By Jessica Dunkin
In the series’ inaugural post, I gave readers a brief overview of The Home Archivist, a project in which I—a professional historian—process and arrange a collection of nineteenth-century letters. The context in which a collection was produced, what archivists refer to as provenance, is central to these practices of processing and arranging historical documents. But what of the context in which the archivist themself encounters a collection? In this second post, I describe the circumstances of my introduction to the letters and the world I inhabit as I work with them. Whenever I open the box or think about the letters, I am connecting with the MacKendricks, the cottage at Windermere, and the canoeing encampments that brought us all together.
In late March 2014, I found myself kneeling on the carpeted floor of a bright sitting room in Milford, Connecticut, the Long Island Sound visible through the side window. In front of me was a dusty cardboard box that had spent much of the last century squirreled away in basements and attics, a repository for family letters. A first glance revealed deep discolouration, gouges on two sides of the box, and two labels on the top flaps. The box’s owners and my hosts, Bob and Marge MacKendrick, explained that the stains were from the fire that tore through the family home in Galt, Ontario, many years ago. There is no explanation for the gouges. They were likely sustained during one of the box’s many moves. The labels, meanwhile, indicate that The Robert Simpson Company sent Mrs. J.A. MacKendrick (Amelia) an item on September 24, 1918, and that the express charges for the shipping were pre-paid.
My relationship with this box of letters began in August 2013 at the Muskoka Boat and Heritage Centre (Gravenhurst, Ontario) when I was introduced to the MacKendricks. Continue reading →