I confess: I am an inveterate yard sale, junk shop, used bookstore, antique store, tag sale, estate sale, flea market shopper.  I am forever on the lookout for the lost treasure–hidden from all eyes but mine. I have often wondered what attracts me…and with no other outstanding answer, have put it down to the love of the smell of old paper; an appreciation of objects and people that have been a part of history; and a hopeless hope to find at least one piece of the family silver.  My uncle sold it decades ago, and I have always mourned its loss.

Each year the Orient, NY Congregational Church (founded in the early 19th c.) sponsors a yard sale featuring old books in excellent condition.  Working for a stationery company, I am always on the lookout for old agendas, diaries and journals. On Saturday I went home with my latest find:  The Wanamaker Diary 1937. My book is unmarked. There’s a mystery – someone kept it all these years.

The Wanamaker Diary was issued by Wanamaker’s Department Store, Broadway & 8th Street, in Manhattan.  Intended as a recordkeeping book and souvenir, it is crammed with information, advice, and facts about New York, including seating charts for theaters and stadiums in the city.  It has whole sections on astronomy, astrology, legal holidays, receipts and payments pages. Ads, of course! Each page is numbered. The binding is perfect and the pages have a slight tinge of yellow. Only its charm betrays its age.

I particularly enjoyed this piece of trivia on the page for January 19/20: “The paper on which Bank of England currency is printed is made from white linen rags, formerly obtained from English shirts when discarded. Today, however, practically every Englishman wears colored shirts. The result is foreign shirts, mostly from France, where white linen is still genteel, are relied upon in the making of bank notes. The worn out shirt of a French peasant is sent to the Laverstoke mill and turned into Bank of England notes.”

Wanamaker’s Department Store was founded in Philadelphia in 1887.   Wanamaker’s sent buyers overseas to Europe to scout for the latest trends and luxuries. They expanded to New York City in 1896. News of the Titanic’s sinking was transmitted to Wanamaker’s wireless station on the roof of the New York store and given to anxious crowds waiting outside.  A famous landmark in Manhattan, the store was razed by fire in 1956, 34 years after the death of its founder, John Wanamaker.

The Wanamaker Diary was printed by Cary Press Corporation, 406 West 31st Street, New York.  That’s just two blocks from where I work at Exaclair.  I’ll have to walk over this week and see who’s there.

Another thing I came across in the woods last weekend: a 9-inch long feather from a Canada goose. I’ve got no experience with knives outside my kitchen, but I’m nonetheless very tempted to try to make a quill pen with it. Have you ever made one? My last experience with a quill pen — a precut J. Herbin set — wasn’t positive; the line kept splattering and I had to re-dip every two words.

Still, the lure of DIY is strong… I found some pretty detailed instructions online, and I’m thinking about giving it a try.

If you’ve made them before, I’d love to hear your experiences. Did you use a pen knife? Were you handy with knives before you began? How long did it take before you felt comfortable with the whole process?

Thanks!

It’s hotter’n hell in New York, but before the heat wave struck Sunday, I went for a holiday hike near the Monksville Reservoir in Ringwood, New Jersey.

First, we saw a wild turkey running hard in the opposite direction. Then we saw a pile of dung on the trail. Finally, we spotted this beautiful black bear eating blueberries from a nearby patch. She (or he, not that I could tell the difference) didn’t seem to mind being photographed, so I took a couple shots to document the experience.

Afterwards, we even managed to pick a few berries for ourselves… at a safe distance, of course.

Image via Sam Howzit

As we hit beach and barbecue this weekend, here’s a fun bit of trivia to keep in mind: July 2 is really Independence Day.

On July 4, as we all learned in school, the Declaration of Independence was ratified and adopted by the Continental Congress. But it was on July 2, 1776, that we declared our independence; as “research maven” Lisa Gold explains:

On July 2, 1776, the American colonies declared their independence from Great Britain when the Continental Congress finally approved (with twelve colonies voting yes and New York abstaining) this resolution:

Resolved, That these United Colonies are, and, of right, ought to be, Free and Independent States; that they are absolved from all allegiance to the British crown, and that all political connexion between them, and the state of Great Britain, is, and ought to be, totally dissolved.

To learn more, check out the links and resources at the bottom of Lisa’s post.

Every once in a while, I find something in my office that I can’t believe I still own… this time, it was a box of Caran d’Ache colored pencils from 1991, a commemorative set that was created in honor of the 700th anniversary of the Swiss Confederation. I can’t remember if it was a present from my father (who often traveled to Europe for conferences) or something I acquired on a trip to see my German relatives (I think we may have gone for Christmas that year).

I do remember thinking that these pencils were way too special for everyday use — I was 12 or 13 when I got them — so they’re in great condition now, though the case is a bit dinged and scratched. The wood, which I’m guessing is cedar, also smells amazing. The only thing I’m puzzled by is the painting on the front of the box, which depicts a medieval battle scene that in retrospect is perhaps a bit gruesome for product that’s sold to children?

Though it obviously didn’t phase me at the time.

Here’s something I couldn’t resist purchasing at the Glass House gift shop: Graphkins, these cute little graph paper napkins. Made of 2-ply recycled paper, they measure 6.5″ square and come ready to be written on with a light blue printed graph background. As Colin O’Dowd, their inventor, explains on his website:

Some of the world’s greatest designs, famous buildings and innovative ideas have all started out as sketches on paper napkins. Now with graphkin you can doodle n’ dine with real accuracy!

At $6.50 for a pack of 12, they weren’t cheap, and I suppose it goes without saying that they weren’t very fountain pen friendly. Still, for a small dinner party, what a great conversation starter! They’re available through Colin’s online shop for 3.50 GBP; I couldn’t find any other North American vendors, but if you live near New Canaan, CT, you can swing by the gift shop and pick up a pack for yourself.

With all our recent talk of writing boxes and file boxes, I thought I’d share this photograph I took on a recent trip to Philip Johnson’s Glass House… Sitting on his immaculate, leather-topped desk (designed by Mies van der Rohe, we were told) was this pretty wooden box; apparently, it was something he’d owned since his childhood in Ohio:

The Glass House served as Johnson’s weekend retreat — during the week, he lived in an apartment above New York’s Museum of Modern Art — and according to our tour guide, when he arrived, he would empty the contents of his pockets into the box so as not to lose track of anything.

Speaking of composition notebooks, here’s something I’ve been meaning to blog about for months.

As you may recall, I continue to be quite partial to Mead Composition books, even though I generally prefer a smaller notebook for the sake of portability, and the paper doesn’t play well with fountain pens.

Nonetheless, I have one going at all times and I can’t seem to give it up. It functions as my most expansive idea journal, and sometimes (the horror!) my diary, when I’m in the mood, or when I want to write down a particularly memorable dream. There are also a couple of things I like to store in it — photographs and souvenirs — so one evening I sat down to make my very own pocket on the inside of the front cover.

Turns out, it’s not hard at all.

I forgot to take photographs as I went along, but the steps were essentially:

1. Cut a squarish piece of paper and make a small fold across the bottom. This is the body of your pocket; the fold is where you’ll attach it to your notebook.

2. Cut two slimmer rectangles of paper for the sides that are roughly as tall as the pocket itself (or less tall, if you’re like me and can’t be bothered to plan ahead). The idea is simply to give your pocket some depth when it’s completed.

3. Fold these rectangles twice lengthwise, like an accordion, i.e., /\/.

4. Tape or glue one rectangle to each side of the square piece of paper so that the V faces inward when the pocket is upright.

5. Tape or glue the bottom of the pocket to the notebook, then tape or glue the sides of the accordion. Actually, you need to tape, not glue, the sides if you want the pocket to open properly; if you want to use glue, you’ll need to make an extra accordion fold.

I’m sure there are more detailed instructions floating around the Internet, and that the truly crafty among you can find ways to make your pockets more beautiful than mine. But if you’re like me, and you like to plough ahead and make stuff without too much advance preparation, this is a perfect little project.

By the way, the paper I used was a nice, thick sheet from one of my Clairefontaine scrap books, which gave my pocket just the right amount of sturdiness.

They may not be as breathtakingly intricate as antique writing boxes, but vintage file boxes are still pretty cool. My boyfriend brought this one home a few days ago from his office; it was given to him by a former colleague, and there’s a yellowing card that says “FILING” that’s still taped to its side. Kind of makes you want a typewriter, eh?

I photographed it outside since the light is better, but we’re going to keep it in our living room and use it to store mail.

Bloomsday is a commemoration observed annually on June 16th in Dublin and elsewhere to celebrate the life of Irish writer James Joyce and relive the events in his novel, Ulysses, all of which took place on the same day in Dublin in 1904. The name “Bloomsday” derives from Leopold Bloom, the protagonist of Ulysses.

The novel recounts the hour-by-hour events of one day in Dublin–June 16, 1904.  Dubliner Leopold Bloom wends his way through the urban landscape, the odyssey of a modern-day Ulysses.

The special significance of June 16, 1904 was on that day Joyce had his first date with his future wife, Nora Barancle, a 20-year-old chambermaid. They walked to the Dublin urban village of Ringsend.

Davy Byrne’s Pub on 21 Duke Street was made famous in the novel. Leopold Bloom stopped there for a gorgonzola cheese sandwich and a glass of burgundy wine.

Within hours of landing in Dublin two years ago, a group of us trooped off to Davy Byrne’s Pub.  Since it was early in the morning the pub was still closed–they were sweeping ,vacuuming and polishing the bar–but the owner invited us inside and gave us a tour of the pub and some good stories about Joyce. We later went back for lunch. Our group was split between Guinness and burgundy wine!

This year illustrator Robert Berry is releasing Ulysses Seen, is a comic book adaptation of the novel.  The first chapter can be seen at http://ulyssesseen.com with an accompanying readers’ guide, and as a free app for the iPad.

The idea, born on a prior Bloomsday, was fueled, Mr. Berry explained, “by a few pints of Guiness and a bet.”

Has anyone followed in the steps of Leopold Bloom? Participating in a Bloomsday event?