My grandfather, Gorham Cross, was a sentimental man. He used to collect and display mementos from his life. In fact, in one of his houses, on Valley Road in Wellesley, he had a room called “the museum.” That room was my ideal. It had a big, multi-paned picture window that looked out on a blue spruce and the front yard of the house. At Christmas Granddad would hang the spruce tree with white lights – real, full-sized Christmas tree lights that glowed softly; none of your bright, sharp fairy lights. The light from that tree would fill the room with a comfortable glow.
The museum was full of interesting things: Photographs of birdshooting expeditions; books; trinkets; matchbook covers; a cobbler’s bench; bits of hunting and fishing equipment; Bandaid tins; sugarlumps from roadside diners; family mementos.
This blog – and the accompanying website – are my versions of the museum. In them I have collected the things that I love. They please me; I hope that they will offer some enjoyment to my family and friends, as well.
Now I understand why 21 Foster is full of such a huge assortment of momentos, decorations, photos, toys, knick-knacks and whatnots. It is decorated in the Gorham Cross tradition. And 21 Foster is not lacking in warm light at night; I know you have received compliments on your brightly lit house, enhanced by candles in the windows for the holidays.
In fact, so brightly lit is your home, that once, when you had a Halloween witch’s pot brightly brewing in the window with fake flames blowing, a kind old lady knocked at your door to warn you that you had a dangerous fire going at the front of the house.