Category: New York City

blogging, charity, customer service, environment, New York City, social media, social network

Make it easy for me to participate

Christa Avampato

See that blog post just below entitled, Root for Your City? I didn’t write it – not a single word of it. A handful of clicks and it was posted for me. American Express ran a program called “Root for Your City”. 8 cities across the country are competing for the largest share of 1 million tress to plant in their cities. By using my Amex cards (I am now up to three of them as of yesterday!) at participating stores and restaurants, I am contributing to the effort in my city.

I went to the site after receiving a customer email (1st click) and clicked on the button “RootforNYC.com” (2nd click). After arriving on the home page for the contest and learning a bit about it I clicked on the button “Spread the Word” (3rd click). There was a tab titled “Post to blog” (4th click). I checked the “Blogger” button (since my blog is hosted by Blogger), entered by username and password, clicked “sign-in”, and then click “post” (5th, 6th, and 7th clicks). That’s it. Done. Posted up to my blog with a link to the contest’s site and a pretty picture. A clean, easy to follow, aesthetically-pleasing process. (It was so easy that I felt like I was visiting a site designed by Apple!) Now that is service.

This tiny event was a big lesson for me. In this day and age of messaging and the need for mass participation, the organizers of events, efforts, and campaigns need to make participation easy. Companies need advocates now more than ever. Give a customer a good experience and they’re with you for life. This is the age of customer service, when finally customers are given their due as valuable, cherished members of a company. And the companies that will come out ahead when it is all said and done are those that not only call their customers kings and queens, but treat them like that as well.

Africa, New York City, nonprofit, volunteer

Ice Cream and a Helping Hand for Rwanda

Christa Avampato

The fabulous folks at Blue Marble Ice Cream have started up a non profit, Blue Marble Dreams. They are building an ice cream shop in Rwanda as a safe community gathering place. To make this dream come to life, they need our help. Here is the pitch posted on Daily Candy:


” All funds raised by October 19 will be matched (they’re shooting for $20 grand). They also need research/development interns, consultants, and volunteers.

It’s not about saving the world. It’s not even about ice cream. It’s about hope. With a cherry on top.

Blue Marble, 420 Atlantic Avenue, between Bond and Nevins Streets, Boerum Hill (718-858-1100 orbluemarbleicecream.com); 186 Underhill Avenue, at Sterling Place, Prospect Heights (718-399-6926). Donate online at bluemarbledreams.org.“
art, books, creativity, economy, education, jazz, music, New York City, politics, society

Moving to Higher Ground: How Jazz Can Change Your Life

Christa Avampato

I gave up my horn about 10 years ago because truth be told I wasn’t even mediocre, and even if I practiced for hours a day I’d never be great. I want to be a lot things, but I have no intention of getting in the habit of spending my time being mediocre. I love jazz, but I couldn’t play it. I just don’t have that ability. My creativity is in my writing. 


So for years now I have socked away all of the academic knowledge I built up around the music. (I studied it for a year in college and played in a few different bands.) People ask me if I miss playing, and truth be told I don’t. I never even think about it. Playing music doesn’t hold any kind of magic for me, but I still very much enjoy listening to it, and really what I enjoy is the history, all of the stories that come along with musicians. And there are plenty of stories to go around. 


My brother is a trumpet player and because he is 6 years older than me, I learned about Wynton Marsalis and the Marsalis family at a very young age. When I saw that Wynton would be at my local Barnes and Noble I decided to go hear some of his stories. He was so engaging and charming that I bought his book on sight, which I never do at author readings. And once I started reading Moving to High Ground: How Jazz Can Change Your Life, I couldn’t put it down. (And it helps that his co-author is the brilliant and well-spoken historian, Geoffrey Ward.)


For me the genius of this book is not to tell you about all the drugs that musicians have done, or all the women they’ve had or how down and out and poor they were. It talks about what the music has to teach us about living other aspects of our lives. How we treat each other. It teaches us about acceptance and nurturing and compassion. Wynton lays out the value is studying jazz not to be great, but to realize a certain aspect of humanity that comes through generosity.  Its is a living, breathing thing that connects the generations. It allows us to learn from generations of people who were long gone before we were every a twinkle in our parents’ eyes.  


Wynton goes on to talk about how we all hear something different in the music. He talks about arrogance and greed and the darker sides of our personalities that the music uncovers. But mostly he talks about how musicians with disparate styles can come together, should come together, to create something wholly different than they could ever make on their own. Nobody gets through this world alone in the same way that no jazz musician builds a career alone. Jazz is a way of capturing what it means to be out and about in this world. It’s a way of sharing that experience with others whom we will never meet but for whom our music could be a beacon of freedom if we are strong enough to tell our own stories, look them in the eye, and harvest the very best of what they have to teach us.


Wynton’s thoughts on community come at a particularly poignant time. Throughout the book I thought a lot of about the state of our world. How scary all these moving parts are – the economy, our national security, our political systems, health care, education. There is a lot to be afraid, maybe even more to be afraid of than at any other time in our history. What jazz, and musicians like Wynton teach us, is that the only way we can be safe is to let go of that fear with the confidence that those around us will support us. Their harmonies will carry us through. And if all else fails at least the swingin’ will give us enough encouragement to keep our chins up and the rest of us moving forward with grace.  

art, books, friendship, health, music, New York City, relationships, wellness

How Ashford & Simpson showed me the way

Christa Avampato

I work out at the gym in my office building. It’s nothing glamorous but it has what I need: a precor machine, easy to use weight machines, a rower, and clean bright rooms for classes. It also has a view that reminds me every day of the preciousness of life: it overlooks the 9/11 site. Today crowds of people will be flocking to the site to pay homage to the people who spent their final moments on that site, people who are sorely missed by their families, friends, and by our city. It is a sobering reminder that every day, EVERY day, counts. 


I am now in the midst of reading Wynton Marsalis’s latest book, Moving to Higher Ground: How Jazz Can Change Your Life. I picked it up initially because I met him at Barnes & Noble during a session he was doing across from Lincoln Center, because my brother adores him, and because I was a mediocre saxophone player many moons ago.The book is incredible, and I’ll write a proper post reviewing it as soon as I’m finish reading it. I mention it here because it’s going to tie nicely into my thoughts on 9/11, right after I mention one more recent occurrence. 


My dear friend, Dan, whom I write about often and spend a good deal of time with, is the publicist for Feinstein’s at the Regency on Park and 61st. He took me to see Michael Feinstein’s Christmas show in December and on Tuesday he invited my friend, Monika, and I to see Ashford & Simpson. I can’t remember the last time I had so much fun at a show. They play with such joy and love. I’m still humming Solid and Ain’t No Mountain High Enough. I was dancing, shouting, clapping. I was living that music and I felt so connected to every person in that audience even though I didn’t know anyone save for Dan, Monika, and Dan’s co-worker, Danielle. We were all together, celebrating life.


After the show let out, I walked west to catch my bus home. It was a long walk and I waited a while for the bus so I had a decent amount of time to revel in my happiness. And I finally understood the premise of Wynton Marsalis’s book in a way I hadn’t understood before seeing Ashford & Simpson. I understood those feelings of gratefulness I get when I’m on the rowing machine and looking at that sad, expansive space where the Towers stood majestically watching over us for so many years. It’s that feeling of just being happy “to be”. 


The only job we have in this world, and I mean the ONLY job, is to experience joy and express it every day for as long as we have the privilege to be citizens of this world. Any art, but music in particular, is a thread to connect all of us because we all hear the same notes but they mean different things to all of us. It allows us to be the same, be different, be individuals, be a group, all together across many generations. We don’t need to know a language, wear certain clothes, or be raised a certain way to enjoy it. It’s an equal opportunity companion.


It’s in our best interest to share joy because as we share it, there’s more for us to have. Ashford & Simpson and Wynton Marsalis personify that principle and have reaped the benefits of its implementation. So sing, paint, play the trumpet, go to a show, write, love your job, garden, volunteer, run, swim, tell jokes, have a boogie break in your apartment. Spend time with interesting, fascinating, diverse people, and let them into your life in a profound way. And recognize how infinitely lucky we are to be alive at all. Just being able to walk around on this Earth and take it all in is an amazing gift.  

art, museum, New York City, Whitney Museum

Buckminster Fuller

Christa Avampato

I went to the Whitney today with friends Dan, Steve, and Liane. It was our inaugural museum / dinner quarterly outing. (As just decided by Steve at the conclusion of our time at the Whitney.) Dan and I had been planning to go to the Buckminster Fuller exhibit for a good 6 weeks and finally our schedules aligned today. Luckily Steve and Liane were free as well. 


Fuller is an interesting guy, though after an hour long tour by a woman who is clearly a scholar and viewing close to 100 pieces of his work, I’m still not sure if or how he is relevant to the art and architecture worlds. Entirely self-taught, he can’t be called a designer, architect, or engineer. (Leaving me highly skeptical about his relevance to begin with.) At 32, the age I am now, he had an epiphany that rather than commit suicide by drowning himself in Lake Michigan, he would spend his time as a guinea pig of design, throwing out crazy ideas one after another and seeing if any of them stick to help improve the quality of life on this planet. Hmmmm…I am growing more skeptical by the minute. 

Fuller was very concerned with a handful of concepts and activities: marketing and branding, developing a design language all his own, optimism under all circumstances, and the state of the human condition. Now I’m growing a bit more interested. And then two other facts really pulled me in: he did not give a lick about the historical preservation of architecture (he cared only about the futuristic city) and he was so obsessed with the ideation / prototyping phase of a project that none of his ideas ever made it to market. 

As someone who loves the history of architecture and often spends days walking around a city just looking at buildings, I’m horrified that anyone in this field would ever admit to not caring one way or another if any architecture is ever preserved. And then I considered how many people I know who love thinking up ideas with no ability / desire to execute them. I like endings; I enjoy completing projects and reveling in the analysis of the outcome. (Perhaps that’s because I was born a Pisces, the last sign of the zodiac.) I cannot imagine anyone loving to think up ideas for ideas’ sake and not doing what it takes to see those ideas realized first-hand. To say you are a visionary with no ability to operate is like saying you would enjoy the company of other people if only you didn’t love to hide in your apartment. A million good ideas have no relevance if you don’t have the inkling to make them come to life. Or do they?

My friends and I left the exhibit interested and confused. Why on Earth would the Whitney devote an entire floor to a man who couldn’t get things done? I thought about this on my walk to dinner. This sliding scale of a man, equal parts genius and crack-pot. This man with no formal training who has talents that defied any kind of definition. A man without a community. 

I wonder if it is people like Buckminster Fuller who provide the shoulders for us to stand on to do great things after him. He could see that building environmentally sustainable vehicles and communities would be important, even if he didn’t have the ability to get them built. He could see that we were building so much manufacturing capability in this country that someday those resources would have to be used in new ways such as green energy production. So the question becomes can someone else with more energy and organization pick up the good points of his ideas and run with them to create something that benefits humanity in a tangible way? Maybe that is his lasting legacy: he confused, inspired, and infuriated us so much that people picked apart his ideas and salvaged the pieces that could be brought to life with a little ingenuity and a lot of hard work. Not a bad legacy for a man who almost ended it all at 32 on the shores of Lake Michigan. No bad at all. 
friendship, New York City

Public Transportation and Old Friends

Christa Avampato

On Sunday I drove to East Haven, Connecticut – my last drive in my car. I took it to Carmax for a painless 45 minute selling process. Slightly above Blue Book Value, check in-hand. I took a cab to a train (which broke down, delaying me another hour) to a bus. I had forgotten how sensitive my stomach is to jerky motions on a bus or train and I got sick on the sidewalk as soon as I got off the bus (a truly New York moment) and then was sick all night, too. Not an ideal situation the day before starting my new job. Welcome to the ups and downs of a public transit girl’s life.  


The one saving grace of last night was that my dear friend, Mark, is in town rehearsing for a show and he is staying only a few blocks away. We used to spend a lot of time together when we worked on The Full Monty. And when I saw him yesterday, despite my queasy stomach, I was grinning from ear to ear. And despite the fact that I haven’t seen him in 4 years, we picked up our friendship right where we left off. Laughing and talking with the ease of old friends. 

Visiting with Mark reminded me about beginnings and endings and cycles in our lives. I used to think that I’ve had three constants in my life in recent years: my cell phone number, my mom, and my car. Now, I’ve traded in that car for a subway card (and a hefty supply of Dramamine). That leaves me with my cell number and my mom, both of which I am glad to have. And my time with Mark reminded me of all those people who have made such a difference in my life, even if I don’t get to see them all the time. 

Even across distance and time, there are those people who keep cropping up, who stick with us despite the hectic nature of our lives. Just knowing they’re out there, that all the memories that we have of them and they have of us keep the best parts of us alive and well, makes each day a little easier to get through. And these people, these angels in my life, seem to re-appear when I need them most. Just when I am setting off on a new adventure, like my new job, or trying to get through an ending. These people keep the cycle going, and consequently keep us moving forward.   
friendship, innovation, New York City, product, retail

Exchange: Honda for Granny

Christa Avampato

Recently I was visiting my friend Moya in Washington, DC. One of her roommates was running out to the store and taking the Granny cart with her. One of those rickety metal bin type things with wheels that look like they are about to fall off at any moment. Clunky, and too expensive if you ask me, but they get the job done when one if car-less with arms full of stuff.  


As I was cutting up mangoes for the fruit salad I asked Moya why in the world someone doesn’t invent a better Granny cart that doesn’t make everyone who owns one feel like a loser. She stopped mashing up the avocados for the guacamole, looked over at me, and said, “I nominate you.” And then she went back to her guacamole. 

I have been thinking about this now for weeks. I was toddling around the Container Store this weekend because I am on the brink of trading in my beloved Honda which has seen me through more moves than I care to admit, and many a tough time. I’m joining the legion of Granny cart owners in NYC – and those metal rickety things are indispensable here. You must have one for laundry, groceries, etc., unless you are fortunate enough to have some big hulk-y man follow you around for the express purpose of carrying all your packages. I don’t have that man, so it’s me and Granny. And because I refuse to spend $40 on something at the corner store that might make it a month or so before falling apart, I bought one that was slightly more expensive from those wonderful people at the Container Store. 

Not to be purposely critical, but the Container Store could do better. Or as Moya told me when I sent her a picture of the Container Store model, “You could do better.” She’s right, and I need to stop complaining and start prototyping. I am critical by nature – my mother will back me up on this one – and I am now at a point where I can improve products and bring them to market if I put my mind and muscle to the test. 

Already I’m compiling a list of improvements to Granny. The challenge is I haven’t the slightest idea of how to get a product like this made so I have begun researching manufacturing, shipping, etc. It’s fascinating to learn how all of these products that we take for granted in a store actually get on those shelves. And I’m excited to work on the project. So if you’ve been wishing for a better Granny, she’s on the way!