Sometimes we don't notice things are missing until they are gone.
That's not a feeble attempt to sound like Yogi Berra. But who knew that New York's iconic Greek-themed paper coffee cups were an endangered species and that so many people cared?
According to the New York Times, these cups define Manhattan as much as the Statue of Liberty and are coveted as film and TV props by directors who want their New York scenes to look as authentic as possible.
Cardboard cup salesman Leslie Buck, who is credited with redefining the city's coffee shop landscape, died last week at age 87. It's wonderful that he got artistic credit for creating the beloved cup, which features the simple customer service slogan "We Are Happy To Serve You."
The Sherri Cup Company in Kensington, Conn., estimated that it sold more than 500 million cups with the design from the 1960s to the 1990s.
Buck, who had no background in graphic design, used the Greek national colors, Greek fonts and iconography to appeal to the numerous diners operated by Greek immigrants.
Although he overcame unspeakable tragedies in his life -- surviving two Nazi concentration camps --he'll be remembered for a fun-spirited paper cup, which he called the "Anthora."
"On the street, it warms the harried hands of pedestrians," his Times obituary notes. "Without the Anthora, “Law & Order” could scarcely exist."
"...It is safe to assume that the Anthora and its heirs will endure, at least for a while, in the city’s steadfast precincts. For some time to come, on any given day, somewhere a New Yorker will be cradling the cup, with its crisp design and snug white lid, the stuff of life inside."
There are countless untold stories like Leslie Buck's out there, and our Reel Profiles documentary crews are devoted to capturing them.
What family or community stories would you like to preserve forever? Drop us a line and let's brainstorm about how best to honor and celebrate your unsung heroes!
Tiger Woods. Blah. Blah. Blah. Sex Scandal. Blah. Blah. Blah. Pre-Nup. Blah. Blah. Blah. Mistresses. Blah. Blah. Blah.
In this era when no one wants to take a stand on anything, we certainly stipulate that adultery is selfish, mean-spirited and morally wrong.
But the Libertarian streak in us also makes us wonder why so many Americans care about the infidelity updates flashing across our screens every 10 minutes.
WHO CARES?!?
Let Tiger sort out his own family problems and let's focus instead on the people we care about. How about paying tribute to our parents or grandparents who have been married for (gasp!) 50 years or even 75 years!
Aside from a fabulous deli platter, there's no better way to celebrate these kind of happy life milestones than commissioning a personal documentary for a community screening and for future generations....
OK, we do wanna make one comment about the Tiger Woods thing. If you have to pay someone to stay married to you, maybe it's not a healthy relationship.
Who's your local celebrity? Who in your community takes those extra steps to make life a little more special for everyone around them?
Over the past 40 years, Carson City gas station owner Bill Williamson delighted audiences at the Nevada Day Parade by riding shotgun in his antique Model-T Ford with one of his dogs happily performing the driving duties.
Hats off to driving doggies Buddy, Beaver, Budd and Beauregard, and the remarkable man who trained them. You can read the 88-year-old Williamson's obituary in the Nevada Appeal. Like any good magician, he never revealed how he pulled off the trick.
No offense to the canine community, but we wouldn't want any of those dogs driving a school bus or ambulance.
As pictured above, Williamson's dogs also were chauffeurs for Santa Claus during his hometown's annual Christmas Tree lighting ceremony.
Who are the characters in your community who really make your hometown shine?
Wouldn't it be great to pay tribute to them, give the ultimate thank you, with a personal documentary capturing their life story?
Again, no offense to the canine community, but we use REAL people, not dogs, as editors, writers and cinematographers!
Philadelphia Phillies pitcher Pedro Martinez, who inarguably owns one of the biggest egos in professional sports, was unable to deliver his team to the Promised Land this postseason.
But Pedro already has a bunch of Cy Young Awards and a World Series ring from his Red Sox days, so what's another trophy mean? Just something else to collect dust on the mantel.
What's really important to Pedro, discovered Boston Herald sports columnist Steve Buckley, is Pedro's legacy.
“Normally, when you die, people tend to give you props about the
good things. But that’s after you die. So I’m hoping to get it before I
die," the ballplayer told Buckley.
“I don’t want to die and hear everybody say, ‘Oh, there goes one of
the best players ever.’ If you’re going to give me props, just give
them to me right now.”
Pedro's right. We don't praise him as frequently as we should.
Just kidding. Although Pedro's words are hardly meant to be altruistic, they do apply to those of us gathering family histories, planning a milestone birthday or anniversary gala or a corporate tribute dinner.
Why should a person's obituary or funeral eulogy be the most prominent occasion to lavish praise or celebrate a life's accomplishments?
Pedro's life has been well covered -- although we will take your business Mr. Martinez if you are interested -- but one of the moments we would include in a Reel Profiles personal documentary about him is captured here:
When you are performing exceptionally well at your job, participating in acts of medical tape bondage is hilarious. If Pedro were a so-so pitcher, these hijinks would probably be seen as a sign that he doesn't take his job seriously.
In any case, you don't have to win a Cy Young Award or wrap yourself up in medical tape to have a movie made about you. Whether you are interested in commissioning a personal film about family history, a business legacy, an amazing philanthropist, a military experience or a profile of your nonprofit organization, just remember what Pedro said.
If you are going to give someone props, give them props right now.
The Guinness Book of World Records gives out a lot of framed commemorative certificates for the World's Oldest Living Person for obvious reasons. The moment you achieve such notoriety, in this case at age 115 (!), your heart's expiration date is already way overdue.
Gertrude Baines, the daughter of a Georgia slave, first gained notoriety last November as the oldest African-American to vote for Barack Obama for president. In January, after the competition passed away, she was honored with the title of World's Oldest Person, period.
Here's how the Los Angeles Times described the hoopla at the Western Convalescent Hospital:
"Reporters, photographers, and camera
crews descended on the quiet Los Angeles hospital that had been the
supercentenarian’s home since she broke her hip at 107. She made
headlines across the globe. Fellow senior citizens at the hospital,
some approaching 100, said they desired her longevity.
All
the while, Ms. Baines slept away in her robe, now and then breaking
from her routine of eating crispy bacon, watching Jerry Springer on TV,
and participating in church services to take interviews. The attention,
the questions, the fascination people had with her age in her final
year amused and perplexed her.
“Why all these questions?’’ she snapped back at reporters once. “I want to know.’’
The question Ms. Baines seemed to like the least was the one she got the most. What’s your secret? How do stay alive so long?
Each time, she shrugged her bent shoulders and referred people to God, saying, “Ask him.’’
People Magazine also reported that Gertrude enjoyed a daily dose of The Price is Right, years after iconic game show host Bob Barker left the Showcase Showdown.
When capturing life stories for Reel Profiles personal documentaries, we cherish the delicious details as much as Jerry Springer loves watching his guests throw chairs.
Sometimes it's the so-called trivial day-to-day stuff that spices up a personal biography.
How your grandfather survived and fed his kids during the Great Depression is worth preserving as family lore. But so is the fact that he attended the 1946 Red Sox-Cardinals World Series or that he cursed the television every time President Richard Nixon popped on the screen.
What are some of your favorite "trivial" family stories?
Screenwriters Mike Bender and Doug Chernack, founders of AwkwardFamilyPhotos.com, are the latest feel-good Internet success story. But they also may have inadvertently changed the character of future family tree research.
Right now, if you try to dig up information on three or four generations back, you'll be lucky to get a birth certificate, military record or a passenger list of a steamship. If you are super-lucky, you might be able to unearth an old sepia-toned studio picture in which no one in the family is smiling.
Was life miserable back then -- or was there just horrible customer service at the first photography studios?
Fast forward to 2109. The descendants of Australian science fiction novelist Sean Williams will be able to see him pretend to choke his mother.
THE CHOKER
Williams' legacy is already well affirmed as the author of best-selling novel, "Star Wars: The Force Unleashed."
He also is the world's only science fiction novelist to create a character who speaks only in the lyrics of British pop star Gary Numan (remember the MTV video "Cars" when MTV played videos?)
He now can add Awkward Family Photo fame to his legacy. Williams is the well-dressed teenage strangler.
"Obviously, it's a joke, something I did to pass the time while waiting for the photographer to get the lenses or lighting right and mum played up to it nicely," he says. "Somewhere in my photo album is the staged snap he took thirty seconds later, but I've always preferred this one. It colorfully captures the dynamic of my family in a single glance."
"There's so much in the shot that I love," adds Williams. "My dad's shorts, the mock-choking, my sister's glare (and her clothes), my digital watch. People have responded to all of that, and that did surprise me. I thought the photo, if it appeared on the site at all, would barely be noticed."
Sean's father was an Anglican priest who cherished a relaxed dress code outside of church.
"He did play Australian Rules football, but that's as close as he got to being a gym teacher," Williams recalls. "He died in the 90s, but I like to think he would have found this all rather hilarious. His fashion sense was just awful!"
BUT BACK TO THOSE SEPIA-TONED SNAPSHOTS that document many of our family history stories.
Does anyone out there have ancestors who liked to smile?
What will future generations think about your family photos? Any gag pictures in your wedding album that would make a hilarious part of your family history? What pictures of your parents, grandparents or great-grandparents make you laugh?
Send us your favorite pictures and the backstory!
A personal documentary is the kind of investment that can't be wiped out by a cruddy economy.
Future generations will be able to skip the DVD biographies about Paris Hilton or Justin Timberlake and snack on popcorn while enjoying your life story -- or the amazing lives of your parents, grandparents or other "real" people who have inspired you.
Make your family tree a family documentary tree -- or even better, commission a film to celebrate your personal hero at a tribute dinner, birthday or anniversary celebration.
It's a much more engaging approach than thetraditional scrapbook or photo slideshow, harvestingarchival research and incorporating American history and world events.
Back in the 1920s, pilot Anne Wood-Kelly was told that little girls didn't learn how to fly airplanes. In the 1930s, she was told that teenage girls didn't learn how to fly airplanes. In the 1940s, she left Maine to volunteer for the British Royal Air Force to ferry planes to fight the Nazis.
Reel Profile documentaries include personal life stories, military histories, family histories, business profiles and celebrations of religious and nonprofit organizations. For more information, drop us a line about your amazing story.
Ursula Kane, production coordinator for Reel Profiles, emigrated from Cork, Ireland, to the United States when she was 12 years old. She made the big jump "across the pond" when her father pursued career opportunities as a software engineer.
A century ago, the Kane family may have left Ireland on a steamship and would have been welcomed by the Statue of Liberty. Today's immigration story involves a jumbo jet and the Michael Jordan/Looney Tunes movie, "Space Jam."
Whether or not Bugs Bunny plays a critical role in your family heritage, you probably have a story as precious as Ursula's. Reel Profiles is committed to preserving these type of stories in personal documentaries, TV-style biographies that capture emotions simply not possible in traditional scrapbooks or slideshows.
WE LOVED WHEN DAD went away on business. It meant he would return with videos from America that wouldn’t be released in Ireland for months. Then, upon his arrival home from one particular trip, he handed us a very plain looking video box that didn’t have any signs of the familiar Disney characters and fonts but instead was labeled, “Weston, Florida: An Arvida Community.” Confused, we were told to all sit down and watch as rolling golf courses and bright modern homes with swimming pools beneath clear sunny skies flashed onto the TV screen. “Well, looks like we’re moving to America,” my older sister, Dearbhla, announced.
As far as I knew, two things happened in America every day – the sun shone and you would always see a celebrity. And now I was going to live there. This even made me somewhat of a celebrity to people at school. But we were always moving, and even though America was going to be new and exciting, I was tired of being the new girl and making friends and leaving friends. And at the age of 12, even though I was being told I was so lucky, I wasn’t really sure. I suppose I was luckier than Orla, my younger sister. She thought we were just going to Disneyland to celebrate her eighth birthday up until about a month before we left. We still make fun of her for that.
Moving day came, and after a 15-minute sprint across Heathrow Airport (we’re not exactly the most punctual group), we piled onto the plane and into the gloriously comfy business-class seats Dad’s company had rewarded us with for the move. We each got individual handheld DVD players and got to choose from a vast selection of films. Not having held a DVD before, much less a personal player, I excitedly asked the stewardess for “Space Jam.” Ten hours later, when even the big comfy chairs didn’t seem so big and comfy anymore, we touched down at Miami Airport. Stepping into the heat, my brother Barry announced that he was never going back to Ireland. My Mum asked why, confused that he could so eagerly accept his new home. He replied that he would never be able to survive that plane ride again. There was no turning back now.
The first two weeks were like a summer holiday. The days were spent in our swimming pool and the nights eating out. Then, like all holidays, it came to an end, and we had to come back to reality. I wondered if it was really coming back if it was starting something new. This reality had 350 students in my grade, as opposed to the 30 girls in my class in Ireland. In this life, teachers made me read aloud at any given opportunity, and children stared at the girl with the funny accent who was obviously not one of them.
In Ireland, children wondered if Americans were all rich, outgoing, and funny. In America, children wondered if Irish people had cars, TVs, and leprechauns for friends. Even so, there seemed to be just as many Irish people in America as in Ireland itself. I was once asked where I was from, and upon answering got an excited “me too!” in response. Happy to hear I wasn’t alone, I asked where the girl was born. “Miami,” she replied. I had the feeling it wasn’t Miami, Ireland. Over time I learned so many people have great-grandmothers whose cousin’s husband’s father’s mothers were Irish, just like me.
It was interesting to think how everyone at home wanted to be American, but Americans defined themselves on what their families were before they became American. I found myself the celebrity again, but this time it was because of where I was from, not where I was going. I was the ambassador for all things Irish. I had to speak in Irish. I had to Irish dance. People were shocked I’d never kissed the Blarney Stone. I explained it hadn’t really occurred to me when it was twenty minutes down the road.
People wondered if I knew any O’Connor’s, because that was their mother’s maiden name, you know. I was something of a novelty, and because I wanted to make friends, I didn’t mind it. Again, I was the lucky one, and again I wasn’t so sure. It wasn’t fitting in, it was standing out in a way they liked. Here I was the Irish girl, there I was the American, which meant I really didn’t belong to either category. I was an anthropological anomaly. In the same way that a culture is defined by how it differs from another, I was defined by the part of me that differed from the people around me. It was like I had an Irish-American switch that needed to be controlled based on my surroundings. But I have to admit, it has come in handy.
Using this reasoning about contrasting societies, I couldn’t exist without the opposing cultures within me. Together they create the balance that defined who I have now become. I don’t know what I would have been like if I never came here, and it really doesn’t matter. I can’t imagine having stayed, and I definitely can’t imagine having been born here. Moving is difficult regardless if you’re crossing towns, borders, or oceans. Even helping my sister move down the street was a pain. But it’s important to take something with you when you go, to remember that part of you and add it to rest. I’m not just Irish, and I’m not just American. Maybe I am so lucky, because I am both.