All posts by Eve Ogden Schaub

Unknown's avatar

About Eve Ogden Schaub

Serial memoirist Eve O. Schaub lives with her family in Vermont and enjoys performing experiments on them so she can write about it. Author of Year of No Sugar (2014) and Year of No Clutter (2017) and most recently Year of No GARBAGE (2023). Find her on Twitter @Eveschaub IG or eveschaub.com.

The Road to Hell is Paved with Theme Art Auctions

One in a Thousand, Radio, , , ,

WAMC-LOGO”The Road to Hell is Paved with Theme Art Auctions” originally aired on WAMC in 2007.  Click on the WAMC logo to listen to the audio version of this article.

oneinathousandlogo

E. O. Schaub

Ah summer. Time for the return of so many familiar, warm-weather things: strawberry picking… outdoor concerts on a picnic blanket… farmer’s markets …and increasingly, the inevitable charity theme art auction, (cue the ominous music.)

Oh, it all started out innocently enough. Way back in the summer of 1999 the city of Chicago held the now-renowned public art exhibition “Cows on Parade,” featuring some 300 life-size artist-decorated fiberglass cows. (Little known fact— Cow Parade actually made it’s original debut in Zurich, Switzerland the year before, with an astonishing 800 of the beautified bovines.)

At that time it was a brand-new and rather innovative concept: pick a generic form, create multiples, have artists decorate each one differently, display them for a period, and then auction the pieces off for charity.

It caught on like wildfire, and not surprisingly. I mean, the whole thing sounds a Chamber of Commerce director’s dream. After all, we’re killing multiple birds with one stone, aren’t we? Between awareness of the arts, fund-raising for a good cause, and an event that the community can get behind while promoting the region to tourism as well… what’s not to like? Continue reading The Road to Hell is Paved with Theme Art Auctions →

Native to Nowhere

One in a Thousand, Radio, , ,

Screen shot 2011-09-26 at 1.13.39 PMoneinathousandlogo

E.O. Schaub

You know, I’m starting to get the odd feeling that I’m not really from anywhere. I know that I’ve mentioned before the fact that, according to local lore here in the green mountains, you don’t get to be a “local” unless you were born here- period. Too bad kid- as the Hindus say- better luck next life.

On the other hand, it’s only a scant four-hour drive between here and the New York City suburb where I grew up, but I fit in there about as well as a… a …. a gooseberry in a half-caff iced latte moccacino.

So you can see my dilemma. My mother, lives in New York and calls herself a New Yorker- and she is. (Of course, you can have moved to New York from the Outer Flamblastic Nebula yesterday, have polka dotted skin, and speak only in homonyms, and still be considered a perfectly legitimate New Yorker.) But I’m pretty clearly not. How do I know? Well, I have this weird propensity to smile at people. And I have a bizarre aversion to having TVs shoved in my face everywhere I go. And I don’t swear nearly enough. So you can see I’m kind of stuck between a rock and a hard place. Or a farmstand and a Starbucks if you prefer. Continue reading Native to Nowhere →

Gooseberry, Gooseberry, Gooseberry Pie

One in a Thousand, , , , , , ,

oneinathousandlogoby E.O. Schaub

 

“Ask me a riddle and I reply: Cottleston Cottleston Cottleston Pie.”

A.A. Milne

 

Confession time: I am a sometime dabbler in the dark arts. Yes, it’s true. I make pies.

 

Okay, maybe dark isn’t the right word. Golden brown is more like it… with all manner of lovely, lava-like fruity concoctions bubbling and steaming just beneath the surface. Name me one thing that’s better about summer than a perfect, freshly-baked pie sitting on the stove to cool- I dare you.

 

Nope, it’s pretty hard, you have to admit. Summer has so-oooo many of these quietly wonderful sensory-overload experiences: baking on a towel in the too-hot sun after a bracing dip in the swimming hole; taking that first, mouth-full-of-sugar bite of a big-as-your-head wad of cotton candy; or that green-stemmy smell of tomato plants, filled with hopeful, yellow flowers, peeking out from leafy hiding places, promising tomatoes to come… But if you ask me- and let’s assume that you did- none of these beats that moment when the hot summer pie is born.

 

Okay, I get carried away, I know. My husband tells me as much when I practically leap out of the car window after catching my first glimpse of a farm stand advertising “fresh peaches!” I can pore over the berry selection at Dutton’s Farm Stand for inordinate amounts of time, shooing the fruit flies and imagining wonderful concoctions, new pies to try out (hmmmm, what would Red Currant be like?), and old favorites to recreate (Strawberry Icebox, Summer Peach of course, and never, never overlook Just Plain Blueberry)… Continue reading Gooseberry, Gooseberry, Gooseberry Pie →