A Ticker Tape Parade is Patriotic

What exactly is ticker tape?

There are a few moments that stick with me from my first trip to NYC without grown-ups. It is 1969, and I am 16. My summertime girlfriend Lin and I went to visit her aunt who lived in Queens and to see the ticker tape parade in celebration of our moon landing. I am writing this on July 4th—I am fishing for patriotism within our heartbreak. Ticker tape are paper strips used by stock tickers to display stock prices. It was incredible to see the cars moving slowly and the paper floating down. I was focused on the abundance of paper as opposed to waving cars. Did the offices save up this paper for weeks? I picture those gray or green ribbed-at-the-top metal waste baskets full of strips with numbers on them. The paper was tangible; the astronauts' abstract journey was the furthest thing from this beautiful, joyful parade. Last night I dug up Lin's contact info and wrote her to see if she remembers what I do. I just subtracted 2025-1969—it is 56 years ago. I find that exciting. We are going to talk next week when I am back in San Francisco; I am in Santa Fe now.

Here is what I remember: I had Chinese take-out in Aunt Joan's apartment for the first time. We hung out during the summer nights we were there in Aunt Joan's neighborhood and eventually were chased by a man who had a long black leather coat and long shoulder-length hair. We went to Aunt Joan's office in the Time Life building. She was an executive secretary and wore slim skirts with matching button cardigans. She smelled awfully good. She also smoked, and her office was on the highest floor I had ever been on. New York has nibbled on me or outright bitten me ever since.

Some of you have noticed that my newsletter is missing the bottom bulleted listing part—you get that if you are a paid subscriber, and you also get a Wednesday check-in email. Three of you have joined; I love that. In the last Wednesday check-in, I sent a salad dressing that I made for my friends in Santa Fe, and I asked to take it home when dinner was over. I said it was because I only have one spare glass jar, but in reality I wanted to pour it over ripe avocado on toast in the morning, and I did. It came from a video Mark sent to me. I watched it again with my friend Aidan, who is here in SFe with me! I loved this weird video so much—her passion and quirks made me want to make all the dressings. It is science and performance art. Her name is Samin Nosrat, and here is the video. As always, email me if it is behind a paywall, and I will dig you out. Darcyhopefarmer@gmail.com

I have asked Mark to make a video with me raving about all the fun things I have collected over the years and that have landed in my Etsy store. No links here because it is on holiday, just like me. I want to be as random and full of laughter as Samin Nosrat in this video, and Mark is great at catching that.

And in celebration of my friend Lin, I am listening non-stop to Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, because we also shared that one summer. Each lyric sheet and dust sleeve was poured over; we sang and sang and swam and swam. I have had a thing for double-breasted band jackets with swirly piping ever since.

This is my poem for the weekend. Send it off to someone you love or are just beginning to like. With love, D

Stationery

The moon did not become the sun.

It just fell on the desert

In great sheets, reams

of silver handmade by you.

The night is your cottage industry now

the day is your brisk emporium.

The world is full of paper.

Write to me.

Agna Shahid Ali