have a way to tell them I’m not a part of it, but I knew somehow if I could it would not matter. War will turn men into predators, and women into prey.

Only days ago I felt like I was drowning under a waterfall, but now I see this is the real river of death.

The adrenaline had begun to leak out of my body along with the blood from the arrow. I watched in a blurred haze as the droplets disappeared into the ground as the horse took us swiftly through the dark forests. The pain began creeping in along with the darkness as I blacked out.

When I woke I found myself laying on the dirt of a fort, the sound of Englishmen talking with the Indians brought me out of my haze. I thought I had been saved, I wanted to yell and scream for help. But the conversation did not sound pleasant, I could barely make out the figure of a man who must be a general and another who must have been the chief. To my surprise, I saw a young Indian woman standing behind the general, her wrists bound. She looked my age, but deathly beaten and ill. My throat closed in.

The chief's voice rose in anger and I watched him point at me, then at the woman. After a moment the general waved his hands, and the girl was unbound and brought to the chief, he swiftly lifted and cradled her. I knew then it was his daughter. At the same time one of the general's men came walking in my direction and I realized I wasn’t being rescued, but traded. One woman for another, and eye for an eye.

I thought death was better than being a prisoner, as my mind raced with panic. I almost begged the Indians to turn back and kill me.

There must be a heaven, because that night I knew I had entered the gates of hell. Crawling on my hands and knees into the belly of the beast as he took me in his bed. Night after endless night.

My days had turned into nights, and I no longer saw the point in living. Like my eyes had become devoid of color, and the world turned black and gray. Instead of praying to be rescued, I prayed my injury would kill me.

There were other prisoners in the fort, mostly Lakota men. I bore no hatred for their people, but entirely my own. Their greed so suffocating they took the daughter of the chief, an innocent girl who had no part in their war. And turned her into a shell of herself. All in the name of greed. It was always greed.

I thought my life couldn’t have any more surprises for me, that it must end here. But my life was about to change yet again.

I noticed one of the other prisoners began watching me, then leaving behind extra food and water for me. After a few days, he approached me.

“What is your name?” he asked, his accent thick. Like my language did not fit right in his mouth. Unlike his own.

“Kate,” I answered. Surprised to hear my own voice after days of torture, “what’s yours?”

“Egwani,” he said, “or in your language little river. That wound in your belly is going to get infected.” River nodded at the small purple wound on my stomach . The general's men had cauterized it, but my body had been rising with a fever for the past two days.

“It’s already infected.” And I hoped it would kill me quickly.

River shook his head, “I can help you.”

“Why would you help me?” Not that there was any hope for me anyways. Even if he stopped the infection, I was still stuck in this hell.

“That woman the white man traded you for, she is my wife.”

A chill ran down my spine. I did not want to think about what they did to her infront of him.

“You gave your life to save hers. So I will save yours.” He said sincerely. Not that I had a choice in the matter, but still. If one woman came out of this alive, then I guess my death would have some meaning to it.

“Even if you stop the infection, these men will kill me. There’s nothing you can do, I’m going to die here.” My voice betrays my thoughts. Desperation creeping its way into the cracks. Inside I wanted the pain to end, I wanted my suffering to cease. But I was still terrified, beneath it all I longed to return home. Pretend none of it happened. Return to my old life with my family. But that version of me no longer exists.

River chuckled softly.

“Is something funny?” The last thing I needed was to be shown kindness and then mocked. Like the general’s men had not degraded me enough.

“You are stubborn like the Amicalola,” he smiled. Why was he smiling? Had he not suffered just as much as I had? He must have seen his wife beaten nearly within an inch of her life, and he could do nothing, yet he was smiling at me now.

The pain in my body made my words come out bitter and sharp, “I don’t know what that means.”

“My people’s word for waterfall. You are strong like one too. It is a good name.”

I scoffed, how incredibly wrong he was.

“I’m not,” I stated with a groan. My head throbbed from the fever and my body was cold from the chills as the infection raged through my insides.

“I can give you medicine. And when my people return in a few weeks, I will escape and take you with me.” He explained.

“I think I’d rather you just kill me now,” I said, closing my eyes. The world around me was spinning in a dark haze, gravity pulling my body down with my thoughts.

“You could have killed yourself days ago,” River began, “you could have taken a rope to your throat, or a knife to your heart. But you did not,” I opened my eyes again and looked at him, “that is how I know you are strong. Your will to live is burning through you right now with a fever.”

My eyes filled with tears, and my throat suddenly felt thick. For the first time in what felt like forever, my heart began to fill with hope. River closed the gap between us and placed a gentle palm on my forehead, feeling the heat of my skin.

“I have watched you turn towards the pain as it tears into you. I have seen the way you survive, these men think they have taken everything from you. But you have not let them devour your soul.”

“I could do nothing to stop them,” I croaked. Hot tears spilling down my cheeks like water through a dry creek bed.

“Sometimes, there is strength in surrendering. But you have surrendered nothing to the pain. I see your tears, but you do not weep,” he brushed a thumb over my wet face, “you are a warrior.”

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

True to his word, River’s men showed up exactly two weeks later. But before that, he had given me a salve mixed from honey and sage and rubbed it over my arrow wound, as well as the numerous others I had accumulated in my time here. He also gave me an herbal tea for the infection, and by some miracle it was working. Each day I felt my strength returning to me.

River took beatings for me, when I could not walk or do chores. Or simply when the men felt like taking their frustrations out on another human being. And I felt incredibly guilty for it. But he always assured me that I needed to save my strength for the real fight, when his people came. Yet nothing could have prepared me for what was about to unfold.

They came under the cover of night, and used the forest and mountains to their advantage. They brought the fire, as the fort was made entirely out of wood and before long it became a fiery prison from hell. I knew our escape would not be easy, even with the help of Rivers' men. I had my strength back, but no knowledge of how to actually fight. I was lucky enough to escape with just a burn on my calf.

It had been a bloody massacre, and the men fought savagely. The Lakota people came with arrows and tomahawks and spears, and I watched as they made the men of the fort suffer. It brought a sickening joy to my heart, to see the men who had raped me have their skulls crushed and insides ripped apart. It felt like justice.

We lost people on our side, too many. None of the other prisoners had made it out alive. And I grieved for the other girls of the camp who did not make it like I had, it felt unfair. But we managed to escape. After hours of blazing rage, River swiftly lifted me onto the back of a horse, and together we rode far away from the fort. Only a few of his people escaped alongside us, as we left behind their final resting place. The numbing shock of war is behind me now, and hope has taken its place.

His men had informed us that his tribe had moved to the bottom of the Tennessee river, to escape the constant attacks and find refuge further west. So that is where our journey took us. As if life had still granted me the irony of continuing west, despite all the horrors I had faced to get there.

It took us nearly three months. We traveled through the Appalachian trails and the journey was not easy. We lived rough, and we lived hard. I felt like a burden most days, as I knew I was slowing down their journey. I was still not entirely healed, and some days I felt I did not have the strength to travel at all. But River was patient, and never made me feel like it was my fault.

He taught me how to hunt, how to fish, and how to set traps and skin animals. He even taught me some of his language, but most importantly he taught me how to survive.

“When we kill an animal we must use all parts of it, to honor it. These creatures are innocent, and when we kill an innocent we become a little less of a man, and a little more of an animal.” He told me as he demonstrated how to properly skin a rabbit.

Death is something we share with all creatures; rabbits, birds, horses and trees. It's everywhere, and eventually it will take everyone. Just as it had taken everyone who had loved me. Even as the stars die, we cannot run from it.

Despite his people running from war, they could not escape death either. We arrived at River’s tribal camp, along the bank of the Tennessee river, and it had been reduced to ash. We were too late, or perhaps we were lucky, this could have been our fate too. River, and the men who came to rescue us, were the last of his people. I saw something dark enter him that day, as he held the charred bones of his wife and child. The woman whom I gave my life for, all for nought. As I stood there, living and breathing, and she did not. Their entire family history, wiped clean from the earth.

His rage became the oil to my flame, I felt his anger mix with my own deep in my soul. All this death we had endured. Intertwined our fates like loops on a chain that bound us like shackles. But it was our grief that kept us on a tight leash. River sought revenge and justice, while I yearned to take from the world what it had taken from me. Together, we would instill fear into the heart of every man who crossed the land.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Kate McCanon died the day I met River. What stood before him now was the Amicalola, the waterfall. I became a woman unrecognizable.

Like many rivers, their journeys start with quiet beginnings, but as they are nourished by the waters of experience, they gather strength, flowing swiftly and deeply towards their desired path. If you follow their course and witness where they converge — they become a creature of beauty as well as fury. I became the waterfall: untamed and unbridled, sweeping away all in my path with wild abandon.

River made me into a warrior, and with each life I took, the world felt my turmoil. Anger guided my blade, for the world had stolen my family—my husband, and my daughter. It robbed me of myself, leaving me with nothing to lose.

“Our purpose is to ensure our enemies' fear is greater than their greed,” he told me. We hunted poachers, bandits, and thieves. But his rage was never satisfied.

He taught me how to kill, how to torture. How to fight with weapons capable of horrific fatalities. And I welcomed it with open arms. We fought and killed together for several years before I would begin to lose myself to the bloodshed.

We were hunting a group of poachers, when we came upon what we believed to be their camp. River was the first to drag a man from his tent, a knife already in his side. He would ask questions, and then kill him slowly. His fate sealed the moment we found their tracks. The man claimed to know nothing, but we were not convinced. And it wouldn't matter anyways, we would kill everyone in the camp. Just for the sake of it.

“What you take from the land will be taken from you. Know that I am the land, and the land is killing you.” River spoke in his native tongue as he slit the man's throat. Sickeningly slow. He would choke to death in his own blood.

A sound came from the man's tent and a figure emerged, I drew my bow, ready to release it as they stepped out. The moment a child appeared, I wished then that I had the strength to kill myself back at the fort. I had turned into a monster.

My heart was in my stomach as a little girl cried for her father. What have I done? I had almost killed a child. And we just killed her father, I realized we had been at the wrong camp. And I had just doomed a mother to be a widow, and a childhood to be ruined. I might as well have handed my fate over to them.

River stood before me, his face shadowed and his eyes vacant. The man who once filled my heart with hope now dwelled in darkness himself. At that moment, I knew I had to leave. I could no longer fight alongside him; our path led to a place from which I could not return. Like Persephone, Queen of the Underworld, yet born under the light of Spring, I too would journey down the river Styx.

He did not resist my departure. River assured me I would always be welcomed among his people, and if I desired, he would take me as his wife. For years, River had been my strength, and I his, but now I was leaving him—to salvage what little I had left of myself.

After calming the child, I made a solemn vow to reunite her with her mother. This marked the beginning of my journey to break the cycle, and seek redemption for what I had done. It would also mark the end of my journey as a warrior. As we parted ways, he whispered a message into the wind. I could not tell if it was a goodbye, or a promise, or a warning. In his tongue he told me “follow the rivers, and they will take you to the waterfall.”

~~~

AN: I seriously appreciate all the love you guys are showing for this story. It motivates me to write more, and I'm truly having so much fun with it. Thank you! <3

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poisonappleprintshop · 1 year

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I am excited to share that my original artwork ‘Witches’ Night on Hexenkopf Rock’ is featured in the third edition of Ned D. Heindel’s ‘Hexenkopf: History, Healing, & Hexeri’! You can grab a copy for yourself from The Sigal Museum. It is an honor to be included in such a wonderful book that preserves a part of Pennsylvanian history and the history of Pennsylvanian folk magic!

In 2016, I unearthed a rare copy of the first edition of this book (published under a slightly different title in 1974, seen in the third photo) at my grandmother’s house and it is what inspired me to create ‘Witches’ Night on Hexenkopf Rock.’

The rock itself is a stony summit in Williams Township, PA that has long been associated with magic, ritual, and witchcraft. ‘Hexenkopf: History, Healing, and Hexeri’ takes an in-depth view at the history and folklore surrounding Hexenkopf Rock and examines how Braucherei, or PA German folk magic, first developed in the area and contributed to the rock’s legends. Also discussed are stories of Native American magic, witch gatherings, ominous omens, and apparitions that have helped bolster Hexenkopf rock’s mysterious reputation. I highly recommend this book if you are interested in American folk magic and Pennsylvanian lore!

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docholligay · 1 year

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I love that he brought back “the mysterious recipe for Tarte tatin” when it is essentially “fuck up some apples in sugar and butter and slap pastry on top” but I guess if you don’t know how to...fuck up some apples in sugar and butter and make some pastry to slap on top, you don’t know. Tarte tatin is one of those things that sounds so ~French and complicated~ but it is not.

Also Tarte Tartin was invented in the 1880s so your uncle got it from the tartin sisters what, yesterday?

I have never seen this show and know absolutely nothing about it! As that is the fun of having me liveblog this, please let it be fun for EVERYONE by not confirming denying, hinting, saying things like “oh just wait til episode x’, telling me about outside interviews, or anything that is cultural or historical that I’m not picking up on! PLEASE LET ME BE A STUPID PIECE OF SHIT

#Doc watches The Case Study of Vanitas #Vanitas Ep 7 #the earliest thing we have that could be called anything like apple pie is an English recipe #So in essence tarte tatin is owed to the English #since tarte tatin is a descendant of actually American-style Apple pie #which is ITSELF descended from a mix of English and Dutch styles #(which makes sense given the history) anyway sorry I'm getting distracted about this

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progressive-waves-art · 6 months

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Compiled every single one of my Transitus headcanons into a single google doc and it’s like fifty pages just of plot outlines and historical background. Something is wrong with me

I’m so sorry in advance @ay-miphae

#this album taking over my life even more than it did in 2020 #could write a whole doctoral thesis defending setting the story in 1880s America #I’m guessing Arjen intended it to be British since it was super directly Downton Abbey inspired #maybe even genuinely Dutch since they didn’t have gender based inheritance laws so Henry’s plot would make a hell of a lot more sense #but oh my god #19th century American history fits PERFECTLY with the album’s themes im telling you #ayreon

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nickysfacts · 2 years

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Headless Horseman is a analogy on history:

no matter what he will never die and will always continue to haunt those still alive!

🐴🎃

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betsey-socialite-1757 · 10 months

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What's your religion?

Reformed Dutch Protestant Christian, of course!

#ic / best of wives & best of women #answered #religion cw #historical references #about betsey #alexander hamilton #american revolution #christianity #protestant #amrev #amrev fandom #american history #history #historical context #dutch history #reformed

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47thpennvols · 2 years

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First Lieutenant David Fetherolf, Company K, 47th Pennsylvania Volunteer Infantry, spring 1864 (used with the permission of David Sloan)

David Fetherolf was one of many 19th-century German-Americans from the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania who worked to eradicate the brutal practice of chattel slavery while fighting to preserve America’s Union during the American Civil War. Learn more about his life via his biography here.

#american civil war #pennsylvaniahistory #american history #pennsylvania #civil war #lehighcounty #lehighvalley #pennsylvania dutch #german history

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dirjoh-blog · 2 years

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Happy Birthday Eddy Hamel-America soccer player murdered in Auschwitz

I have done a piece on Eddy Hamel before, but for 2 reasons I wanted to do a post again about him. Firstly it is his 120th birthday today, secondly, we are only a few weeks away from the FiFa World Cup, the biggest tournament of the sport he loved so much. He was born in New York City. He was Jewish, as were his parents who were immigrants from the Netherlands. He moved to Amsterdam in his…

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#AFC AJAX #AJAX #American Citizen #Amsterdam #Auschwitz #Dutch National football team #Football #History #Holocaust #Rinus Michels #the Netherlands #UEFA Euro 1988 #World War 2

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the-cricket-chirps · 2 months

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Grant Wood, Old Shoes, 1926

Vincent van Gogh, Shoes, 1888

Bertram Brooker, Shoes, 1934-1936

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britishchick09 · 2 months

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rewrite erik's mom's backstory has changed... and now he's winston churchill! ;D

#that means he's american on his mom's side ;)#destler is an american name so i decided to go for it! ;D #her story is a lot more interesting than a french destin girl changing her name ;)#it explains why rewrite erik knows so many english songs and the presidents #it reminds him of his mom's homeland! :)#maybe he can speak a bit of english! :o #he'd be semi-bilingual along with the rest of the quartet! ;)#christine knows a bit of swedish meg knows some romani and raoul can say things in dutch #it's so exciting to know more about his family's history! :D #and learn about winston churchill in the process ;)#poto rewritten

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redgoldsparks · 8 months

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My very last comic for The Nib! End of an era! Transcription below the cut. instagram / patreon / portfolio / etsy / my book / redbubble

The first event I went to with GENDER QUEER was in NYC in 2019 at the Javits Center.

So many of the people who came to my signing were librarians, and so many of them said the same thing: "I know exactly who I want to give this to!" Maia: "Thank you for helping readers find my book!" While working on the book, I was genuinely unsure if anyone outside of my family and close friends would read it. But the early support of librarians and two American Library Association awards helped sell two print runs in first year.

Since then, GENDER QUEER been published in 8 languages, with more on the way: Spanish, Czech, Polish, French, Italian, Norwegian, Portugese and Dutch.

It has also been the most banned book in the United States for the past two years. The American Library Association has tracked an astronomical increase in book challenges over the past few years. Most of these challenges are to books with diverse characters and LGBTQ themes. These challenges are coming unevenly across the US, in a pattern that mirrors the legislative attacks on LGBTQ people. The Brooklyn Public Library offered free eCards to anyone in the US aged 13-21, in an effort to make banned books more available to young readers. A teacher in Norman, Oklahoma gave her students the QR code for the free eCard and lost her job. Summer Boismeir is now working for the Brooklyn Public Library. Hoopla and Libby/Overdrive, apps used to access digital library books, are now banned in Mississippi to anyone under 18. Some libraries won’t allow anyone under 18 to get any kind of library card without parental permission. When librarians in Jamestown, Michigan refused to remove GENDER QUEER and several other books, the citizens of the town voted down the library’s funding in the fall 2022 election. Without funding, the library is due to close in mid-2024. My first event since covid hit was the American Library Association conference in June 2022 in Washington, DC. Once again, the librarians in my signing line all had similar stories for me: “Your book was challenged in our district" "It was returned to the shelf!" "It was removed from the shelf..." "It was moved to the adult section."

Over and over I said: "Thank you. Thank you for working so hard to keep my book in your library. I’m sorry you had to defend it, but thank you for trying, even if it didn't work." We are at a crossroads of freedom of speech and censorship. The future of libraries, both publicly funded and in schools, are at stake. This is massively impacting the daily lives of librarians, teachers, students, booksellers, and authors around the country. In May 2023, I read an article from the Washington Post analyzing nearly 1000 of the book challenges from the 2021-2022 school year. I was literally on route to a festival to talk about book bans when I read a startling statistic. 60% of the 1000 book challenges were submitted by just 11 people. One man alone was responsible for 92 challenges. These 11 people seem to have made submitting copy-cat book challenges their full-time hobby and their opinions are having an outsized ripple effect across the nation. WE NEED TO MAKE THE VOICES SUPPORTING DIVERSE BOOKS AND OPPOSING BOOK BANS EVEN LOUDER. If you are able too, show up for your library and school board meetings when book challenges are debated. Send supportive comments and emails about the Pride book display and Drag Queen story hours. If you see a display you like– for Banned Book Week, AAPI Month, Black History Month, Disability Awareness Month, Jewish holidays, Trans Day of Remembrance– compliment a librarian! Make sure they feel the love stronger than the hate <3

Maia Kobabe, 2023

The Nib

#maia kobabe #banned books #library funding #comics #book challenges

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