Something Lost in the Trinity River

Sitting on the cold hard rocks, over looking the Trinity River, the girl watched as the morning fog rolled over the water.  It was daybreak now, and yet the sky only shifted its value from black to gray.  There was no sunshine.  Sitting on the same rock as she had been for hours, she could no longer feel the rock beneath her, losing all feeling in her ass soaked in cold wet mud. She could not recall how long she had been there.

In the night she could make out the ripples of the current flowing down stream, around the bend, disappearing into nothingness.  The water itself was thick, the reflection of the moon giving it the appearance of liquid mercury.  All she could see was darkness poring out, leaking into the spaces between the tree branches that cast their distorted shadows on to the river.  The girl gazed at the calm and peaceful upper section of the river to her right, noticing its gentle and noiseless quality.  To her left, the riverbank narrowed and the current intensified, creating a dangerous undercurrent that trashed against a tree jetting from the side of the river bend.  She could not form a thought, her brain only allowing her to take in her environment, her mind still processing.  

Now that it was morning, she could barely make out the things beneath the murky river.  The random little explosions of water where the fish had come to the surface visually directed her attention from one splash to the next.  She spotted the large scrap of metal hidden in the dark depths of the river, which sent a single but significant shiver up her spine.  She never realized how deep the water was, passing by this river so many times as a child.  She stared transfixed into the darkness of the shadow in the water, losing herself in it. 

Suddenly, the sound of traffic and cars jolted her out of her hypnotic state, ambulance sirens off in the distance.  The girl flirted with the idea of leaving but after realizing that there was no one left to miss her, she remained on the rock.  She expanded her view, looking at the large gray buildings, restaurants, roads, and bridges that beset the water.  She noticed the twenty-story power plant across the river and saw the pool of oil oozing from the building, creating a silver rainbow of sludge floating atop the surface.  Looking over at the adjacent hill, her eyes scanned down from the tear in the guardrail, to the tire tracks, to the river.  The water flowing over the smoothened rocks trickled down the brook just as the tears trickled down her face.

The wind began blowing, forcing the trees to lose their red autumn leaves.  They fell down in front of her, grazing a pool of water formed in the crevice of a rock. She realized she was unconsciously gripping clumps of dirt in her hands.  When she finally opened her palm, the blood rushed back to her fingers, returning the pink pigment to them.  The dirt overflowed onto the ground, leaving her hands completely filthy and revealing the number of scratches she obtained.  She began taking swipes at her hands, attempting to rid herself of the filth.  She continued to rub them raw until she noticed that there was a left over shard of glass perturbing from her forearm.   

Shocked that she hadn’t noticed it all this time, she removed the single shard of glass carefully, making sure it stayed intact.  As the redness overtook her arm, she stood up struggling to find her center of gravity. After allowing her body to gain consciousness, the girl proceeded to walk down the hill to the edge of the water.

As the entirety of her arm sunk underneath the surface, the chilling water pierced her skin, pouring heavily into her flesh wound.  All of the grime and blood and filth that covered her skin were no more. It all too was now lost in the river.  

For the first time she stood up straight, water dripping down off of her extended fingertips, the wind tangling her soft brown hair.  As she turned to leave the place where she would never return, she whispered to the river, “you’ve taken everything from me.”  Slowly turning her back from the waters edge, the girl disappeared into the early morning fog.   

The view from my back porch….

The view from my back porch….

I live 15 minutes down a county road outside of the town Eureka Springs, Arkansas. My house that my mom and dad build together sits on top of a large hill with a large meadow directly behind our house. The meadow of tall/ short grass, depending on how recently my father or brother has mowed, reaches to a tree line and from their shoots down a ravine into a nature filled forest. I am smack dab in the middle of the Ozark Mountains, a mountain range older then the Rockies and famous for its lush and beautiful landscape. It is interesting that when pondering my unique view from my back porch, memories of my father and I immediately come to mind.

My favorite time to sit out on my back porch is during sunset. The orange, pink, purple, and blue sky melts together with hints of white puffy clouds brushing over the warm and radiant light of the departing sun. When picturing my sunset at home I see my father and I sitting out at our outside table sipping wine, the smell of freshly grilled chicken, barbeque, stakes, and fish on the grill. At night, the sky lights up for the most spectacular view of the night sky and the different constellations. I have memories of sitting with my dad outside on a nice spring night when I was little when their was a full moon and he would make up different bedtime stories about “Great Big Moon” and “Itty Bitty Star.” This is one of my most cherished memories of my childhood and it all took place on my big back porch in the Ozarks. 

Something that scared you...

This semester I was required to create a junior dance work for my choreography class that we cast dancers for, set up weekly rehearsals to create and craft the piece, and then perform it at the end of the semester for our facility, fellow dancers in the department, and for a grade.

My concept was to use recorded text in place of music to see if audience members could made a connection between the human bodies that they saw and the words that they heard. I wanted to explore embodying the text with choreographic movement and allowed my abstract phrases to be formed from and inspired by the piece of writing I chose. Recorded my roommate Mickey narrating a expert from the book “House of Leaves.” In the section, a man is alone in the basement of a tattoo shop where he works and is all of the sudden attacked by a creature of questionable form. I chose the section of literature because it was so vivid and descriptive that it evoked scared emotions within me. I wanted that to translate in my piece. 

To do research for this project, I thought about what scares me. When I was growing up I would have the same recurring nightmare of someone breaking into our house that is out on a county road far from town and murdering different members of my family. I know this sounds horrifying but its true! It was always a different storyline but it was the same dream. I remember being so frighten walking down our long hallway at night with the different reflections of the outside lights casting wired shadows from the trees, and having multiple corners in our living room, your imagination always wondered if someone was hiding up against the wall.

Recalling these nightmares and that pure fear that you experience as a kid, I tried to tap into that when creating the piece and suggested that my dancers do the same. My soloist for the piece, Lexy, said that after rehearsal one night she actually when home and had a scary dream about the piece. She said that she was in a weird place that was a combination of her house and a creepy warehouse. She said that in the corner of the room their was a huge stain on the ceiling and it was dripping a black substance that was forming into a human figure in the corner of the room. I felt bad that my project gave her nightmares but I decided to incorporate the different descriptive aspects she gave me about her dream into the piece, even adding a water dripping effect to a certain section in the recording.  

A time you went… River Floating

My absolute favorite thing to do when I am home in Arkansas is go river floating with my friends.  I have been river floating on the White, Kings, and Buffalo Rivers, usually riding in a two person canoe or a one person kayak. One time me and six of my friends went on a three day, two night float/camping trip on the Buffalo river.

My three girl friends and I packed up all of our equipment the night before and prepared pre-made foil dinners that had delicious veggies, garlic, and seasonings. We all helped tie down the canoes and kayaks to the top of our cars, which is always a funny adventure in and of its self, and headed down the road to the put-in spot an hour away from our houses.

We have so much fun on the river, sometimes paddling through rough rapids, maneuvering through tight spots or under trees, or just allowing the current to easily take us down stream. We stop, eat, swim, climb, and above all take in the beautiful nature around us. At one point in the trip, my friend Abbie and I were leading the pack in a canoe and discovered a mountain lion running across a leveled area in a rock formation, ducking away into a slit in the rocks. We found out later that our friends did not see the mountain lion but saw its little cubs that were hidden in the rocks. On that trip we also say dozens of snakes, turtles, and even one large elk with huge horns.

When it started to get dark, we would pitch our tents, organize our camp site, and have fun on the sandy river bed. We would stay up and eat our dinner, have a late night swim, and lay out under the stars. 

Every time I think about home in Arkansas, I reminisce on the many memories I made with my friends on the river.  

Where is was when I first heard… Tchaikovsky

The first time I heard Tchaikovsky was when I was nine. I had been very dedicated to my dance classes and so my mom rewarded me by getting us tickets to the Nutcracker. I remember my mom forcing me to wear a dress and, being in my tom-boy stage, resisted at all costs. After I was dressed in my Sunday best, my mother got me in the car a drove an hour from our hometown to Fayetteville where the Kansas City Ballet was performing at the Walton Art Center. We picked up tickets from will call and got nestled into our seats.

I recall sitting in my seat after the deep man’s voice came on over the sound system and told us to silence our cell phones. At that point the house lights were brought down and the conductor was announced and took his place in front of the Orchestra. Sitting in front of that big red velvet curtain in all of the darkness and all of a sudden I heard Tchaikovsky Nutcracker Suite start to play. The curtain hadn’t even risen gone up yet but the rise and fall of the delicate music was enough to create a magical environment.

Once the curtain rose and I saw all of the dancers in their elegant costumes, I was completely engaged through out the whole performance. I later danced the role of a party girl in the 2003 Tulsa Ballet World Premiere of their Nutcracker. I played the role of a daughter of one of the dancer couples that attend the holiday party in the first act and being on stage gave my love and appreciation for the Nutcracker a whole other dimension.

I find that the first thing I think about when Christmas time comes around is that beautiful ballet. I now work at Texas Ballet Theater in their ticket department, so all I have been doing for the past month is selling TBT Nutcracker tickets, which are selling fast. It is amazing to me how many people in Fort Worth and neighboring communities make the Nutcracker a family holiday tradition. 

A family pet

I love my dogs Max and Mona. They are Rhodesian Ridgebacks and the have their own unique personalities. Rhodesian Ridgebacks are a large dog breed that are originally from Africa, having the role of hunting big game like lions in packs for their tribal owners. They have short red hair and have an interesting “ridge” on their back where their hair runs in the opposite direction, with two swirls of hair at the top of their back that converge to make a dagar down the length of their back. When my dogs get protective and growl at other dogs or curious people, this ridge stands up creating a hinena effect that can be quite scary. My dogs however are the biggest spoiled babies and wouldn’t hurt a fly… unless it was buzzing around some food.

 Max is a huge dog but is perfectly healthy and fit. His mother was an award wining Rhodesian Ridgeback and his father was actually from their home land of Africa. Max’s brothers and sisters in his litter all went on to be show dogs but Max had a birth defect that made him only have one swirl instead of two on his ridge. So even though he is one of the most beautiful and perfect dogs, we got him on discount. Max has such a beautifully stupid demeanor, we sometimes call him Kelso off of That’s 70’s Show. I always play and roughhouse with Max when I’m home, so every time I come home from college Max follows me around the house.

Mona is our other Rhodesian Ridgeback and she is one year younger than max. Mona, when you zoom in on her face, has the cutes puppy dogface ever, but when you zoom out, her body is so massive she looks like a huge warthog. She is terribly overweight and we always joke and blame it on her bad genes because she was a dog we got from Kansas. She is so lovable but at the same time pitiful when she tried and fails at getting up on the bed. My parents currently have her on a green bean diet and she has lost 10 pounds, bring her to a still ridiculous weight of 140 pounds.

Conversation Meeting #3 (the final meeting)

It was sad that on November 12th me and Adel had our last conversation. He told me that he would have to stop meeting with me due to the fact that he was leaving on his extended break to go with his family back home to Saudi Arabia. As a student in our foreign education program he has different term dates and won't be back till late January to start school again.
It was nice to hear that his Kids had fun over Halloween and that they embraced the american tradition of dressing up for Halloween. I was also really glad to hear that Adel's son was getting so much more comfortable at his new kindergarden and was making new friends! I asked Adel if he though having his kids in the American school system was good for them and he said that their are some advantage and disadvantages. One advantage is that his kid are quickly picking up English, his son already critiquing Adel's english word choices. I agreed with him saying that his kids will be so advanced already having the capacity to speak two language and being culturally knowledgeable about two very different ways of life. The only disadvantage he feels is that he doesn't want his kids to lose touch with their roots. This is why, once Adel is done with his schooling, his family is moving back to Saudi Arabia.
We later got on the subject of his Wife who's name I could not properly pronounce or spell. Adel mentioned that they had an arranged marriage and that his wife actually has the same grandfather as him, marry inside the family he says is common from where he's from. This being complete different from courtship in America, this was an interesting topic to me. He said that yes he did have some say in their marriage and that they are very happy together. He told me that he thought it was interesting that the Western culture sees how women are treated in his country like how they are not allowed to drive a car and how he thinks its ridiculous that we make such a big deal out of it. I disagreed with him saying that driving is a freedom and a independent right of an adult to travel as they please and how forcing women to ask for permission and be at the mans discretion of whether or not they can go anywhere seems unfair to me. He compared driving around his six sisters and his mother when he's at home to driving around princess Diana. He said its a honor to take them where they need to go and that people should me more concerned with the ridiculous number of car accidents due to stupidly high speed limits. I never knew that they had such an issue with car accidents and traffic violations but that did not change my opinion that women lose a inherent freedom when they are denied the right to drive. I realized after our last conversation that the only thing that I truly regretted not asking Adel was if he allowed his wife while she is in America to drive or not.... my guess is not.

Conversation Meeting #2

Because of me and Adel's busy schedules, we were not able to meet until October the 12th.  I met with him once again at the TCU bookstore and our conversation seemed to deepen much more in our second meeting. This was probably due to the fact that in our first meeting we communicated all of the basic information about each other and were now more comfortable sharing views and beliefs with one another.
We discussed religion and how he approaches discussing the touchy subject with others that he meets at TCU. He was raised and has always been a devout Muslim and wondered how much information I knew about his religion and the Quran. I told he that I had a general knowledge of it, having taken and enjoyed World Religion my freshman year at TCU. We discussed how we all can learn from each other and that are different beliefs and practices actually had huge connections and were based around the belief that there is one all-powerful God. We further discussed how the conflict between the Western and Muslim cultures since 911 has effected how people treat him in America. He explained that no where in the Quran does it state that people should kill others in an act for God and that the terrorist that people associate with the Muslim religions are extremists. I agreed with him, giving the example that if someone that was not Christian heard that someone murdered an abortion doctor for God that they would be considered an extremist and a bad example of a true Christian.
Along with the discussion about religion, we once again got on the subject of drinking. I told him I felt that there was no harm having a drink or two at dinner and that I was raised with alcohol around the house. I told him that because my parents made me feel comfortable drinking around them and showed me the appropriate way to drink, I have never had a issues with drinking and have never been in trouble for it. He explained that in his religion he feels that alcohol alters your true state of being and that a man should honor God by staying true to himself and not engaging in things that can disrupt your state of mind. After talking about this subject, I agree that drinking is very stressed in the American culture, especially in college. It is interesting to see how Americans have has a long history of stressing alcohol consumption, especially in the 1920s during the . Its amazing to compare this to the traditional Muslim culture who has never had an issue or history of alcohol in their society and shows how extremely different our cultures really are.

conversation meeting #1

I met with my conversation partner Adel over coffee at the TCU bookstore mid September. It was funny because we played a bit of phone tag, neither of us knowing what each other looked like. I was surprised when I first met Adel. In my mind I pictured a younger undergraduate student like myself. I learned Adel was in his thirties and was actually at TCU to earn his Ph.D in linguistics after already earning a Master in it at a school in his hometown in Saudi Arabia.

He told me that everyone in his family had gone to college in the United States. His cousin just returned home after graduating from the University of Virginia and Adel explained that his father, his uncle, and most family members that were older then him had graduated from different universities from across the country. I found it interesting and inquired about where his family went upon graduating. He said that all of them went back home to Saudi Arabia. This made me wonder if most people in other countries grow up concentrating on their studies so they can come to America and experience our higher education system.

It was interesting to discuss with Adel his hunger for communicating with other students to better his English. He explained that most of the people he meets on the different college campuses he has been on (he has also taken some classes at University of Texas at Austin) are only interested in social drinking and only invite him to bars or parties. Adel explained that being a devout Muslim he refrained from consuming any alcoholic beverages, it being against his religion. I could see how the typical college kid could only socialize when alcohol is involved and I empathized with Adel on not having as many opportunities to perfect his English.

It was amazing to see how Adel’s mood perked up when we discussed his family. He explained that he was married and showed me pictures on his phone of his daughter Yara and Abdullah. He showed me cute pictures of his son and daughter playing with the parrots at the Fort Worth Zoo! Adel was explained how his son was having a hard time adjusting to kindergarten and how the only person he seemed to trust at his school was his homeroom teacher and he never left her side. I told Adel that I thought most parents of kids who are from other countries must experience this and that I hope his son gets to feel more comfortable here in America. 

The Lottery

I felt that this story shed light on the dangerous effects of blindly following tradition and not questioning the reasons and implications for practicing a ritual. The weird and mortifying ritual of stoning a random member of the community each year gave for a very interesting and engaging read. 

The community that the story was based around reminded me a lot of the community that we see in Arthur Miller's "The Crucible" and how when the majority of a community is wrong in its beliefs or assumptions and takes advantage of popular view and tries and controls the public interest. The fact that no member of the community even tries to question or change the tradition of the lottery is a direct stab at people allowing ridiculous traditions to effect their lives on the simple minded basis that it has always been that way. 

The presence of family is interesting in the story. Families are seen grouping together and identifying themselves with one another during the town meeting. It seems that these families have loving relationships with one another and in turn the towns people themselves seem to form a tight knit community. But the second that Tessie is chosen for execution, everyone around her including her family turns on her. I feel that this goes against every image and idea that we have ever learned about our family. We have learned that our parents and brothers and sisters have our best interest at heart and in this story it is obviously not the case. The fact that everyone can so easily accept random selection of death into their lives seems very odd and kept me on edge during my entire reading experience.

Hills LIke White Elephants

“Hills Like White Elephants” is one of my favorite Ernest Hemingway short stories because it is filled with multiple themes and hidden meanings. There are three major themes that can be inferred when reading the story: gender roles, white elephants, and of course Hemmingway’s infamous ice-burg theory. When talking about gender roles, it is apparent that the man in the story is the controlling figure when he decides what and when they will drink as well as constantly imposing his own feelings on the female character. The female in the story is obviously more mature than the male but is undermined by the pet names that the man calls her (“jig”) and even by Hemingway himself who always refers to the male as “the man” and the female as “the girl.” Even though the man is trying to seem like he cares what the girl wants it is apparent that he just wants her to have the operation for his own selfish reasons. This places the girl in a position of power because she is the one who gets to have the last word on whether she will keep the baby or not.  The symbol of the white elephant can have many different connotations. An elephant in the room is always said to be a child and the elephant represent fertility in Hinduism. The ice-burg theory is definitely implemented in this story because Hemingway never explicitly says the subject of the man and the girl’s discussion, the meaning is imbedded within the conscious, preconscious, and subconscious elements of the story. The clouded situation that the man and the women seem to be in never gets resolved in the end. The readers are left to question whether or not the girl crumbles under the man’s control or if she stays true to her own morals and keeps the baby. 

A Good Man is Hard to Find

“A Good Man is Hard to Find” by Flannery O’Conner is just one of her many short stories she published in her lifetime. The short story has elements of religious overtones, comedy, death, and a warped definition of a “good man.”  The religious overtones were mostly influenced by O’Conner’s own experience with Religion, being a devout Catholic herself, and her passion to prove the truth of Faith through her literary writing. I automatically disliked the grandma in the story because she cared more about looking and dressing like a Christian than actually acting like one. She acts like she is more moral or holly than the other family members even though she is the one who deceives the family by lying to the kids about a “secret panel,” making the family take a detour in their vacation that resulted in disaster. The combination of a comedic bickering of a family on vacation mixed with undertones of death and the unexpected killing of every character in the end of the story made gave me a rollercoaster experience when I read it for the first time. It is almost sick and twisted in way, and I especially experienced this when I read: “We’ve had an ACCIDENT!” the children screamed in a frenzy of delight. “But nobody’s killed,” June Star said with disappointment as the grandmother limped out of the car.” (1053) My favorite part of undertone that I recognized right away was the fact that they were all getting ready to get in the car and the grandmother was taking so much time preparing her outfit incase of an accident, “anyone seeing her dead on the highway would know at once that she was a lady” was a big red flag to me that the family was going to have a turn for the worst.  The biggest moral question in this story that I discovered was if the grandmother actually underwent a miraculous change of heart by reacting out to her killer with motherly love or if she was just saying what she thought would most likely keep her from dying. The most important quote that I took from the story was at the end, when everyone is dead and the Misfit is talking to his friend about the grandmother, he says, “She would have been a good woman if he had been there to shoot her every minute of her life.”

The Yellow Wall Paper

“The Yellow Wall Paper” was my favorite of all the short stories we read this semester and I enjoyed every moment of reading it. This dark story lives in a gothic environment with the old colonial mansion being described as beautiful, cheap, queer, strange, and untenanted.  The Narrator of the story is the women in the story whose husband has locked her away in the nursery of the mansion because he witnessed her undergoing some “hysterical tendencies.” This is an element of male dominated gender roles with the controlling husband thinking he is doing what is best for his wife but in all actuality keeping her isolated in the room is driving her to insanity.  The domineering husband is a doctor and tries to cure his wife of her post pregnancy depression but the wife is having hallucinogenic experiences when she stares at the yellow wallpaper. “There is a recurrent spot where the apttern lolls like a broken neck and two bulbous eyes stare at you upside down” is one of many examples throughout the story where the women sees things in the wall paper. When we discussed this short story in class, I felt intrigued when we dug into what the actual experience of finding expression in an inanimate object; like when you were a kid and you force your mind to see the outlines and figures in the dark as real things. This story is also a clear example of an unreliable narrator. The women is obviously unstable and at the end of the story she describes how a woman was trapped behind the yellow wall paper and then the perception shifts and you learn that she sees herself as the woman that finally escaped from behind the paper on the walls. 

Life Magazine- December 31, 1965

In this special holiday edition of Life the editors combined two issues in one to talk about the American woman and her achievements as well as her troubles. All of the articles were pertaining to woman and their effects on the work force as well as modern day households.

            One article entitled, “Women Are Wonderful” was written side-by-side another article “Women Are Misguided”. Phyllis McGinley wrote the first article and Cornelia Skinner wrote the second, creating two opposing views on women. The first article discussed how woman, contrary to popular belief, like each other and dress up for each others approval, talk over there problems, offer their sympathy, and exchange bread recipes. The writer even goes on to say that women are less fragile than men that they have sound, sturdy virtues that make them irreplaceable. The other article discussed how women are still waging a ridiculous war over feminism; an issue that the writer feels is dead. Women, she says, will never stop trying to prove themselves equal to men. The writer feels that women try to fault their accomplishment, which in turn makes women lose some of the delights and fulfillments of being a woman. 

            In the beginning of the magazine they showed pictures of American women; one in a plaid button-up, blue jeans, and holding a gun, another in the dessert of Arizona, a woman on her wedding day, and one in a cocktail dress out on the town. These were meant to preview not only the beauty of the women but the divers personalities and qualities of them.   Later on the issue, they show pictures of women from around the world in various cultures. The heading of the section was “Portraits give U.S. women basis for comparison” which I thought was interesting considering that the editors want American women want to compare themselves to other women from around the world. There are pictures of women from Hong Kong, Eurasia, Singapore, India, West Africa, Israel, Sweden, Italy, Paris, and Ireland. The introduction discussed how when men come back from tours of duty that they describe the lure of foreign women.  I think that its funny how this issue seems to be honoring and respecting women but this section is basically tell American women to step it up so the foreign women wont steal their men.

            The article that intrigued me the most was about women in the business world and how they have moved in masses to replace men in nursing, entertainment, assemblers, teaching, garment trades, and more. It stated that since 1950, when 16.5 million women held jobs, the number has shot up at a rate of a million a year. It goes on to state that now (1956) there are 22 million women at work, holding one third of all the jobs in the nation. Half of the women in the work force are married and most of them are still traditional fields for women. Women in the garment trade at a plant in Atlanta earn up to two dollars an hour. At that time the U.S. had over 400,000 active graduate nurses, and 100,00 student nurses, 835,000 women teachers in the school system, and Macy’s in New York during the Christmas season employed 2,270 permanent sales ladies.

            The article entitled “My Wife Works and I Like It” is an argument by Jim Magill that his wife’s full-time job is good for her, good for him, and food for their children. With her part-time job their family receives a second income, which is great for their budget. Jenny gets to feel independent and has made friends with people at work that she wouldn’t have met otherwise. Jim picks up Jenny after work and on their ride home they get a chance to talk without domestic distractions. 

The New Yorker- April 16th 1932

The New Yorker- April 16. 1932

When looking at the Magazine The New Yorker it is clear that the magazine is organized similarly from issue to issue consisting of a "Goings On About Town" section, a "Talk of the Town" section, a number of short articles, and one "Profiles" section. The magazine cover is of a multicolored cartoon of a circus with a caravan of elephants, performers on horses, and two bright pink female acrobats up in the air. Although there are many articles in the magazine most of the contents are advertisements and cartoon drawings.

In “Goings On About Town” I read about a variety of events in April that included plays, motion pictures, art, opera, sports, and other events. I was very excited when I found an event listing of a Mary Wigman dance recital that, as I learned in my Dance History course, was a leading lady of early modern dance during that time. I also noted that the Philharmonic Symphony was performing at Carnegie Hall the day this magazine was published.

            The editors of the magazine had a section for answering questions that the readers would send to them for advice or information. In this months issue, Flint Albercht asked what is the appropriate way to escort a lady on and off of the dance floor and when is it appropriate for a man to hold a woman’s arm and vice versa. This struck me as interesting because this shows that in the 1930’s manners and proper etiquette were stressed as important information in society. I find it almost comical for an article that is entitled “Answers-To-Hard-Questions Department” to have the main subject about men and women holding hands. I did however enjoy the New Yorker pride that the editor who replied to the question seemed to have when describing how taking “cross hands” with your partner is the way it has always has been done in New York.

The advertisements in the magazine seemed to all revolve around food, beauty products, cars and cigarettes. On the second page there was an advertisement for a "Eugene Dryer" which in 1930's must have been a fresh new way for women to do their hair. The advertisement explains how with this hairdryer woman can recreate the fashionable wave haircut of the 30's while only having to wait fifteen minutes for their hair to dry. The bulky standup hairdryer is nothing like a portable hairdryer today that is only a few pounds and takes only three to four minutes to dry hair.  Another advertisement was for Peck & Peck, a clothing store on fifth avenue. The bold heading on the advertisement was "Five Gay Little Sweaters" which was printed next to cartoon drawings of different patterned sweaters. In seeing this add it made me wonder if a clothing store in this day and age would dare to use such wording, what with the more common use of the word “gay” being homosexual. Overall the adds seemed to be slanted to upper class readers who could afford such things as fur coats, expensive perfume, or even a private plane, described in the Pitcairn advertisement as a secure and practical way of taking you to and from the country club. 

Of the many cartoons that are creatively drawn for the magazine, most seemed to follow “American” themes like Baseball, a family buying a car, or men at a bar after work. The cartoon I found to be the most politically poignant was of a middle-lower class family sitting down for dinner. The mother in the cartoon says to her son, who is arriving late for dinner, “ Well, Mayor Walker, would you condescend to have dinner with us?” This is in reference to the Mayor of New York in 1932, Mayor Jimmy Walker. This animation is a social comment on how the middle/ working class families viewed Mayor Walker as arrogant or pompous and gave me great insight into the attitudes of the different socioeconomic levels in New York during the 1930s.