The East, part 2: Frog and Toad are Friends

     When Gin lived in Kansas City, I was charmed because she was not only half a block from The Purple Dragon, Frazz’ wonderful Russian lady school, but down from that were the many little antique stores (one of which sold me my vintage silver trimmed horse cameo cuff links – did I ever mention those? And my tiny ancient baby saddle – which we had to have shipped home). Oh, and the bead store. Living a block and a half from a bead store? Does it get better than that?

     Now, as we stroll down the street to pick up some Scotch tape at the drug store, we pass such delights – the Purl shop, a trove of exotic yarns from the delicate to the bold and variegated. And on the corner, Frog and Toad. The first night we were here, the stores were closed, but Gin stopped in front of the Frog’s shop window, and there, I fell in love.

      At 795 Hope Street in Providence, RI (02906 – (401) 831-3434) – right there at the corner, you will find the most charming cottage of a shop.  It’s known as a gift shop, but it’s so much more than that.  In this small place, crowded with visual and intellectual delights, you will find folk art from all over the planet – tiny, whimsical little wiggle legged animals made of nut shells, hand knit scarves, hippos and cherry blossoms and fauna there is no name for in the civilized modern world.  Every corner offers something unexpected – a thousand quizzical faces on an army of characters, knit hats for children, topped with knitted knots that on second examination turn out to be detailed puppy faces. 

And when you go there, you very well might be served by this man – whose name I never did ask, now I think of it – but who treated us like friends the moment we walked through the door.  He owns the shop.  And he knows the stock – each bit, who made it, what country it came from.  And whose life will be all the better for your purchase.  He loves it all – and his stock is free trade – treasures from Nepal, from India and Africa, America and Japan – odd, one of a kind things, reproduced antique door knockers – there’s even a gold fish swimming in a palaver by the door.

In the instant of this shot, he was busy holding forth on the fashion sense of American First Ladies, in the middle of wrapping up a present meant for the great and dreadful Chaz.  We were talking with another customer, someone looking for the Right Gift.  He laughed as he told me to take note of the odd conversation, but hastened to point out that he was, in spite of having opinions about the fashion habits of famous woman, quite straight and very married.

There was a funny moment there when we were talking about the election (Meagan, you and he would really have enjoyed talking about Mrs. O together).  I mentioned that I wasn’t that hot on the result, being conservative.  And the other customer admitted that she’d liked Mr. McCain, but that his running mate had killed his chance, inexperienced as she was.  Our owner remarked that he thought Mitt Romney should have been chosen – at which point, the customer said, “Yeah, but he’s Mormon.  And, you know – Mormon’s are – ”  She was doing circles around her temple with a finger tip.  Oh, man – I was just laughing, and finally put a hand on her arm.  

“Oh,” she said, looking horrified.  “You’re Mormon, aren’t you?”  It was such a human moment, and so horrible for her.  So I told her she really wasn’t that off – we are kind of crazy.  But I got to tell her how much I love the LDS people and how good I have found them to be, generally.  It was an interesting moment, but a convivial one, and the owner of the shop couldn’t have been more kind, more gracious and more fun.  

As he pointed out – we’re so lucky with this country – it’s so large, and its people so varied and interesting.  It’s that mongrel mix that makes us strong – the playing off of opinions, the debate, the different views.  And he was right – in that shop, we were all complex people who see many things differently, but who share far more than we differ.  And we can all be friends.  Real ones.  It was lovely.

This is what I saw in the window.  Hard for you to see maybe, the space is so full of detail.  This is a tree ful of amazing felt birds, astonishingly detailed, made in India, each about six to eight inches long.  I went home with a few.

That deer was wonderful, but I couldn’t figure out how to get him home without de-barking him.  You can see the broad spectrum of tiny things and exotic origins.

He had bracelets that were being made in – oh, now I can’t remember where.  But by street kids at risk.  They were beautiful.  The result of something like a micro loan – giving the kids a chance to learn something about creating something and starting a business.  Teaching, in other words, a man to fish.  These marble things – if you look closely, you’ll see that they sit on the backs of tiny wooden turtle frames.  Like those massagers you buy, hoping somebody’ll run them up and down your spine, only almost microscopic, with beautifully free spinning spherical wheels and sweet faces.

Again, you can see the range of art in the background.  The blue thing is a crazy animal made out of a felted sweater – this is something I’ve got to start doing, an exercise in freeing up the imagination.  He was the tamest design there, but not the sweetest.  And the baby stuff – the hats, the shirts, the wild booties.

I loved these airplanes, and the shelves full of such great stuff, some so small, you could easily overlook them if you didn’t take your time.  Some GORGEOUS Japanese bowls and plates.  Hand knitted sweaters and scarves – like you put them on, and you’re suddenly Cass Barney – raised to the level of the funky artist – but all you had to do was put on that scarf.

More great stuff.  You see those cups?  Look closely at the typically minimalist design, five simple strokes, and the rabbit not only lives, but conveys great humor and motion.

Is this girl adorable?  I can’t believe I didn’t get her name either.  Yes, I can.  I’m way too self centered to worry about names.  Besides, we were having too much fun to bother with them.  She gift wrapped my treasures, helped me hide things from certain people – was just really a total delight.

More stunning things.

No reason for this to be last.  I really liked this collection of postcards.  And there were scarves/obi things made out of stripes of antique kimono material hanging on the wall just above this.  If I could have afforded it – and if the airlines had allowed, I honestly would have taken half the store home.  Then I’d HAVE to build on the living room.  

     You know, I’ve spent a lot of time on this, but it’s because this shop captured the heart of what I believe America to be.  We are people, offering each other friendship and treasures.  I know we need the Targets and the Walmarts – but I like my life to be cobbled out of tiny bits of magic, slivers of the unusual, the personal – the work of strangers’ hands that yet bring some part of the artist into my life – their hope, their good will.  Better even than that is the work of people who are not strangers – or who quickly become friends.

      Today, my life was enriched by a chance meeting in a sort of enchanted shop.  And really, this tiny vacation from what must be done will lend me the courage and wonder to find joy through the next many weeks.  I think the only way I’m going to end this part is thus: And God bless us, every one.  If i have any blessing power left over after what I leave on my daughter’s house, I’m dropping squarely on the Frog and Toad.