Zen and the Art of Steam Ironing

The title of this blog is borrowed from the philosophical novel by Robert M. Pirsig, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. The title suggests to me how one can experience spirituality while engaged in seemingly mundane tasks. So it is with ironing.

I started ironing my freshman year of high school. I have a brother and two sisters and we all attended Catholic school, which means that we had to wear a shirt and tie to school everyday. For a parent that's a lot of white shirts from the first grade through high school for four children.

As I was to commence my first year at Cardinal Hayes High School in the Bronx my Mom gave me two choices. She said that I could drop off my shirts at the Chinese laundromat and have my shirts cleaned professionally, or I could see to it that they made their way into the laundry bag whereby she would wash them but I would have to iron them. I think I did a combination of both. More often than not I would iron my own shirts. Although my Dad worked for the Post Office, he was professionally trained as a tailor. My Dad could sew like a champion and he did all his work by hand;  he was a master of his craft. It was my Dad who showed me the proper way to iron clothes. I've been using his methodology since 1969.

THE PROCESS

Let's start with shirts. The first part of the shirt that I iron is the collar. I press the underside of the collar then I turn it over to iron the side that faces outward, careful not to leave creases along the surface. I next move on to the yoke of the shirt, which is the part just beneath the collar that rests on one's shoulders. This is an especially important area as the shoulders usually acquire "shoulder bumps" if it has been on a hanger for quite some time. I find shoulder bumps particularly unsightly and annoying. I move the yoke around the front end of the ironing board first the left then the right shoulder, again avoiding adding creases after all, the whole point of ironing is to remove creases and wrinkles not to make new creases except where you want them to be.

Next come the sleeves. I find that ironing the sleeves first ensures that I don't add wrinkles to the body of the shirt when I move on to the larger sections. If you iron the sleeves after ironing the body of the shirt you may have to go over the shirt a second time. This is easily avoided by working on the sleeves first. When ironing the sleeves care must be taken not to add more than one crease to the sleeve. My second pet peeve is having parallel creases in shirts and pants. One of the things that one should have at the ready is a can of spray starch which adds a crisp look to any shirt or pair of slacks. But I would caution against using spray starch on dark fabrics especially black. (More on this later.) The cuffs of the shirt should be ironed from the inside rolling the iron back and forth so that they remain well-rounded with no creases. This is an option if one likes creases in cuffs then by all means crease them. Perhaps an exception should be made for French cuffs, they look better rounded-off.

The body of the shirt comes next. I start with the side with the buttons and end on the panel with the button holes, taking care to iron the small space between the buttons. This part of the process is pretty straight forward. When you arrive at the back of the shirt there is the pleat that runs down the center. Rather than iron both sides in one step, I iron the sides of the pleat separately, that way the pleat's width is uniform on either side. That's it you're finished.

About black clothing in general: always iron dark clothing inside out. If you don't a sheen will build up and your clothing will appear shiny. If you must press dark clothing right side out, use a pressing cloth which can be made from a large swatch of cotton.



WHAT HAPPENS

I iron 365 days a year. The process of ironing is second nature as it really should be since I do it so often. When the process is second nature the Zen kicks-in. There's no iron, no ironing board, no steam, no starch just the poetry of movement.

While ironing I review the events of the day before or make mental notes about what I need to do when I arrive at the office. Perhaps I say my morming prayers or rehearse my Masonic ritual which I'm required to memorize. Or I may enjoy a reverie about something pleasant, perhaps a vacation I took long ago or dinner that I recently had with a friend. What's important is that ironing helps me to slow down and be in the moment. It soothes me and gives me time to reflect, that's why it is part of my daily morning ritual. 

The other item that I love to iron is the pocket square or handkerchief that can usually be seen peeking out from the breast pocket of my suit. To iron a perfect pocket square with four points it helps to know a little about the Japanese art of paper folding: Origami. If I can find a way to illustrate the process maybe I'll write a brief article on how to fold a handkerchief with three or four points.

Clifford Jake Jacobs

Have Pen, Will Write

Tuscany Dreams by Stipula

Stipula's newest addition to its Etruria Architectural series, Tuscany Dreams, is a breathtaking writing instrument.

Tuscany Dreams reminds one of the homage paid to the Spanish architect Antonio Gaudi, which was also issued under the Stipula brand. The Tuscany Dreams is made of black ebonite with red striations. What catches the eye first are the pocket clip and the band, both of which are bronze and finished with a rose gold patina. The pocket clip is a homage to Firenze (Florence) in miniature. The upper portion of the clip is the dome of the Duomo Cathedral in Florence. The lower third of the clip feature Michelangelo's David which terminates with a fleur-de-lis.

The cap band bears the coat of arms of the Medici family as well as bas-relief portraits of Davinci, Michelangelo and Dante. I purchased the cartridge / converter version with a rose colored T-flex titanium nib which writes very smoothly. I knew what ink I was going to fill it with before I even purchased the pen: Noodlers Red-Black, which is a perfect pairing. Noodlers Widowmaker would also be a good choice.

The pen is rather large with some heft, but it is neither bulky nor is it fatiguing to write with for extended periods of time. In size it's comparable to a Montblanc 149. It is a limited edition pen and the one that I own is numbered 35/351. There is also a piston-fill version with 14k rose gold nib which is available at the higher price of $700. The cartridge /converter version sells for approximately $280.  This pen is available for purchase from Art Brown Brothers:  http://www.artbrown.com/Stipula-Tuscany-Dreams-Ebonite-Piston-Fountain-Pen-Limited-Edition-P37246C0.aspx

Clifford Jacobs

Have Pen, Will Write

DESIDERATA: Max Ehrmann

Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.

As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant, they too have their story. Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit.

If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism. Be yourself. Especially, do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love, for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is perennial as the grass.

Take kindly to the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be, and whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world.

Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

Max Ehrmann c.1920

NOVEMBER 22, 1963

I was nine years old when John F. Kennedy was assassinated in Dallas, Texas. The principal of my school walked into my fourth grade classroom and made the announcement. Although I was young, I was devastated by the news.
Kennedy's death has haunted me all of my life. Before that time television was a great source of entertainment and fun for me, but the news reports throughout the evening and the following days presented me with a new reality. Everyone seemed to be in mourning, suddenly TV became a source of gloom. You see, I've never watched a reality TV program; no American Idol or Dancing with the stars or any of that nonsense.

On the Sunday following JFK's assassination, my brother George woke me up to watch Lee Harvey Oswald being transferred to a Dallas jailhouse. I watched in horror as Jack Ruby shot and killed Oswald live on television. I believe it was the first murder to be captured on live TV it was also my first and last experience of "reality television." Currently I'm reading a book entitled: BROTHERS: The Hidden History of the Kennedy Years by David Talbot. I've waited 48 years for this book as I have sought to understand the events that led to the assassination of Kennedy. The book is meticulously researched and well written. There are comments from political figures, reporters, Cuban exiles and others who have broken their silence and who speak freely about the events surrounding the death of JFK and later the death of his brother Bobby. Talbot's book is a searing document about American politics, each turn of the page is a revelation. BROTHERS tells an amazing story of the confluence of organized criminals, Cuban exiles, CIA operatives and disgruntled Joint Chiefs of Staff from the perspective of Bobby Kennedy who had a unique perspective of the dark forces surrounding the Kennedy administration.

When I learned of Kennedy's death I became very fearful, I thought: if the President of the United States can be murdered, how safe were my parents and my aunts and uncles? Yes, as a nine year old  I knew about Lincoln's assassination but that was a long time ago, that was history. But Kennedy's assassination was here and now. Some years before Kennedy was murdered I was riding in the back of my uncle's car and we passed JFK's motorcade on the highway or rather they passed us. I don't think he was President yet, but was on the campaign trail.

In 1991 when Oliver Stone released his film JFK he was castigated in the press for distorting the facts. On reading BROTHERS: The Hidden History of the Kennedy Years it turns out that Oliver Stone was more accurate in the depiction of the events that took place, BROTHERS confirms this. However, the book goes much further than Stone ever could in a three hour film. Nor can the evening news or the daily newspaper, that so many of us rely on for our information, reveal the entire story. One must dig deeper to get at some semblance of the truth.

I believe that John Kennedy was truly the last American President whose policies and decisions were not made by a committee of advisors. He had some unique ideas about the future of America and, together with his brother Bobby, tied to implement them. But the sins of the father is often visited upon their sons.

If you have an interest in this period of American history, you have an obligation to read this book.

"What is past is prologue." Shakespeare, The Tempest

Clifford Jacobs
Have Pen, Will Write
Scribo Ergo Sum

IN SEARCH OF HERMAN

On my second visit to Woodlawn Cemetery I was in search of Herman, no not the Republican hopeful but the author of Moby Dick. Finding Mr. Melville was as difficult as finding that leviathan that haunted Captain Ahab. I was expecting a burial site that was befitting Melville's stature as an author. Along the way I met a family from England and I asked had they seen Mr. Melville, they told me that they too were looking for him. Finally the daughter of the couple from England shouted, "here he is." Though his grave was difficult to find, the many pebbles and small stones atop his headstone was an indication that many had passed this way. Small stones, instead of flowers, are often left on headstones to indicate that the deceased is still remembered. 

While searching for Mr. Melville I saw a large memorial in the distance that drew my attention. This type of memorial is known as an exedra, a monument carved in the shape of a rectangular or circular bench. The two photos below are of the memorial of newspaper publisher, Joseph Pulitzer whose name was given to that much coveted prize for journalism. A majestic tribute: a solitary figure sits in quiet contemplation.

I was eager to read a history of Woodlawn Cemetery but found there's little that's available in print. I contacted a publishing company that specializes in books on local history and I've pitched the idea of writing a book about Woodlawn Cemetery. I'll start writing over the course of winter and will wait until spring to do more extensive photography. 

I was also delighted that there are numerous organizations for people who share an interest in this unique aspect of art, history and architecture. I also went to the theatre to see a new documentary entitled: In Heaven Underground: The Jewish Cemetery in Berlin-Weissensee which is the oldest Jewish cemetery in Germany, a fascinating film.

Clifford Jacobs
Have Pen, Will Write

Scribo Ergo Sum

FROZEN MUSIC: THE GARDENS OF ELYSIA



Funerary design is often overlooked as a form of architecture just as obituaries are an overlooked form of literary writing (See my blog entitled Memento Mori.) Rarely does the design of a mausoleum draw our attention unless it was designed by a famous artist like Michelangelo who designed the tombs of Giuliano de Medici and Pope Julius II (with its magnificent central figure of Moses.)

 Tomb of Pope Julius II

Tomb of Giuliano De Medici

 Today I visited Woodlawn Cemetery in the Bronx primarily because I wanted to see where Miles Davis was buried and pay my respects to my favorite musician. My visit far exceeded my expectations.

Woodlawn Cemetery is 148 years old and has been declared a National Treasure largely due to the number of historic and notable figures who are buried there. (more on that later).
Woodlawn is considered a garden or rural type of cemetery that came into existence during the early 19th Century.

The mausoleum of Victor Herbert was of particular interest to me. As a young man I remember someone in my family having first edition envelopes issued by the U.S. Postal service commemorating Victor Herbert. My mother's maiden name is Herbert, and I used to wonder if there was a family connection. Probably not but he remains, in the back of my mind, as a constant thought.

Walking along the avenues of the cemetery is peaceful, it's like walking through a city in miniature filled with wonderful architecture. The mausoleums are what attracts one's attention initially. Most of the mausoleums appear to be Romanesque; there's nothing here that would appear to be Gothic in form. Probably because Gothic architecture is difficult to execute in miniature; it demands the majesty and grandeur of a large scale execution.

The word mausoleum comes to us from King Mausolus of Halicarnassus whose burial chamber was one of the Seven Wonders of the ancient world. There is much here that would catch the eye of a Freemason: twin pillars,broken columns, sphinxes and weeping virgins abound. There are also cenotaphs, monuments to the dead who have been interred elsewhere.

I traveled to Woodlawn to pay homage to my favorite musician: Miles Davis, but I was surprised at how many more musicians were buried here: Celia Cruz, Max Roach, Jackie McLean  and Lionel Hampton.

I didn't get to see the tombs of Herman Melville, Ralph Bunche or Felix Pappalardi of the rock band Mountain, so I'll have to plan a return visit.

When I was a student at Brown I use to ride my bike through one of the cemeteries located in Providence. I would pull over sit on the grass and read for an hour or two. The cemetery dated back to colonial times and often I would see Anthropology students doing rubbings of the head stones. For some reason I have found myself in cemeteries in most of the cities that I have visited: New Orleans, Rome, Paris and London to name but a few. Cemeteries are the only place that I know of where time truly stands still.

Suddenly I am reminded of the first sentence to Dan Brown's novel, The Lost Symbol which begins: "The secret is how to die." How can you truly live if you have not conquered the fear of death.

 So Mote it Be!

Clifford Jacobs

Have Pen, Will Write

Something About Alice: For My Niece Saran

As a child growing up in the sixties I heard a lot of the new jazz music that was emerging at that time. My parents were born near the Savoy Ballroom in Harlem in 1921. The Savoy was the Mecca for lindy hoppers. Early on I was weaned on the music of Count Basie, Duke Ellington, Jimmy Lunceford and Dinah Washington. In the mid sixties my brother George, who's seven years older than me, started to bring home jazz albums of a different sort. The music was becoming more experimental allowing the musicians room to solo extensively; searching, reaching and improvising their way into nether regions of spontaneous improvisation.

Perhaps no two artists pushed the envelope to the extreme than did John Coltrane and Miles Davis. My brother was a big fan of Coltrane's and I too found Coltrane's music to be both challenging and satisfying. (Miles, on the other hand, is my own personal deity and I pray at his altar every day!) As I was coming of age I discovered, for myself, the music of Alice Coltrane, wife of John.

What John Coltrane was searching for, Alice found. The first tune I heard Alice play was Gospel Trane from the album, A Monastic Trio. Later I purchased a copy of Ptah, The El Daoud which featured Joe Henderson and Pharoah Sanders on saxophones and the great Ben Riley on drums, Ron Carter bass and Alice on harp and piano. The album is a classic and it swings. She later released such titles as Journey to Satchindananda, Universal Consciousness and Transcendence.



She also collaborated with Carlos Santana on the 1974 album Illuminations which is a marvelous meeting of enlightened spirits where rock & jazz join in a meditative embrace. Alice also plays on Santana's "white album" Welcome that features Leon Thomas and Flora Purim as guest vocalists. Alice and Carlos set the album off by playing Anton Dvorak's "Going Home" (Anton hung in the hood before he wrote his Symphony No.9 "From the New World") At that time Carlos was a devotee of Sri Chinmoy and Alice became a devotee of Sai Baba so it's no surprise that they would play & record together.

This morning as I'm traveling to work I listened to Spiritual Eternal from the album Eternity. Alice plays the blues on what sounds like a Farfisa Organ and the string orchestra plays the blues. (I can't recall hearing a full orchestra play the blues unless, once again, you include Dvorak's Symphony No.9)

Mrs. Coltrane loved Igor Stravinsky and she arranged and recorded segments from Le Sacre du Printemps and L'oiseau de Feu.

http://youtu.be/HHvlJVm1twI

  
Alice Coltrane was a truly beautiful spirit and musician.

For my niece Saran who desires to play the harp.

Cliff Jacobs
Have Pen, Will Write