Reflecting on The Twelfth Day of Christmas AND Camels Hitting the Streets of The City That Never Sleeps . . .

Today I put my figurines of the three kings (pictured above) on display and invited a friend to dinner, so we could pay our own homage to ring out the Twelfth day of Christmas, January the Sixth: the Gregorian Calendar's Day for Epiphany (also known as The Feast of The Three Kings as well as The Twelfth Day of Christmas). To honor this day, in New York City, The Feast of the Three Kings Parade, a parade which includes camels, will march down Fifth Avenue. This is an annual event that I have yet to attend, in my nearly thirty years of living in New York, although the idea of seeing camels march down Fifth Avenue, in East Harlem, is more intriguing than checking out Easter bonnets at the annual Easter Parade down more trendy parts of Fifth Avenue — another annual parade that I've missed. The fact is: I don't list attending parades as one of my favorite things to do; and, although I live just a half a block from the part of Central Park West which is the route for the annual Macy's Thanksgiving Parade, I have only seen part of the parade twice.

The first time was in the early 1980's (when I did not live as close to the parade's route), when a great aunt (the sister of a great aunt that I have spoken about in previous posts which can be viewed here and here) visited me. It was pouring rain that Thanksgiving morning, and she was angry at me for introducing her as my "Great Aunt Ruth." A gentleman (who overheard her hiss at me through her angry words,"Please don't introduce me as your great aunt! Folks will know I am old!"), proclaimed to her, "Ok you are not so great!" The second time I saw part of the parade was in the nineties when my mother came to visit me and it was very cold.





Other than that, I have listened to the live coverage of the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade on 1010  Wins AM Radio, even though I could hear the marching bands go down Central Park West, from my apartment. Tonight, I will also take advantage of radio parade coverage — although it will be after the fact— and air on NPR's (WNYC) All Things Considered, which has been promoted by these words, "New Yorkers have had a tough few weeks getting around. First there was the massive snow. Then, the sidewalks overflowed with unpicked up garbage. On Thursday, thanks to the Three Kings Day Parade, it was the camels." 

I confess that I  find I enjoy live coverage of parades when I can be in my pajamas while drinking a mug of strong black Venezuelan coffee — instead of battling crowds — but I will enjoy the 'after-the-fact' coverage while sipping Vega Del Pas. If you think you might feel the same, please feel free to listen to the Three King's Parade coverage by clicking here. Hearing the rhetoric leading up to the event has inspired me to create a line of cards in honor of this day — and you will find updates about these, as they become available, on this blog. For now the next major 'commercial'  holiday for sending a card is Valentine's Day. However, I am, as you know, an advocate of sending cards to those near and dear to you without waiting for an official holiday, but, with the way retail stores look, one would think that Valentine's Day is tomorrow — not over a month away. I'll concede time moves way too quickly, so you may want to browse Valentine's selections featured on my web-site where purchase information is available.

" . . . Should old acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind?" (Hmmmmmmmmm, that depends.)

Should old acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind? Many people probably asked this question in the singing of the Auld Lang Syne song as they rang in the New Year a few days ago. The answer? Sometimes. I recall walking up Central Park West sobbing over a broken heart from an unhealthy relationship with a man, when I was confronted by a woman walking her dogs, who cried out to me, "I hope that's not over a man!"

Thankfully, my heart mended, and I could walk up the avenue without sobbing; and one time while doing so, happened upon the same woman walking dogs— only this time she was the one in tears, over a break-up with a man. In these cases of painful relationships, old acquaintances need to be forgotten; but for the most part old acquaintances are to be cherished, and this is often made known during a holiday season – whatever holiday you observe — by sending cards. For me, this is Christmas time, and every year I attend a party thrown by a neighborhood friend, and I am always moved by her display of cards, as seen in the photograph at the top of this post. In the case of my friend, she does not just put up cards that are from the current season; she includes cards that are her favorites from years ago. I am happy to say one of my petite-fold out cards is included in the mix.  It is available in the holiday card selections on my web-site, but because the image is simply a winter scene, it can be sent for any occasion or even to acknowledge a gift you may have received during your respective holiday. As for the displaying of holiday cards that I receive, like my friend, I put them up in a prominent  place in my small studio apartment, usually around the alcove that connects my main living area with my kitchenette as seen below:

As with yesterday's post recalling an entry I made last year, today's post has caused me to recall an entry I made last March upon hearing an interview that I heard on WNYC's , Leonard Lopate Show when he was discussing the practice of sending cards and letters.




Here's a portion (to view the entry in its entirety click here) of what I wrote: "I'm encouraged to learn that others might feel strong about the sending  this way too. Nine days ago  (March 13th 2010), on National Public Radio's W.N.Y.C, one of The Leonard Lopate Show's featured guests was Thomas Mallon, the novelist and critic, who was touting his book, Yours Ever, People and Their Letters, published by Pantheon. As Daniel Okrent states in a  November '09 review of the  book: 'Mallon's writing about a practice that for at least eight centuries was the primary means of communication between people who happened not to be in the same place at the same time. It was more than just communication, though; it was a form of human conduct enhanced, even exalted, by the demands it imposed on those who practiced it. (Mallon) writes, The small hardships of letter writing -- having to think a moment longer before completing utterance; remaining in suspense while awaiting reply; having one's urgent letters cross in the mail -- are the things that enrich it, emotionally and rhetorically,' Okert concludes that, 'Given the present and future of letter writing, it's a privilege to be cherished.' "Hearing the interview with Thomas Mallon, and re-reading Daniel Okrent's review, leads me to believe that not only is letter writing, a privilege to be cherished, but so is the sending and the receiving of paper cards. The impact (on quality communication) of mass-produced-E-cards getting lost in cyber-space, spam, or with a broken link, is threatening whatever little personal touches have been left in communicating these days -  and is fueling impatience, as well as the need for immediate gratification."

Today I have returned to Thomas Mallon's book because I received it for a Christmas gift and have found it an enjoyable read. Since today's post concerns the displaying of cards received, my thoughts turn to how does one display an array of "E" cards received assuming the links to them have not already broken? 





In his book, Mallon has this to say about computer correspondence:"For all the wild calamities of indiscretion that cyber communication has excited, in and of itself it is far less sexy than a gartered clutch of letters that were once sealed with a kiss and had the words 'I Love You' secretly written under the stamps." Mallon concedes as do I, that "electronic mail has its endearing traits." How could I not take that position when I am a blogger and created an animated ad to promote it in cyberspace — which, if you haven't seen but would like to, can be found in my New Year's Eve post by clicking here.





Cyper communication and 'snail-mail' do not have to be mutually exclusive. As Mallon points out, "If you have bought or borrowed this book, I am guessing you're the type of person who deplores the absence of salutations and polite closings in electronic correspondence. And yet, I'll bet that, like me, at some point in the last couple of years, on your own digital road to Damascus, you are thunderstruck by the realization that you've sent a text message that read in its entirety: 'r u there?' We are all living in Mr. Jobs world now. Its addictive instant gratifications have replaced the old, slow, anticipation of the daily visit from the mailman, who now brings mostly junk and whose bosses at the United States Post Service, have for the past dozen or so years, been pleading with customers to come back. One advertisement from 1996 read: 'In this electronic age, a letter is personal and permanent. It says you took the time and trouble to communicate. The impact of a letter is unique, whether you are complaining about a disappointing purchase or declaring your love. The point is, write. A letter or a card is truly a unique gift —a piece of yourself.'"





Mallon is 'preaching to the choir' when it comes to my beliefs on correspondence, but I differ with him on what he calls "Mr. Job's world," for of course he is referring to Steve Jobs, the man behind Apple, one of my favorite products. I don't believe that Mr. Job's world excludes itself from the personal touch — at least his Apple employees at Sixty-Seventh Street and Broadway, where I have given a presentation, don't. Case in point: During the recent snowstorm that nearly paralyzed New York City, causing banks and post offices to not open (a disaster I wrote about in a previous post), I had an early morning personal project session scheduled but received a phone call from, an Apple trainer early that morning advising me that, due to the weather, my personal project session would need to be postponed. "Was I free later in the day to reschedule?," he asked and then offered to make the appointment for me.





This was impressive to me because I have an 'electronic' relationship with Apple and they could have easily sent out mass emails telling students like myself of their need to change my session. Or done nothing, like Citi Bank. But Apple had Juan Urbine, (the Apple trainer scheduled to run the session that day), take the time to phone me, and to assist in the rescheduling — if this is  "Mr. Job's world" I am grateful to be a part of it,  as I am so blessed with what Apple trainers have taught me. I have made acquaintances there that shall not be forgot and always brought to my mind! 

In Loving Memory of Aunt Grace Fitchie . . . (And One Reason I Like the Paper Card)

My blog, as you may know, is only a little over a year old and has only recently celebrated its anniversary. Today, like an occasional WNYC (NPR) program of The Brian Lehrer Show,  Prairie Home Companion, Car Talk and even Wait, Wait Don't Tell Me, in which repeats of favorite shows are aired again, I am repeating part of an entry from February 2010. This is in honor of Grace Fitchie, my dear great aunt pictured in the photograph posted above, standing in the middle of the last row next to my grandmother, Clara May, who is at Grace's rightside. Grace was born on this day, January the third, in the early 1900's, I blogged about her in February 2010. She was an influence on my knowing the value of sending cards, and one that she sent me, over forty years ago, is still an impetus for me to continue to persevere in the new year with my designs of cards that are about more than communication, invitations that preserve moments in time, and event program covers that enhance an occasion, in keeping with the mission I have laid out in my philosophy which I have mentioned in numerous occasions within this blog.
Moreover, a birthday card — that I received as a young child —from my dear Aunt Grace has kept her alive for me, although I am certain her memory would still be with me — even without having the card to look at. Still, the card, now framed and sitting near my desk, is a beautiful reminder of her, and especially today, the day of her birth. The card she sent also inspires me to maintain the high standards I have for my other art work, as evidenced on my web-site  where, in addition to these items, original art prints that I have created can be found, as well as purchasing information for all my work, and this, as well as Grace's influence, is what friends and colleagues were celebrating last February and I described it this way:

"Engaging conversations. Sipping Papillon Hermitage. Snacking on Prince De Clavrolle Cheese and a baguette from Tom Cat Bakery as we make up our own words to the "Let it snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow"  song and replace them with "Let it Go, Let it Go, Let it Go." We are snow-bound in my studio apartment and looking out onto my terrace garden celebrating my winter note-card collection and so this is my first 'in-between-Saturdays-post.' These cards are on the web-site, and are so perfect for the season and to send when 'E' cards just won't do. We are not 'E' card people, and while we are fairly proficient in using the computer, and are very much concerned about our environment (we don't "waste" paper), we like to keep in touch in a personal way which is often by mailing a card. This causes me to think how grateful I am for some of the 'paper-cards' — as they are now branded — that I have gotten in the past. While I am not a collector, I have kept some very special paper cards that I have received. I've even framed some cards.One card that I have framed is from the summer after sixth grade. It is one that I received from my Great-Aunt Grace (who had eyes like Bette Davis eyes — long before the pop tune coined the phrase — but not the personality Kim Carnes  depicted in that song), my maternal grandmother's sister, who I always remembered as having been to the World's Fair (as seen below) in New York City, which even as a child, is a place where I wanted to live."

"That summer had been hard. I was very overwhelmed: My father had moved away the year prior, my Neurofibromatosis was now causing bumps to appear everywhere on my body. I wanted contact lenses, because my left eye was frequently turning inward from the lack of acuity  that it had, and my eye-doctor had told my parents that contacts would help with this problem as well as help to correct my low vision. Additionally, I would be attending a new school in the fall —the junior high school — where I would be going from room to room for various classes as opposed to having everything taught in one room, and I  was nervous I would not have time between classes to arrive on time. I even thought of my possibly missing the elementary school kids despite the fact that they didn't pick me to be on their Murder Ball team because of my low depth perception causing me to be an "easy-out." At least they had seen my physical problems and the teasing me about them had subsided; now I'd have to start all over again by being with different kids."

"Most of all, I was overwhelmed because I could not comfort my mother, who cried constantly over my father's leaving us. I knew I could share these thoughts with my Great-Aunt Grace, who often 'baby-sat' when my mother needed someone to take care of me. I was looking forward to seeing Grace on my birthday, but that was not to be. My dear great-aunt died unexpectedly in her sleep. She had been discovered dead, by her land-lady, after having turned blue in her bed. I still received the birthday card that  she had put in the mail prior to her fatal day. It arrived (featured below out of its frame) the day after I got the news that she had died, and it was to let me know she'd be thinking of me on 'my day'  as she called it, sentiments she expressed on the back of the card where she also wrote,'Will see you before long,' seen in the text-image posted below"

 

"Now at my launching of my winter-card-line soiree, we agree, "These kind of treasures aren't the same as an 'E' card that's been archived in your e-mail account-folder, with the threat of  a link breaking if you want to view it again."

Almost a year has passed since that soirée, but on this birthday of Grace Fitchie, there is still cause for paying a tribute to her influence.

Following up on Brian Lehrer's Question: "What are you putting yourself through to get to where you are going on Christmas?"

Yesterday on The Brian Lehrer Show (WNYC, AM Radio), listeners were invited by Brian Lehrer to call in with an invitation to "tell us the lengths you're going to in order to get to family and friends this holiday season. Are you taking a super long flight or multiple forms of transportation? What are you putting yourself through to get to where you are going on Christmas?"The invitation to do this was prefaced by Brian Lehrer telling us the great lengths his producer was going to to get to the island of St. Johns for Christmas.Hard to top going to St. Johns and the oh-so-cool itinerary that Lehrer's producer would be following, but, thankfully, a couple of callers did.

One man described an ordeal he would go to to visit his incarcerated son — as he apologized for his travel being a distance of  "only five-hundred miles" — (seemingly to the caller not as intriguing as a radio producer's journey to a warm island in the cold month of December) and the caller gave the poignant details of what was involved in the clothing he had to wear to visit his imprisoned son to ensure he'd be allowed (by the prison officials) to make the visit. The pain of such a visit was in the caller's voice; though he did not directly express it, rather he offered his call as a way of reaching out to others who might make such a visit on Christmas if they weren't so fortunate as to travel to places like St. Johns.





Another caller told us listeners that she would be on a plane for fourteen to fifteen hours, traveling to India. She went on to say that she would "be met at the airport by a relative that was a Sephardic Jew, then driven to a family party where a lovely Christmas dinner would be enjoyed by all in a country where it was still politically correct to say, 'Merry Christmas.'

I say this because the day before Lehrer's 'Christmas-travel-call-in,' I was at a seminar at the terrific Apple Store in the Upper Westside of Manhattan (where I recently gave a presentation about the construction of my on-line brochure, as described in previous posts which you can read by clicking here and here), when a trainer asked me, "Do you celebrate Christmas?" The trainer explained that he asked me in this manner because he was afraid to say "Merry Christmas" to Apple customers for fear he'd offend them.

But getting back to Brian Lehrer's question: How far will I travel on Christmas to visit those near and dear to me? Like the caller who will be visiting a son in prison, my Christmas travel will not take me to what a travel agent would call exotic. I will put on my 'Christmas-bonnet' (as seen in the photograph of yours truly at the top of this entry), then travel out of my studio apartment, down seventy steps that lead from my apartment to the ground floor, walk out the main door, then up two steps, turn right, and walk west a few yards, then turn north and walk up four blocks; from there I will head west for two blocks before arriving at my destination: an assisted living center where I have visited a homebound community every Sunday and on special holidays for a little over five years.

Once inside the assisted living center's doors, I will take an elevator (now this part of my 'journey' may take me as long as a trans-Atlantic flight, as the elevator is very undependable) to a community room where the residents will be seated eagerly awaiting the Christmas message of tidings of comfort and joy; and, as always, I will leave the assisted living center with thoughts of much thanksgiving for the opportunity to be in such a humble environment and will find it a beautiful way to spend Christmas —even though I won't have the sun-tanned look of the Brian Lehrer Show's producer, which he will presumably have as a result of his Christmas journey.

Cards that are about more than communication.

Although we are in the throes of winter, I am working on my collection of invitations that preserve a moment in time, event program covers that enhance an occasion, and creating note–cards that are about more than communication. My desire to bring back the practice of sending a paper card is even stronger than it was a short time ago when my friends and I were discussing the pitfalls of sending “E–cards” about which I blogged in a previous post, and I am thinking ahead to the forthcoming seasons and images that might celebrate them.

The card posted above is a sample from my edition known as The Petite Fold-Out Card Collection which can be found, along with many others, for purchase on my web-site, and can also be viewed within my downloadable paper-brochure.Each card in this edition measures 5" by 4 and 1/4" and additional samples are posted below. They should be viewed this way: The right portion of each image is the front of the card, and the left side of each image is the back of the card. 

Each card in this edition is blank inside. The one featured at the top of this post is titled Pansies and Violas. I’m encouraged to learn that others might feel strongly about sending cards this way too. Nine days ago (March 6th 2010), on National Public Radio affiliate WNYC’s The Leonard Lopate Show, the host’s featured guest was the novelist and critic Thomas Mallon, who was touting his book Yours Ever, People and Their Letters, published by Pantheon. As Daniel Okrent states in a November ’09 review of the book, “Mallon’s writing about a practice that for at least eight centuries was the primary means of communication between people who happened not to be in the same place at the same time. It was more than just communication, though; it was a form of human conduct enhanced, even exalted, by the demands it imposed on those who practiced it.” Okert explains that Mallon writes, “The small hardships of letter writing — having to think a moment longer before completing utterance; remaining in suspense while awaiting reply; having one’s urgent letters cross in the mail — are the things that enrich it, emotionally and rhetorically.”

Okert concludes that, “Given the present and future of letter writing, it’s a privilege to be cherished.” Hearing the interview with Thomas Mallon, and re–reading Daniel Okrent’s review, leads me to believe that not only is letter writing a privilege to be cherished, but so is the sending and the receiving of paper cards. The impact (on quality communication) of mass–produced–E–cards getting lost in cyber–space, either by a spam filter or a broken link, is threatening whatever little personal touches have been left in communicating these days — and is fueling impatience as well as the need for immediate gratification.




E.B. White had this to say about greeting cards (The New Yorker, 6-19-54): “A greeting–card firm has sent us some statistics about the expression of friendship and good will in America. The figures were staggering. In 1953, some three and a half million cards were mailed carrying greetings of one sort or another. Friendships ranked high on the list, along with Get Well Soons, Happy Birthdays, and Merry Andsoforths. For a firm dealing in the emotions of love and affection, the statistician’s mind runs on very strange matters indeed. Thus we read that the money spent on ‘friendship’ in 1953 would ‘pay for a battle-ship.’ And if stacked one atop another in their envelopes, those three and a half billion messages would ‘make a pile so high that even the Russians couldn’t invent a guided missile that could get over the top of it. It would be 4,375 miles up in the ionosphere.’ There seems to be something wrong here somewhere. Perhaps we should simply stack these friendship cards instead of mailing them, thus warding off unfriendly missiles. Or perhaps we are sending the cards to the wrong people. Why doesn’t some enterprising greeting–card firm get up a mailing list of our ‘enemies’ (there must be billions of them), to whom a friendship card would come as a real surprise? The money spent on the cards would still pay for a battleship, but if the cards worked, the battleship might never have to open fire.”





In anticipation of spring, summer, and fall, I have recently created a unique line of all occasion greeting cards based on (but not limited to) my garden images, which I sell at select venues, to private clients, and on my web-site. The nature based images in these beautiful cards are a nice way for you to announce that you have scaled Mount Kilimanjaro, cycled from Manhattan to Cape May, have completed the Midnight Run in Central Park to ring in the New Year, scooped up eighty martini glasses for $100 at The Tavern on The Green’s recent auction run by The Guernsey’s, or to say a very special message when e–cards just won’t do.









There are other Petite Fold–Out Cards not seen here (but posted on my web-site) which are perfect for inviting folks to your own garden party, or to announce you have finished writing your libretto — and to thank your agent, publicist, cast, and your dear friends who supported your efforts as you rose to success — as my friend and talented client Charles Leipart, the celebrated librettist, has done with cards he has purchased from me. Charles has purchased from my Black and White Note–Card collection as well as the Fold–Out Collection. Here is one of his favorites, October in the Woods #2:

So if someone has had you for dinner serving you a special cuisine, or celebrated a significant birthday (they are all significant) with you by offering a toast, or taken you on a voyage, or even given you a job interview — why not take out the pen and write a personal note that won’t get lost in spam but will be welcome in a snail–mail–box amongst bills and campaign requests. If you are worried about not being green by sending a paper card, please note that these cards have a double–life, because the unique feature of these cards is that the image is continuous, folding out into a print that is 8.5" by 5" which is suitable for framing. It’s a nice way of preserving a moment, as seen below with the card titled, The Last Leaf Gardener.