Pam’s Pictorama Post: We are (mostly) packed and at the ready to head to New Jersey this morning. It is still pitch black out as I write this, but here in New York we got our first snow flakes in a long time yesterday. I think the ground was too warm full there to be a frosting of it out there, but we’ll see what Monmouth County has, if any.
Although there is a certain feeling of routine to it, this is only the second year we are spending in New Jersey for the holidays. We are still finding our stride with it. While there are packages of gifts and essentials, I usually take the opportunity to move a few bulky items to the house there while we are packing up a car.
Christmas breakfast with Eileen Travell yesterday before leaving town. I gave her this pretty little blue and white bowl.
Rides With Cash is a car service I have used since I commuted frequently during my mom’s last illness. (I posted about it previously here.) Jeff, the proprietor, brings his unfailingly wonderful Aussie, Cash, with him and I get a dog cuddle in as well. Now that Cookie and Blackie share some of these rides they are less thrilled with Cash but the car is large enough for a generous separation of cats in carriers and dog!
Cash sitting in the front seat during our summer sojourn.
Although more frequent commutes from New Jersey in recent years has mentally shrunk the distance between the two locations, bringing the cats and going to stay is still definitely a maneuver which requires forethought and planning. Somehow the holidays got away from us this year and I feel a bit like we are going to land in a heap. Blackie’s Thanksgiving holiday illness set us back a bit schedule-wise and there will be a holiday card reveal tomorrow while we are still sending out the bulk of our mailed cards! (Apologies in advance to those of you who don’t like your surprise ruined.)
We had our annual Top Dog Gala at work last week. We honored the NYP’s K9 unit and the dogs we care for on the force.Centerpieces complete with usable leash were for sale at the end of the event.
Blackie is better, although he required yet another trip to the vet this week – puffy eye. We aren’t sure but maybe his sister socked him, or he got something in it which made him rub it a bit raw. He is somewhat demoralized by gooping three times a day and I’m sure this trip out of state will get on his last little cat nerve. (It is finally getting light and it has indeed snowed and there appears to be a half inch or so on the ground.)
For those of you who are new to the fold – five additional cats await our arrival in New Jersey. My mom left me her cats who continue to reside in the house there where they are cared for. Our visits mean a house full of seven cats. What was my mother thinking?
All staff holiday party. My colleagues had spent the day in the lobby playing Santa and Elf to visiting animals who could have their picture taken.
For all of this, going there for the holidays is very soothing for me . Like many folks, I feel the loss of family and friends most keenly at this time of year. Being in the area I grew up in and being around the people there mitigates it somewhat and blunts the blow of the sharp edges. I know it is asking a lot of Kim and the cats who would much rather stay in New York. However, going as a family and having everyone I love together in one place for a few weeks is special to me.
So, a brief entry today an unsuspecting Cookie and Blackie to be placed in their carriers shortly. More from the other side. Let the holidays commence!
Pam’s Pictorama Post: It just seems that periodically nothing will do but to purchase another Louis Wain card. They are a gentle mood enhancer – like champagne. I don’t want to immerse myself, but just sipping a bit of the bubbly is very cheering. I recently read and subsequently wrote about the new book devoted to him and tracking the emergence of the pet cat in the Victorian world (that post can be found here) and it sent me meandering over to eBay where I picked this up.
I highly recommend this recently published volume!
Presently, none of my Louis Wain cards hang here at Deitch Studio (which has, after all, very little wall space with Felix taking up more than his share. I’m starting to think there might be a nice spot at the house in New Jersey for my growing collection of these cards. You have to be able to get pretty close to these to fully enjoy them – they need to be at eye level.
Prepping for the Party is the title of this card. It’s a New Year’s card and at the bottom it declares, A very happy New Year to you and it is signed at the bottom, Your tru friend Ida. It was mailed on December 29, 1904 from Austin, Texas to Miss Dona Hannig, in Lockhart, Texas where it was marked received on December 30. (Without doing a proper survey of my posts, I would say 1904 was a very good year for postcards. It is, of course, well before the appearance of my beloved Felix, but the postcard world was buzzing with the likes of Louis Wain among others.)
Back of the card – most of mine come from Britain but this one came from and has been in the US.
In this card we have a very comic two cats doing some party primping. The standing cat, which in my opinion, is somehow inexplicably male, is helping to curl the long hairs of the gray cat. He is using curling papers which would have been heated, as I understand it, with a hot tong device. Understandably, gray cat is wondering what she has gotten herself into. He looks just the tiniest bit maniacal. Would you let this cat come at you with something dangerous? Maybe not…
Because of my chosen career in fundraising, I go to a lot of parties. Most are affairs which go right from the office to the event with barely a brush through the hair or application of lipstick. However, periodically there is a need to dust off the formal wear and put on the dog so to speak.
When I was younger and worked for the Metropolitan Museum there were numerous black tie events scattered through the calendar. There were annual events, the famous Costume Institute Gala in May, an annual dinner to raise money for Acquisitions in December, but with the various exhibition openings and whatnot, I kept a lot of formal wear at the ready, literally wearing out a series of long black dresses and trousers.
Before a major renovation of our offices there sometime in the late ’90’s, we would all gather in a huge women’s bathroom at one end of our hall of offices. It had, oddly for a bathroom, an enormous round window which faced the front entrance of the museum (it is now a gallery devoted to special exhibitions of Greek and Roman Art) and a very tricky and somewhat rickety blind covering it. It was always a question if you’d be able to close it – if you’d bother as well.
From the dinner at the Jazz at Lincoln Center Gala in April of 2023.
Fifteen or twenty women (or more!) squeezing into a such a space to dress always had a college dorm gone wild feel to it. There was a sense of community and corps d’esprit among us of course. Plenty of folks to zip you up, lend you something you forgot or help you with a run in your stockings. You dressed quickly so you could give up your space to someone waiting. The more experienced of us would start early and be done before the majority swept in.
At Jazz at Lincoln Center this was miniaturized with both a smaller staff and a much smaller space which necessitated thoughtful rotation. Sometimes I would just throw something over the window in my office which faced the hall and dress there. By then we had fewer black tie events it was mostly just our annual spring Gala.
My current gig will host its annual Top Dog Gala on Tuesday where we will celebrate the work of NYPD’s police dogs – each dog named for an officer who died in the line of duty. (My evening as a guest to it last year can be found documented in a post here.) Everywhere I have worked in the past has been a destination for events so I have never had to use a venue which we will this week. This greatly alters my sense of control which I am dealing with. I gather that they will devote a greenroom to our dressing needs so another variation to add to the theme – bad lighting (for make-up!) and cramped space.
Top Dog Gala in December 2023.
I used to wonder what it would be like to dress at home and at my leisure for such events. This is of course the difference between working and being a guest! Carefully packing will commence this weekend and I will bring my things on Monday so I have a second chance on Tuesday if I’ve forgotten anything. I wardrobe dry run needs to happen this weekend. It is festive attire and between that and having lost a bunch of weight recently I am in new territory for attire.
Think of us on Tuesday. A couple of million dollars has been raised and we will honor these hard working dogs whose care we endeavor to care for at the hospital, a longstanding partnership with the city. I’d like to work toward a Top Cat year and perhaps today’s card more appropriate for that eventuality!
Pam’s Pictorama Post: The other evening I was meeting a former colleague and we were discussing the shifting sands of the office place – he who now works entirely remotely for a national not-for-profit and I am who am still adjusting to life at an animal hospital where many things are different. The conversation somehow turned first to mail (I am struggling with the local post office) and then to handwriting. I told him that when I worked at the Met I handwrote many notes and that I hoped over time that when people saw the envelope they would recognize my handwriting immediately.
The verso of a postcard from a prior post – sometimes the writing is half the fun, other times indecipherable.
Even less than a decade ago mail was a much bigger part of my job. This area in fundraising has had a continued contraction and, while I am far from an expert, I am struggling to find its place at work as older supporters still like it but it is expensive and you can lose money. Direct mail aside, my days at the Met were packed with notes written – a constantly dwindling pile of cards atop my desk for notes to attach to things, my business card and stacks of cards from the museum’s shop which I worked my way through with birthday wishes and other occasions. For years all of our invitations were handwritten and stamped. We did them at home and were paid by the piece – I helped pay for my trip to Tibet by addressing envelopes when we opened the new Asian Art Wing there.
At the Met we had a mailroom which collected our piles of mail and delivered ours to our office. I have learned over time that this is a luxury in offices.
Our Top Dog Gala invitation this year. We are celebrating the work of the police dogs and this handsome German Shephard is representing for it.Invitations have printed envelopes now.
At Jazz I immediately noticed fewer written missives, as well as less time on the telephone – everything was pretty much online and email including invitations. If not a dedicated mailroom, an office manager did distribute mail and bring it to the post office daily. Covid interrupted even that and mail stilled to a full stop and barely ground back into use in the post-Covid work world.
My office today slots mail into boxes in the main hospital building which we try to pick up daily. Somehow I have never gotten the swing of mail pick up there (due to construction it moves around) and we tend to stamp and mail things from public boxes or a trip to the post office. It isn’t true but sometimes I feel like the only person who produces mail beyond the occasional mailing of things like Gala invitations.
Very recognizable Louis Wain signature as per yesterday’s post!
However, what we really touched on the other night and what has stayed in my mind since is the memory of handwriting I have known. I recently had to go through check registers of my mom’s for tax purposes and spending the day immersed in her (slowly deteriorating) handwriting made her and that final year together very real again.
I have only a few samples of my sister’s writing, although it was a neat distinctive cursive I would recognize anywhere – she had the habit of looping the bottom of her capital L’s backward as part of her signature. I never asked her about that.
I saw less of my father’s handwriting than other family members, but certainly would recognize his signature. Somewhere I have a few letters from him, written while he covered the Olympics in Sarajevo. Meanwhile my maternal grandmother had a round script that would come with birthday cards, some of which I still have.
Autographed books, always with a picture, by Kim here and below.
There are those folks whose handwriting I realize I do not know, or only have an inkling of, like my father’s parents who died when I was fairly young. (To my brother Edward, I am realizing that we never correspond with handwritten notes. I don’t really know yours although maybe I would recognize it if I saw it?) I have friends whose handwriting I can see in my mind – some former colleagues and others like my friend Suzanne who is an artist and whose very round writing is distinctive in my mind’s eye.
Kim’s handwriting and his signature are of course well known and very recognizable. Legibility in his line of work is essential. He eschews my cursive as hard to read. (There was a time when I was younger when I corresponding in a tiny neat print, but I found it labor intensive for my needs.) Recent trouble accurately reading numbers people have written on things has reminded us of the importance of neatness – not just for cartoonists, but for all of us. After all, first and foremost, it is a form of communication.
One of the nice things about living with Kim is he continues to receive (and send of course) letters and packages in the mail. We get more real mail than most folks.
I especially like this one for Shroud for Waldo!
When I was in college I remember a professor at the beginning of a course talking about how handwriting was a mark system like any other, one we use constantly and defines us. (She also pointed out that how we dress is another visual vocabulary all our own and I think of that sometimes when I put on make-up which in some ways is the closest I get to painting these days.) However, handwriting is the one that is intimately tied to who we are and is our very own – obviously like finger prints our signature can be used to identify us in a court of law; it is that singular.
Of those folks like my mother, father and sister who are now lost to me the thought of their writing, coming across it or remembering it, makes me miss them all the more. However, it is a comforting odd bit of us that we keep, thoughtfully or unconsciously, and remains in the world long after we are gone.
Pam’s Pictorama Post: A bit frazzled from a long and crazy week at work I sit down to chat with you today, still in a bit of disarray, with only some disparate bits to share. My new job wraps up its fiscal year along with the calendar year (a merging of very busy times for a fundraiser and a timing first for me) and in addition, we have a gala in early December. Somehow we threw in an annual dinner for members to be held on Monday into the mix and suddenly our tiny office is positively swamped.
In acknowledgment of the season, I have hung a few black cat streamers over my desk. I’m sorry not to have a shot of mine, but here they are for sale. I bought them at Big Lots in New Jersey for just a few dollars on markdown. They may find a permanent place here at Deitch Studio later. (I also purchased candy corn lights but sadly haven’t found a spot near an outlet for them.)
Soft, stuffed black cat garland – came with another garland of pom poms.
However, Kim and I took yesterday off and spent part of the day at the Metropolitan Museum, my old stomping ground. I wanted to catch the exhibit on Siena (Siena: The Rise of Painting, 1300–1350) before the holiday crowds (and growing tsunami of work) scared me off. (Kim is hard at work having essentially finished a book and due to a rethinking of that lengthy appendix has found himself already deep in another book. We expect the finished book out in the second quarter of next year or so.)
Before heading into the museum we made a quick stop at E.A.T. (a pretty if over-priced emporium) on Madison. They often stock up for Halloween and, although I might have purchased more (there was a great black cat woven basket for your treat holding), I contained myself. I only purchased a new pair of cat ears on a headband and a nice little wooden black (tuxedo-ish) cat which moves when you press the bottom. I have had a series of these since childhood and used to play with them by the hour. (I also own a rather nice Felix one which predates my adult Felix buying mania.)
Lost the little tips of his ears at some point.
I understand that our animal hospital embraces Halloween fondly and there is a contest for costumes among the medical services. (I gather clients dress up as well and I am already becoming familiar with canines in costumes and clothes in other festive settings.) I have a date to take our new videographers through the hospital on Halloween so my new cat ears on a headband are my feline Cat Mom of many nod to the day.
Cover of the 1989 exhibition catalogue.
I was introduced to the paintings of Siena when I first started working at the Met. It was back in 1989 that they held the great exhibition, Painting in Renaissance Siena: 1420-1500. It’s hard to compare after all these years and knowing that the earlier one had such an impact on me. I own a very beat up copy of the catalogue (I probably bought it at a damage sale to begin with because that’s how I got most of my art books then) and I might prefer the slightly later period presented in that exhibit but this one is glorious too.
There is just something about the space and sensibility of these paintings that simply rewires my brain. If I was a cartoonist they would make me rethink panels and pages and space entirely. When I saw the first exhibition I was still drawing and painting and they did heavily influence my thinking. I find even without that scratching at my brain I will be thinking about them for a long time. (I have not purchased the catalogue but most likely will. It’s been years since I have added an art catalogue to this crowded library of ours!)
Iconic image from the ’89 exhibit.
I don’t want to bore you with all my thoughts about it except to say that the sense of space and architecture is fascinating and a great reminder that people were designing things in all sorts of creative and wild ways at that time. What they didn’t know they just made work with a convincing conviction – cut away the side of a mountain, show what’s underground, put a tiny city over here. Amazing. There is also something about the colors and they tend to almost glow. The exhibit plays this and the vast amount of gold up by hitting them with light in an otherwise dark setting. They are little gems.
We wandered through the European Paintings galleries to find a few Bosch paintings I wanted to share with Kim. (He just read Guy Caldwell’s book, Delights: A Story of Hieronymus Bosch, which Guy was kind enough to send. Recently published by Fantagraphics it can be purchased here.) While we did find one or two, the more inspiring painting was van Eyck’s Crucifixion and Last Judgement diptych.(The amazing Google image that you can drill down into can be found here)
Not too much else to report from our visit except that we could have voted early, but were too tired to get in the long line. (The Met is our early voting location.) We ate in the public cafeteria – sandwiches and, in a rather parsimonious way, each saved half for today’s lunch. (I have gone from being a rather voracious eater to having shrunk my appetites during a long period of dieting. There was a time when leaving half a sandwich would never have happened.)
Apologies for this being long and rambling. Wish me luck with my cat ears this week. Blackie looked confused and rather baleful when I tried them on yesterday. And a happy Halloween to all!
Pam’s Pictorama Post: Today is a bit of a day in the life of post, back to toys tomorrow! As ongoing readers know, a few weeks ago Kim and I packed kitties and a few bags and headed to our house at the Jersey shore for a few weeks. With a new job I don’t have a lot of vacation so I am commuting these first weeks.
My new digs for work are way over on York Avenue and 62nd – an ideal daily commute from our New York apartment and I walk to and from most days. Occasionally I hop on a slow moving bus that wanders up and down York – and then oddly meanders across 57th Street.
Over the river heading to NYC just as the sun is coming up.
I am paying for my being a hop, skip and a jump from work with more than a month of a Jersey commute which is an hour and twenty minute train ride, with another twenty to thirty minutes on the subway and walking on the other end. It is a bit of a shock to the system – being at the mercy of the NJ transit system and back in the clutches of the Q train daily.
On the other hand, as I write this from my deck this Saturday morning I just saw a hummingbird take a long, long drink from a flowering tree and that is part of my summer reward. As I write, I am perched on my deck in full view of some ripening peppers and tomatoes. Cicadas buzz in the background.
My commuter mug, a great gift, but it did turn on my earlier this week.
It may be worth it but there is a cost for my slice of paradise! Our morning, always an early start, is even earlier. Cats (so many cats!) need to be fed, litterboxes cleaned and Blackie needs his shot. Kim tackles much of it but there’s a mad flurry of activity for a bit. The train ride in is an easy one and I get on early so always have a seat. As long as I don’t have an early appointment to make me crazy if the train has a hiccup, it is generally a time for some extra work or reading.
Sunrise on the way into the city – sort of the dividing point where it becomes more urban.
A friend christened my commute with a travel mug for my coffee, which I now fill religiously and think of her as I drink my piping hot coffee on the train. However, the other day in my enthusiasm I filled it too high and the steam popped the top. When I threw my bag onto my shoulder to run out the door hot coffee streamed down my back! Ouch and a pause to change my top layer (and put some soap on it so it wouldn’t stain!) and I was out the door. My back smarted all the way to work and I couldn’t take my jacket off as my tank had a coffee stain on the back! I have learned my lesson and I both allow to cool and don’t fill quite so ambitiously.
Heading into Red Bank station, we slow through these woods and then over the river. I love this few minutes coming home.
This route to and from the city is a well worn one of course and I have been traveling it on and off since reaching adulthood. It was the first and last leg on my trips to and from college for the holidays. Eventually it was the trip I took to visit my folks once I was living in New York, and ultimately to my dad in hospice during his long illness. Aside from the time of the pandemic (I have written about my time taking the ferry here) and just beyond when I indulged in a car to and from my increasingly lengthy visits to mom during her illness, the train was my main conveyance here and back. (I wrote about those trips with a lovely comfort dog, Cash, here.)
Where the view turns urban as we approached NYC the other morning.
The trip on the Jersey side starts out with water and woods. A third or more of the way there, houses start to emerged and are closer together, over some marshland (my mom used to talk about the wildlife in those marshes!) and then it becomes increasingly urban. Before you know it you are in Elizabeth and Newark and then the City is in sight before a ride through a tunnel (used to terrify me as a kid, these tunnels) where my ears pop, and then into Penn Station on the other side.
Mom always talked about the birds and other wildlife in these marshes.
Of course the trip back is the same in reverse going back. Getting to the train is always more stressful in the evening and I struggle with the discipline to get out of the office with enough time to do the reverse path to the train. It is generally boarding when I get there (unless delayed) and I hop on in the nick of time. The evening by necessity is more work filled as I have left things I can deal with on the train for that time and it is largely work time.
Weather permitting a quickly assembled dinner can be had on the deck – twinkling lights on and Radio Dismuke (more about that here) playing popular standards of the 20’s and 30’s. Tempting to stay up, but an early to bed with the early to rise to commute on the horizon again!
Pam’s Pictorama Post: Not often, but occasionally my purchases are essentially practical and today’s purchase was one, although certainly some style here. Somehow in the most recent office move from my last job I failed to pack my letter opener which was of the most utilitarian variety although I had some fondness for it because of the sheer number of years (decades) it had been in my possession, however there was nothing notable about it.
I have been in the work force long enough to have gone through a period with a lot more physical mail than I currently receive. Early in my career I have distinct memories of opening piles of mail every day at the Met. In fact sometimes I worry that the mail at work has failed because we go so long with absolutely none. Physical mail is so seldom now that I had a staffer who didn’t seem to know where to place the stamp on a letter he was sending for me.
Meanwhile, as a fundraiser I was surprised that my current office had never used a business reply envelope. For those not in the know, that’s what those envelopes which allow you to respond for free are called. (There is a permit number on the return address and sometimes it says, A stamp here will save XYZ money.) The postage for each envelope received back is paid by the organization, but hey, if you are sending me money I’ll pay a dollar for your envelope back to me. It’s a good return on investment and removes at least one impediment from making a gift – having to find a stamp.
When I discovered this a few months ago I went down the specifically postal rabbit hole of applying for a permit. I never worked any place without a permit so this was all new to me, nor could I find anyone else who had to apply for one within my circle. After getting an old account out of the way (a ghost account which seemed rather romantic but, not surprisingly, didn’t seem to actually do anything) I spent a lot of time on the USPS website and on the phone with their service people. I, in fact on some bad advice, went to the Main (Farley) Post Office here in NYC. As some might know, the building was purchased by the city and space recently carved out under this grand building to create a new home for Penn Station.
The interior of the post office, the James A. Farley building, is beautiful and I couldn’t resist a few shots despite my disappointment.
It was my first (and likely my last) visit to this post office as they do absolutely nothing there. (Does this mean there is no main post office in NYC?) Yes, you can mail things and yes, you can evidently apply for a passport there, but even an attempt to buy stamps will send you online. As you can imagine, I was told that the administrative office I was seeking was now long gone. They did, to their credit, supply me with the number to phone for help.
I am here to report that, once you get through the red tape of an annoying phone system and get to the folks (all women in this case and I spoke to several) to help you they are a great, smart and helpful group. My hat goes off to Ana, Sabriya, and Arkeda. They know their stuff and they were dogged in their efforts to help me. They coached me through filling out arduous forms, filing them and then shepherding them through the various routing. They even told me when they would be on vacation and who I could work with during that time. I praised them unstintingly in a series of final surveys and thanked them profusely. Frankly, I would hire any of them in a heartbeat if I could.
But come on, they don’t even sell stamps?
It has left me with mixed feelings about the post office. At their instruction I went to the local post office to my job to file the forms with a check to cover the annual fee and open the account. The staff was rude and at one point stood around in a group talking about me in the third person and told me to shut up when I tried to speak. What’s more, I probably shouldn’t need someone to coach me through a labyrinth site and series of mystical forms. So although I give the women above the highest grades, I give the USPS a failing grade in general. My experience as it relates to this interaction is that these women are an island of competent help in a morass of sub par service. (With apologies to others at the USPS who are hard working and doing their job!)
This was the Plain Jane variety opener I had been using for decades.
Anyway, all this to say, if I have my way more mail will come to my office shortly, hopefully in the form of contribution checks. And, to bring us back to my recent purchase, I actually like to open envelopes neatly with a letter opener. When you are handling money coming into an office for various reasons the envelope can be important (proof of mailing date, return address) so better if you don’t end up tearing it to shreds to get it open. I have keenly felt the lost of my letter opener, but did decide that rather than purchase another ubiquitous one from Staples that I would look for something a bit more interesting.
Of course my mind turned first to cats and if I had been willing to invest some real money in a vintage letter opener I found on eBay I could have had a honey. For a variety of reasons this wasn’t a moment I was inclined to do that.
Top of a very nice cat letter opener I deemed to expensive to buy. Tempting though…
A week or so ago one of the dealers I purchase from on Instagram (@Reds_Antiques or via eBay at www.ebay.com/usr/reds_antiques) had a bunch of smalls he was selling and I picked out two advertising letter openers he had listed. I’ve bought some lamps, photos and other bits from Reds, he’s a dealer on the west coast and he lists some cabinets and tables I drool over but can’t see getting across the country to us. The vibe of his stock is a little masculine for me overall (think gas and oil signs, vintage tools and car related ephemera), but we align on certain things and he has a good eye.
Anyway, I figured one opener goes to the office and one stays here or goes to Jersey. That still leaves room in my life for a good cat one should I come across it.
Detail of the top of the letter opener.
As is clearly stated on the back it is solid copper and it is from Red Lodge Montana. The top boasts a somewhat cheesy scene of a teepee and two figures, one on a horse. A tiny banner declares Festival of Nations.
Back markings.
First of all, Red Lodge (for the ignorant like myself) is a town, not a lodge as such, found at the entrance to Yellowstone national park. The area, full of skiing and hiking, looks stunningly beautiful with a downtown full of period buildings that have been preserved. (For a post on the adventure Kim and I had at a whorehouse museum in Butte, Montana, go here.)
Starting in the 1950’s the Festival of Nations was launched as an annual festival to celebrate the various (European) cultures of the area which had never much mixed beyond some tentative cultural experiments such as a unified local band, all this according to a local historical society website. It seems to still run in August of each year.
I think this one is likely to stay in the apartment. Stay tuned for tomorrow’s post and the other one I purchased which will head to the office, reporting for envelope duty, next week. Could be a cat one in my future as well.
Pam’s Pictorama Post: It seems like an odd moment perhaps to have a progress report today, but my mind is deeply there right now so here we go. I have been writing all week – an endless litany of editing and producing so perhaps it is just hard to turn that part of my brain off.
I have had reason to reflect on how in fact the discipline of writing this blog twice a week every week (since summer of 2014) has formed and honed my nascent skills over time. It has its own voice of course, and that is different than most of my writing for work, but it does help me add a lighter tone to some of the newsletter things we produce and just produce the sheer volume required.
Weirdly fundraising work is a lot of writing. I am not sure it is ever presented that way to aspirants in the field and no one gave me a writing test back when I started. (We still took typing tests! It was at the very end of that era however as computers were just phasing in.) However, unless you work in an enormous shop where all of the proposals and materials are produced by dedicated staff, you end up writing a heck of a lot. (My friends in those large shops assure me that they need to do a lot of editing of that work too because they understand the particulars best.)
Little girl I was holding was a bit smaller yet than this one here.
I give a basic writing test to most applicants – as much to make sure that they transfer information accurately and follow directions as anything else. Folks who will need to do a lot of more complex writing are asked to either do a more advanced test or submit previous proposals or writing samples. When it comes to the basic test I am often shocked by the errors. I mean they could share it with a half dozen of their friends before submitting and I wouldn’t know, yet many don’t seem to bother and there are often egregious errors.
On the other hand, I have also had excellent writing tests submitted by people who were less engaging during the interview process – and let’s not even start with what Zoom has done to interviewing. (Although now it is the accepted first step for every interview.) I try very hard to have an in-person with finalists, although I just hired someone who was moving back to NYC from San Francisco. He seems to be a good hire, although about six inches taller than I had anticipated. He sent a photo of his cat Moose along with his application which of course I found endearing. Moose is a marmalade tabby.
Not Moose, but somewhat like him.
Leaving the writing of others aside, the demand has meant that I have been writing a variety of things pretty much since I walked in the door back in January. While much of this kind of writing and editing is second nature to me, being in such a different organization and trying to capture it has been a challenge. I find myself writing proposals to fund medical equipment I didn’t imagine existed (a 3-D printer which could be used to create everything from a new beak for a Great Horn Bill or a replacement joint for a pup) to writing direct mail copy for an appeal.
A turtle like this one, but not this one!
But how to capture the essence? What’s it like to stand in a back hall and see a tiny turtle no bigger than a half dollar being rushed by for care by specialists in exotic animals. (It was so moving to think someone cared so much for this tiny guy and could even tell he or she wasn’t well.) Or to cuddle a scared tabby kitten from a rescue group which is being evaluated for surgery on a malformed leg so she will be adoptable. (We raise money for the funds to pay for such surgeries and it was my first real encounter with a beneficiary.)
The vets and techs (and really everyone there) love these animals fiercely and they are single-minded in the best outcome for the animal.
Pre-pandemic I bought flowers weekly for my office, but gave it up when we returned to work. This week I bought some in memory of my mom and the one year of her passing. Reminded me how nice it is to have flowers around!
Meanwhile, I have written previously (read it here) my own office is a block away in a somewhat decaying residential building which leaks and lacks public access. (The photo at the top was taken from the rooftop space at our building.) My staff yearns for the ability to have pets in the offices as is allowed down the street in the main building. I hope to negotiate this at some point and install an office comfort cat, but fear at best in reality it will add a cat to my own menagerie on the weekends. (This is the only place I could ever work where the response to I have seven cats is not shock, but more along the lines of – Oh, eight would be great!)
So that is a small slice of life at the new gig – more to come I am sure.
Pam’s Pictorama Post: Things have been quiet on the acquisition front so I thought I would spend today with just a bit of a life update. Here on the east coast, spring made some real inroads recently, only to roll back temperatures. New spring dresses and trousers hang in the closet with a come hither appeal and anticipation, however temperatures have not risen much above the mid-50’s and the windy morning chill has been more like the 43 degrees it is as I write. Still, the cherry and other flowering trees are in bloom and daffodils and other harbingers of the season are here.
Photos from the NJ garden are coming my way and I am anxious to get there and see them in person, the fruits of some later summer and early fall labor, an afternoon of planting stolen one day. Given some work commitments it will be another couple of weeks before I am out there. I hope to grab a couple of consecutive days though and it will likely be around the anniversary of mom going at the end of the month.
A picture of daffodils from my NJ garden, sent by a friend.
The new job is going well, but it is new which is tiring I think by its very nature. Still learning who is who and where to go for what and how to get anything done. Deciding what the right style for leading this group will be is part of it. They are few but seasoned professionals which is very different than the young green kids I found at JALC when I got there. It is a complex organization and that kind of learning is slow – I was lucky to have grown up at the Met and didn’t have to learn it cold like I am here and it is unlike Jazz where I was thrown into the deep end with a great sense of urgency about raising money immediately.
To date I’ve hired three staff people so the dynamic is already changing before I got at all familiar with it. Having many openings meant people were doing too many jobs and hiring as quickly as possible seemed like the nicest thing I could do for them. The energy is very different and the pace is undeniably slower and more sane.
The job pulls more on my experience at the Metropolitan Museum than Jazz at Lincoln Center did so I also find myself immersed in that period of my life as I sort through files I brought with me when I left there, adding to the layered confusion of what period of my past I am spending time in. I even see more people from the Met these days so I am rolling back time in some ways. (I wrote about my long history working at the Met here.) However, the world has certainly changed in the past seven years and work and managing staff will never go back to being the same. We will always be somewhat hybrid at an office now and need to be nimble and agile in new ways – some of which I, like many managers, are still figuring out.
A low calorie version of French Toast I am fond of these days, perched on a plate I bought on my birthday this year from Fishes Eddy which specializes in selling off whole sets as well as individual dishes.
Meanwhile, in the past twelve months and since caring for mom before her death, many good habits have fallen by the wayside I am afraid. I am picking them back up the best I can. Running has been sporadic and has been put entirely aside between oral surgery and the new job at the top of the year.
I have instituted a diet (when I diet I count calories, although I will grant that what you eat does also make a difference) and I exercise. However I have to rebuild the real habit of either lifting and the gym or get back to running now that the weather is better. I am doing my best to tame my new work schedule to figure that out. It is the first time in years I have not had a steady workout routine and fell the loss of it without quite being able to reconcile it. I am hoping for muscle memory when the time does come.
Pot of soup simmering is always cheerful!
I realized the other day I haven’t made soup in months (two of my recipes can be found here and here) and stocked up on the fixings to do so tomorrow. Nice to get a few pots in before the weather largely grows too warm for it. Soup can take a big bite out of a week of meal planning. I have wanted my weekends away from the stove, but am ready to get back on it. (As I write bags of food from Fresh Direct which just arrived sitting at the front door, awaiting my attention.)
So despite best efforts I have not quite yet emerged as the new next version of me and continue to work on it. As one friend said, I am still in my larvae stage, a gooey not quite moth and not yet butterfly. On a larger scale I think about the looming total solar eclipse in a few days, the comets and planetary activity surrounding it that seems to be in play. I don’t think it is a coincidence that here, in the path of the upcoming eclipse, we would have a rare earthquake as we had yesterday; even the heavens are changing and realigning themselves this spring.
Pam’s Pictorama Post: Seems impossible to write about anything else while my mind is so full of the first few days at the new job so here I go. As some of you know, I have only ever had a handful of first days at jobs in my adult life. (Meaning beyond the days when someone handed me a uniform or an apron and said have at it in high school and college!) Since one of the few was returning to the Met after an absence of two years and doesn’t really count, I am inexperienced at this for someone my age and who has worked continuously for decades.
Frosty view on my way to work on day 1. It has been in the teens and/or snowing all week!
When you leave one place and go to another you shed much of your day-to-day expertise about who does what and how things are done. I remember at Jazz there was a bi-weekly meeting that was held to discuss Wynton’s calendar and upcoming events and for the first couple of months I just sat there marveling at how I had no idea in the least what they were talking about. You lose the place where you got coffee in the morning, not to mention where lunch could be found.
At my new gig it is the discussions around oncology and neurology for kits and pups and a surgical floor opening that flummox me somewhat. I have seen a new MRI for small animals (I gather we are more or less the only game in town for this) and I have chatted with an angry orange Maine Coon cat who was waiting his turn for radiation. While kitty was very mad, next to him was a pup whose tail wagged continuously despite his circumstances when he heard our voices. Dogs, for whatever reason, make up the larger lion’s share of our practice. I can already say a lot of dogs get attacked while being walked. Be careful out there folks!
The first weeks require wandering around looking for the necessities of life – where to grab lunch, a drugstore, a post office. Considering we are in Manhattan you would think these are on every corner, but the animal hospital is perched near the river and the on and off ramp for the FDR highway. Much in addition to us is under construction and it is an island of traffic and construction, the amenities of life are at least a block away.
The origin of the Animal Medical Center, downtown, back in 1914.
By its very nature, as an animal emergency medical center and the only Trauma 1 center for animals in the area, it is a place that must look constantly forward. Having said this, it is housed in a building from the early 1960’s that we are renovating while still going full tilt. I too was built in the early 1960’s and I think both of us are showing our age. Luckily for the animals (and all of us) the hospital is in the final phase of a massive renovation of said building. Unlike a museum, a hospital has to stay open and fully operational during its renovation and space will be tight for almost another year. Our cramped quarters and the valiant unfailing efforts of the docs inspires me to get in there and raise some money to help finish the job.
As a result my team and a smattering of other folks are camped out in a block away which makes it hard to immerse myself in the life of the place although frequent trips in and out are helping to permeate my consciousness. Meanwhile my team doesn’t really exist in a place where I can easily gather them, although I am doing my best to perch among them on and off and pepper them with questions. My first few days were a morass of equipment that wasn’t quite working with passwords that needed to be established and a persistent problem with sound on my computer which I believe we finally resolved late Friday. This is what first days of work in the 21st century are made up of I guess.
Unlike Jazz, which had moved back to working entirely in person, I am back to a combination of online meetings and fewer in-person ones. I feel I have lost the cadence of working that way and am struggling to regain the skill set even once my equipment is functional.
If I had a window my view might be close to something like this of the 59th Street bridge and Roosevelt Island tram.
My new digs are pleasant enough. We are on the East River and while I have no windows skylights add some natural light to my office. (I have been warned by the pathologist next to me that they leak however – her microscope is covered.) There is a pile of fluffy dog beds in one corner from our recent Gala and I admit on a chilly late afternoon it is tempting to pull one out and curl up like a Great Dane in one.
My boxes of files and personal office effects have yet to arrive so it is a bit sterile for now and I twitch for files that aren’t there as I start to think about materials that need to be produced. It will seem more like home once I am fully installed, hopefully in the coming week. Despite the internet I still keep a dictionary and a thesaurus on my shelf and a few other office touchstones from my past – although I let go of the actual rolodex years ago after moving that around a couple of times.
Large fluffy dog beds are tempting. There’s a bag of cat toys too in case I get bored.
Some readers know that there’s always a Chinese lucky waving cat in my office to help attract money. I will definitely feel better once he is back on the job. (I wrote about my affinity for these in a post here.) I could use his reassuring tick, tick. I may need to bring one from home if there’s going to be a delay! No one has invested themselves in the space though, despite having been there for years and the likelihood of at least a year ahead. I hope for my team my being firmly grounded there brings them some measure of comfort. I like to take root in a space wherever I am. I like my stuff.
One in a series of lucky waving cat statues.
Because our space is open at the ceiling and we are crammed in together I cannot play music in my office, but Radio Dismuke is still on my earphones daily. (I wrote recently about finding this now beloved radio station online and posted about it here.) I am just getting to know the few existing members of my team and they are friendly if a bit wary. I have interviews with potential staff to fill existing positions already set up for this week.
So that’s the state of me as my first few days at the new job draw to a close. Much more about this adventure to come. Thank you for those readers who tuned in!
Pam’s Pictorama Post: Pictorama readers may remember over the summer when I headed upstate near Poughkeepsie for a long weekend of work with the summer session of our youth orchestra. (That post can be found here.) We rented an Airbnb home and on the last day had a several hour gap between when we needed to leave the house and when we would need to arrive at someone’s home for an afternoon event. Luckily my colleague likes an antique store as much as I do (she is also the person who sent the cat puppet in yesterday’s post) and we filled the morning with visits to several as they opened.
We were not disappointed! She was decorating a new apartment, a converted stable space I think, and was looking for pieces of all sizes. I, who had taken the train to Poughkeepsie, was trying to confine myself to smaller objects. I failed to some degree, as I ended up purchasing this item and a lamp and my colleague brought them back to Manhattan for me. (A post that mentions the lamp, part of a lamp buying madness that is upon me, can be read here.)
One of my recent lamp additions – purchased in Poughkeepsie last summer.
I didn’t even know what I wanted to do with this item, whether it would maybe live in New Jersey or in my office and I settled on my office (in part because it arrived there!) and it recently came to the apartment when I was cleaning out my office at Jazz.
I am not sure what establishment this would have been used for. Something about the black and white enamel makes me think a medical office, but I don’t know how that might of worked. As you can see, a wooden knob at the top changes it from Open to Closed. I did develop the habit of turning it to Open in the morning when I came in and Closed when I was leaving – or tired of people coming into my office!
Pams-Pictorama.com.
My office possessions are all packed up in boxes, still at Jazz, until I decide what is being sent to the new office and what is coming to the apartment. There are several things I am extremely attached to in those boxes. Among them is a small wooden box Kim painted with elephants (a special post about that here) and other items given to me over the years by various colleagues.
This Waldo mug was another item that came home with me. Someone made Kim two in exchange for being able to sell the design. I don’t know what happened to the other one – I think it was in rotation in the house and got broken at some point. This rather pristine example was my coffee mug at work. I think it will go to the new office as well. I always wonder if people in meetings are slowing becoming aware of Waldo’s tiny penis in the drawing.
The Farmer, Kim’s occasional avatar, appears on the other side, chasing Waldo.
It has a patina of dings on the enamel and the handle at the top is worn. There’s something about items like this, that had a very specific life before, used daily in some capacity, however never meant to be in a home or even the sort of office I had either. I enjoyed having it there and if there’s space I will bring it to the new office. If not, I will decide if it stays a part of my home office here or makes its way to the house in New Jersey.
This brings us to the new job, a new work space and not even know what that will be like yet. I have requested a desk in the animal hospital itself so I can immerse myself in the activity of the place, but I gather my real space will be across the street where they have offices. I asked several times to see it, but there seemed to be a number of reasons why that wasn’t possible.
Cookie who has re-assumed her spot on the couch and as Queen of Deitch Studio.
I do hate not knowing as I would have liked to start imagining myself in the space, I can’t say I like the unknown. I am like the cats, hating being uprooted and taken some place strange. (Incidentally, Cookie is reveling in being back in Manhattan and Blackie seems to have fallen back into his routine as well. If he misses NJ he is largely keeping it to himself.) As for me, some fairly major oral surgery last week has occupied my final days of vacation before starting fresh this week.
Somehow the Open and Closed sign seems like an appropriate post for today, my last before starting the new job this Wednesday. I will report back in full in the coming weeks – here we go!
Pam's Pictorama 