It’s sitting in front of me, propped upright, on the kitchen table. I keep looking at it. It’s really a book!!! And it’s so beautiful! The lower border made by abstract skyscrapers with script scribbled up their sides; all lain against an indigo field. Why do authors (or editors) who’ve spent years of research and writing, find it so incredible when a courier arrives bearing baby in cloth covers?
Reference: Anne Morrow Lindbergh’s incredulity upon finding that her book, North to the Orient had found a publisher. As she wrote in her diary on May 8, 1935.
We go over the business of the book. I think publishers are like obstetricians. There is the same fuss of making you feel what a wonderful little woman you are, and then getting down to the facts about the head size, pelvic bones, etc. They have a decided bedside manner. After all, though, they are right, you must get over the feeling that you are accomplishing God’s mission…However, I feel embarrassed talking of clothing my book, just as though the doctors were talking about an unborn child. ‘You don’t really mean to say it’s going to walk around on two feet like other children?
(New York Diaries:1609-2009 p. 152.)
Yes. And, eventually, it will require a bank card.
The Christmas tree, I’ve discovered, is a relative newcomer to the New York holiday scene, at least according to the Nineteenth Century literary critic Evert Duyckinck, who writes in his entry of December 24, 1852:
“… The fog at Barnum’s Circus to the South gave an English atmosphere and distances to the street view. Christmas Trees offered for sale on the sidewalk in front of the Hospital, the [tops] of evergreens set in a square of wood and the branches hung with a few showy ornaments. This German Christmas tree within the last ten years has become quite an inhabitant of our parlors… “
(New York Diaries: 1609-2009. p. 416.)
The inhabitants of my own parlor are usually purchased from the Quebecers (Qubecoises?) at 6th Avenue and Christopher. It’s too early in the season to buy just yet. That would be panic shopping. But if you have nerves of titanium, you can wait until late in the week before Christmas and hope to grab that single, fabulous 8’ tall, Norfolk pine, marked half price because one side is missing. That side fits against a wall nicely. And who’d be so rude as to inspect the backside of a Christmas tree?