A Sense of Accomplishment? There's No App for That—Yet.

How is children's television addressing accomplishment in an app-saturated world where help is often at your fingertips?

Science and Technology in Television Cartoons

Saturday morning cartoons were some of the earliest exposures I had to science and technology. How do you remember them?

Power, Confidence, and High-Heels

This week AiP investigates our relationship with fashion. Today, we’ll delve into the appeal of high-heels. On Wednesday, we’ll discuss a particular color trend in New York City. And on Friday, we’ll explore the psychology behind brands. 

Why Do We Hurry to Wait?

While traveling a few weeks ago, I had ample opportunity to observe the art of waiting. Or rather, the art of not waiting. New Yorkers aren’t known for their patience—something that became painfully obvious when I got frustrated with the service S and I received at a south Florida restaurant. (If it takes more than 10 minutes for a server to come by and get drink orders after the customer has been seated, there is something wrong. We left, by the way, as even the normally unflappable S was perturbed, and were seated and served almost immediately—at the establishment just next door. (1)) While it may be that New Yorkers generally have little tolerance at being made to wait—and really, when you live in a culture of 24/7, the expectations are rather high—perhaps there are certain situations in which we’re all a bit impatient.

The Social Functions of Blushing

It's happened to all of us. The poorly timed remark, tripping over an uneven sidewalk, a torn seam or an open button or zipper, or even the dreaded toilet paper stuck to the bottom of a shoe—embarrassment can strike at any time.

Eating for Memory

When my parents moved to Florida five years ago, they took many of my food traditions with them. I never really learned how to make many of our cultural foods. As a teenager I suppose I had presumed they would always be close enough for me to request breakfast staples and special occasion dishes as needed or desired. Fortunately, S and I live within driving distance of a thriving West Indian community, so when I start to long for a taste of "home," I can find something close enough to the flavors from my childhood to satisfy. It's not quite the same, but it is enough.

What Does the Nutcracker Have to do With Christmas?

In this age of commercialization, it can be difficult to find true symbols of the season. After all, Santa himself is a spokesman for one of the largest department stores in the United States. And Rudolph, that iconic red-nosed reindeer, was created by Montgomery Ward, another large American retailer. A closer look at the Nutcracker and his battalion of wooden soldiers suggest that the figures and symbols that seem to get closest to the meaning of the holiday are those that are somewhat peripheral.

Revisiting The Myth of Yams and Pumpkin Pie

"The First Thanksgiving at Plymouth" (1914)
By Jennie A. Brownscombe

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

These elements of Thanksgiving are the same half-truths that I was taught as a child. I say half-truths because Thanksgiving is a constructed holiday—over the years we have pieced together history and popular customs to create this national festival. It's based on a feast of thanksgiving, a religious event where the celebrants gave thanks to their god(s).

Anatomy of a Superstition: When Your Eye "Jumps"

The eye sees all, and can possibly warn of danger in Trinidadian folklore.

Recycling for Profit: Rise of the Can Collectors

You can tell it's the night before the recycling is picked up in my neighborhood not by the number of blue recycling bins on the curb (many of which are placed on the curb in the morning before the homeowner leaves for work), but by the rattle of pushcarts that punctuate the stillness. The number of people seeking recyclable cans and bottles to return for a profit seems to have increased, including a range from dedicated collectors to those whose "amateur" efforts involve allowing their own cans and bottles to accumulate for several weeks before bringing them in to the bottle depository or working with neighbors to generate a large enough supply for a sizable return. 

The US Stamp Design Selection Process

Farming in the West stamp, 1898.
Credit: NYPL Digital Archives.

Following yesterday's post, and a comment about the use of the pronoun "we" in describing the significance of stamps in relation to our history, i did some digging on just exactly how images are selected for "stamphood." 

The short of it is this: The Citizen's Stamp Advisory Committee (CSAC) collects requests and suggestions from the public and makes recommendations to the Postmaster General, who appears to have a heavy hand in the designs that appear on stamps. 

The Mother Theresa Stamp and the Cultural Legacy of Postage

Unveiling of the Mother Theresa postage stamp Sept. 5th, 2010 at the National Shrine. Postmaster General Jack Potter was in attendance (immediately to the left of the stamp).

Over the recent Labor Day weekend, S and I visited Washington D.C. where purely by chance we stumbled on a stamp unveiling. We were touring the National Shrine—the mosaics are breathtaking—when we realized the ceremony occurring at the front had little to do with normal services.  The United States Post Office had a covered display at the front, so we wound our way up the side aisle and came across a placard announcing that a stamp for Mother Theresa was being issued. (This actually explained the large number of nuns present wearing her traditional white and blue sari.) So we found a spot along the wall and settled into to watch.

Don't Ma'am Me

Yesterday, I posted a link to an article from the Times on the nature of titles and the response of some women to being called ma’am. My female Twitter audience seemed to agree that they didn't really care for the title—though older females indicated that ma’am didn’t bother them as much. I have only been called ma’am once. I was definitely put off by it, but the sales clerk who did it had to be about fifteen, so perhaps I looked like a ma’am to her. (Still, yikes!) Ma’am is my mom, my aunts, my mother-in-law. Ma’am can now probably be applied to some teachers I had in school. My feeling is that I am not a ma’am. I might become one in the future, but for now that is not me.

Driven By Coffee: Creating a Culture of Productivity

Coffee has attained tremendous importance among workers. Sidney Mintz, a renowned anthropologist who has written extensively about food, included it in a list for "proletarian hunger killers," which also includes sugar, tea, and chocolate (1979). Coffee is important to capitalism in many ways: it has spurred trade and the exchange of ideas, and like spices and other commodities, has served as leverage for controlling powers through the ages. It's a part of a larger global conversation, but have you stopped to consider its role in your life?

Why Do Some Like It Hot?

Why do some people like and prefer spicy foods to the point where they consume mouth scorching dishes—and ask for more? This was the question posed to me by a coworker recently, as he reached helplessly for the can of spicy peanuts sitting in the communal kitchen area at work. 

The Lunch Truck: Providing a Small Taste of Ethnic Foods for the Adventurous

What do you normally have for lunch? Leftovers? A sandwich? Do you bring it from home or do you buy it from a local eatery? In New York City, a sandwich (with a pickle and a bag of chips) will cost you about $8.00. A salad starts at about $5.00; the price increases depending on how many extras you toss in there. It can get pretty pricey over time. A possible solution? Lunch trucks and carts. [Above: The line for the Halal cart.]

Dealing With "Digital Distractions" in the Classroom

Apparently, an increasing number of colleges and professors are banning laptops in their classrooms, citing poor grades and general distraction. These are definitely issues worth consideration, but the article raises a good point counterpoint:

For years, educators have been clamoring to put technology in the hands of young students through partnerships with big tech companies, best symbolized by the One Laptop Per Child initiative. But by the time those kids grow up, they might well find university authorities waging a war on laptops in the classroom.

Is a blanket ban on laptops really a realistic means of dealing with perceived digital distractions in the classroom—or does it it actually create a deficit in terms of learning?

Just the Essentials

Happy New Year! Question: What do you need to get you through the day?

Take a second and look through your bag or pockets and take an inventory of the things you carry with you every day. A quick survey of my handbag revealed the following (in no particular order):

• Cell phone
• Cell phone charger
• Check book
• Small wallet with travel passes, ID, library card, and bank card
  
• Eye glass repair kit
• USB stick
• Makeup case
• Sunglasses
• House keys
• Car keys 
• A bill
• Some coupons
• A comb
• Hand sanitizer
• Key card for my office
  

I also carry a small tote which holds my umbrella and a book for my commute, as well as my lunch, if I'm bringing it from home for the day. Looking at all of these things spread across my desk, I wondered if I really needed it all—the New Year presents the perfect opportunity for such reflection. I made two piles. The items in bold in the list above represent the things I believe I absolutely must have on me to see me through the day from the moment I leave the house to my return in the evening. It wasn't too bad, I thought—it seemed that I was carrying mostly essential items. The coupons I probably would never use, and the bill would be thrown away once I paid it. I don't really need my check book all the time since I rarely ever pay for anything with a check—in fact, I could probably get away with tucking an emergency check into my wallet and leaving the book at home. And since I don't drive everyday, I could theoretically leave my car key at home. [Image Right: The contents of my handbag, minus the cell phone which was used to take this picture.]

So what caused this imposed inspection? After reading about the Hadza in National Geographic's December issue, I began to think about what we consider necessary to daily life. Though it tends to wax poetic at points, the article is a fairly good piece of travel writing (delivering an entertaining account of a baboon hunt in the process), the following statement caught my attention:

There are things I envy about the Hadza—mostly, how free they appear to be. Free from possessions. Free of most social duties. Free from religious strictures. Free of many family responsibilities. Free from schedules, jobs, bosses, bills, traffic, taxes, laws, news, and money. Free from worry. Free to burp and fart without apology, to grab food and smoke and run shirtless through the thorns.

A life free of worry, responsibility, taxes, a commute, the need for money ...? Where do I sign up? It sounds appealing, but like the author, I also decided that perhaps the cost for these types of freedoms is a bit high for me:

Their entire life, it appears to me, is one insanely committed camping trip. It's incredibly risky. Medical help is far away. One bad fall from a tree, one bite from a black mamba snake, one lunge from a lion, and you're dead. Women give birth in the bush, squatting. About a fifth of all babies die within their first year, and nearly half of all children do not make it to age 15. They have to cope with extreme heat and frequent thirst and swarming tsetse flies and malaria-­laced mosquitoes.

Hm. Between the lions and the squatting in the bush, I don't know how long I'd survive. And I think the majority of my fellow commuters might agree. The Hadza are one of the world's last remaining hunter-gatherers. They live in the Great Rift Valley, one of the most inhospitable environments on earth. They grow no crops, own no livestock, and build no permanent shelters. They set up camps, and move as needed to be closer to herds and other resources. They eat everything—birds, wildebeest, zebras, buffalo, warthog, bush pig, hyrax, baboon, plus berries, baobab fruit, tubers, and honey. Their possessions are minimal: a cooking pot, a water container, an ax, and perhaps a pipe—which can be wrapped in a small bundle for easy transport. But if they can manage to subsist on so little, why can't we? Why do I feel lost without my cell phone to remind me of the date?

Of course, our lives are remarkably different. The Hadza are adapted for hunting baboons in the middle of the night. I am built to survive commuting. (Who has the tougher job there I wonder?) The need to be connected at all times is the reason I feel at a loss without my cell phone. It's essential because my world, which is not the hunter-gatherer experience, makes it so. Still it made me wonder what else people might consider as essential. In addition to my essentials, a quick office poll added iPod and headphones (because some phones allow you to listen to music), a pen, and a snack (hmm, good idea for those long subway rides). Others mentioned hand cream—for those moisturizing emergencies—and sanitizer. I am a big fan of the latter having had someone sneeze on me on the subway and then pretend nothing had happened. [Image Left: The popularity and presence of cell phones indicates their necessity.]

In transit, cells phones seem to be the most essential item, with 9-out-of-10 people carrying them in hand at all times. I also spotted a portable video game system. Riders also have mp3 players or reading materials—a small percentage of the population read while using mp3 players, and a smaller segment have replaced their reading material with a Kindle. I've spotted guitars, several ceremonial staffs (on different occasions, carried by different people), small dogs in shoulder bags, and who knows what wonders lurk in close duffels, backpacks, and totes. I am not these people—I don't know if they truly consider the items and animals I noted as essential. Nonetheless, the variety gives you pause. [Image Right: A portable game system is a necessity for this traveler.]

If anything, the disparity between our view on necessities and the Hadza's view, encourages you to think about the ways in which our lives and the meaning in our lives are manufactured—we determine what is important, creating a context-specific experience, which arguably gives us culture. It's interesting to note the ways in which these ideas spread and become a part of the mainstream. For example, in the early nineties, cell phones were not a necessity. I wonder to what degree network proliferation helped make them so. I think we're currently witnessing the spread of the next wave of necessities: elements to establish our digital presence. From Facebook to Twitter to LinkedIn to online portfolios, it's growing important to represent yourself in the digital world. Those who live "off the grid" are diminishing in numbers rapidly. I currently know of only one holdout, and he isn't holding out on any particular principle, but because he doesn't want to take the time to set up the accounts.

Okay, it's time to put those cards on the table. What essentials do you lug everywhere with you—and will you be carrying them with you this year? Share your list below.

Also, see the faces of the Hadza here in some remarkable photos by Martin Schoeller.

Santa Claus—Social Order Manifested as The Spirit of Christmas

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.

His eyes-how they twinkled! His dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!

-Excerpt from Twas the Night Before Christmas (Clement Clarke Moore) [Image Right: Inflatable Santa Claus as seen from behind a tree.]

Most Western children (and some adults) eagerly await the arrival of Santa Claus—easily recognizable from the description above. In his red suit and sleigh pulled by reindeer, he comes bearing gifts. If you've been good that is. Children are well aware of his rules too: he keeps a list, he checks it twice, and he knows who's been naughty or nice. If you've been nice (e.g., unselfish, polite, and helpful), you might find something neat waiting under the tree. If you haven't, well, you might get a lump of coal.

Our present day image of Santa seems to come from a few different sources. He is a combination of the Dutch Sinterklaas and the British Father Christmas—both of whom appear to be rooted in the real life Saint Nicholas of Myra. Nicholas of Myra was a saint and a Bishop with a reputation for secret gift giving—he was known for putting coins in shoes left out for him, and one legend has him throwing bags of gold coins through the window of a poor man's home to help provide a dowry for his three daughters, saving them from prostitution. The tradition of Saint Nicholas' Day (Dec. 6) spread to many countries, and on the eve of this festivity which marks Saint Nicholas' death, presents are exchanged. The Dutch Sinterklaas appears to make the distinction between good and bad children (although in practice, all children receive gifts). He has a helper named Zwarte Piet whose black skin has made him a source of controversy in recent years. For our intents we are only concerned with his role in punishing bad children (by taking them away in a sack). Children leave their shoes by the fireplace with some hay or a carrot for his horse, and Sinterklaas leaves them chocolate coins or some other token. A sack is also often placed outside of the house or in the living room with present for the family. Father Christmas on the other hand had nothing to do with gifts—he typically represented the Spirit of Christmas. Though he has since merged with representations of Santa Claus, he was originally created to be the personification of good cheer. [Image Right: Inflatable Santa with snowman for company.]

The morphing of these three characters into Santa Claus packs a powerful punch—a gift giver, a moral watchman, and the embodiment of good cheer. While Santa has no helper to pack wayward children into sacks (CPS would NOT sanction such behavior!), he is watching. He knows when you steal your coworker's lunch, or flip someone the finger for cutting you off on the road, or break something and pretend you didn't. Today Santa makes no distinction between good and "bad" children—all children get presents. But the idea that Santa—or someone—is watching persists. In essence, he's watching because we all are watching in some ways. An early post on this blog explored Durkheim's idea that a moral sensibility governs the collective, keeping order to permit the continuation of society. The social order that governs our society is "watching," and symbols associated with Santa's may be manifestations of this moral sensibility by virtue of the power we assign them. 

I was thinking about this as a I passed a volunteer for a charity last week wearing a Santa hat. While hundreds of people probably filed by her, only perhaps dozens reached into their pockets for their spare change. She didn't call for donations, she simply stood there, wearing her red hat. She passed no judgment, but her hat did: "I'm watching," it seemed to say. "I know whether there is change in your pocket, whether you're ignoring my helper willingly, or whether you're late for a train (in which case, you can make it up later.)" [Image Left: Charity volunteer with red bucket.]

Santa's hat is not the Sorting Hat, but in making Santa into a moral watchman, he and his accessories have become an extension of the sensibility that guides society. Though his history is linked to a Bishop, he has largely become a secularized icon, personifying the charity of the human spirit—one that we can all relate to. He and the imagery linked to him remind us of the "rights" that we as a society believe in. These are not civil rights, but social rights: right-doing. The charity volunteer's hat was therefore not a statement that Santa himself is watching, but that we bear social obligations that are necessary to the maintenance of the social order. To quote Francis Pharcellus Church:

The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see.

Can you think of other symbols that are used to maintain social order? Answer below, and remember to leave some cookies out for Santa. He's on his way—you can track his progress using NORAD's Official Santa Tracker.

Merry Christmas all!

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.