Longevity. (Remember when 80 used to sound old?)

Last month, Tracy Kidder died at the age of 80. Kidder was a terrific long form journalist and I was a long-time reader and admirer of his work. His most recent book, Rough Sleepers, centered on the work of Dr. Jim O'Connell, founder of Boston's Healthcare for the Homeless. When the book - which I loved - was first published, I heard him speak and interviewed, alongside Jim O'Connell, at a Boston bookstore. 

I learned of his death when my friend Joyce texted me. 

In response, I asked her "Remember when 80 used to sound old?" She replied "Thought same." Joyce and I are both 76. Next January, her husband turns 80. We are old. And when you're old, occasional thoughts do tend to turn to big questions, like realistically, how much longer?

I have no desire to live forever. Yet I'm still hoping for a few more good years - a decade or so - and would be fine with living to be the new old-old (90+) if I still have reasonably good health. I.e., I'm not demented, I'm mostly healthy, and can still live independently (or with a light assist). I'm okay (good thing) with the small depredations of aging: occasional forgetfulness, minor aches and minor pains, a bit less energy, a bit more creakiness. But, like pretty much every one of my age peers, I want to stay in this pre-Big Sleep state until I just die in my sleep some night (or afternoon, during my nap). 

But this getting old thang does make me curious about longevity, so I was interested in a recent roundup of 2025's "Top Ten Longevity Cities." Where were they, and what made their residents so long-lived? 

The group doing the rounding up are from SuperAge, a media platform dedicated to helping folks live better and longer which, as noted, I'm all for as long as longer and better go hand in hand. (I took their longevity quiz, and got the prediction that I'm likely to live to be 90. So phew. But the quiz was imperfect. It asked at what age your grandparents died, and you got to pick one age range. Depending on which grandparent, I could have chosen under 60 (both grandfathers - one in his mid 40's, the other in his early 50's) or over 90 (paternal grandmother: almost 97). But still, I found a predicted longevity of 90.18 years a comforting and interesting result. Nice to learn that, statistically speaking, I should have a few more years in which to actually accomplish something. (Guess I should start now. Or tomorrow, anyway.)

Here's how SuperAge landed on "the best longevity hotspots:"

...we analyzed multiple data sources, including global life expectancy reports, healthcare rankings, lifestyle studies, and socio-economic factors. Here’s what we looked at:Life Expectancy Data: We pulled numbers from the World Health Organization (WHO), United Nations, and national statistics agencies.

Healthcare Quality: Cities with universal healthcare, accessible medical services, and a strong emphasis on preventative care made the cut.

Diet and Nutrition: Places where whole foods, Mediterranean diets, and heart-healthy eating habits are the norm ranked highly.

Active Lifestyles: We considered regions with walkable cities, public transit, outdoor recreation, and cultural emphasis on movement.

Community and Social Well-Being: Social connection plays a huge role in longevity, so we focused on cities with strong community bonds, low crime rates, and high levels of life satisfaction.

Work-Life Balance: Stress is a silent killer. We highlighted cities with reasonable working hours, paid leave policies, and government-supported wellness initiatives.

And the 10 winners are:

• Seoul, South Korea - Life Expectancy: 83.5 years
• Madrid, Spain - Life Expectancy: 85.4 years
• Zurich, Switzerland - Life Expectancy: 84.0 years
• Quebec City, Canada - Life Expectancy: 82.5 years
• Melbourne, Australia - Life Expectancy: 83.2 years
• Singapore - Life Expectancy: 83.6 years
• Copenhagen, Denmark - Life Expectancy: 81.3 years
• Tokyo, Japan - Life Expectancy: 84.6 years
• Oslo, Norway - Life Expectancy: 83.0
• Boulder, Colorado - Life Expectancy: 82.4

Two things were not exactly surprising. 1) All of the countries represented are affluent, with modern economies; 2) The United States doesn't exactly shine. We have only one top-tenner, and that is - of course! - hippy-dippy-outdoorsy Boulder, Colorado.

And it's sobering to see that only one city - Madrid - had a life expectancy over the age of 85. Let me tell you, from where I sit, 85.4 doesn't sound all that old...

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Image Source: New Statesman

A baseball yarn

When I was a kid, my father would sometimes hand me a useless golf ball - one with a gash in its side that would render it erratic if put into play. I would sit there with a razor, carving through the hard white outer layer (made of a sap called barata), unwinding the tightly wound rubber "string" (it could sting if the rubber broke and you weren't careful), all to get to the hidden prize at the core: a teeny-tiny little rubber ball (sometimes with a liquid center) that had incredible bounce. Unfortunately, after you made the first wondrous bounce, you were lucky to find that teeny-tiny ball.

When I was carving up the golfball, I was usually sitting there watching a baseball game. 

I would have loved to have had an occasional baseball to similarly dismantle, but even when a baseball got gashed up, it wasn't rendered useless. A torn baseball was wrapped in black electrical tape and kept in play. 

But before the baseball got wrapped, you did get a peek inside and could see that what was under the horsehide and red top stitching there was yarn.

The yarn in the baseball I was looking at back in the early 1960's didn't come from a third-generation-run textile mill in Woonsocket, RI. The Brickle Group has been around for over a hundred years, but they've only been providing yarn for Rawlings for about 15 years. But if I were looking at a slashed up Rawlings-made MLB baseball these days, that yarn would have been Brickle yarn. 

The company’s story is as tightly wound as the product it creates. CEO Max Brickle traces it back to his grandfather, who immigrated to the United States during the pogroms of the early 1900s.

“He was selling rags on the streets of Woonsocket,” Brickle said. “He’d buy stuff for a nickel and sell it for a dime.”

That entrepreneurial spirit carried forward. Today, the company employs about 150 people and plays a behind-the-scenes role in America’s pastime.(Source: WCVB-Chronicle)

Rawlings provides all the baseballs for MLB, and has been doing for nearly 50 years. (Today, MLB owns a minority stake in Rawlings, so the company i probably in no danger of losing their position as sole provider.) I've seen wildly different estimates of how many baseballs MLB puts in play each season, but with spring training, a long season, and playoffs, it's a lot of baseballs. And that means a lot of yarn!

The Brickle Group also produces military berets, blankets, and other extreme cold weather gear, Brickle said. (Source: Boston Globe)

But baseballs are the fun stuff. They're also surprisingly complex. 

Brickle wouldn’t give away any trade secrets about the making of each ball, but he did say that there are four different yarns inside each baseball. 

Even though Woonsocket isn't Massachusetts, I'm always delighted when I read about things that are manufactured anywhere in New England. And to have something integral to baseball made hereabouts...I just loved this baseball yarn. (Plus an excellent immigrant story, I might add.)

And if you're wondering what's underneath those four types of yarn, there's a cork center wrapped in rubber. 

Maybe I'll get me a run of the mill baseball, an old school "safety razor," and carve it up while watching a game. 

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Image Source: Rawlings

Who ARE these people (Cont.)

It seems like just yesterday, I'd never heard of Taylor Frankie Paul, an influencer/momTikTok-er/reality star who was dumped by The Bachelorette after videos of her engaged in domestic violence emerged. Today, the person I've never heard of is one Braden Peters, more popularly known as Clavicular, a 20 year- old streamer who's the world's foremost Looksmaxxer. 

On one hand, I should have known of him, as he was written up in The New Yorker a couple of months back. But over the winter, I fell way behind on my New Yorkers, and finally gave up my attempt to catch up, other than flipping through the cartoons and maybe reading the short story.

On the other hand, Looksmaxxing is not exactly something that I have any reason to know or care about, other than acknowledging its place on the ever-growing roster of things that evidence The Decline, if not of the West, then certainly of the United States.

Looksmaxxing, in case you're wondering, is an "online community that holds male attractiveness as the key to worldly achievement." Clavicular, who is pretty near perfectly handsome, is considering jaw surgery - make that double jaw surgery - so that he can more closely resemble actor Matt Bomer, who Clavicular believes "to possess the most harmonious man’s face in existence, beyond even his own." (Matt Bomer is another one that I've never heard of - so much so that I initially read his name as "Boner." But after googling, I realized two things. Matt Bomer is gorgeous; and I should have known who he is, as I saw him in the miniseries Fellow Travelers. The name just didn't register.)

Back to Clavicular's wanting a jaw like Matt's, he's doing it:

Because, like all Looksmaxxers, he believes any step toward increasing his beauty to be virtuous. But it’s a certain kind of beauty. The Looksmaxxing community prefers people who look like Mr. Bomer: lantern-jawed, symmetrical, white. (A Black man who attempted to make looksmaxxing content was racially harassed, Wired reported last year.) (Source: NY Times)

Clavicular has been at beautifying himself since he was 14, when he began taking testosterone, followed by steroids and fat dissolvers. Shortly into his freshman year in college he was kicked out for having elicit drugs (steroids) in his dorm room. 

He ended up taking a lowly job in a restaurant, but he wasn't destined to becoming a "wagecuck," i.e., someone who actually works at a job.

So he made his way into streaming, offering advice on things like "bone smashing," which is banging your face with a hammer to achieve a chiseled look. 

Whatever advice he's doling out, he's said to be earning more than $1M a year with his streaming. No wagecuckery at all.

Clavicular claims to be apolitical, but he's intertwined with right wing manosphere male culture, and I'm presuming a darling of Pete Hegseth fanboys. He's partied with white nationalist Nick Fuentes and the ultra-right kickboxer, alleged rapist, and alleged sex-trafficker Andrew Tate. The three have been "seen chanting along to the Ye track "Heil Hitler.""  And Clavicular frequently uses the n-word. 

He has, however, said that he would vote for Gavin Newsome over J.D. Vance.

This is, of course, not a political preference. He just finds Gavin more attractive than J.D., whom he deems fat. 

Political or not, Clavicular is a cultural phenomenon. 

X users have compared Clavicular’s slang, alternately, to Geoffrey Chaucer’s Middle English; James Joyce’s “Ulysses”; and Nadsat, the alienating dialect of the nihilistic goons in “A Clockwork Orange.”

I'm going with the nihilistic goons. 

Women have long been the ones obsessed with their looks, with making themselves beautiful. Even back in my day, I knew girls who had nose jobs, who used those little pink plastic breast exercisers with the coiled spring (You must, you must, you must develope the bust.) Boys were out playing sports or hanging on the corner ogling girls; girls were home using Nair on their hairy legs, figuring out how to put on eyeliner, and reading the instructions for Lady Clairol. All so they could walk by the corner and get ogled.

I'm all for women doing man things: playing sports, performing surgery, taking on big work projects. I'm all for men doing woman things: changing the baby, whipping up dinner, more regularly expressing their feelings. These are changes I've witnessed in my lifetime, and I believe we've all benefited from them.

But for men to become caught up in Looksmaxxing is not a good look. 

The miasma of nihilism swirling around Clavicular has made him an irresistible symbol of social decline — a freakish avatar for the hopelessly fallen, social-media-addled state of the young American man.

I know, I know. It's not all men. Still, it seems to be an appreciable minority, and I find this pretty disturbing.

Whenever someone like Taylor Frankie Paul or Clavicular catches my eye, I find myself asking "who are these people?" And is there anything positive that they contribute our society?

Think I know the answer to that one.

As for "male attractiveness as the key to worldly achievement," I give you Elon Musk, Mark Zuckerberg, and Jeff Bezos. Not a Matt Boner Bomer, not a Clavicular, in the bunch. 

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I wrote this post a few weeks back. Since then, Clavicular has been hospitalized with a suspected overdose. This kid is just 20 years old. Sad.

Who ARE these people?

It's not like I don't watch plenty o' junk on TV.  I recently waded through all nine episodes of Love Story, which (controversially) "chronicled" the relationship between JFK, Jr. and Carolyn Bessette. Yes, it was ridiculous and perhaps only lightly tethered to the truth - among other things, actress Darryl Hannah was portrayed as a crazy coked-out hag, a depiction which she refuted in a NY Times piece she authored. Yes, the series was ridiculous, but I was there for it. If nothing else, it was worth it to watch the almost preternaturally good-looking actor who portrayed JFK, Jr. 

And I much enjoy high-toned gossipy trash like The Crown, which I ate up with a ladle 

But I'm not a big fan of reality TV.

Yes, a billion years ago, I watched the first season of Survivor. And the first season of The Great Race. I watched Joe Millionaire, where a troup of women vied for the attention of a man they were lead to believe was a wealthy heir. The "plot" revolved around Joe Millionaire trying to figure out which of the lovelies loved him for himself, not his money. 

I'm pretty sure I watched season one of The Bachelorette, because I knew that Trista, the cute blonde, ended up marrying Ryan, the hunky firefighter. (Amazingly still together after 20 years.)

And, yes, I do watch plenty of HG-TV (which is all about acquiring or renovating homes), which is probably as heavily scripted as any reality show. But I really like looking at the real estate in places I'll never live. And the houses and the neighborhoods are real. So there.

But, other than (maybe) viewing an odd (okay, they're all odd) episode here or there, I've taken a pass on shows like the Real World, Jersey Shore, and all the various Real Housewives branches. I've never watched the Kardashians, but understand that brigade has taken "famous for being famous" to new monetary heights. Etc.

But it's impossible to live in our culture - or at least live in our culture and pick up People magazine on occasion, or sneak a once in a blue moon look at the NY Post's Page Six - and not know who the reality stars du jour are. So of course I was aware of the existence of Snooki and The Situation made household name-ish by The Jersey Shore when that was thing.

All that said, I'm apparently not up to speed on reality TV, because, until a month or so ago, I'd never heard of Taylor Frankie Paul, or The Secret Lives of Mormon Wives (not to be confused withe Real Housewives of Salt Lake City). And I wasn't aware that The Bachelorette, which last I'd seen when Trista and Ryan were getting together in 2003, was still a thing. 

Ms. Paul, who began her public life through a TikTok group she founded called MomTok, on which a group of Mormon moms (Mormoms?) - influencers, but I'm not sure what exactly they influenced - shared parenting stories, beauty tips, and dance trends. Soon enough, the content ante was upped to include sex, in the form of something called soft swinging.  The Mormoms went viral, and ended up doing a TV show, Secret Lives, which premiered last year.  

Meanwhile, The Bachelorette franchise decided to try to revive their lackluster series by bringing on MomTok-er, Secret-Liver Taylor Frankie Paul to act as the lead Bachelorette, even though she was a divorced mother with two kids by her husband, and a third child with another man. 

An upcoming season of “The Bachelorette” was pulled on Thursday, a spokesperson for Disney said, after a video of its star attacking the father of one of her children was leaked.

Disney’s ABC, which broadcasts “The Bachelorette,” had appeared to be committed to continuing its plans to air the show [even after rumors of Paul's involvement in episodes of domestic violence began to emerge]. But on Thursday, TMZ published leaked footage of a physical altercation from 2023 in which Ms. Paul is shown putting her partner in a headlock and throwing metal chairs at him.

“In light of the newly released video just surfaced today, we have made the decision to not move forward with the new season of ‘The Bachelorette’ at this time,” the Disney spokesperson said in a statement, “and our focus is on supporting the family.” (Source: NY Times)

Paul has since lost custody of the son she had with the man she threw the chairs at. And the future of Secret Lives is also in jeopardy. 

Paul claims the domestic violence charges are not what they seem, and has been open about some mental health issues she is dealing with. (The good news for her is that last week it was announced that the latest Utah charges have been dropped.) She's only 31, a single mom with three kids, and no discernible abilities, other than the ability to achieve notoriety. I feel kind of bad for her. Sure, she has her chutzpah to fall back on, but there doesn't seem to be much else. 

But just who are these people - folks who don't appear to have much to offer by way of intelligence, accomplishment, or talent - who are willing to make a show of themselves and their families in return for admittedly lucrative brand deals with whatever it is that they influence/endorse. In order to gain fame (and brand deals), these reality stars need to expose intimate aspects of their lives and pump up the drama with real or fake or real fake controversies.

Everyone doesn't have to be Chef José Andrés, who runs the World Central Kitchen, which feeds communities in crisis. But jeez louise-ela, can't these folks figure out how to do something just a bit more enobling, or at least more routine, with their lives? Or is the desire for fame and fortune - however fleeting - so overwhelming that they'll chuck their privacy and their dignity (and that of their families) out the window to attain it?

As far as I can tell, most reality "stars" seem to have a couple of singular attributes: the desire for fame (however tawdry) and absolute shamelessness. And they get away with it because there's a colossal appetite for "entertainment" that isn't based on talent (athletic, artistic, or whatever), but, rather, revolves around observing performers devoid of any worthwhile abilities or character traits. Maybe it's the hope that they provide. You don't have to be an elite anything to "make it." You, too, can be plucked from obscurity and made famous.

Doesn't seem worth it to me, but what do I know? I have a hunch this is one of those NINA deals. (No Introverts Need Apply.)

A day late and a flag wave short

Yesterday was Patriots' Day, and I did what I usually do.

I went to the Red Sox game, which on Patriots' Day has an early (11 a.m.) start. The early start time tradition started years ago, and I guess the thinking is that, because Fenway Park is just off the route of the Boston Marathon (a mile or so from the finish line), the baseball fans also get to see some of the race. The Marathon has become a lot bigger deal that it was when the early-start was introduced nearly 60 years ago, and now getting to and fro from the game requires dealing with security checkpoints and massive crazy crowds. But it's still fun to be around. More or less.

A few years back, for some reason we tried to take one of our usual ways home and ended up - thanks to blocked streets and security measures - walking a couple of miles out of our way in the cold and drizzle. But we know better now: fight the crowds into the entrance to the T-station in Kenmore Square and use the underground passageway that takes you under the Marathon Route and over to the side of the street where your passage home is not blocked.  

Anyway, the Patriots' Day game is pretty much my favorite game to see live, even if the weather is iffy (make that terrible, most of the time). I'm writing this before Game Day, so I don't know whether the Sox won or lost, or whether the game was even held. (I've had rain checks in the past.) But if the game was on, I know that, win or lose, I was enjoying it with my niece (Sweet) Caroline.

For me, the Red Sox game is a highlight of the day, as is the Marathon, which is always a good buzz (other than in 2013, when the bombing occurred). And it takes my mind off the fact that it's exceedingly difficult to enjoy this wonderful, quirky holiday in the malign era we're currently enduring.

Last year, here's a bit of what I wrote:

I've never been a big flag waver, but this year I'm feeling a definite deficit of patriotism - at least of the fervid, jingoistic, blinders-on variety that for a good long time has defined the term. But if the definition of patriotism can accommodate someone who appreciates the country for its good, wants to acknowledge the not-so-good (and the out-and-out bad), and tries to make things better by voting for good candidates, donating to good causes (increasingly of the pro-democracy kind), and showing up for demonstrations to demonstrate to the powers that regrettably be (as if they give damn) that not everyone in America welcomes the slide into autocracy/kleptocracy,well, I guess I can count myself as patriotic.

So if I'm feeling anything today, it's the red, white, and blues. (Source: Pink Slip)

Ditto for this year, with the add on that things are far, far, far worse than I could possiblly have imagined they would be way back in April 2025, when we were only a few months into Trump Redux.

I have two patriotic traditions.

On the Fourth of July, I reread the Declaration of Independence. 

And on Patriots Day, I recite  (mostly from memory) Ralph Waldo Emerson's beautiful tribute to the "embattled farmers" who "fired the shot heard round the world." The poem was first read in 1837 at the dedication of a monument at Concord Bridge honoring those "embattled farmers." It is a beautiful, tranquil spot, probably my favorite tourist site in our state.

By the rude bridge that arched the flood,
Their flag to April’s breeze unfurled,
Here once the embattled farmers stood
And fired the shot heard round the world.
The foe long since in silence slept;
Alike the conqueror silent sleeps;
And Time the ruined bridge has swept
Down the dark stream which seaward creeps.
On this green bank, by this soft stream,
We set today a votive stone;
That memory may their deed redeem,
When, like our sires, our sons are gone.
Spirit, that made those heroes dare
To die, and leave their children free,
Bid Time and Nature gently spare
The shaft we raise to them and thee.

So much to be proud of in our history, so much good (even if there are plenty of not so proud moments, plenty of not so good, which, under the current regime, we are not supposed to admit to). 

This year, I've added William Butler Yeats' The Second Coming to my Patriots' Day mix:

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born? 

Sadly, a very rough beast has slouched into the White House. I'm a day late, and a flag wave short, to celebrate Patriots' Day 2026, other than to say God - if there is a God - help us. 

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Image Source: Commons/Wikimedia 

Why we have regulations, Part one million, three hundred thousand, nine-hundred forty nine

Chances are that, at any given time, there'll be a chunk of Parmigiano-Reggiano in my fridge. Some pasta on the shelf, a bottle of olive oil, a jar of black pepper...as long as you've got some Parm just sitting there waiting to be grated, you've got the makings of cacio e pepe. Mangia!

What I had never realized until I actually looked at the label the other day is that Parmigiano-Reggiano is made using raw milk. 

This gave me the tiniest of pauses. Raw milk? Isn't that kinda-sorta Bobby Kennedy-esque?

But from a quick google around, I learned that the aging process, the salt content, the hardness of the cheese, and a few other parts of the product and process combine to make this glorious cheese safe to eat. Plus authentic Parmigiano-Reggiano comes from Italia, where they have high standards for safety and rigorous safety practices. So, blessedly rare listeria or E coli. 

But there is a reason why things like, say, pasteurization exist, and why most of us in modern times drink pasteurized milk, and eat ice cream and cheese made with it. And that's so we don't suffer from the listeria- and E coli-causing bacteria that may exist in non-pasteurized milk and milk products. Who wants diarhhea from slurping down a glass of milk with a sleeve of Oreos? Who wants abdominal cramps from gulping down a maple walnut ice cream cone? Who wants to end up hospitalized with kidney failure because of cheese gone bad?

No one actually wants these outcomes, but some are willing to risk them because for some reason they believe that raw milk is healthier for you.

I don't understand why anyone would be against pasteurization. I guess the claim is that the process diminishes the taste and nutrition of milk, with little downside. (In their view, anyway.) But it's not as if pasteurization introduces any foreign bodies; it's not as if it's a chemical process. Heat the milk, kill the bacteria. Seems pretty straightforward to me. 

Not to mention that, since it's introduction in the mid-19th century, pasteurization has saved hundreds of millions of lives from milk-borne illness. 

But raw milk and raw milk product consumption has been on the rise. I'm guessing this is among the same brigade who doesn't think that measles or polio vaccines are good ideas, either. Maybe, like RFK Jr., they also enjoy a good roadkill dinner on occasion.

Recently:

Raw cheddar cheese from Raw Farm[the country's largest raw milk distributor] has been linked with an outbreak, though no Raw Farm products have tested positive for E coli... Cheddar cheese from California-based Raw Farm identified as ‘likely source’ of infections across multiple states. (Source: The Guardian)

The FDA recommended that Raw Farm agree to a voluntary recall, but they're not having it, pointing to their products having been "negative for all harmful bacteria." (In 2024, California did recall some Raw Farms products that tested positive for bird flu.)

Frankly, I'm surprised that the FDA made this recommendation, given that RFK Jr. is a big proponent of raw milk. And is, in fact, a long-time Raw Farms' customer. Probably just a matter of time before he roots out anyone in the organizations he oversees - FDA, CDC, etc. - who isn't getting with his raw milk, anti-vax, and other quackery program.

Wish RFK would focus on the things that science actually supports, and that could have a positive health outcome. I would think we'd all be in favor of fewer crazy chemicals in processed foods.

But food regulations came about for a reason. And that was that people were getting sick and dying from contaminated food and drink. A bunch of kids getting sick from eating raw milk cheese is entirely avoidable. There are plenty of reasons why we have regulations, and this is just one of them.

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Image Source: Erewhon

Nothing wrong with these paper roses

I almost always have a bouquet of fresh flowers in my living room. Unless I'm getting a gift for someone, I rarely go to one of the expensive local florists. (For me, those would be Rouvalis or Winston.) No, I buy my fleurs at Trader Joe's, where you can get a colorful bouquet for about $15 - a colorful bouquet that (however TJ's manages to do it) will last over a week. And once the bouquet's time is up - the flowers drooping and wilting - as often as not there are a couple of stems I can salvage and put in a small "satellite" vase in my kitchen.

Although I can usually keep a Christmas pointsettia going until July, and my St. Patrick's Day pot o' shamrocks until April at least, I don't have a ton of luck with plants. But I love having fresh flowers in the house. They just cheer me up.

I've never given much thought to where those flowers come from, let alone the environmental impact that the fresh flower biz has. But the founder of FreshCut Paper has. 

In 2021, Peter Hewitt read a New York Times article reporting that nearly 80% of cut flowers sold in the US are imported, traveling thousands of miles. To be kept fresh, they require airfreight and refrigeration - both huge contributors to climate change.

Peter got to work developing a new concept for flowers; a Pop-Up Paper Bouquet. The design aimed to bring beauty without the maintenance, making it a perfect solution for for those looking to conveniently send love. With a simple "pop up", the flowers unfold into a delightful display, making it a memorable gift that is sure to be fondly remembered and long-lasting. (Source: FreshCut Paper)

I had seen their wares around in gift shops, but hadn't given them much notice. Other than thinking that these paper flower "arrangements" were pretty enough. But sort of goofy. Who'd want paper roses when they could have the real thing? Who'd enjoy one-dimensional dust catchers? Who doesn't want to use all the vases they've accumulated over the years to hold actual flowers? 

I tend to rotate vases - of which I have plenty - for my weekly/biweekly Trader Joe's flowers. I also have a couple of vases full of dried flowers - it the Japaneses lanterns in my grandmother's cookie jar, or those pussy willows in the wonderful vase I got at Crate & Barrel decades ago, technically count as flowers, dried or otherwise.

For FreshCut Flowers, you don't need vases. 

They come paper vase with.

And, as noted, I had given nary a thought to any environmental concerns surrounding fresh real flowers.

But, as noted, Peter Hewitt has. 

FreshCut Paper, as it turns out, is a local company, located, in the classic spirit of New England, in an old mill in Concord, Massachusetts. I learned this while watching Chronicle, a program on WCVB Channel 5 that focuses on stories about off-the-beaten track people, places, and businesses in New England. I rarely watch it, but do find it very interesting when I stumble upon it.  

And as a complete and utter sucker for local businesses, I was more than interested in learning about FreshCut Paper.  

Naturally, I ordered a couple of bouquets. They haven't arrived yet, and I don't know if they'll replace or supplement my weekly/biweekly grocery store bouquets. I'll likely gift one to my cousin who's in senior living, hoping that the flowers will indeed be "fondly remembered and long-lasting." We'll see how and if I end up deploying the one I keep for myself.

However that turns out, I'm delighted to know that FreshCut Paper is serious about the environment:

At FreshCut Paper, we are committed to making a positive impact on both people and the planet. Through our partnership with veritree, we’ve helped plant over 5 million trees, restoring vital ecosystems. 1% of sales of our Grande Bouquet Line are donated to 1% for the Planet, supporting environmental initiatives that drive meaningful change. Your support helps us give back and make a lasting difference!

I did not order from the Grande Bouquet Line, as they were just a tad bit too grande for me. I don't want my flowers - fresh cut real blossoms, or fresh cut paper - to overwhelm my living room. While I do have a small container of my husband's ashes on my mantel, I don't want the place looking like a funeral parlor. (Wouldn't mother be please with those gorgeous gladiolas Cousin Bertha sent?) 

Anyway, I received my FreshCut Paper arrangements, without having to worry about the delivery guy leaving them on my front steps to freeze to death. There was, I was told, a tree planted for each bouqet I ordered. 

The very pretty bouquet in the picture is one I ordered for myself. The other one is going to my cousin in senior living. It'll be cheery and low maintenance for her!

As always, I am happy to see a quirkly little business making it in Massachusetts.