I’m not sure what the cultural derivation of it is, but Jews seem to have an extraordinary relationship with napkins. We’re somehow always prepared with one. In our pockets, packets in our purses and backpacks, here’s my handkerchief, no take it, use it. The set of good white thick cotton napkins for special meals in its own ziploc. (I have mine.) Or the square orange cloth napkins with the embroidered edge that Caitlin brought back from India, all four of which I still have. The small gray linen ones that were on sale. Where does this come from? Is it a form of Goy Scout preparedness?
I’d like to research the graphic and cultural history of smiles – abstract, illustrative, and photographic – in brands.
During these days of violence, optimism is in short supply and the simplest gentleness is almost a surprise. As I was going through my vinyl last night and organizing it, inside one of the classical box sets I found a program, from 1965, for an afternoon event at the Kresge Auditorium at MIT. On the bottom of the page, there’s a handwritten note. Its author uses a decidedly lazy, almost cryptic hand to scrawl a passing thought:

When we are gentle to each other
I feel as if gentleness could hold the world