Hometown Histories
The Shadow Of Chemical Valley
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Sarnia has been growing and dying in cycles for a hundred years.
Sarnia has been growing and dying in cycles for a hundred years.
Imagined meritocracies mean little to extractive institutions.
Smoke your way to a peaceful working-class life.
What happens when forged documents enter the historical record?
What happens when forged documents enter the historical record?
“. . . if a wide brimmed Stetson gets us going, I’m content to start there.”
As a child, I thought it was extremely cool that working for the U.S. government meant that you could get a pen that said “U.S. Government.”
Pick any stretch of road and you can find along it a history of the nation.
A seven-point memo proposing control of the global insulin market.
I had already completed my freshman year when I first learned what an adjunct was.
An unexpected job opportunity launched seven years of adjunct teaching and rekindled Aimee Loiselle’s interest in scholarly history.
Jell-O remains an easy, popular way to enter the domestic realm.
It was the only dark chocolate my grandmother liked.
A cake made without milk or butter? Don’t tell the Minnesota Dairy Industry Committee!
My great-grandmother Sylvia’s stuffed cabbage held an out-sized role in my culinary imagination.
As a picky eater, I ate oodles of instant noodles growing up.
“No one listens unless we tell a good story, so we try to tell good stories.”
How-to books, including those which promise the secret to wealth, are not a modern invention.
She was there to promote a way of life that little resembled her own.
By adopting middle-class aesthetics, the bar-basement bowling alley became the “poor man’s country club.”
In 1908, Canada tried to deport the South Asian population of Vancouver. But the community stood its ground and won.
Though the “electricity biscuit” thesis is plausible, killjoy historians need more evidence.
Regulation, not culture, is the key to understanding the novel coronavirus.
Behind Dover Publications’ eclectic 10,000-title catalog lies a remarkable story of 20th century innovation.
Mr. Peanut embodies two seemingly-distinct but deeply-connected Virginian worlds.
“An ex-addict without employment is an ex-addict without cure.” Or so the mantra went.
I’d spent years living simultaneously inside the West and outside of it.
Over its four-decade run, LIFE Magazine had 105 staff photographers. Six of them were women.
It is the largest maximum-security prison in the United States. So who is going to its gift shop, and why?