Splintered Reality

Well, it's been about two weeks now since Sunday, Windy Sunday...

In a nutshell: I was assisting my mom's transition to her new Loveland abode, when the truck started a-rockin'. Who wouldn't have thought it was just the plains of suburban Cincinnati contributing to ultra-breezy conditions?

Well, I had second thoughts on the drive to our recently established home in Hyde Park. Not only was the wheel tugging on my sore mitts, the car was sidling up on either lane at will. Leaves and other debris were flowing horizontally through the air like a tropical December, and cops were increasingly noticeable along the freeway comforting toppled carbon mammoths. A surreal experience.

Surprisingly, a flip through the dial gave no indication of anything other than automated Clear Channel playlists. No time for easy listening though.

A phone call reassured that Jack was OK (and in awe of the general movement outside), but Elizabeth noted wild branches repetitively smacking on the the panes to get in. Thankfully, no strangers in the house. No harm done.

Driving down Observatory is where it all began to sink in - street lights out, power lines sprawled across the roadways, and excessive amounts of wood holding the candlestick in the library. Though, the true villain - in all it's intangible glory - was held in a case where felonious gusts were charged.

Hyde Park, Cincinnati, Ohio.
All photos from September 14-16, 2008.
Trees in the streets of Observatory, Paxton, and Linwood (respectively).

Additionally, during the mayhem (and immediately afterward), I scoped out the 'hood for other instances of disarray... and was appalled. The following are what I consider the worst of the worst from our neck of the woods:

Grandin, Hyde Park.
This was a monster - a lot larger than it looks here.

Linwood, Hyde Park.
The whole top of the tree resting against the house.
And again, photo diminishes the magnanimity.

Observatory, Hyde Park.
Another big one split in half.

Observatory, Hyde Park.
It's hard to comprehend the size of this one from the photos, but it was gigantic.
Fortunately it missed the house, but just barely - some ironwork was damaged at
the top. Nevertheless, it still upset the owners, who were sobbing
in the front yard - and rightly so.

Observatory Entrance to Ault Park, Hyde Park.
A couple of extremes in Ault Park, the second of which was really amazing -
the tree completely uprooted.

Erie, East Hyde Park.
Finally, this one was found by my mother-in-law, and was (in my opinion)
the ultimate damage in this area. The top of the tree obviously caught
the wind like a sail, with the eave of the roof acting as a fulcrum.
This tree was just gargantuan, causing substantial damage, and
I wouldn't be surprised at all if this building is eventually razed.

Over the next day or two, we survived on Busken's and Larosa's, were led by wax torches, slept in plein air (so to speak), and get this: we talked to each other! OK, a bit exaggerated, but only to emphasize the real awakening - the whole of our modernity, our culture, our standards, was extinguished, if not for only a moment, to allow us a glimpse into the past.

Yes, the BP on Madison was open and thriving, and other small sectors eluded closed circuits so we could "endure", but back home it was refreshing - people were out, we were communicating firsthand, and it was quiet. No light, no sound, no power; no noise (audible or visual). It was a welcome translation to a lost time.

Aside: My relative philosophical and complacent attitude to the event was aided by the working order of our gas water heater and stove, and a rest from the feverishly compounding "IN box" on my electric-driven computer.

It's still not only hard to believe that Cat 1 hurricane-strength winds (50-75mph) came through here, but that wind itself could play such a destructive role commensurate with other more tangible forces of nature or man-made destruction.

This said, uprooting trees from their footings, wreaking havoc with the Duke Energy team, and eating by candlelight, is nothing compared with the devastation experienced on the front lines - Texas and NO - nor should it be. We're lucky, and I'm grateful.

I hope everyone else in Cincy fared as well.


• It was reported that roughly 1,000,000 homes were without power in the Cincinnati region. My uncle, who lives in Louisville, was also without power, along with tens of thousands of his neighbors. It took roughly a week to get everyone back online, following Duke's reconnection hierarchy - regions, streets, then individuals.

• If events like this, along with the issues of Peak Oil, pollution, rising temperatures, and growing technology, doesn't lead one to believe that every home will be electrically self-sufficient in the future, I don't know what will.

An Ivory July

Upon visiting family in Fort Thomas earlier this month, I had to stop by a small strip mall in Newport to pick up some cards. Good thing I did, too, since it was a reminder of this little-known national holiday:

Noting the importance of the month, I'm surprised how few people were actually there - especially with the expanded offerings that the Newport Shopping Plaza has to offer:

Ah, Kentucky... Unbridled Spirit!

• Note: I've been granted privileges to inflict tough love on the seemingly shallow business endeavors, dated lifestyles, and eroding structures of northern Kentucky, due to the fact that generations of my family grew from bluegrass. Someday I'll elaborate.

• As an aside, the post title refers to (of course) P&G's famous Ivory bar. Upon researching the the soap for an earlier edit of this article, I ran across an interesting piece of their history.

Greetings from Cincinnati!

I thought it'd be appropriate to highlight my return to the local blogosphere by sending an antiquated greeting from the house of one of my old summer jobs, Gibson Greetings. Not a traditional paper card, but a memory of one the many strong brands that sprouted from Cincinnati and eventually spread throughout the country - a bygone era of a once explosive creative industry that the city is now desperately trying to lure back.

Source.

The storied Gibson Greeting Card Co. was housed in a massive plant in Amberley Village (Section Road), and was a monster in relieving those of us lacking the right words for various occasions. I call the building a 'plant', because when I used to work there, it felt like you were walking through a factory or warehouse more than how you might envision a creative space.

Because I was an 'art major' (actually, architecture) it was assumed that I was a famous card maker by friends and family - a developer of funny quips and cartoons, entertaining the masses - though in reality, my position on the first floor mindlessly crunching numbers day-in and day-out was a topic that I constantly avoided. It was just a summer job to pay for my car loan... and my social habits back at school. Nevertheless, it was interesting to see the place from the inside, get the scoop from longtime employees during the company's last days, and pick up a boatload of discounted merchandise.

Anyway, Gibson Greetings really had an interesting history, one that in large part was due to a simple lithography press and the extensive Ohio canals. I won't regurgitate it here, except for this notable beginning:

"Gibson Greeting's history can be traced to 1850, when George Gibson and his family emigrated to the United States from Scotland, where Gibson had operated a lithographic and copperplate engraving business. The family journeyed to the "land of opportunity" with a small French-made lithography press. While Gibson, his wife, and daughters eventually settled in St. Louis, one of Gibson's five sons found work with a canal system that led him to Cincinnati. His three brothers followed and decided they would go into business using the small press. In 1850, the Gibson brothers, Stephen, 34, Robert, 18, George, 14, and Samuel, 12, founded Gibson & Company, Lithographers." Source.

Well, what really sparked the idea for this post was finding Gibson's spread-of-influence in the greeting card realm over 100 years from its inception... at Disneyland. Specifically, I'm a big fan of Kevin Kidney (& Disney), so when one of his posts crossed hairs with Cincinnati history, I knew I had to share.

Disneyland Gibson Greeting Cards illustration (1955).

"Part of an original pencil layout created in 1955 for a full-color newspaper section
presenting some of the 'many delights and wonders that are yours to enjoy at Disneyland.'"
Source. 

It's pretty obvious that Gibson had a strong presence throughout the country at that time, noted as an early investor in the original Disneyland theme park in California, and reiterated in the newspaper article about Disneyland's opening (provided by Kevin):

"...the quaint old charm of the shop itself forms a sharp contrast to the newly-planned modern $3,500,000 home of The Gibson Art Company, 2000 miles away in Cincinnati, Ohio...where hundreds of millions of cards are created each year."

Note: The Gibson Art Company name evolved from the original Gibson & Company, Lithographers, and was a precursor of the Gibson Greeting Card Co., which later became Gibson Greetings, Inc., with an expanded offering of goods.

The following photos reflect the 'quaint old charm' facade of Gibson's Disneyland shop, as the news article suggests...

Gibson's Greeting Card shop & Main Street, Disneyland, CA (1958). 

Source: Gorillas Don't Blog.

Gibson's Greeting Card shop, Disneyland, CA (1960).

Interesting description of these photos at the source site.
Source: Stuff from the Park.

Gibson's Greeting Card shop interior, Disneyland, CA (undated).

Promotional photos of rare postcards.
Source: Gorillas Don't Blog. 

Although I didn't really feel that long-established sense of history when working there in my 20s, it's kind of sad to see a vetrabrae of Cincinnati's once creative backbone seemingly dissolve into thin air (especially for a competing Ohio city). The structure itself has new life, as do many other historic buildings in our town, but without the tradition that our forefathers brought to create this great place.

In spite of this, I'm not saying that I miss trudging into that big box paper mill everyday. And looking back, it's almost amusing to think of Gibson's assets and potential suitors. Nevertheless, my repetitive amplified nostalgia for Cincinnati lore often ignores the fact that, in the end, these sometimes unhappy endings are just a result of the effects of commercialization on society, advances in technology, ever-changing tastes of consumerism, and the transient nature of business as a whole.

Anyway, cheers, Gibson Bros. It was beautiful for awhile. 

• Read more about the Ohio canal system here, and Gibson's later involvement with Disney in this 1984 timeline. More on the late 'Silly Slammers' craze here and here.