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Hello My Friends:
John Cutrone here, from Convivio Bookworks in Lake Worth, Florida. It is the close of St. Anthony's Day as I write this on Sunday evening, the Festa di Sant'Antonio, as my grandmother Assunta would have said, as she completed today the last of thirteen days of prayers to her favorite saint. Like a novena, but a novena is nine days, and for St. Anthony it's thirteen days and so it's called a tredicina. Certainly not for the faint of heart, the tredicina is a feat of stamina. Grandma would sit in her upright lawn chair in the backyard each June for these first thirteen days, mumbling her prayers with her eyes fixed lovingly on the statue of St. Anthony that my dad painted, also lovingly. He may have painted a full head of dark hair on St. Anthony, rather than the traditional tonsure haircut that he typically wears, but hey, I don't think the good saint minded. Grandma certainly didn't. And still to this day when we misplace something, no matter how trivial, we call on him. Tony, Tony, come around, something's lost and must be found. This is how we Catholics are with our saints. They're like neighbors, old pals. If we could, we'd ask them in for a cup of coffee. "Eh, Tony, espresso or americano? No! What am I thinking? We're having cannoli, you have to have espresso. And by the way: where are my keys?"
And so it goes. Grandma offered those prayers to St. Anthony and for us, she prayed as well, and she cooked, and she listened, and she taught. All the ancestors did, all the grandparents, aunts and uncles, all in their way. They handed down sage pieces of advice, proverbs, many not necessarily politically correct. In Napoli, they say "Chi nasce mappina non può morire foulard." It doesn't translate very easily, as it's not proper Italian. But essentially it comes down to this: He who is born a rag cannot die a silk scarf. A classic bit of Southern Italian fatalism. It's not something I ever heard as a kid; we were always encouraged that with enough hard work and effort, we could attain our goals. But it's a saying I'm familiar with, and it's that word mappina that many of you may know if you, too, grew up Italian. Most likely, you dropped the letter A at the end when you spoke it: "mop-peen." Sound familiar?
It all brings me to this bit of news: My mom, God bless her, has begun a new cottage industry at home this past spring. Each day she hand embroiders a flour sack towel. Now, you can call this towel what you wish: dish towel, tea towel... but Grandma, she would have called it a mappina... and not pronounced that ending A. And still to this day, in the English we speak, peppered as it is with Italian dialect words, we speak of the "mop-peen": an essential element of any good cook's kitchen. I tend to go through two or three mappini (the plural of mappina) each night as I cook supper: a mappina hanging on the oven door handle to handle hot pots, a mappina on the counter to wipe up spills, a mappina slung over my shoulder to dry my hands.
And so on this night of the Feast of St. Anthony I'm writing to let you know that these mappini that my mom Millie has been embroidering by hand, stitch by stitch, since Easter: they are now on our website, available for purchase. They're adorable. I'm so proud of her efforts. They are part of a brand new part of our online catalog we're calling "Linens & Textiles." Millie's hand embroidered tea towels focus on three different themes: there are a whole bunch that deal with coffee ("Java Jive") and more that deal with baked goods ("Bakery Day"), and then another whole bunch that offer bits of wisdom, a bit like those old proverbs, but culinary based ("Kitchen Wisdom").
I think you'll be as impressed as I am with Mom's handiwork. Her tea towels make wonderful gifts for yourself or someone else and Millie's getting every penny we sell them for. I figure I owe her at least that for all the effort she put into raising me. You'll find other lovely hand embroidered textiles there, too, from the extended family in Chiapas who make the protective face masks we've been selling since last summer. Prices on those masks, by the way, are reduced to $10. We got our last shipment of masks from them a few weeks ago, and now, I'm happy to report, they are focusing again on their traditional wares. (Hurrah for science and vaccinations!) And hey, how about a sale?
SUMMER HIGH FIVE SALE
Use discount code HIGH5 at checkout for $5 off your purchase of $35 or more... a sale we'll run all summer long. That's on everything in the catalog: our own letterpress printed books and broadsides, genuine Shaker herbs and teas, all of our handmade artisan goods for all the seasons, including the new Linens & Textiles section. Take it to $50 and earn free domestic shipping, too. CLICK HERE to shop. (Oh and the cover star in the photo for the High Five Sale? That's my mom Millie, again, circa 1950.)
BLOOMSDAY
You're invited to join me on Wednesday for a virtual Book Arts 101 Zoom talk that focuses on James Joyce and the 16th of June, 1904: It's Bloomsday on Wednesday, and I'll be taking you on a Bloomsday pilgrimage, of sorts, via artists' books from the Jaffe Center for Book Arts. I'm attempting to grow a mustache for the occasion, but I can't guarantee it'll be there on Wednesday. I've been clean-shaven most all my life. A mustache is a lot to get used to. CLICK HERE for details and registration.
Thank you, as always, for your support, and all my best to you in this delightful month of fathers and Bloomsdays and Juneteenths and midsummer night's dreams.
John
"Thank you, and write when you can."
Convivio Bookworks
Inspired goods from around the globe and close to home...
Books and broadsides, made by hand in Lake Worth, Florida.
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