Wonderful Middle European Staples

A friend gave me the name of the best bookbinder in St. Louis.  He is semi-retired, but still repairs a few books a year to keep busy, working out of a small bindery he built on the back of his house.

I made an appointment and drove to the bookbinder’s house.  “House” is a modest word for his home, situated in a gated community built shortly after the 1904 World’s Fair.  My first impression: bookbinding must have served this guy well in order to purchase a house like this.

The bookbinder greeted me at the door.  He had white hair and a white beard, and was wearing a full leather apron.  My second impression: this guy was straight out of the MGM costuming department. 

I looked around.  His little bindery had the largest paper cutter I have ever seen.  It reminded me that such devices are called guillotines in Britain, and it definitely could function as a device to remove human heads from human necks.  My third impression: do not irritate this guy.

I handed him the book I needed repaired.  It was printed in 1911.  “Ungarn, im Auftrage des Königlich Ungarischen Handelsministers”.  The spine had fallen off, and I was nervous about opening the book.

BOOKBINDER:  That is a nice art nouveau design on the cover.

ME:  My cousin was the family genealogist, and when he died his widow sent me this book.  It is a keepsake full of information about “the old country.”

BOOKBINDER:  The cover has nice beveled edges.

ME:  On this page you can see a photo of the city where my father was born.  The Schneider family was known for making ornamental iron work, and the balcony on that building may have been made by my great-grandfather.

BOOKBINDER:  Good quality paper.

ME:  Here is a photo of Archduke Franz Ferdinand, who was assassinated three years after this book was published.

BOOKBINDER:  The pages are well-sewn.

ME:  The book is in German, and I may be the last generation in the family who can read it.

BOOKBINDER:  Look at these wonderful Middle European staples.

I looked at the even rows of staples, used to hold the pages together.  I had never seen staples so delicate.

While looking at the delicate Middle European staples, I realized that I saw the book as a piece of my family, connecting me to the part of the world where my father was born over a hundred years ago. 

The bookbinder, however, saw the book as cover, paper, thread, glue, and staples.

I know the bookbinder will do a fine job.  Not only will he be repairing a book, he will be repairing  a part of Schneider family history.

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NOTE: Doug's best stories have been collected into a book: Puppy Out Of Breath.  Price = $11.  You can purchase a copy at  http://www.puppyoutofbreath.com

Dying In Front Of A Cemetery

When people from out-of-state came to visit me in Belmont, Massachusetts, I would take them on a driving tour of Boston. 

On the way into Boston, I would drive by Mt. Auburn Cemetery, which dates from 1831.  It was America’s first garden cemetery.  Winslow Homer, Mary Baker Eddy, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, and other Boston luminaries are buried there.

I took a friend from New York on my driving tour, and when we went past Mt. Auburn Cemetery, he said, “I am going to die!”  I took a friend from California on the tour, and driving by Mt. Auburn Cemetery, she exclaimed “Oh, my God, I am going to die!!”  Friends from Minnesota said, “Aaaugh, we are going to die in front of a cemetery!!!”

My friends thought they were going to die because back in New York and California and Minnesota all major intersections have traffic lights or stop signs. 

Here, at this intersection in front of Mt. Auburn Cemetery, Route 16 came in from the west, merging with Belmont Avenue coming from the northwest while Holworthy Avenue came straight down from the north, and Mount Auburn Street fed into the intersection from the east.  All of this, and not a single traffic light or stop sign.

I knew how to navigate.  I slowed down and checked if a car was trying to merge with me on my left while I checked to see if a car was heading directly toward me from the right. At the same time, I glanced ahead to determine if the cars coming towards me were going to pass me on my left or if they were going to cut in front of me to pass me  on my right.

Navigating became second nature to me.  If I was not in the clear, I stopped.  If I was in the clear, I continued.  My out-of-state friends considered this life-threatening.  I considered it a normal Boston traffic situation.

Then the Highway Department made changes.  They installed traffic lights; they created a little triangular traffic island, and Holworthy became a one-way street.

I was not pleased with the new arrangements.  Drivers stopped paying attention to traffic and started paying attention to traffic lights instead.  Drivers let their guard down.

Ironically, when the intersection was dangerous, people drove safer.

Back when there were no traffic lights and my out-of-state friends thought they were going to die, I would calmly drive through the intersection while telling my friends that they couldn’t pick a nicer cemetery to die in front of.

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VIDEO:  
http://boingboing.net/2008/06/10/busy-hanoi-intersect.html
Time-lapse photography shows that an intersection without traffic lights can be safe.  Here is downtown Hanoi – cars, pedestrians, taxis, rickshaws, bicycles, vans, and even a motorcyclist who sits in the middle of the intersection, waiting for his passenger to run out to him and jump on the back of his motorcycle. (2 minutes)

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NOTE: Doug's best stories have been collected into a book: Puppy Out Of Breath.  Price = $11.  You can purchase a copy at  http://www.puppyoutofbreath.com

A Place For Neanderthals

I was talking to a college undergraduate, and I decided I needed to sharpen my social media skills.

I asked her, “I am on Facebook and on Twitter.  What am I missing?”

Her answer (“You are missing Pinterest”) came with a warning.  She told me that Pinterest was not word-based, it was photo-based, where women pin photos of food or clothes.

Soon after I talked to the college undergrad, the St. Louis Post-Dispatch printed an article about Pinterest, noting that the site was used mostly by women who pin photos of food or clothes or design.  

I signed up for Pinterest, and I noticed that most users were women and most photos were about food or clothes or design or wedding ideas. 

However, there were a sprinkling of men on the site, and a sprinkling of travel photos.  I hatched a plan to promote my St. Louis architectural walking tours.  I pinned photos of buildings in St. Louis --- buildings that people would see if they came on one of my tours.  I planted tour info in the caption of each photo.

Once photos are pinned, they can be re-pinned by other Pinterest users.  So, as my photos move around Pinterest, the walking tour info goes with them. 

I am patting myself on the back for being so clever.

I showed off my cleverness to a co-worker who had never heard of Pinterest.  “I have put some walking tour photos on a website full of photos that people have pinned.”  He is a word-based kind of guy, and immediately labeled Pinterest as a place for Neanterthals.  

His comment: "Neanderthals don't read; they grunt and point at photos."

I realized that I needed to convince my co-worker of the power of Pinterest.  And I had one and one chance to convince him.  I asked Pinterest to show me photos of cupcakes.  

I didn't grunt; I just pointed at a photo of a eye-catching Boston crème pie cupcake.  

The visual won out.  At the sight of this cupcake, my co-worker forgot all about Neanderthals and started thinking about cupcakes.

Visuals are compelling; visuals are not just for Neanderthals.

To see my St. Louis western downtown board on Pinternet:

http://www.pinterest.com/PupOutOfBreath/st-louis-downtown-walking-tour-west/

To see my St. Louis eastern downtown board on Pinternet:

http://www.pinterest.com/PupOutOfBreath/st-louis-downtown-walking-tour-east/

To see my St. Louis 1904 World’s Fair board on Pinternet:

http://www.pinterest.com/PupOutOfBreath/1904-st-louis-world-s-fair/

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NOTE: Doug's best stories have been collected into a book: Puppy Out Of Breath.  Price = $11.  You can purchase a copy at http://www.puppyoutofbreath.com/?page_id=108

Make It Funner; Make It Easier

Most of my teaching experience has been with adults.  However, eight years ago, I was asked to teach a dance class of nine-year-olds.

What I immediately noticed about the kids was their willingness.  They did not hesitate to attempt the new dances I taught them; they listened gladly to my comments about their dancing; they were eager to try out new things.

Not only did the nine-year-olds think dancing was fun, they sought out ways to make dancing funner.  Giggles, long strides, yelps, high fives ---- if there wasn’t a person nearby to high five, then they would high five the wall.  Lots of energy. 

This month, I was asked to lead an architectural walking tour for a high school class of seventeen-year-olds.

Eight years had passed since I taught the nine-year-olds, so these high school kids were the same birth year as the kids in the dance class.

We started the walking tour at Union Station, and took a few minutes to walk a block-and-a-half to the Main Post Office.  We stopped to look at the Post Office.  The seventeen-year-olds started complaining.  “How much farther do we have to walk?”  “Is there any place to sit down?”  “Can we do this tour in our cars?”

Eight years after wanting to make things funner, they wanted to make things easier.

I asked the kids on the walking tour for their opinions of various buildings.  They gave me answers, but they were very guarded about it.  Their observation skills were good, but the kids seemed to underestimate their ability.

After the tour was over, I took some time to look at the arc from exuberant nine-year-old to hesitant seventeen year-old. 

I realized this was an arc that I followed.  I went from a youth who sampled whatever I could of the world to a teenager who was concerned about what the world thought of him.

So, that gave me some sympathy for the seventeen-year-olds who seemed so guarded on my walking tour.  But I could not find any sympathy for their lack of willingness to walk more than a couple of blocks.

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NOTE: for those people who think that it would be nice to be a teenager again, LCD Soundsystem has a 6-minute song for you.   The lead singer of the group used to work as a bouncer for a Trenton, New Jersey, punk rock club:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zx4oFRz8LOA

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NOTE: Doug's best stories have been collected into a book: Puppy Out Of Breath.  Price = $11.  You can purchase a copy at  http://www.puppyoutofbreath.com

Look At This Quiver

When I lived in Boston, I arranged my work schedule so that I could attend the monthly African Arts Seminar at Boston University.  The attendees were all Americans, and they were all academics except for me and a woman named Nancy, who was a collector of African art. 

I asked Nancy if I could see her African art collection.  She agreed.

I went to her home.  Nancy and her husband owned a three-story commercial building near Harvard Square.  They rented the first floor to a business, and they lived on the upper two floors.

Actually, they lived in a small corner of the second floor, where they had a living room, kitchen, and bedroom.  The rest of the place, somewhere around 8,000 square feet, was devoted to Nancy’s African art collection.

She liked big art made of wood: masks and statues. 

She walked me through the second floor, full of masks hanging on walls and pillars, hanging on wires from the ceiling, displayed on tables.  There were lots of wooden statues standing on the floor.

I oohed and aahed.  It was like an art jungle.  She definitely needed the 8,000 square feet.  I tried to imagine her husband willingly buying a large building so his wife could live with her acquisitions.  Given Boston real estate prices, the building must have cost a fortune.

We went up to the third floor. Again, wooden masks on display everywhere.  Plus wooden statues.  My mind was boggled.  This collection was bigger than a museum.  Nancy must have spent a fortune.

Then Nancy stopped at a table, and became animated.  She wanted to show me her favorite piece of art.

“Here, Doug, look at this quiver.”  

The quiver still had its crude hand-made arrows in it.  It was covered in leather, dyed a red color very common in Africa, with a simple black ink design on it.  A few small seashells were glued to it for decoration.

“Just look at the patina on the quiver.”  She ran her hand over the quiver to emphasize the patina.  This quiver could not have cost her more than five dollars; yet, it was her favorite object amongst two floors of African art.

I understood why it was her favorite.  It had a patina.  Someone had used this quiver.  That person had hunted, and had brought home meat for his family. 

The patina connected Nancy to a person.  Not the person who made the quiver.  Not the person who had sold it to her.  The patina connected Nancy to the hunter who had used this quiver.

8,000 square feet of masks and statues did not give her such a personal connection.

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NOTE: Doug's best stories have been collected into a book: Puppy Out Of Breath.  Price = $11.  You can purchase a copy at  http://www.puppyoutofbreath.com

Found on a Beach on Long Island, 1946

The topic of the presentation at the library was: “Architecture in France”.

At one point during the presentation, the speaker told the audience how he felt about his decision, while on vacation in France, to drive to Ronchamp near the Swiss border.  The drive took many hours.  He is a fan of architecture, and he began to wonder if it was worth spending all this time on French highways just to see one building.

When he finally reached his destination, and saw Notre-Dame-du-Haut, he realized it really was worth driving all those hours.

The chapel, designed by Le Corbusier, was built in 1954, on a hilltop that has been sacred ever since the days of pagan sun worship.

The speaker then showed the audience a slide of the chapel, which caught my eye.  I remember seeing a photo of the chapel in Life Magazine when I was a kid.

Then the speaker said something that caught my ear: “The inspiration for the roof is said to be a crab shell that Le Corbusier found on a beach when he was visiting Long Island in 1946.  Le Corbusier liked the crab shell so much he kept it on his desk.”

Long Island!  I grew up there!!  Our family went to the beach about four times a week during the summer.

Now I was intrigued.  This shell was found three years after I was born. What kind of crab could have inspired that roof?  The crabs I knew from my Long Island childhood were horseshoe crabs --- definitely not an inspiring kind of crab.

When I got home after the library presentation, I enlisted the help of the Internet.  I found the email address of the archivist at Fondation Le Corbusier in Paris.  Her name was Isabelle, and I asked if she could email me a photo of the crab shell.

Isabelle did:

The photo pleased me. 

This crab shell was found on a Long Island beach.  I spent many happy childhood hours on Long Island beaches.  The photo has personally connected me to one of the finest works of twentieth century French architecture: Notre-Dame-du-Haut, Ronchamp, in France, somewhere near the Swiss border.

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NOTE: Doug's best stories have been collected into a book: Puppy Out Of Breath.  Price = $11.  You can purchase a copy at  http://www.puppyoutofbreath.com

Once A Prankster

My brothers, who were older than me, had a Johnson Smith mail order catalog.  I couldn’t wait to be old enough to order items from Johnson Smith.

Exploding cigars, itching powder, dribble glasses, squirt lapel flowers, fake plastic bugs in clear plastic ice cubes.  Not to mention cold cream jars that didn’t hold cold cream --- they held coiled snakes that would spring out of the jars when they were opened by unsuspecting women.

My young imagination sizzled with all the fun I would have playing pranks on people. 

But, somehow, I never got around to ordering from the catalog when I got older.  Instead, I created my own pranks.

Some high school friends had never tried white chocolate.  I proceeded to buy some white chocolate from a candy store and broke it into little pieces.  Then I took a small bar of white hand soap, and broke it into little pieces.  I mixed everything in a brown paper bag.

The next time my friends and I got together, I brought along the bag.  “Here, reach in and try a piece of white chocolate.”  I couldn’t wait for someone to nibble on soap instead of candy.

I was sixteen years old when Hawaii joined the Union.  I decided that my high school friends should get exotic Christmas cards that year. 

I bought a bunch of plain postcards from our local post office.  On the front of each postcard I typed a friend’s address, on the back I adjusted the typewriter ribbon to red and typed: “Hope your Christmas is a red-letter day!” and added a typewritten signature: Hester Prynne (the main character in The Scarlet Letter.)

I put all the postcards in a large envelope, along with a letter asking the Honolulu postmaster to mail them.  I put the envelope in the mail, and crossed my fingers.

Lo and behold, the Honolulu postmaster did as I asked.  

I was certain because I had addressed one of the postcards to myself.  My puzzled high school friends asked me if I knew who sent them a postcard from Hawaii signed by Hester Prynne.  I took my postcard out of my pocket and said, “I have no idea; I got one, too!”

I had established my credentials as a prankster --- firmly established.

Many years after high school, I was visiting a friend in Oregon.  We drove by a motel and I was suddenly asked: "How did you do that, Doug?”  I looked at the motel, which seemed rather ordinary.  “How did I do what?”  “You know!  That sign.”  I looked at the motel sign.

The sign said “Welcome, National Pygmy Goat Association.”  My friend had assumed that I had talked the manager into putting this message on the motel sign.

I realized there was no way to convince my friend that I had not invented the NPGA.  Once a prankster; always a prankster.

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FOOTNOTE:  Pranksters will be glad to know that Johnson Smith is still in business, and you can still get fake plastic bugs in clear plastic ice cubes ---  http://www.johnsonsmith.com

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NOTE: Doug's best stories have been collected into a book: Puppy Out Of Breath.  Price = $11.  You can purchase a copy at  http://www.puppyoutofbreath.com