Like Nobody's Business

The True Art of Gifting

My mother taught me a great many terrific things during her lifetime, but one of the best was the true art of gifting. She bought herself a lot of jewelry, but never anything expensive or precious. She loved what they used to call costume jewelry, which were just inexpensive, often trendy pieces. She had a lot of fun wearing them, but beyond that, she had a lot more fun giving them away. If someone complimented her on a pair of earrings or a bracelet or pin she was wearing, she’d take it off and say, “Here, if you like it, it’s yours!” The looks on people’s faces were priceless. They’d say ‘No, I can’t take that” at first, but she’d say it would make her really happy if they would. And they didn’t want to disappoint her, did they? It DID make her really happy to give something right off her own ears or wrist to someone who really liked it. She said that it brought her more joy than wearing it did. Now that we have the shop, I try to carry on that tradition. If it’s a really nice customer or a friend, I’ll just give them a little freebie or let them have a little something at no charge that they were going to buy. It gives me such a rush of pleasure to do that simple thing. It’s really hard to explain how what looks like a selfless act is really selfish. Honestly, I get more happiness running through my entire system than they do, and I guess that’s the selfish part. So, Merry Christmas, my dearest mother. I miss you and your generous heart every day and I thank you every day for all the wonderful examples you taught me of doing good in the world. It IS such a happiness rush, isn’t it? 😊

Presents on the Porch

Given it’s now the holiday season, we decided to start calling these little gifts we receive from time to time “Presents on the Porch.” We appreciate that people leave us these little—uh-hum—treasures, but we must admit this one has us stumped. Even more so than the prior two sticks of butter treasure from a few months ago. At least the sticks of butter were intact. Today we got an empty bottle of distilled white vinegar. We’re not sure exactly what to make of that one, but okay, a gift’s a gift, and you’re not supposed to look a gift horse in the mouth, no matter how empty he is. Did someone drink a whole bottle of distilled white vinegar? I guess we’ll never know. But if you’re in the market for an empty bottle of vinegar, you know where to find it. 😊

Don’t ask me how we got started on this (probably because my wife asks some pretty weird questions sometimes), but during dinner this evening, my wife and I were talking about what we wore as children. She went to Catholic school and wore the standard blue and white plaid uniform with the pleated skirt and white shirts with Peter Pan collars (which she hated with a passion and still does). She sort of already knew what I wore since she’s seen pictures of me as a child in my mismatched plaid shirts and plaid pants (or a “mobile hallucination,’ as she calls them). Then she asked me what kind of shoes I wore. At first I didn’t recall, but settled on probably tennis shoes. She said in her school they had to wear penny loafers (which she adored). I said, ‘Penny loafers—what the heck are those?” (Hey, I’m from the west coast). She couldn’t believe I didn’t know what they were. Then she started asking herself (she talks to herself a lot, since I’m not a big talker) "I wonder who invented penny loafers?” I just shrugged. So, she got on the computer and this is what she found:

In the early 1900s, a Norwegian man named Nils Tveranger wanted to improve the design of the teser, a traditional laceless shoe that was worn by local fishermen and peasants. The teser was a tough yet lightweight slip-on style that was made from leather. After going to America to study the art of cordwaining, he created the Aurland moccasin when he returned to Norway, which combined elements from the teser and the Iroquois Native Americans’ moccasins.

The Aurland moccasin was discovered by European and American foreigners around the time of the interwar period. They began to visit the Valley of Aurland in Bergen and took note of the comfortable-looking footwear that local fishermen wore. They marveled at the simplicity of the shoe and took home a pair or two as souvenirs.

These foreigners — wealthy sportsmen and the well-traveled elite — wore the Aurland shoes back home in fashionable places like Palm Beach, where an Esquire magazine staffer spotted the first pair in 1935. According to Esquire, the Aurland shoes were usually paired with light-colored suits and a Panama hat or a fedora.

Arnold Gigrich, the founder of Esquire, saw the potential of the Aurland moccasin and decided to partner with a distributor to bring a sample to John Bass, the son of the founder of American footwear label G.H. Bass. By 1936 the label had adapted the Aurland into the Weejun: a thicker-soled adaptation with a distinctive cutout in the middle of the strap.

The Weejun—an American take on the word “Norwegian”—was advertised as Norwegian fishing shoes and first retailed for $6.50. An early advertisement refers to the penny loafer’s versatility: “Not shoes, not slippers, not moccasins, they are ideal for the beach, a camping trip, or lounging about the locker room or house. Fine for informal occasions.” A later advertisement aptly calls the penny loafer the “Symbol of Elegant Leisure.” Penny loafers became an instant hit, so much so that women even began buying them for themselves and brands around the country began producing their take on the style.

Lured by the well-priced penny loafer’s convenient laceless design that was ideal for rushing to class in the mornings, it became the ubiquitous shoe for American schools and college campuses from the 1940s to the late 1960s. Worn by students year-round and paired with everything from shorts to tweed separates, the term “penny loafer” was widely used as the go-to nickname after the method of putting a coin in the strap’s slot became the popular norm. Wearing the penny loafer sockless also became a cool trend at the time, though it is widely debated whether this was due to John F. Kennedy’s influence or the lazy nature of students. The penny loafer’s place in college campuses was cemented in 1960, when a student newspaper at the University of North Carolina published an editorial with the subheading stating that the penny loafers were “the thing on the feet of those who are with it.”

OK, so obviously I’m not and never have been “with it.” I’ll stick with my tennis shoes. “Tennis shoes?” she said, “we called them sneakers. The only people who wore tennis shoes played tennis.” Geez—I just can’t win, can I? 😊

Mom-isms

I’ve been keeping a list lately of all the little quips my mother used to say (let’s call them mom-isms), and there was one in particular that I realized I didn’t know the origin of. Which made me curious. Which, of course, made me look it up to find out about it. The quip was “The whole world’s going to hell in a handbasket.” I thought to myself “handbasket?” Why a handbasket? And this is what I found – there are other theories about the origin of the phrase, but this one seems the most likely. By the way, it’s kind of ghoulish, but it’s almost October and Halloween, so ghoulish is pretty much part of the season. However, if you’re not a fan of anything gruesome, STOP READING NOW:

“The most colorful – and ghoulish – theory has to do with the French Revolution. The origin of the phrase ‘hell in a handbasket’ can be found in the practice of capturing the heads of guillotine victims in a basket, with the presumption being that these criminals would be going straight to hell for their crimes.”

So the next time you say that, or hear someone else say it, I dare you to get that image out of your head (pun intended, I guess). 😲