Back in Time: Walking the Wickquasgeck Trail

That Broadway has played such a central role in recent events is fitting given the history of this street. It is perhaps New York City's oldest thoroughfare, growing with the city from its days as a coarse settlement to a bustling hub on the eastern seaboard. And in fact, it may be older than the New Amsterdam settlement:

The Manhattan Indians used the Wickquasgeck name for the path they took through the center of the island to [the] northern reaches. Coming south along it, Indians of various tribes reached the Dutch settlement at the southern end of the island. The Europeans could likewise follow it north—through stands of pin oak, chestnut, poplar, and pine, past open fields strewn with wild strawberries ... crossing the fast running brook that flowed southeast from the highlands in the area of Fifty-ninth Street and Fifth Avenue, more or less where the Plaza Hotel stands, to empty into a small bay on the East River—to hunt in the thick forest at the island's center and to fish the inlets that penetrated the eastern coast. As it was clearly destined to be the most prominent lane on the island, when the Dutch widened the path they referred to it as the Gentlemen's Street, or the High Street, or simply the Highway. The English, of course, called it Broadway (Shorto 2005: 60).

Well, the strawberries are long gone, but today we are going to walk the Wickquasgeck Trail—well, part of it anyway—and follow in the footsteps of early Dutch venturing into a lush wilderness and Native Americans coming to trade with the Dutch West India Company.

We begin our walk at the southern end of the island, at the site of Fort Amsterdam. The Fort provided protection for settlers and served as a business center where trade for the Dutch West India Company took place. When Keift's War prompted retaliatory attacks from the Native American population, settlers would have taken refuge at the Fort—close your eyes and imagine them huddled here for protection. The area would grow to be a hub of activity—adjacent Bowling Green was at times a market and a promenade. It was also the site where Peter Minuit made the famous trade that shifted "ownership" of the land to the Dutch from the Lenape. Today, the Alexander Hamilton Customs House stands at the site, which is also home to the New York branch of the Smithsonian's American Indian Museum. As Shorto notes, it is somewhat fitting that the site now preserves American Indian artifacts when it was meant to keep these people out. [Image Top Left: US Custom's House Nov. 2009, original site of Fort Amsterdam. Image Bottom Right: Bowling Green, Nov. 2009.]

Broadway remains a bustling artery through the city. Running north-south, parallel to the Hudson River, it is the only avenue to span the length of the island. The names of surrounding streets—Pine, Cedar, Spruce, Beaver, etc.—remind us of the woods that populated the land and of the heavy trade in furs that occurred here. Broadway was a choice residential area until the early 19th-century, when well-to-do residents began to move uptown as Manhattan expanded. The shipping industry moved in and the area came to be called "Steamship Row" (see page 8) for the shipping industries that took up the vacated town houses. [Image Left: Broadway, looking uptown. Nov. 2009.]

To follow the Wickquasgeck Trail, we need to continue along Broadway to Vesey/Ann Streets. It is here that present-day maps diverge from the original trail. To follow the original trail, we need to follow Park Row into the Bowery. The Bowery is another remnant from New York City's days as a Dutch settlement. The name Bowery comes from the Dutch bouwerie, meaning farm. And the area was perfect for farming in the days of the early colony. First settled by Africans, the Bowery was well outside the original settlement, and offered a respite from hectic daily life in the port settlement (as well as the settlement's taxes). [Image Right: Broadway diverges from the Wickquasgeck Trail at Broadway and Ann Street. Broadway is seen here on the left. The trail continues down Park Row, shown here on the right. Nov. 2009]

At some point as Director-General, Peter (he preferred Petrus) Stuyvesant packed his wife and two young sons and his belongings into a wagon, and traveled to the Bowery to set up a farm. Perhaps his wife had gotten tired of living in the Fort—with two young boys and soldiers thundering in and out, it can't have offered many chances for peace and quiet. Whatever the reason, Stuyvesant would live out his days here after the colony was seized by the British—petitioning to do so after answering summonses by the Dutch to answer for the management of the colony. Today, Stuyvesant Street is the only remnant of his vast estate. He is buried in his family's vault located next to St. Marks-in-the Bowery. St. Marks was constructed in 1799, but prior to that, in 1660, Stuyvesant ordered a family chapel, the Dutch Reform Chapel, to be built on that spot. [Image Top Left: Stuyvesant Street is an short diagonal road that intersects 9th Street. Stuyvesant's Manor would have stood approximately where the red van is located. Nov. 2009. | Image Bottom Right: Stuyvesant's family vault at St. Marks. Judging by the stains on the marker, it would seem that the stern Director-General remains none too popular. Nov. 2009.]

Back on the trail, we would continue along the Bowery which becomes Fourth Avenue to 23rd Street—the edge of Stuyvesant's property. From here it is harder to follow it as it passes through present day buildings, but it crosses the northern end of Central Park westward to join Broadway, which continues through the Bronx, eventually becoming Route 9. [Image Left: Bust of Petrus Stuyvesant in graveyard of St. Marks near family vault. Nov. 2009].

At the end of the Wickquasgeck Trail we would perhaps have encountered a American Indian village. It would have been a journey that took days, not hours. Who would have thought that a simple footpath would evolve into one of the most traveled routes in New York City.

I urge you all to step off the beaten path today—walk off the turkey and stuffing and explore. Let me know if you uncover any history along the way.

Cited:

Shorto, Russell. The Island at the Center of the World. New York: Vintage Books, 2005.

Finding Traces of New York City's Dutch Heritage

While we tend to think of the history of New York City in terms of the English settlement, the truth is the city's foundation is decidedly Dutch. I say this without any disrespect to the original inhabitants of the land that so enraptured the early Europeans, but it's true. And it is the Dutch I wish to speak of today. Believe it or not, much of the New Amsterdam colony has remained—names of places in and around the city, as well as throughout much of the New England region, remind us of our Dutch heritage: Stuyvesant, the Bouwerie, Greenwyck (Greenwich Village), Breuckelen (Brooklyn), Parelstraat (Pearl Street), Fresh Kills, Gravesende, Van Cortland, Nieuw Haarlem (Harlem), Vlissing (Flushing), Lange Eyelandt, as well as Roode Eyelandt and many more, attest to a Dutch presence in our history. And the truth is that had we solely been an English colony, the flavor of New York City would be immensely different today. While the English Puritans were establishing mono-cultures to the north in Boston and the surrounding areas and to the south in Virginia, New Amsterdam was already a bustling model of diversity. As a port settlement, its main concern was business (which remains true today), so people of many different backgrounds, religions, and races—and characters—settled here from its earliest inception. [Image Right: The Jansson-Visscher 1656 Map, Dutch North American colonies; reprinted 1685. Public domain.]

As a port New Amsterdam was as boisterous as New York City is today, and it wasn't long before the Dutch West India Company's Director-Generals felt they needed to instill law and order. Peter Minuit attempted to do this with a Thursday counsel in the rudely constructed Fort Amsterdam. Subsequent Director-Generals, including William Kieft and Petrus Stuyvesant, conducted government business out of the Fort as well, which also provided a base for trade for the Dutch West India Company. It was definitely an important site in the development of the colony—providing a sense of protection and serving as a point of contact with the mother land.

Image Above: Map of New Amsterdam, c. 1660. Fort Amsterdam is the quadrangular structure at the tip of the island. Note the shoreline. Source: New York Historical Society. Public Domain.

The colony was growing in leaps and bounds, and perhaps understanding early that to effectively run a colony with such a diverse population you needed to be in touch with its residents, Director-General William Kieft had a stone tavern constructed on the corner of Coenties Slip and Pearl Street in approximately 1642. At this time, taverns did more than just serve your favorite brew: They were meeting places, inns, and the den of politicians. (Although, in truth, Kieft may have commissioned the building partly because he needed a place to send the guests he was forced to entertain in the Fort.) So it was that the Stadt Herbert became the first City Hall of sorts in New York City—though it would not be officially commissioned as such until 1653 under Stuyvesant. At that time, its name was also officially changed to Stadt Huys (literally, State House) or less formally, City Tavern. In 1653, when the signing of the municipal charter officially named the settlement as a city, the town officials stated as their first piece of business that

"herewith [to] inform everybody that they shall hold their regular meetings in the house hitherto called the City Tavern, henceforth the City Hall, on Monday mornings from 9 o'clock, to hear there all questions of difference between litigants and decide them the best they can" (Shorto 2005: 257).

And so, without much pomp, the first City Hall was installed on the island of Manhattan, just feet away from the water's edge in what would become the downtown area. However, long before it's official establishment as City Hall, it was a meeting place for organizers and activists, such as the Board of Nine, which included Adriaen van der Donck, who quite possibly conceived the term "American" and was perhaps the early colony's most enthusiastic supporter. [Image Right: City Tavern on the East River water front, c. 1655.]

Of course, even in its early days, New York City was a place where progress was often cited as a reason for development. Stadt Huys served as City Hall until 1697, when Lovelace Tavern, which stood next door, assumed the honor. Lovelace Tavern was constructed in 1670 by New York's second English governor, Francis Lovelace. The English had seized the colony in 1664 and perhaps the movement to this site was in part to eradicate the Dutch hold on the colony in the minds of the residents, who were permitted to stay and hold on to their possessions after the transfer of power. The colony itself had also at this point been renamed for the Duke of York (only history would ever know it as New Amsterdam again). It also underwent a transformation—when the Dutch temporarily reclaimed the city (which they then named New Orange), it had begun to resemble London faintly. In any case, Lovelace Tavern served as a temporary home for City Hall. It apparently burned down in 1706, and City Hall was then moved to the site of Federal Hall on Wall Street. (City Hall would come to reside at its present location in 1811—and it is the oldest building in the United States to have been used continuously as a city hall. FYI, the Bowery Boys have an amazing photo up of City Hall from 1855. Check it out!) Though all physical traces of the original City Tavern have been lost, when construction for the building at 85 Broad Street commenced, the foundation for the neighboring Lovelace Tavern was uncovered in New York's first archaeological excavation. The foundation was ultimately incorporated into a permanent display at 85 Broad in an effort to preserve the city's history.  

[Image Left Top: Archaeological display at 85 Broad in Lower Manhattan. Image Above: Stone foundation of Lovelace Tavern, c. 1670] 

In excavating the site, additional glimpses into life in the early days of the colony have been revealed. An early 18th-century well was uncovered that is said to have resided on land belonging to longtime residents, the Philipse family, of the Philipse Manor. The well extended down to the waterline, reminding us that the East River's waterfront once ran along what is now Pearl Street, and that a fair portion of downtown Manhattan was actually physically constructed as the colony grew. It provided water to the entire block, and when the waterline was pushed back and it was no longer used, it was filled with everyday items—it became a trash receptacle. That the cistern had been installed at this site by the early to mid-1700s tells us that the neighborhood was evolving. Buildings were being torn down and new ones erected, or re-purposed. We're placed in a moment of great change in the history of New York City.

[Image Above: 18th-century cistern in lower Manhattan.]

While New York City continues to evolve, its past echoes faintly in the Dutch-revival buildings downtown—none are original: the original architecture vanished in the fires of 1776 and 1835. The Dutch have left a legacy in the places that bear their names. And they have left a legacy in diversity, which they tolerated since it helped business. Of course, tolerance should not be confused for equality; they did not accord everyone the same rights in the colony, though everyone had some rights. The legal records that have survived provide evidence that slaves filed suits against Europeans regularly; that some slaves were freed by their owners; and that Europeans were sometimes employed by freed slaves. In this rambunctious port city, Africans were some of the most stable residents of the island. Intermarriage between persons of different nationalities and religions also occurred here with greater frequency than other colonies. Thus, it seems that while the landscape has evolved through the ages, the character of the city, that brisk business settlement where tolerance can be expected, remains.

I encourage you all to go out and learn a bit of the early European settlers in your neck of the woods—you might be surprised by their resolve. And for an amazing depiction of the colony of New Amsterdam, Russell Shorto's Island at the Center of the World is strongly recommended.

Here are some additional scenes of the old colony:

Image Above: Coenties Slip and Pearl Street, c. 1665. The site of the City Tavern, New York's first City Hall. Note the shoreline of the East River. The City Tavern was also less than a two minute walk from Fort Amsterdam, putting it within easy reach of the Director-Generals—and their guests.

 

Image Above: The corner of Coenties Slip and Pearl Street, Nov. 2009. No trace of City Tavern remains. However, the yellow bricks in the foreground represent the foundation of City Tavern, which was reconstructed using old maps. The gray paving stones in the background mark the foundation of the Lovelace Tavern. To the left, businesses now line Pearl Street where the East River once met settlers hunting for oysters and looking for Dutch ships.

 

Image Above: Pearl Street, across from 85 Broad, Nov. 2009. Businesses along where the East River waterline once existed.

Cited:

Shorto, Russell. The Island at the Center of the World. New York: Vintage Books, 2005.

The Myth of Yams and Pumpkin Pie: Remembering the Past This Thanksgiving

With Thanksgiving approaching, elementary school-aged children in the United States are preparing to play yams in school plays, in which they may also sing songs about pumpkin pie and cranberries. They will dress up as Pilgrims with black hats and large, shiny buckles. And they may mime a feast with Native Americans, signifying the beginning of a tradition of giving thanks in November. Their parents will undoubtedly be delighted—as they should be: every child needs a picture dressed as a yam.

These elements of Thanksgiving that will be put on display are the same half-truths that I was taught as a child. Of course, it's not as though it's an intentional effort to mislead the public about the holiday, but Thanksgiving is a constructed holiday—over the years we have pieced together history and popular customs to create this national festival. It is based on a feast of thanksgiving, which was a religious event, where the celebrants give thanks to their god(s). Many different people have marked this occurrence. The tradition of giving thanks after a good harvest year, for example, was marked by the Celts—giving us Samhain and ultimately Halloween. In North America, the Pueblo, Cherokee, Creek, and others held harvest festivals. So the practice wasn't unique to the early settlers at Plymouth. In fact, Thanksgiving was not declared a national holiday until Lincoln's proclamation in 1863—commissioning a Thanksgiving observance on the last Thursday in November. Prior to this, states held their own thanksgiving festivals, and they weren't always in the fall. In 1941, President Roosevelt signed a bill into law setting Thanksgiving as the third Thursday in November. The move was calculated to help retailers combat the Depression with a longer holiday sales period.

[Image Above: "The First Thanksgiving at Plymouth" (1914) By Jennie A. Brownscombe.]

While the 1621 celebration at Plymouth has long been regarded as the first Thanksgiving, historians now know that in 1619, the settlers at the Berkeley Plantation held a mass of thanksgiving to mark their safe arrival at the settlement. Other half-truths that have survived include:

• The Pilgrims made pumpkin pie (this recipe didn't exist at this point); had ham (no evidence suggests that pigs were butchered at this point); and ate yams (which were uncommon). More on the original Thanksgiving menu here.

• The Pilgrims only wore black clothing, with buckles. In truth, black and white were for Sundays and formal occasions and buckles did not come into fashion until late in the 17th-century.

• The Pilgrims and the Native Americans had a dignified meal where they displayed impeccable table manners. Actually, no one used plates or silverware. Instead, they used a cloth napkin to handle hot pieces of food, which was likely just set out on every available surface, including tree stumps, and eaten over three days. The image of a perfect family meal is purely constructed—it was probably a bit more chaotic (like most of our Thanksgivings). [Image Right: Saying grace before carving the turkey at Thanksgiving dinner in the home of Earle Landis in Neffsville, Pennsylvania c. 1942. Public domain.]
  

So who cares? What does it matter if we teach our children that the Pilgrims at Plymouth Rock ate pumpkin pie and had cranberry sauce? That they wore funny black hats? These half-truths come to make up our national history. And while it can be difficult for facts to survive the ravages of time, new technologies and methods have made it possible to us to piece together the artifacts we find to paint a picture of the past—an accurate picture. New technologies and methods have made it possible for us to understand what the landscape looked like when early settlers arrived, and how they would have interacted with the land. This information helps us better understand our history as a people and our tendencies as a nation.

In this spirit, I am dedicating this week's blog entries to history that has survived—history that is around us, that has shaped us, that we walk by everyday without seeing. And I dedicate it to diversity. Thanksgiving in the United States is marked by people from different cultures and religions; it is a time to come together. I hope you'll enjoy these excursions with me.

Were you ever a dancing yam? What does Thanksgiving mean to you? Share your stories below. Also, if you're interested, you can read a rebuttal of the Thanksgiving "debunkers" here.

UPDATE to Sleeper, Squeezers, Lurkers, and More: Sexual Harassment Wide Spread on Mass Transit

In yesterday's post on subway behaviors, I touched briefly upon sexual harassment on mass transit, noting that the MTA in New York City had launched an anti-harassment campaign that included posters encouraging people to report these crimes. Today, the NYT featured an article in the New York Regional section that states sexual harassment on mass transit remains widespread, and is believed to be greatly under-reported.

Here are some facts reported by the article:

• Peak hours for harassment are between 8 - 10 am and 4 - 6 pm, during rush hours.

• The subway lines where this behavior is most prevalent include the 4, 5, and 6, particularly between Grand Central Terminal and Union Square.

• The average offender is male, aged 37.

• The majority of victims are females, aged 17 and older.

• This year, police have made 412 arrests for sexual offenses.
• Of this number, 71 had prior offenses on record.
• Of the 71 with prior offenses, 14 were registered sex offenders, with 5 being in the most serious level of sex offender.

It's a jungle out there, folks. Be careful. And if you want to share a subway story, please add it to Sleepers, Squeezers, Lurkers, and More: Interacting With Subway Riders in Their Natural Habitat. Safe travels!

Sleepers, Squeezers, Lurkers, and More: Interacting With Subway Riders in Their Natural Habitat

In a city that values personal space, we sure spend a lot of time in close contact with one another, particularly on mass transit. I personally will only board a packed subway car if I am running late and have to get somewhere immediately, otherwise, I'm perfectly content to scope out the platform, note where the doors open, and wait for the next train (this behavior makes me a camper, as we will discuss shortly)—if I have learned anything traveling via mass transit, it's that there is always another train.

Perhaps believing that my commuting strategy had lulled me into false beliefs about the success of my commuting strategies, the subway gods decided to remind me of the value of personal space recently. The 2/3 subway lines were down, which meant that I—as well as hundreds of other people who normally take those lines—was forced to find alternate routes. Having resigned myself to missing my regular LIRR train, I opted to follow my rule of letting the crowd go before me. And as usual, it worked. (Or seemed to.) A train came, and everyone piled in—they would have ridden between the cars if the practice hadn't been outlawed. Just to be safe, I let another train roll through the station. It was moderately full, but boardable, but I was already off schedule at this point, so I figured I might as well wait for a more comfortable experience. Not too long after, surely enough, a quick peek down the tunnel revealed the dim glow of the headlights of an oncoming train.[Image Left: Looking for the train down the tunnel. The dim glow of headlights mean it won't be too much longer.]

The train arrived and it was virtually empty, so I boarded and stood by the door because I only needed to go three stops or so. Well, what I hadn't banked on was how crowded the trains must have been when they got to the stops after the station where I boarded. So if the trains had been merely crowded by my judgment at my station, they were virtually unboardable by the time they got to subsequent stations, which meant that people had no choice but to wait—until the train I was on arrived, and they flooded the car. I'm a petite person, so I quickly found myself pressed against the glass. Sideways. Under someone's armpit. Yeah. I had a pang of claustrophobia and had to remind myself that I would be getting off soon. I closed my eyes and breathed (though not too deeply) and tried to subtly adjust myself into a slightly more comfortable position. For those of you who don't live in an area where mass transit can get this chaotic, to help you fully appreciate this experience, I've included the following Seinfeld clip where Elaine Benes gets stuck on a train on her way to a wedding:

Despite leaving a facial imprint on the glass door, I could understand why the train was crowded—service interruptions and delays aren't fun for anyone. I doubt anyone on the trains that afternoon had an enjoyable ride. But what about when personal space is invaded when there is no reason for it?

Last week, while having dinner with my good friend James, we got to swapping commuter stories. We were talking about large backpacks, and prime spots on the train (he prefers to stand by the door instead of taking a seat—consequently, I have categorized him as a door dweller), when the conversation turned to people who seem oblivious to others around them—the ones bump you with their backpacks, blast their iPods, occupy multiple seats, etc. On his way to meet me for dinner, James fell victim to a close-stander. Surely you've heard of close-talkers (which, interestingly, is another Seinfeld phenomenon)? Well, close-standers are oblivious to personal space boundaries. They will stand inches away, their hair in your face, knocking your book or personal device out of your hand, and they do this without any need for it, and without seeming to know they are doing it. Close-standers do this when there is more than ample space on the train to accommodate everyone. Perhaps they are used to traveling only during rush hour when close-standing is mandatory; perhaps the trains and buses they ride are always crowded; perhaps this is their way of getting human contact—no one really knows, but close-standers sometimes create uncomfortable situations for those around them. [Image Right: A door dweller stakes his claim. He could also be a packer, but his manuevering to remain in the door caused me to classify him as specified.]

Before we go on, it might bear discussing the different categories that subway riders can be grouped into. All sorts of characters ride the subway and, like any good cast, they know their parts well:

• Campers. Commuters who know where to stand so that the doors open in front of them, enabling them to board the train firs,t are campers. They get very annoyed when non-campers, or lurkers, try to push past them and board before them. There is definitely something obsessive about campers, but they are relatively harmless. If they do get bypassed somehow, they may be annoyed, but they follow the crowd—or re-position themselves and wait for another train. [Image Right: Campers board a train during morning rush hour.]
  

• Close-standers. People who stand "thisclose" to you despite the fact that it is not crowded and everyone can be afforded some personal space. It is believed that close-standers are oblivious to their needless violation of personal space. If space permits, you can try moving away from a close-stander, but you do want to be aware that close-standing could mask sexual harassment, which has also been on the rise on mass transit (more on this later).
  

• Door dwellers. These are travelers who prefer to stand—in the doorway. They don't rush for seats, but strategically place themselves in the doorway, which is considered prime real estate on mass transit systems, to minimize having to shuffle around the subway car to accommodate the ebb and flow of passengers. Door dwellers usually also know which side of the car to stand on to minimize having to move out of the way to permit people to exit and board the train. They will grow extremely irritated if a new boarder tries to usurp their position and they have also been known not to step aside to let people on or off the train for this reason. Do not attempt to secure the door position if a door dweller is already in place, but assert your right to move past him or her.

• Lurkers. These are people who try to bypass the efforts of campers and door dwellers. They want the positions these people have managed to secure, but lack the resources and abilities to claim them on their own, so they wait for opportune moments when they can sidle by. They will wait for the last minute before boarding the train in an effort to oust the door dwellers. They also try to come in from the side to bypass campers. Lurkers are very good at what they do. However, they do tend to be older travelers, so perhaps it's a travel strategy: if older travelers don't plot in this way, they may get shuffled out of the way. If you think a lurker is making a move that will result in your comfort and hard work being compromised, stand your ground. They don't like to make eye contact, so looking at one squarely in the eyes is often enough to deter their behavior.
  

• Packers. People carry large bulky items with them. In all fairness, though, packers need to be distinguished from folks for whom the subway is their main method of transportation and who really have no other option for transporting bulky items. The term packer is therefore reserved for those people with super large backpacks they refuse to take off when they board the train. If you encounter a packer, you would be best advised to practice defensive maneuvers. I have been hit by a large backpack, and it's quite a weapon. Recently, I witnessed a packer on the train whose backpack was easily 50 pounds or so. In turning around, she easily cleared a swath of passengers from her vicinity. They were not happy, and she met their protests with protests of her own.
  

• Pole huggers. The folks don't want to share pole space with you—they don't care if you fall down or into other riders when the train stops suddenly because you had nothing to hold onto. These folks can be identified by their possessive nature toward the pole: They will crook an arm or elbow—sometimes even both arms—around the pole, or lean against it, and effectively block anyone else from using it for support and stability.  Pole huggers will relent as more people crowd around them and reach for the pole. Securing a place at a pole is simply a matter of showing the pole hugger you do not recognize their ownership of the pole. [Image Right: A pole hugger leans on a pole in the center of the car.]
  

• Sleepers. Early morning trains are where you can find the sleeper species, although they have appeared at other times as well, and seem to be straying from their natural habitat as the economy worsens. It's one thing to close your eyes until you get to your destination, another thing to fall so deeply asleep that you head, and soon your entire body, is leaning on a stranger. The best thing to do if you encounter a sleeper is to prop him or her back up. If the sleeper continues to fall on you, you are then entitled to poke or prod the person and inform them that they are sleeping on you. This is New York, however, so be prepared for the person to just stare at you. 

• Sprawlers. Oh yes, the sprawler category. Sprawlers tend to be men, but women can sprawl too. It's not enough that they have a seat, they feel the need to sprawl out so that no one can sit on either side of them. They do seem to prefer end seats, which minimizes their impact. The best way to combat a sprawler is to say "Excuse me" and then take the seat. The sprawler may grumble, but will relinquish inches allowing you to sit. Be advised, however, that the sprawler will continue to sprawl, so it will still be an uncomfortable experience. [Image Right: A spawler prevents anyone from occupying the seat next to him.]
  

• Squeezers. Squeezers will try to fit into a seat when they cannot fit. They do so anyway, and rather than perch on the edge until more room becomes available, they insist on sliding all the way back to sit "properly" in a seat causing people on either side extreme discomfort. There is no known effective way to deal with squeezers—though I suppose you yourself can stand.
  

We could go on listing categories extensively, but I think we have the basics. Now that you have an understanding of the cast of characters, let's return to James' story. The train was relatively empty, and so he was able to claim the preferred domain of door dwellers. When the train pulled into a subsequent station, the doors on the opposite side of where he was standing opened and a woman boarded. She crossed the aisle to stand in front of James with her back to him. And slowly the space between them seemed to diminish. According to James, "she was all up in my business!" As the train rocked back and forth, she bumped him a few times. James didn't confront her, but he was perplexed—with all the space available, it seemed ridiculous that she would crowd him as she did.

So I proposed a few suggestions to James to explain the woman's behavior:

1. She was a door dweller too.The problem with this argument is that there were other doors available, so she could have claimed one as her own.
2. She was attempting to flirt by pressing her rear into him. James nixed this idea because, while was uncomfortably close, she didn't seem to intentionally bump him. Also, James believes that it would have just been a weird way to pick someone up. She never once made eye contact with him—it was as though she didn't know he was there.
   
3. She was a close-stander. We seemed to come to an agreement on this point. James felt her behavior was unwarranted, but she also seemed clueless—classic signs of a close-stander.

Riding the subway is a unique social experience. As mass transit, it is used by people of all cultures and backgrounds, and undoubtedly people have different notions of what are socially acceptable interactions. However, quite a few of the categories above can create uncomfortable situations as you find yourself in close bodily contact with strangers as a result of their actions. An alarming trend that has grown out of this is the rise of sexual harassment on the subways. In close quarters, people are groped, and according to the comments in response to the campaign, been ejaculated on and rubbed up against. One emptier trains, or when riding late at night, riders have reported men exposing themselves. It's clearly a jungle out there. The Holla Back blog provides a forum where people can share their subway harassment stories—be warned if you visit the site that some of the stories are quite explicit. The MTA launched an anti-harassment campaign, but it remains to be seen how effective it has been.

[Image Above: Anti-harassment ad on the subway.]

This particular type of unpleasant subway interaction aside, many of the offenses attributed to these categories seem to stem from a brand of social indifference. People don't care because their interactions with one another are largely minimized by the cushion they carry in the forms of iPods, PDAs, smart phones, and even books and magazines. But many of these categories simply represent commuting strategies. I am certain that campers and door dwellers have been around for some time. Packers may have emerged as a result of current economic times. But it is also true that the norms of social behavior are changing. Of course there are those who simply feel that others should accommodate them. I have observed this with packers and sprawlers and squeezers in particular. The nature of social interactions is changing as a result of new technology and media. It is yet unclear as to how the social order will evolve.

Have a category to add to the list above? Want to share a subway story? Join the discussion below!

The Internet—The Freedom to Be Who You Want to Be?

Internet use is rapidly evolving. As more people log online, they are finding that the freedom to voice their opinions and thoughts is almost limitless—anyone can start a blog, and almost anyone can chime in on a debate, and anyone can be an expert. The Internet puts information at everyone's fingertips. A few keystrokes can call up information instantaneously on virtually any topic to anyone with the time to read and quasi-digest the information. And you can act within the illusory comfort of anonymity. You can share your opinions without divulging your identity, or create an entirely new identity to support your comments, and you're untraceable to both John Doe and Joe Plumber. I've explored this issue of authority on the Internet previously, with the story of Park Dae-Sung—the Korean man who authored himself as an expert on economics and gained a massive web following as his financial predictions proved true—asking how the Internet blurs the "ownership" of knowledge. A story about a usurped identity has added to this discussion.

The NY Times published an article discussing the arrest and prosecution of Raphael Golb for assuming multiple identities, both fictional and factual in nature, to support a theory on the origins of the Dead Sea Scrolls. The prevailing theory is the the scrolls were produced by the Essenes, a sect of Jews thought to have lived at Qumran. The scrolls contain Biblical, apocryphal, and sectarian texts, which reveal new insights into the literary history of the Bible and the practice of Judaism under the Second Temple period. Golb supports a theory put forth by his father, Norman Golb, a professor at the University of Chicago, who believes that the scrolls were produced by multiple libraries in Jerusalem and hidden in the caves when the Jews fled the Romans during the destruction of Jerusalem in 70 CE. According to authorities,

He used pseudonyms to post on blogs. Under the name of a professor he was trying to undermine, prosecutors charged, Mr. Golb wrote a quasi confession to plagiarism and circulated it among students and officials at New York University.

The practice is not quite so uncommon—sock puppets have long been used to support ideas and denounce others, but Golb apparently adopted the identities of real scholars to discredit opponents:

Prosecutors said Mr. Golb opened an e-mail account in the name of Lawrence H. Schiffman, the New York University professor who disagreed with Mr. Golb’s father. He sent messages in Professor Schiffman’s name to various people at N.Y.U. and to others involved in the Dead Sea Scrolls debate, fabricating an admission by Professor Schiffman that he had plagiarized some of Professor Golb’s work ... [He] also set up blogs under various names that accused Dr. Schiffman of plagiarism.

This bring us back to issues of authenticity on the Internet. How can identities and knowledge be managed in this medium? Is there a need for identities to be managed in this forum? In this anonymous world, reputation has come to be extremely important. Prosecutors are proposing that Golb committed a form on identity theft—but online you can be anyone. Daniel Lyons used this to his advantage when he began to blog as Steve Jobs on The Secret Diary of Steve Jobs. Despite speculation that the Apple magnate was actually behind the postings, the blog had a high readership. Park Dae-Sung took advantage of the same web principle to leverage his desire to write about and discuss economics—he authored himself as an authority using the confidence inspired by the Roman goddess, Minerva. In both cases, the men were found out. In Park's instance, his real reputation was wrecked. Lyons, however, enjoyed continued popularity.

Repeatedly posting under a user name eventually grants that user a reputation. Other readers are able to judge for themselves whether the authority can be trusted. When a real world identity is mobilized on the internet, it brings with it its existing reputation: Lyons did not intend to hurt Jobs' reputation, but Golb did set out to mar Schiffman's standing, and Park was guilty of misrepresenting his expertise. As an increasingly important source for information, there is a need to preserve the integrity of web representations, but it must be done without imposing limits on the free exchange of information that currently occurs.

How do you think knowledge/identities should be managed on the web? Let's discuss below.

Negotiating Private Beliefs and Public Behavior With the Meter Running

Last week was a relatively busy one. While the Yankees were being paraded down Broadway and Mayor Bloomberg was holding on determinately for a chance at another term in office, regular people were contending with the social order. Last week Paul Bruno and his partner, Erick Ruales, were ejected from a New York City cab because they were engaged in public displays of affection in the backseat. Bruno and his partner allegedly "sat close," possibly hugging (maybe they shared a kiss), which the driver, Medhat Mohamed, found distracting and felt compromised his ability to get them to their destination. Mohamed was ultimately concerned that their snuggling was a precursor to sex, and two blocks into the ride, demanded that they exit the cab. Bruno and Ruales were appalled at their treatment and have filed a complaint against the driver. The Taxi and Limousine Commission is currently investigating. If Mohamed is found guilty of a "service refusal," he could be fined. According to the Post (which has surprisingly provided in-depth coverage of the story—the newspaper has a reputation for tabloid-quality writing), "the first offense is a $200 to $350 fine, the second a $350 to $500 fine and a 30-day suspension, and the third strike is license revocation." [Image Right: Paul Bruno, Credit NY Post.]

While the Village Voice has wryly noted that being kicked out of a cab is a mark of a true New Yorker, in a city whose history is steeped in diversity, tolerance is a city standard—and in an interesting twist is seemingly being preached on behalf of both sides: The public response has provided support for both Bruno and Ruales, and Mohamed as well. The cabbie's supporters state that he has a right to a work environment where he is both safe and comfortable. And he does. However, he is also a service provider. He is not a city worker, but he engages the public on a regular basis. It is his livelihood. In his line of work, his job is take people—provided they don't present a threat to his well-being and can pay the fare—from Point A to Point B. Of course he has to right to ensure that his personal safety is not compromised—but at what point do such decisions come to be regarded as profiling? Is he given a set criteria against which to measure safety? Hardly, because the issue of personal safety is not a concrete measure. The line separating these types of decisions is a fine one, open to personal beliefs, which is not a fair measure for either party.

In Minnesota, Muslim cab drivers objected to transporting passengers who had been drinking or who were carrying alcohol, such as wine, from the Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport because it violated the terms of their religion. According to one driver,

"The one who drinks, the one who transports, and the one who makes a business of it, they have the same category."

These drivers argued that transporting passengers who have been drinking or who are carrying alcohol violated their religious freedom. And they are right. However, like Mohamed, they have entered a profession that requires them to work with all members of the public. As a result, the Minnesotan cab drivers have also faced investigations for service refusal, although the Metropolitan Airport Commission is working with them to mediate the situation. They suggested that cabbies who would not transport passengers carrying alcohol install lights on their roofs to indicate their non-alcohol stipulation, but this policy met a poor reception. For now, cabbies must move to the back of the queue, which could mean another three hour wait between fares. This is an industry that relies on people's need to travel when they themselves are unable to to provide the transportation. In New York City, inebriated party-goers are encouraged to take advantage of mass transit options, which includes cabs, to protect both themselves and other motorists from drunk driving accidents. Is there room here for this type of negotiation?

People get kicked out of cabs all the time, for being disorderly, for getting sick, and for getting too frisky in the backseat. But Bruno and Mohamed have raised issues of discrimination and religious beliefs. The medallion holder for Mohamed's cab has stated that according to Islam, displays of affection between same-sex couples are unacceptable. To avoid penalties and possibly losing his license, Mohamed has has to prove that his discomfort was not caused by the sexual orientation of his passengers, that he would have accorded a straight couple with the same treatment. Mayor Bloomberg has denounced the cab driver (with the politician's disclaimer that he does so only if the story is as stated) saying that

"Somebody's orientation has absolutely nothing to do with whether they can ride a taxi. That kind of attitude doesn't fit with what this city's become."

Is there room for Mohamed's religious argument? In discussing this case with someone, he argued time and time again that despite the civil right issues, Mohamed is an independent operator, and like other businesses, he has a right to determine how he will do business and with whom. But in a business that has such a broad reach, is this argument justifiable? When working with the public, where does the line between personal beliefs get drawn? PDA's are everywhere. People hold hands on the street, they may kiss at the bar, and I won't get into what I've seen happen on the subway. If there is to be a standard for public behavior, then it needs to be explicitly stated and enforced—and not by a New York City cab driver, whose sole responsibility is to get his fares to their destination quickly and safely.  But beyond questions of public decency and disorderly conduct, which are fairly subjective judgments, how can such a standard be set? The law states with regard to public decency and disturbing the peace that persons whose behavior

endangers the public peace or health or which openly outrages public decency for which no other punishment is expressly prescribed by this code, is guilty of a misdemeanor.

In other words, there is no concrete measure—anything found offensive can be filed under this heading. Did Bruno and Ruales endanger the public peace? Did they openly outrage public decency? Are they guilty of a misdemeanor? On whose measure are they to be judged? Did Mohamed endanger public peace or outrage public decency? There is clearly a lot of room here for interpretation. And the interpretation can be colored by personal biases. Is this a case of personal belief coloring business practices? Talk back below. [Image Left: Medhat Mohamed. Credit James Messerschmidt, NY Post.]

Culture in Action 3: Parades—Public Festivals, Public Spectacles

Whether you care or not, if you live in the United States, you undoubtedly know by now that the New York Yankees won their 27th World Series title. As part of the winning tradition, the players and relevant staff were honored with a ticker tape parade on Friday, Nov. 6th, down the Canyon of Heroes (also known as Broadway when it isn't packed with screaming sports fans). The parade wound its way down to City Hall, where recently re-elected Mayor Bloomberg presented the team with the keys to the city.

Parades are held to mark a celebration. They're a form of public festival that draws in the community, and actually work to reestablish social ties: The idea is that we are all gathered to celebrate the same accomplishment—we are united in our celebration. Parade-goers are linked by their sense of pride and camaraderie. In a larger sense, parades are also a spectacle. It's a chance for a community to put on a show for their neighbors, to demonstrate their dominance. The accomplishment being celebrated connects the people present, but it also distinguishes them from others as well. And there is a great deal of preparation that goes into the show—from transit to safety to entrepreneurship to turning a blind eye when employees go missing for a few hours, everyone has a part to play. The spectacle is supported by the government because it provides a momentum that can be used. If buildings need to be built, laws need to be passed, or even wars need to be started, the momentum from such public celebrations can be mobilized. This sense of pride can carry forth many political agendas. [Image Left: A vendor sets up an impromtu stall on Nassau Street using a permanent sidewalk ornament.]

Ethnographers should always try to understand their biases, and their audiences should also have a sense of how the objectivity of information may be compromised. So before I go on, I need to confess that I considered calling this post "Infiltrating Enemy Territory." I am not a Yankees fan, as some of you may have surmised. I root for that other New York team, whose name I will not mention in a post about a parade for their rivals. I put a lot of though into whether this parade should be filed under the Culture in Action series, and ultimately decided that parades have a huge cultural element to them: they can reveal a great deal about the character and personality of a people through the ways in which society responds to these occasions. Regardless of the cause, a parade is still a chance to think about and talk about crowd dynamics. So as a dedicated anthropologist (who works within the vicinity of the parade route), I elbowed my way into enemy camp on Friday morning, bore witness to the scene, and extricated myself when chants of "Boston Sucks!" began to rise in pitch and intensity (belatedly realizing that I was wearing a red jacket—the color associated with the Yankees' arch rivals, the Boston Red Sox, and the team they beat for the championship, the Philadephia Phillies).

A coworker taking the PATH trainThe day began early for many fans. A great many people called in late or played hooky entirely, and teachers may have noticed a few empty desks on Friday morning. My morning commute was slightly more hectic than usual, as I contended with the large number of fans boarding the LIRR and subway. (which operates in a system similar to the LIRR) shared his morning commute with a dog who alternated between wandering the aisle and hopping up on the seat much to the annoyance of the conductor. Food vendors selling breakfast staples were doing brisk business as I made my way to my office building, weaving between the droves of people trying to get to Broadway.The came from all directions, of different sizes, shapes, and colors, all sporting the navy blue of their team. And there to greet them were the opportunistic street vendors who saw an chance to make a quick and relatively easy profit: banners and hats were $5.00, t-shirts cost $10.00. [Image Right: A dog ready for the Yankees' celebration downtown. Credit: J. DiBenedetto]

At about a quarter to eleven, I slipped into my jacket, grabbed my camera and hurried west on Wall Street. Several small groups—families with young children in tow—passed me, emitting triumphant whoops of joy. We all soon encountered a road block that could have ended all parade activities right then: Wall Street was closed at William Street, a good two blocks from Broadway. The police were blocking off street perpendicular to Broadway as they filled with people, and given the high profile of Wall Street itself, extra precautions were being taken to preserve the landmark. A cop advised us to walk north, so we walked a block to Pine Street, passing some more vendors, and turned west again to pack together as closely as we could to get a glimpse of the parade route. I ultimately wound up approximately half a block away from Broadway and still could only just see the events ahead of me. People got creative in searching for a good spot. Some climbed on the shoulders and backs of accommodating friends, boyfriends, and parents. Others climbed on top of city vehicles, though they were quickly chased off by watchful police. Some scaled buildings. Many buildings downtown have ledges about eight feet or so above the ground. They aren't wide, but if you're nimble, you can perch there to get above the crowd. And still others hung out of office windows.

[Above: Fans find a good vantage point.]

The crowd seemed to feed off of the growing energy. Laughter would erupt, and in true Yankees fan form, chants of "Boston Sucks!" and "Phillies Suck!" and "Let's Go Yankees!" and "Twen-ty Sev-en"—the hyphens emphasize the musical intonation of that particular chant—would swell periodically. It was definitely something to feel: a sea of people packed into side streets in shoulder to shoulder formation, speaking as one and thinking as one (except for the impostor in the red jacket). We were momentarily transported back to the stadium. The chants were something that everyone could participate in, including those who had not made it to a side street before the police began barricading those as well. But in truth, even those at the very end of the blocks and the people behind the barricades didn't seem upset that they couldn't see their beloved team. They were content to stand there, to be a part of the crowd, and take up their favorite war cries.

[Above: Crowd packed into Pine Street awaiting the parade.]

"Ticker tape" (really just shredded paper), thrown from buildings, drifted through the clear blue sky. In no time at all, the ground was covered, and everyone standing in the vicinity had scraps of paper in their hair and on their jackets. Ticker tape parades are unique to urban settings. They originated (where else?) in New York City. The first parade of this kind occured in 1886, when ticker tape was thrown during the dedication of the Statue of Liberty. The tape came from the old stock ticker machines, and when they were replaced by their electronic cousins, the ticker tape that filled the sky for these parades came from shredded office waste paper and city-supplied confetti. Caught in the wind, the scraps drifted for miles, blanketing Wall Street and the neighborhood. Lumbering street sweeping vehicles were on standby to get things back to order once the ceremonies wrapped up. [Image Left: "ticker tape" fills the sky.]

So there I was, in my red jacket, standing amongst a throng of people who probably would have fed me to the lions in the Colosseum had they known of my true loyalties. A cheer began to grow from the right along Broadway, cameras were thrust into the air around me, and the band marched by. Not to be dissuaded, the crowd continued to roar, their cries growing louder as the official photographers made their way down the Canyon. And then finally, They came. The moment these people had been waiting for arrived, and the crowd erupted, extending to the peripheries. In fact, those were the folks who probably yelled the loudest. Children were hoisted into the air. Hats were waved. A woman began to cry. [Image Right: Exuberant young fan tries to catch ticker tape. He did wind up snagging several large white sheets of copy paper.]

Remember when I said that athletes are our representatives on a public stage? We support teams because we believe in them—we trust them to protect our interests on the national stage. Well, the parade-goers turned out to say "Thank you." That was the feeling that seemed to radiate through the crowd. Yes, there was a bit of arrogance, but a certain amount of swagger is to be expected from the victorious—particularly when it is cultivated, and believe me, New Yorkers cultivate their swagger. People were there to say thank you. The spectacle was in the showing. The turnout was meant to send a clear message to rivals, and perhaps the strength of voices behind the cheers and the chants were meant to carry—I wonder if the hair on the backs of the necks of Bostonians and Philadelphians stood on end at that moment. Could the energy from this group have been so great as to travel that distance? [Image Left: The team passes this section of the crowd.]

Once the team passed, people began to trickle away from Broadway. Some were going back to their offices, like me, and others were headed to City Hall for the final celebration, and still others were packing into bars and joining lines to buy hot dogs and chicken with rice from food vendors. The mood was jubilant. Vendors were still hawking their wares as I made my way back toward Wall Street, fighting the crowd heading in the direction of City Hall. But the day was not over for many. Those who did not have tickets to the City Hall ceremony seemed content to mill about and drink in the remaining atmosphere. [Image Right: People moving toward City Hall.]

The effects of this public festival/spectacle will last well beyond the coming baseball season. The city's spirit has been renewed by this gathering of fans—even though they don't represent the complete spectrum of baseball supporters in New York. The festival/spectacle has permitted the assertion of a sense of social dominance and it will be something that all residents—whether you support this team or not—will carry forth with them in their travels. Our reputation, whether we want to share in it or not, has been bolstered. Once again, we are a city united, albeit some more reluctantly than others. The parade created a substantial expense for the city, which probably saw a tab in the range of $330,000.00, but the long term effects appear to outweigh these costs.  

[Above: Debris post-parade.]

Have you witnessed a parade or village festival on a smaller scale? Perhaps in your town or village? What was the atmosphere like? Let's talk about it below while we wait for Spring Training 2010.

Fido Speaks: In the Grip of the Anthropomorphized Pet

When you were a kid, did you have or want a pet? What about now?

I have a fairly full pet history. I am a sometimes reluctant co-owner/parent of two cats, one regal and sedate, Blink, and the other playful and slightly odd, Blaise—I adore them but it's hard to be enthusiastic when you come home to cat vomit because the younger one decided to eat all the dry food you left out to exert her dominance. I'm also an aunt of sorts to a cocker spaniel (he belongs to my brother-in-law); since I am responsible for his name, Frodo, I figure that grants me some degree of parentage, though as a cat person I tend to find him smelly and clumsy. (In hindsight, I would have suggested Maximus or Lucky if I'd known anyone would take me seriously. Really, I was just thinking aloud. And I secretly call him Maximus anyway, which is probably why he's confused.) And as a child, I've also had a pair of rabbits (my parents gave them away), the requisite childhood goldfish (I nearly overfed them), a stray dog I named Kit (yes, after the talking car in Knight Rider), and assorted parakeets thrown into the mix (in truth, these have always been more my father's pets than mine). No rocks, though. [Image Right: Frodo, the fearless cocker spaniel.]

If you have a similar list, we're not alone. According to the ASPCA, 60% of all households in the U.S. have at least one pet. The Humane Society reports that in 2008, there were approximately 75 million dogs as pets, and 88 million cats as pets (including my own two terrors).There's no question that pets occupy a special place in our lives—they have clothing lines, their own products, they even have a care industry (e.g., pet sitters, doggy day care, walkers, doggy valium, etc). The Internet is littered with videos of pets doing funny things, like the kittens who thought they would hitch a ride on a Roomba.

Humans have been keeping pets for as long as they have been able to support them. The earliest pets—dogs and cats, descendants of wolves and large wild cats—were probably domesticated for work (protection, hunting, etc) and grew into partnerships with their owners over time so that their descendents enjoyed greater status within the household. An article in November's National Geographic describes the honor awarded to royal egyptian pets: they were often interred with their owners, along with mummified food and playthings.  I had the good fortune of seeing the Hapi-men mummy last summer at the University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology (see image below). He was buried with a mummified terrier—dogs may want to reconsider the whole idea of "man's best friend" and what that entails. But it seems that Egyptians kept a variety of pets, from assorted birds to crocodiles to lizards.

[Image: Hapi-Men mummy.]

 

Animal mummies were once cast aside, children sold nice specimens to tourists but the bulk of these findings were turned into fertilizer—until anthropologists and archaeologists realized that a lot could be learned about life in ancient Egyptian times from these mummies. For example, they can reveal which animals were sacred, such as the bull and the crocodile. They can tell us about votive offerings, and they can tell us about the mummy industry itself, which was in full swing by 664 B.C. As is common with any popular commercial trade, it was soon infiltrated by less than savory characters:

(C)orruption crept into the assembly line, and the occasional pilgrim ended up with something dodgy ... x-rays have revealed a variety of ancient consumer rip-offs: a cheaper animal substituted for a rarer, more expensive one; bones or feathers in place of a whole animal; beautiful wrappings around nothing but mud.

But perhaps there is something to be learned from our current relationships with our furry, finned, and feathered friends as well. What becomes clear in reading about mummified animals is that they were cast with anthropomorphic properties—that is, they were accorded human characteristics. We can say this because we know that cults grew around certain animals, and they were believed to be connected or representative of certain gods. For example, crocodiles were associated with Sobek, a water god of fertility; falcons were connected to Horus, a sky god and protector of the living king; and dogs were linked to the jackal-headed Anubis, guardian of the dead. The Apis Bull was revered as a representation of the all powerful king. Apis bulls were treated to special sanctuaries and elaborate funeral rites. [Image Right: Animal mummy.]

We don't quite worship our pets in this way, but we definitely do think of them in anthropomorphic terms. Blink likes to cuddle under the blanket. Is she emulating her owners who pull the covers up to their chins when they're ready for a nap? Blaise likes to settle near my books. Is she reading them when I go to bed? And on more than one occasion, they've parked themselves in front of the television. Are they watching and understanding the way we do? [Image Left: Blink under the blanket.]

Anthropomorphism is perhaps deeply rooted in our social nature. When we began to domesticate animals, the easiest way for us to understand them would have been to contextualize them in terms of what we knew best—ourselves. Attributing human characteristics to our pets links us to them: they are firmly in our control, but we are equally in their power. Because they have human elements to them, we are obligated to care for them.  Anthropomorphism has been explained as early attempts to understand the world, to link the divine with the natural, but perhaps there is a simple need for companionship in the equation as well. In a world still full of mysteries, is it any wonder that we tried to root ourselves firmly in that world by tying it to ourselves in this way?

And just as an industry grew around mummified pets, so too has an industry grown around our own. If pets have human characteristics, then of course, they must mirror their humans in other ways and they must need things, providing opportunities for padded profit margins. As Egyptian priests would sell votive mummies at higher prices to parishioners who looked like they could pay more, so too are unnecessary products peddled with earnest. And we believe we need to provide jewel studded collars and elaborate pet homes and carriers because we have to fulfill our obligations to our pets. In humanizing our pets, we have become captives to a certain degree. [Image Right: Blaise watches television.]

It is clear from both a historical and modern perspective that our pets are here to stay. The question is how far will we go to integrate them into our lives? Pet cemetaries are already fairly commonplace. Are these interments any different from pet mummies? Some pets can go to school to learn to be more petlike, a quality that we define and manage. The drive to humanize seems to march onward, but toward what end?

Share your pet stories below.