Happy Mother’s Day

It’s Mother’s Day here in the States, the lovely day each spring when we honor our mothers: those we were given, and those we have chosen, and indeed all the mothers in our lives. It’s been a long time since we’ve delved into the history of Mother’s Day here on the blog, but it’s a rather fascinating tale. The celebration is not a terribly old one, as holidays go. It was 1914 –– one hundred nine years ago –– when President Woodrow Wilson designated the Second Sunday of May as Mother’s Day. Behind Woodrow Wilson’s action was Anna Jarvis, a West Virginia woman whose life, as it turns out, was consumed by Mother’s Day. Anna Jarvis championed the establishment and recognition of the holiday with great passion. But once the day was out of the box, as it were, it took on a life of its own. By 1920, Mother’s Day was already far too commercial for Anna, and she spent the rest of her life militantly fighting that commercialism. It became a lifelong obsession, in fact.

Mother’s Day has its roots in the 1850s when Jarvis’s mother, Ann Reeves Jarvis, organized women’s groups to deal with local community issues like disease and sanitation. When the Civil War began, the groups turned their attention to caring for injured soldiers on both sides, Union and Confederate. Anna Reeves Jarvis called these groups Mother’s Day Work Clubs. It was her hope that a Memorial Mother’s Day be established in the country to honor the many important roles that mothers play in their communities. After Ann’s passing in 1905, her daughter Anna picked up that torch. She sought to memorialize her mother with the idea that each person would honor their own mother, too, in a special Mother’s Day observance. She did this in Philadelphia on May 10, 1908. She was living there in Philadelphia, but Mother’s Day was also observed that year at a little church in Grafton, West Virginia, where Anna was raised, that same day. Anna began making the observance of Mother’s Day her life’s work, and she was a great success at it. It took only six years more before Mother’s Day was being celebrated nationally.

But Anna soon came to despise her creation. Florists, candy shops, and a burgeoning greeting card industry were all quick to jump on the Mother’s Day bandwagon, and nothing irritated Anna Jarvis more. In her eyes, Mother’s Day was a day to go home and spend with your mom. Plain and simple. Anything more than that, she felt, was sacrilege and she grew more and more adamant about this as the years passed. She organized boycotts and public demonstrations and she was even arrested once or twice for disturbing the peace after crashing trade shows touting Mother’s Day gifts. Anna fought the commercialization of Mother’s Day with every last penny of her rather large inheritance, and she died broke and probably insane in 1948 at a Philadelphia sanitarium.

But this is what we do, no? We turn holidays into shopping events. Anna Jarvis, I imagine, might not be very fond of me, either. I write about all these holidays and offer all kinds of ways to spend your money with Convivio Bookworks, too. And while I’m not trying to get you to buy a bunch of unnecessary plastic objects or other impersonal factory-produced goods, I do still encourage you to buy things. I think, personally, that it’s a bit better in that what we offer are artisan-made goods that are authentic to their original regions and mostly handmade… but still, I’m sure Convivio Bookworks would be on Anna Jarvis’s hit list, were she around today. She would not be pleased.

Nowadays, Mother’s Day is the third biggest holiday for gift giving. Each year, Mother’s Day sales account for more greeting cards sold than any other holiday save Christmas and Valentine’s Day. It is one of the more impossible days to get a good table at a restaurant. But all that Anna Jarvis asks is that you go pay the mothers in your life a visit on Mother’s Day. Nothing more. When you get right down to it, it’s the best present.

Image: “There Was an Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe,” an illustration by Joseph Martin Kronheim (for the nursery rhyme about the woman who had so many children she knew not what to do) from My First Picture Book. London & New York: George Routledge and Sons, publisher, circa 1875. [Public domain] via Wikimedia Commons.

A reminder, too, that these mid-May days bring the time known in many parts of Europe as the Days of Cold Sophie and the Ice Saints. Often this is the time of the final frost of the season, or at the very least, a drop in temperature. Read more about Die Eisheiligen by clicking here.

 

 

 

Roses, or Your May Book of Days

At the close of last Friday’s edition of Real Mail Fridays, the weekly online Zoom social I host for the Jaffe Center for Book Arts each Friday from 2 to 5 Eastern, artist Maria Surducan, who was tuning in from Romania, asked if we were all off on Monday for May Day. I had to explain that no, May Day was not a big deal here in the States, and not even acknowledged as a holiday, really.

But certainly some of you celebrated, and I hope you had a lovely Walpurgis Night and a fine May Day, too. And here, now, just a bit belated, is your Convivio Book of Days Calendar for May. Cover star: Roses, painted by Renoir. It’s a gorgeous painting and that alone is worth clicking for. And I will leave it at that. It’s late; I’m going to have a cup of English Breakfast and go to bed. Maybe I’ll dream of roses, and maybe you will, too.

SAVE ONLINE! At our online catalog, save $10 off your purchase of $85 or more, plus get free domestic shipping, too, when you use discount code BUNNY at checkout. It’s our Zippin’ Into Springtime Sale, good on everything in the shop, now until we decide it’s done. CLICK HERE to shop! And don’t forget to use discount code BUNNY at checkout if your order is $85 or more.

Image: “Roses” by Pierre-Auguste Renoir. Oil on canvas, circa 1912, Barnes Foundation. [Public domain] via Wikimedia Commons.

 

Spring into Summer

End of April, start of May: it’s another of the old stories manifesting again tonight –– the stories we tell each other year after year, and which never grow tired, for the wheel of the year turns and each spoke is new and yet is the old familiar, too. And so here is the old story for tonight: it is Walpurgis Night, the Eve of May. With it, we spring into summer.

The night is named for St. Walpurga, a saint who, in medieval times, had not one but two feast days each year: February 25, which is the day she left this earthly life, and the First of May, which which was the date of her canonization in the 9th century. Her May feast day has actually not been celebrated in the Church for centuries now; nonetheless, St. Walpurga is forever tied to the transition from spring to summer, and we are the richer for it, for still we get to wish each other a Happy Walpurgis Night as we welcome May, and why deprive ourselves of saying words filled with such wonder? This night is particularly loved in Sweden, Finland, and Bavaria. In Sweden, this is a night for bonfires, for gravlax and sparkling wine outdoors under the stars. In many places, historically, this was a night, especially for the young and hearty, to stay out til dawn as winter becomes but a memory and as we enter into the gentler time of year.

In the Celtic tradition, it is Beltane. It is the cross quarter day that helps us spring to summer here in the Northern Hemisphere. In the wheel of the year, Beltane is the direct opposite spoke of the cross quarter day that comes as we fall into winter, which is Samhain, or Halloween. The fall into winter brings descent, life burrowing down beneath the earth, while the spring into summer brings ascent, life springing forth from the earth. It is an aspect of the everlasting mysteries of the planet and its place in the universe: we know these things so well, for we witness them each year with the planet’s revolution around the sun, and yet how these things have all come to pass still has the power to leave us breathless. (Again, the old stories.) The very names given to these days are shrouded in mystery, too, for their pronunciations are, for most of us, not of our tongue, and what seems apparent is not: Beltane is pronounced bowl-tan-a; Samhain is pronounced sah-win. Like the names of angels in ancient tongues, to speak the names connects us to a long forgotten past whose embers smolder still in the bonfires we light, in the fire bowls in our yards, or even in the candle you illuminate in your home. We certainly don’t need candles, do we? And yet we light them, especially on nights like this, nights that mark a shift.

Here’s another part of the old story I’ve offered you in the past: It was a few years ago on Walpurgis Night that Convivio Book of Days reader (and fellow letterpress printer) Leonard Seastone gave us a pointer in the blog comments about a good song for this night, and I always remember this kindness. It is a traditional Swedish song called “Maj vare välkommen” (May Be Welcome), and that song will be part of our quiet celebration tonight, too, even if it’s just playing in my head. Leonard signed off on that Walpurgis Night using his proper Swedish name –– Lennart Einar Sjösten –– so he seems to me a good authority on these matters. I hope he’ll be celebrating tonight as Seth and I will be, and I hope you will, too, in some way, grand or small.

I’ll be back tomorrow with your Convivio Book of Days calendar for May. For tonight, though, we wish you a good and warm Walpurgis Night. Welcome May!

SAVE ONLINE! At our online catalog, save $10 off your purchase of $85 or more, plus get free domestic shipping, too, when you use discount code BUNNY at checkout. It’s our Zippin’ Into Springtime Sale, good on everything in the shop, now until we decide it’s done. CLICK HERE to shop! And don’t forget to use discount code BUNNY at checkout if your order is $85 or more.

Image: “Walpurgia Night Fest on Heiligenberg in Heidelberg (Germany)” by Przemyslaw Grudnik. Photograph, 30 April 2006. [Public domain] via Wikimedia Commons.